#I’ve only in the past few years gotten to a healthy weight

[witch-without-gender]

Ok uhhh idk what they’re called but the blogs that encourage dieting, eating disorders, and unhealthy weight loss DNI please. I sometimes look at blogs that follow me and like, that shit makes it really difficult to deal with my anorexia and my current self image 😬

[a-crumb-of-whump]

A New Beginning #15: I Love You

Masterlist | AO3

Content: Weight talk, [implied] past minor whump, PTSD/trauma, body dysmorphia, vampire whumpee, human caretaker.

-

“What’cha choin’ there, man?” 

“Hm?” Carlos blinked and glanced up from his spot on the living room couch, feeling some heat rising to his cheeks as soon as he realised he’d been caught playing with the new-found fat on his pale stomach. Granted, there wasn’t a lot of it at this point, but he knew he would only get bigger as time went on. Bigger meant healthier. 

Which meant he was finally getting better.

Ryker offered the embarrassed vampire a smile as he sat down on the couch opposite him. “It’s okay,” he assured him, sprawling his legs out across the entire couch to get more comfortable. Being he was 6’0, it confused Carlos as to why they’d gotten couches that were so small in the first place. As he lay like that, Ryker’s feet dangled off the arm of the couch easily. That couldn’t have been near as comfortable as a couch that was suited for someone of his height. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Carlos’ blush never faded as he slipped his shirt back down and sat up a bit with the intent of crossing his legs beneath him. “It’s okay, sir.” 

As usual, the room seemed to go quiet the moment their little exchanged greeting came to a finish. Carlos often felt like it was inappropriate for him to start a conversation, being he’d lived his entire life conditioned to believe that his opinion on most topics were invalid. He remembered so many instances as a child where he’d slipped up and tried to butt in on conversations with his own thoughts. It always ended up with a scolding or even a beating of some kind if he wasn’t careful. 

Though, now he’d slowly come to realise that things were indeed different. Ryker and Adam were far above beating him over anything - they’d proven that time and time again. 

So… 

“You know, I’ve never been this big before,” Carlos commented conversationally, causing the human to glance up from his phone with an immediate lopsided smile. The vampire took the look on his face as permission to continue. “I think I like having body fat… more than being skin and bone. I don’t like feeling like I might shatter the next time someone bumps into me.”

Ryker grinned. However, rather than the teasing smiles he sometimes gave or the ones that had underlying irritation within it, this one held nothing but pure adoration. Carlos couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Is that why you were poking the fat on your stomach?” 

“Yeah! It’s- It’s so fascinating, Ryker. You have no idea how long I’ve been hoping and wishing that one day, I might get to experience this. That i’d- i’d be healthy enough to get to this point, and now I’m finally getting there!” the vampire excitedly gushed. Lifting up his shirt, he squeezed the fat there once more and smiled excitedly. “I’ve never had many wants or desires, but this has been one of them for so long. All the human children in my life back when I was a child were bigger than me. There were three of them, all a few years older than I was, and every single one hated the way they looked. I never understood why because they were so, so beautiful to me.” 

“Well, not everyone feels that way,” the human shrugged. Sinking into the couch a little further, he let both his hands come to rest on his stomach and sighed; tilting his head to meet Carlos’ eyes. “I’m what a lot of people would consider to be fat, and I always don’t look at myself and see beauty.” 

Carlos’ face dropped. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean - I grew up with two parents who, no matter my size, found a way to criticise me for it. They ruined the way I see myself. I could look at someone with the exact same build as me and think they’re the most gorgeous person on earth, but when I look in the mirror? All I see is someone who “needs to lose weight” or “doesn’t deserve love”.” 

“Is that… are those things your parents told you?” Carlos asked quietly after a small pause. He knew all too well that Maria and David were not the nicest of people, even by his standards, but to criticise their own child? The person they created and brought into the world? That was just cruel. It broke him knowing that he could have been the person to remind him of just how worthy and beautiful he was, had he known that was how he felt in the first place.

Much to his dismay, Ryker’s bitter shrug gave him the answer before he even said a word. “Yeah. Children are impressionable. Extremely so, particularly when it comes to their parents. So, to be told time and time again that you aren’t worthy of anything because of the way you look, whether that be because of your size or something else that you cannot change - that shit leaves a scar.” 

Carlos pondered for a moment. He wondered if the humans who had raised him were telling their own children those same things. They were much kinder to him than he ever deserved, though they still treated him like he was a pet, but perhaps the relationship they had with their children was different. 

He guessed he would never know now. The parents had been dead a long time now, and the children… well, who knew if they’d even remember him. If they were even alive. 

That was a thought for another day. Standing up, Carlos carefully circled the coffee table in between the two couches and knelt down on the floor beside the human; slender fingers reaching out to grasp his. Ryker tilted his head to look at him again, a smile coming to his face the moment they made eye contact again. 

“I know how hard it can be to accept compliments unless you believe it, too,” the vampire whispered. “I know that my opinion may not matter to you, and- and it shouldn’t, but for what it’s worth, you’ve always been worthy of love. I believe ugliness is determined by what is on the inside.” To emphasise, Carlos used his free hand to poke at Ryker’s chest. “In here, and if that’s what we’re going by, then your parents- my old masters; well, they’re some of the ugliest people I’ve ever met.”

Ryker laughed; fingers squeezing around Carlos’ even more. The sound was proof that the vampire had said the right things. 

 “I couldn’t agree more,” he nodded, his face falling a little as soon as his laughter had died down. “I’ve been working on self-love for so long, Carlos. I keep telling myself that I’m worthy of the things I have and the people in my life, but it just doesn’t seem to be enough. I just want to be able to tell myself that I’m happy with who I’ve become and how I look and actually mean it, y’know?” 

Leaning down, Carlos let his head come to rest on Ryker’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck before giving a small nod. “Yes, I know. I’m… I’m sorry.” 

At first there was no response. Carlos could feel Ryker hugging him tighter, both arms wrapping around his torso while his chin rested on his head. It felt so nice. So warm. Carlos remembered times like this many years ago, where Ryker would come to him for hugs that his parents wouldn’t give him. He was so neglected back then. 

“What for?” 

Carlos lifted his head for a moment to look Ryker in the eye again. Fingers gripped at the human’s shirt and he could feel the tears threatening to well in his eyes. He truly couldn’t go a day without crying. 

“You were such a good child,” he eventually mumbled as he tucked his head into the human’s neck once more. “I know that you always talk about how no one deserves to go through the things that you went through, and- and I agree, I truly do, but you really didn’t deserve it. I suffer a lot of guilt knowing that I could have told you I loved you and I could have done more to protect you, but I didn’t.” 

He could feel Ryker’s lips curve into a smile. “I knew you loved me, Carlos.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course.” Ryker’s hand drifted up and down his back a few times before settling in between his shoulder blades again. “You always used to stay up and pull all nighters with me so I felt safe enough to relax. You’d steal children’s stories and read them to me before bed when I was very young. I mean - you even used to tuck me into bed and guard the door some nights, if my anxiety was too bad for me to handle. So, yeah, you never said that you loved me, but you never needed to. Your actions said so much more than any words ever could.” 

Whimpering, Carlos only held on tighter. Despite the relief he felt from hearing that, there was still a weight there, settled comfortably on his shoulders. He needed to do more. It was the only way to make it go away. 

“I want to say it anyway,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you, love you, love you.” 

“I love you, love you, love you, too, man.” 

There it was. The relief. Carlos could finally relax.

-

@alexkolax @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped  @whump-things @whumpycries @whumpdreamz @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @choppedflowermuffinchild

[elaichitea24]

My heart breaks when I come across a page like yours with an owner the age you are because I see myself a decade ago. I would genuinely give my life to stop young me from going down the road I did and it all began with a small ed account similar to yours. I was thirteen then, completely sure this would be something I’d do for a few months and then be done with it. I’m now twenty one. I’m relapsing again. It has never stopped for one second. The voice is always there. There hasn’t been a moment since I created that first account where I have had a healthy thought about food or my body. Over the years, my view of myself has become so distorted that I don’t trust the mirror. I look at myself and am always unsure if I actually look like that. Or if I’m fatter or skinnier. I haven’t worn tank tops or anything with spaghetti straps since I was thirteen. If I wear leggings, I have to wear shirts long enough to cover my thighs. I delete photos from my family’s photo album because I hate how I look. This disorder stemmed from a traumatic incident, but as time as passed and I’ve gotten therapy, I’ve gotten over it, but this disorder lingers on. It sticks on you and takes a mind of its own. I plan my outfits for fancy events weeks in advance. I hate my family’s tradition of taking pajama photos in Christmas because I think I look fat in pajamas. I hate how I dress. I wish I could dress how I want, but I hate myself so much in it that I settle for boring shit. It holds me back from being healthy, authentic, and free. When I first created my account, I too get messages from older people saying the same thing I’m telling you now. And I also ignored them. I didn’t care and thought I wouldn’t let it get “that bad.” But, spoiler alert, just THINKING about starving yourself is “that bad.” My heart aches as I know you are starting a vicious cycle that will steal so much happiness. I wish I listened when I was thirteen. My only regret in my entire life is this disorder. The only thing I wish I could change. It is impossible for me to convey how much it isn’t worth it. You’re young. Delete this account and reach out ASAP. You’re doing this for a deeper reason than just weight loss (probably control). You have time before you’re doomed like me. Because that’s what I am. Doomed. This will always haunt me. I know I’m lucky if you even consider what I’m saying right now and I understand if you respond with a little “thanks but I’m too fat anyway xoxo.” I know you because you are me in the same exact path I was. I look on your account and it’s word for word, post for post, picture for picture of what I did. You don’t realize how much of a kid you still are and it just is heartbreaking watching you suffer. Knowing first hand the pain you’re enduring. There is a way out, but I can’t force you to take it. I can tell you life will be way easier if you get out now, or you can learn the hard way. It’s up to you. But regardless, I am sending all of my love to you. You deserve so much more and I am so sorry for whatever brought you to this state. Please stay safe and please hang in there. You will see this through and it will get better. Keep living❤️

This whole thing is so sweet ☹️ I’m so sry you’ve been suffering so long, I hope you’ll be able to find peace soon. As for getting out of this, I tried recovering for a few months but I couldn’t do it, I found so much more comfort in the control and the hunger. I had fully intended on deleting this account too and I hope one day I will be able to get past this. Thank you so much for the concern though, i can’t lie when I say this thought always plagues my mind.

I really do appreciate this all, it’s very kind. Again, I hope you’re able to get better one day as well <33

[c0nfessions-and-lies]

I love my boyfriend, but sometimes I am so jealous of him I start hating him a little. Mostly I hate myself.

In winter of last year, we started going to the gym regularly because I’m starting to really deeply hate my body and myself again and instead of starving myself like I would usually do, I agreed to try the “healthy version” with him. He also wanted to become stronger and gain muscle mass.

But then, since December, after we had finally seen the first results, we didn’t go anymore. It started off with him getting a cold, then it was Christmas, then we agreed to go again but he would go and meet friends instead, and afterwards either felt too tired or it was 2am and since I need to get up at 7:30 and the gym is half an hour away, it isn’t an option for me to go then. Or he said he just wasn’t in the mood for it, didn’t want to drive there (I offered to drive as well but he still didn’t want to) and all in all, I ended up asking him regularly for the past two months and got promised that today would finally be the day, just to be told it wouldn’t work out in the end, or that “we can still go�� (again, past midnight it’s a no from me, I can’t show up to work with four hours of sleep three times a week.). On the weekends, whilst I had uni, he slept in bed all day and went to see friend for “only a few hours” which then resulted in it being almost midnight again every time, despite him knowing we had agreed to go the gym afterwards.

So why didn’t I go to the gym alone? Because I am literally ashamed to let people see me because I am almost back at the weight I used to be when I first started starving myself, and I feel self-conscious and I hate the look in the mirror. So I ended up in another self-hating spiral of not eating and then eating too much and then getting the food back out afterwards because I have no other coping mechanisms, because the gym had become my other coping mechanism and my social phobia kept me from it. Obviously, a lot of this is my fault. I wasn’t angry at him for this.

But then, today, after months of pleading, he finally agreed to go and actually came with me. So we went through our usual routine and all the progress that I had before seen lost in the mirror, all the ugliness I had seen return both in mirror as well as on the scale, was back. Most of my progress is lost. It’s like starting all over again, it felt horrible, I was ashamed to be seen by people, I was ashamed to see how low the number of weights have gotten than I can work out with again. I felt like the ugly fat blob that I used to be, that I had worked so damn hard for to disappear, for years. And all of that hard work is lost.

So I was pretty close to crying and not feeling to great. Then I told him this, that I’m frustrated with myself and all the progress is lost and how I hate that I just didn’t go without him.

His answer?

He grinned and said “Hm. Somehow, despite not working out, I’ve gotten even stronger.” And then he laughed awkwardly and asked why my legs aren’t shaking yet, that I need to work out with more weight.

That’s why I’m so fucking jealous. After months of pleading to go to the fucking gym because I am hating myself so much it’s unbearable sometimes, we finally go, and whilst all my progress is lost he has made progress despite being part of the reason my progress is lost.

And I hate myself so, so much for not feeling able to go without him. For being so self-conscious, and for being back to literally square one.

Idk why I’m even posting this, I just feel like I need to get it out. He doesn’t understand why I’m upset now and I just really feel desperate to go back to the unhealthy coping mechanisms. Because so far, that’s all that has worked. In a few weeks I need to travel to a different city for uni and won’t be able to go to the gym anymore anyway (which we knew. It was a deadline, I wanted to get a head start and build muscles so I could cut in the time I’m unable to go to the gym. He knew of that plan.)

It just feels like he didn’t give a shit. And worst of all, it’s my own damn fault because I should have just gone without him. Now the social phobia is much much worse and I hate my body more than ever.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

[rayeim0gen]

Today is my girlfriend and Is first anniversary. I can honestly say I finally have the life of my dreams.

Me: 33, r/mtfbutch. Her: 31 F Masc.

I was smitten from the get-go when, within an hour of her messaging me in Lex, she suggested that we should “drink tequila and burn shit” for our first date.

A year ago tonight we had a 9.5 hour first date (which indeed included drinking tequila and burning weed), and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

We’ve only spent a few nights apart total.

We uhaul’d at 6 weeks, and adopted a cat a week in just to be more stereotypically lesbian.

We spent 5 months while I looked for a job together 24/7 and it was amazing. We never got sick or tired of each other. Still haven’t. ☺️

I finally got into the ward back in January after an unalive attempt. I largely have her and another friend to thank, as they were ready to turn me away yet again.

My life, as well as my weight, has been on the upswing since.

We both have our mental health struggles.

Her with her r/schizophrenia & psychosis, me with my Borderline, PTSD, and major depressive. We should be fire and gasoline. But we’re the opposite.

I’ve come into my own so much in the past year, and I have her to thank for supporting me.

I’ve gotten two neck tattoos, tattoos on the back of both hands, gotten both nostrils pierced, stretched my lobes to a 00, as well as shaved my hair and eyebrows off.

I’m LOVING what I see in the mirror these days. Extra weight and all. I mean, who doesn’t love a chubby dyke? Just makes me all the more comfortable to cuddle with.

For the first time in my life, I’m my authentic self.

The outside finally looks how the inside feels.

Which is a butch dyke.

Who uses “it/its” pronouns.

Who identifies with the r/voidpunk community.

And is now 3.5 years into its hrt journey.

Most days I forget I’m even trans, as my brain has settled on having my gender AND my sexuality being simply “butch”.

I’m also Stone, so my own genitals are never actually involved in sex.

As a result, I can’t even use that for a point of reference.

I misgender myself all the time, accidentally saying that I’m ftm unless I give it serious thought.

I’ve always been close with the lesbian community, and they’ve welcomed me with open arms before and after I came out 5 years ago. I love them all.

My girlfriend and I have built an amazing little life together, along with our cat, Cheesecake.

We’ve furnished her her little apartment amazingly together, with both of us contributing to it coming together as well as it has.

We’re both still perfectly comfortable in each other’s company.

We’ve both been homeless before, so we’re kindred spirits in that regard.

I’ve ruined my life no less than twice for relationships that weren’t half this healthy or comfortable or as smooth as this one has been.

I managed to land an amazing temporary job back in April that lead to being offered full time permanent after my 2 month temp contract expired.

The pay is amazing, and it’s helped me repurchase some of the essentials that I had to walk away from when I ended up homeless and lost everything I owned.

It has been life changing for my girlfriend and I. It’s given us both financial stability for the first time in years.

For the first time ever, I have the life I’ve always dreamt of.

My life finally feels like my own. I stayed true to myself through everything I went through in the past couple years, and am more authentically myself than ever.

I didn’t water myself down and go back into the closet to be able to stay with family.

(Not to mention that that would have required moving back to my hometown, a move I’ve vowed that I won’t be doing while still alive.)

I have a girlfriend that I’m 100% compatible and comfortable with.

The cutest cat in the world.

And my lucky r/mtfbutch lesbian ass gets to crawl into bed and snuggle with both of them at the end of every day.

We’re both super close with each other’s families, being welcomed into them on a level neither of us have ever experienced before.

I’ve never been this compatible with anyone before.

I’ve never been this equal with anyone before.

A year in, and we’re as in love as ever.

We’re actually looking for a second cat to adopt in the near future as the newest addition to our little family.

I still face an uphill battle to repair the rest of the problems that arose from my mental health struggles and ending up homeless as a result.

But for the first time in years, I’m looking forward to the future, and can’t wait to spend it with my amazing girlfriend and our soon to be two cats.

In our cozy little one room bachelor pad apartment we’ve furnished together…

…I can honestly say, I finally have the life I’ve always wanted…

Happy First Anniversary, babe. You’re amazing.

Here’s to many more to come together.

[coco-rissa]

Undesirable: A Tale of Self-Sabotage

I’m not sure where it all fell apart, or rather, where it all began. I’ve struggled with self-image issues my whole life. Looking back, I wish I had learned how to love myself. But also looking back, it was almost the “in” thing to not like your body, or yourself. I never recall women talking in a positive way about themselves around me. I never recall them talking about other women in a positive way either, though. 

I’ve gone through many phases of working out, eating healthy, feeling good, and then quitting for various reasons. Only to start up again later down the road. Quite possibly when I needed a distraction from some other problem in my life. In one relationship I had, I received very little support in my pursuit of self-love and was made to feel selfish for going to the gym instead of sitting on the couch eating pizza every night with them. In another relationship, I was in the best shape of my life, very supported in my pursuit of building my dream body in the gym, but shamed for some of my eating choices when I wasn’t with them. It got to the point where I was hiding food in order not to feel like I had failed myself and them. 

Although the latter relationship provided me the support I needed in the gym, the dynamic of that relationship was incredibly toxic and ended up being one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. I had a great body, but I hated myself. I desperately needed to be accepted and loved by this other person, that I completely lost myself in the process. 

When this relationship ended, it crushed me. I had no sense of self. I hated who I had become. During that same week I had lost this relationship, the world shut down due to COVID.  I was alone, depressed, anxious, and had no idea who I was. My coping skills were one of three things on a daily rotation; sleeping all day, eating a piece of cake from Lunds and Byerly’s, or eating a whole pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Sometimes I tag-teamed the cake and the ice cream all in one sitting. I was gaining weight rapidly, but mentally I felt like I was on top of the world. 

Avoiding how absolutely wrecked I was became my full-time job. I thought I was doing great! I had mastered wearing several different masks during the day, fooling everyone, including myself. When the summer of that year came around, we were allowed to start taking short walks outside as long as we were distanced from others and wearing a mask. This provided a temporary sigh of relief for me. I was finally getting some movement in, but still demolishing cake and ice cream almost daily like it was about to disappear for the rest of my life. 

By this point, I had avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I avoided looking at how much my body had changed in a few short months due to completely abandoning myself in order to feel even a little okay. I was forced to face the reality when I went on a walk with my parents. My mom is a photo-taker. She will take every and any opportunity to snap a picture. 

This photo of me was shared on Facebook and it was the first real time I had seen my body. Granted, it definitely hadn’t gotten to the worse of it at this point, but it was the largest body I had ever had. It was really painful to see this change, but I still couldn’t stop eating cake, ice cream, chips with dip, nothing with any real nutritional value. I continued like this for a while, feeling comfortable in what I was doing. Covering up my problems with food, avoiding every negative emotion I experienced, and neglecting my most basic needs as a human being. 

Flash forward and it’s my 30th birthday. The world is opening back up slowly at this point, so I decided to take a trip with some friends. This is the time that I really, truly, painfully was faced with the reality of what I had been doing to myself over the course of the past year. 

The changes to my body were staring boldly at me and I couldn’t believe how out of control things had gotten. This was the biggest my body had ever been. The most space I had ever taken up. I was still so unhappy with myself, but I started taking small steps to make changes. I joined a gym and started working out with a coworker. I was feeling great! Nothing could stop me now! The nutrition piece was still not clicking for me. Two years have passed since this photo was taken. I am still single and I have been maintaining this body through half-assed attempts at working out and changing my eating habits. I still feel perpetually stuck in a cycle of self-sabotage and neglect.

If you have stuck with me up to this point, first of all, what’s wrong with you? (Just kidding...) Second of all, thank you, and I hope you have found even a tiny piece of my story that you can relate to, or empathize with at the very least. 

I was on my way home from work today and had a deep conversation with myself both in my head and out loud. I asked myself, why can’t you get out of this cycle? I started to dig up my usual excuses; “I went through trauma and my body became my security blanket,” “my medication made me gain all of this weight and won’t allow me to lose any of it,” “I feel comfortable here, why should I change?” And then I got to the deepest answer I’ve managed to dig up while processing this topic. 

“I’m afraid.” 

So I dug a little deeper. What specifically am I afraid of? I was able to uncover two answers to this question.

“I’m afraid that if I lose weight, people will treat me differently. People will value, respect, and love me more in a smaller body.”

“I’m afraid to be in a relationship with somebody new.”

What does a relationship have to do with any of this? At first it didn’t quite register. I’m overweight because I’m afraid of a relationship? That can’t be right. That makes no sense, Corissa! Okay, okay, but just hear me out. Right now, in this larger body, I have put myself in a box. This box has been labelled with big, bold letters, “Undesirable.” 

I have been on casual dates, had intimate encounters, but none of it was ever serious, so I felt I could keep going with what I was doing. No harm, no foul. None of these men want a relationship with me because I am fat and undesirable, and as long as I stay fat and undesirable, I can’t get hurt! 

That was a painful realization for me. I have been blocking my blessings. AGGRESSIVELY blocking them. I have created a mountain between me and anything that can possibly hurt me in the same ways I’ve been hurt in the past. And there is comfort in that. There is a feeling of predictability and certainty that comes with this block. But consequently, there is so much pain in that as well. I have been creating a mountain, not only between me and any form of love I could receive from another, but also between me and the person I desire to be because of my fears of getting hurt. 

I don’t want to be this person anymore. A person that blocks every opportunity for love and happiness. A person that blocks the things she truly deserves from life. This is not how I want to spend my time here on this planet. There is so much more waiting for me beyond this mountain, I’m certain of that. 

This page will now serve as my personal diary during this journey. I hope to find support along the way. I hope to be that same support to someone else who may be on a similar path. My ultimate goal here, besides losing weight and reconnecting with my body in a healthy way, is to shift my mindset around what I think I deserve. I will inevitably be doing a lot of trial and error to find what works best for me and my life. But this is the start of creating the space I need to fall in love with myself, and demolish these road blocks I’ve used to keep myself safe and surviving the past two years. I no longer want to just survive. I want to live, and I want to live every single moment of my life with intention and gratitude for where I’ve been, and where I still have yet to go. 

[missmonsters2]

today I feel awful... idk my insecurities are taking over me and I just want to curl into a ball and cry. maybe it's my hormones maybe the fact that I weighted myself and found out I gained weight (I can't fit into my jeans 😭) and the fact that I saw my sister in a tight skin dress looking perfect while I'm in my pj's just destroyed my confidence. I need something angsty to read to make me forget about my sad, miserable lffe right now. would you be down in writing sth angsty with nat maybe? you don't have to though. it's fine either way. I really appreciate all of your work and I keep reading on repeat whenever I'm feeling down. makes me cheer up. thank you, van ❤️

It's like we're the same person because I also went to visit my sister recently and my sister has gotten her life together and is living her best hot girl bod while I...let's not go there.

I just want you to know that you're hot as fuck and a body is just a body that we can change with time and effort. We're lit rally in this together. This time next year, we will be rocking the body that makes up happy and we'll be healthy!!! 💘💘

But I will still give you nat angst...but with a happy ending bc I said you deserve a HEA!!

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The Withers of Springtime Bloom

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring is a time of blooming and when things come back to life. You can't help but notice things that may be causing your relationship with Natasha to wither.

Warnings: self-esteem issues, insecurities about body, relationship with working out and food, seasonal depression. angst with HEA.

Count: 2.1k~

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You're not sure when things changed.

Things change so slowly after all.

Without you noticing, things change and change and change until one day, you do notice.

You notice that Natasha has become quieter, somber.

You notice the lack of date nights and affectionate touches.

You notice that you've let yourself go a little.

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with a frown. You've gained weight since dating Natasha, but relationship weight gain was normal, wasn't it?

But you remember how Natasha was just as fit as she was before she met you. Sure, she was a superhero, and you were a regular civilian; there was no reason for you to train long hours as Natasha did.

Still...

You turn to the side and peer at yourself in the mirror again.

You can't help but wonder...were you becoming less attractive to her?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It had been the beginning of fall when you met Natasha. You loved the season of change and when things turned into warm colors before withering away for winter to come.

Natasha had come like a blessing, and in the winter, she was just warm as the colors of fall. Instead of withering away, she bloomed and invested that warmth in your relationship with her.

Despite always being an early riser to work out, weekends were the days she stayed in bed with you just a little longer. There had been so many breakfasts, lunch, and dinner dates. You found yourself moving things around or neglecting to work around her busy schedule.

Perhaps that was when things began to change. Eating out so often and forgoing working out to spend time with Natasha was what led to this.

Spring has arrived, and things are coming back to life. Yet somehow, your relationship with Natasha was withering away.

"Hey," you greet her as you come home, shopping bags in hand. You bought some more clothes when things felt like they didn't fit comfortably anymore. The experience had been upsetting for you, and you didn't end up buying too much, telling yourself you didn't want to spend too much when you were going to lose the weight.

Natasha was working in her office, peering down over reports, and barely acknowledged you other than with a hum.

"Long day?" You ask her as you put your things away and walk over to her.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed. "Trying to get these reports done since Maria needs them tomorrow."

That had been Natasha's excuse for spending long hours in her office every night for the last two weeks.

You place your hand on Natasha's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, but she leans to the side as if to readjust herself, but still away from your touch.

The sting immediately comes, but you try to push it down, so it doesn't hurt as bad.

"Right," you say hoarsely, but Natasha stares on at the reports. "I'm just going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day and all. Let me know if you need anything."

Natasha gives you a nod as you leave the room. You feel awkward as you lie in the bed you share with her. You wonder if you're taking up too much space.

There's a pang of something as you try to curl yourself to be smaller and only distantly realizing you've skipped dinner before you fall asleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You fall back onto the mat, chest heaving and your lungs burning.

It's been a while since you've worked out, and now you're definitely paying for it with how unfit you are.

The gym is moderately empty with the hour it is. You hate going to a public gym because it always feels like someone is staring, but it's better for strangers to stare than working out at the Compound for people you know to stare at you.

The rational part of you knows that you should just talk to Natasha, but the emotional side of you whispers that you won't like what Natasha has to say, that she might even end it before you've had a chance to change yourself.

When weeks pass, and you weigh yourself again, you almost start crying because you've only lost a couple of pounds.

It's normal, you know it is. You're losing weight at a normal rate, but it's not enough. You know fast weight loss wouldn't make sense for your body but you also feel you don't have half a year to go back to your normal weight.

You sit on the bathroom floor for hours, debating what to do when you hear a quiet knock.

"Sweetheart, are you in there?" Natasha's muffled voice comes through.

You wipe at your eyes furiously as you stand up.

"Y-Yeah," you answer back. "I'm just in the tub soaking."

There's a moment of silence through the door before Natasha answers back, "Alright. Enjoy yourself. Did you want me to order anything specific for dinner?"

"No, it's okay," you tell her. "You order anything you want. I already ate on my way home." You think about the chicken salad you've been eating for the past two weeks and almost sigh.

Natasha answered that she just came back to see if you've eaten, but she actually had to head back to the Compound. You were Natasha shuffling around before leaving through the front door, and you let out the breath you were holding.

You actually take a long, hot shower before putting on sweats and a big hoodie.

The truth was, you were hungry. The chicken salad was okay on the way home, but it had been a couple of hours since.

You knew starving yourself wasn't the answer, so you went into the kitchen to see if you could find something healthy to hold you over until you could go to bed.

But you can't find anything in the fridge except for Natasha's leftovers from whatever she ordered the day before. You can't find anything except frozen pizzas and microwavable foods.

You check the calories on the back and let out a frustrated sigh. Checking your watch, you realize it's too late in the evening to go grocery shopping because, by the time you get there, stores will have closed.

You slump down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets as you let out a pathetic whimper while your eyes became hot with tears.

You miss Natasha. You want Natasha holding you and telling you it would be okay. But you couldn't have that until you were back to what you were when you met her.

The front door suddenly opens.

"Have you seen my—sweetheart?" Natasha started to call before she noticed you sitting on the floor. "What's wrong?"

You use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes as you sit up straight.

"Nothing," you sniffle before you start to stand. "I just stubbed my toe against the edge of the kitchen island. What were you looking for? USB? You left it next to the bedside."

Natasha stares at your back, hair still wet as she takes in your attire.

"It's a little hot to be wearing a hoodie and sweats, isn't it?" Natasha asks softly. "Doesn't seem like you turned on the aircon in here."

You keep walking, but Natasha starts to follow you.

"'m cold," you say quietly so she can't hear the tremble in your voice.

"Are you feeling sick?" Natasha asks with concern as you sit down on the couch, turning on the TV. You pull the blanket over you as if to make your point.

"No," you tell her because you don't want her to worry. "Just cold after a bath."

Natasha sets her things down before she takes a seat next to you. Even in the low lighting, she can see your eyes rimmed red and dampness of them.

You're refusing to look at her as you have your knees drawn up to your chest and stare stubbornly at the TV screen.

Then she hears it.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly again. "We can just order food and stay in tonight."

Your cheeks grow hot. "Don't you have to be at the Compound?"

You don't mean to snap at her, but you can't help but feel embarrassed.

Natasha remains quiet for a moment, quickly thinking over the last few weeks before she feels guilt trickle in.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate with you—doesn't remember the last time she saw you eat.

"Sweetheart," she calls you gently again, and you bristle at the tone. "Is there something wrong?"

The fragile dam you've built to keep the weeks of compiling emotions at bay breaks, and you're hurtling down the stream over the waterfall.

"Are you not in love with me anymore?" You choke out as you begin to cry.

You can't even register to feel horrified at your breakdown because you just need to know.

"I know...I know my body has changed since we first met and I've gained weight but I really am trying to lose it. I just—I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought things at work have been really stressful for you, and I wanted to give you space but you're gone all the time. You're gone even when you're here."

Natasha can barely understand anything you've said after hearing you say the first part. Her breath hitches painfully in the back of her throat, and she legitimately feels appalled at herself.

She starts to say something, but you keep going.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make this about me because if you're going through something then I want to support and be there for you. But I can't help but feel like you're grossed out by me. I mean—I feel grossed out when I look at myself. I feel like I'm taking up so much space—"

Natasha cuts you off abruptly, pulling off the blanket as she pulls at you until you're in her lap.

"Nat—"

"You're not gross and this is not about the weight you have or have not gained. You hear me?" Natasha says forcefully as she holds you close to her, hand over your thigh to keep you against her.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I've been making you feel like you're not attractive me," Natasha's eyes well up as your tears wet her shoulder. "You're literally still the most gorgeous person I've ever met and you're always going to be that to me."

Natasha's hand at your waist dips underneath your hoodie, her fingers trailing up your back as she sighs at your warmth. "I should've told you, but the springtime is just really hard for me. It's odd because it's a time for things to come back to life but some of the worst things have happened to me during the spring and things blooming makes me think about things that aren't coming back. I think it's also just a little bit of seasonal depression too. I'm just the rare percentage that gets it in the spring."

The explanation makes your body sag with relief because while you feel so horrible that there is a reason Natasha doesn't like spring, she's not falling out of love with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Natasha apologizes again. "I didn't mean to be so distant but I didn't want to bring your mood down as well, which is why I've been working so much to keep busy."

"It's okay," you muttered as your turn your head, forehead pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry spring is depressing for you."

Natasha merely hushes you as she kisses the side of your head.

You begin to feel awkward, thinking about how you must be heavy on her and try to move, but Natasha doesn't let you.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how to convince you that you're perfect to me," Natasha says so seriously as she forces you to look at her. "If you want to lose weight because that is what you want, then I support you. But I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. I don't care either way because you're so fucking lovely to me always. Do you understand?"

Timidly, you reply, "Okay. Thank you."

Natasha presses her lips against yours in a long kiss before she pulls back.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you hungry? We can order in and watch that new show on Netflix I heard was pretty good from Wanda."

You feel lighter. You think you might still want to work out because that would make you happy, but you don't feel the rush like you did just a couple of hours ago.

"Yeah," you say shyly. "But maybe something not so heavy?"

Natasha nods as she presses another kiss into your cheek as she helps you settle onto the couch right beside her to grab her phone.

"Anything to make you bloom."

[zambie-trashart]

Caught in My Chest 2/2

Marinette looked around her classroom taking her seat in the back and no one even gave her a second glance except Adrien.

"Marinette, since you missed so much class I can help you after school today if you feel up for it," Lila said sweetly before fake wincing. "Or maybe not my port has been acting up lately," Lila said crocodile tears coming to her eyes.

"Port?" Marinette asked and Alya glared at her from the front of the classroom. "Wouldn't that mean you have..." Marinette started holding her right arm where her piccline was.

"Go on Marinette ask her!" Alya yelled holding Lila close.

"But that's, I just..." Marinette started. "I was just discharged from the hospital with Hodgkin's Lymphoma," Marinette finally said and all faces turned toward her.

Never before had Marinette seen the class so mad at her all because of a lie. How Lila had gotten a hold of this information was unexplainable but the fact that she would turn it around was unspeakable. "I can't believe you would say you have cancer just to try and show up Lila Marinette! You know she was recently diagnosed!" Marinette's breath was caught in her chest and she felt like she could never breathe again. Adrien stood up red faced and shaking.

"You're all idiots! Lila has been playing you since day one and the only reason why I haven't said anything is because I didn't have any proof," Adrien said and Marinette looked at her former crush in shock. "If any of you even bothered to do some research you'd know what a monster she is." Lila looked at Adrien angrily.

"What do you mean proof?" Lila asked trying to keep up her hurt persona.

"Medical records," Adrien said slapping them down on the table. "Also the fact that Marinette here has been in a healthy relationship with Damian Wayne for almost a year now and the fact that he is paying for her treatment and housing her after you turned her parents against her is another factor." Lila's face started to turn red.

"You have no right to go through my documents," Lila said picking up the files.

"I mean if there were any there, your bill of health has been clean for years Lila, Marinette's on the other hand not so much," Adrien said. "That's all I needed to say, we can wait and do more have later when Damian gets here but I can't say he'll be as nice about it. Marinette is the only family I have left and I'm not going to let you drag her through the grass anymore," Adrien added going to sit in the back of the classroom next to his friend.

"You didn't have to do that," Marinette said leaning on his shoulder. "But I appreciate it kitten," Marinette said winking and Adrien knew he was busted.

"I'll always be here for you M'lady," Adrien said and class started without delay.

Lunch rolled around and everyone was conflicted, Lila had lied to them about a deadly illness about so much, and Marinette, who they treated like garbage, was the one who was really sick. A large sigh could be heard from the door and two boys with black hair stood in the doorway one pushed sunglasses to the top of his head smiling and the other's face was stone cold.

"Alright, students of Francois Dupont, my name is Dick Grayson and today we're going to be talking about some certain behaviors of slander toward our name," Dick started and the whole lunchroom froze. "Recently we have heard from a patient of our program to help cancer patients around the world that there has been some issues, we are here to clear that up." Students suddenly noticed that he was reading from a screen on his wrist. "I sound like a robot," Dick whispered to Damian who rolled his eyes.

"Furthermore, patient 13078, Marinette Dupain-Cheng of the Wayne Foundation clinic was taken under our care at time 4:37 on March 30, 2021, she was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma and moved to urgent care on April 2, 2021, after a biopsy on the first of April, 180 days of treatment are being provided and paid for in full. Lila Rossi who is not a patient of the Wayne foundation clinic has been seen harassing the patient which can cause stress levels to increase and therefore panic attacks which lead to trouble breathing and a shutting down of her lungs or windpipe in general if Miss. Rossi does not comply with our orders or removal from the school and distance from Miss. Dupain-Cheng, then we will be forced to take more forceful action..." Dick continued.

"Is this really necessary? Just stop messing with my girlfriend and apologize you assholes," Damian said and Dick sighed putting his arm down.

"Marinette, we know that things will never be the same but we're here to fight this with you," Alya said and Marinette felt tears well up in her eyes. Even if these people had been nothing but cruel to her she still wanted their support.

"We'll help you in any way we can dudette," Nino said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"That really means a lot guys but I need time to get over this with people who are truly going to be at my side, I'll appreciate everything you do though," Marinette said getting up and walking over to Damian with Adrien following close behind.

"You did what you thought was right beloved," Damian said and Marinette just smiled sadly. Damian looked over her head at Adrien who stared right back. "I think I know someone who might be able to make us all feel a little happier during this time, I'll see what I can do," Damian said leaving the superhero duo together to call a friend who could certainly bring the sunshine into Marinette's life again.

"A lot is about to change kitty," Marinette said holding the blond's hand watching Damian talk on the phone.

"180 days of fun M'lady," Adrien responded and suddenly a boy landed next to Damian and ran over to Marinette.

"Ready to kick some ass future Mrs. Wayne?" the boy asked and Marinette just chuckled blushing. She could already feel the weight being lifted off her shoulders.

The first few weeks were hard, she had to work to stay awake and study, keeping up with others was becoming a challenge.

The second month was painful but then again there was poison in her body constantly being flushed in and out.

The third month, radiation started, she was scared but she knew it had to be done.

Month four, she was almost done they said maybe even healed soon.

Once they had the caner isolated, she just had to have that laser there and then, hopefully, it would all be over.

Marinette had 180 days of meeting Damian's self-proclaimed best friend Jon by her side being whatever he needed her to be, she had the best partner she could ask for who was there to talk to her whenever she was scared, and she had Damian, her rock in the ocean.

When Marinette went into the doctors office and read off her paperwork, tears flooded her eyes as she bit her lip trying to contain her smile.

She was cured. Sixteen years old and she fought cancer and won.

She walked into school looking at the anxious faces of her peers.

"I've wanted to tell you something that I've known since the beginning of treatment, I'm moving to America after this was over, there's something about being here that makes me feel tied down. I did it, I fought and won a war far bigger than myself but somehow there's still something that I feel like I need to do or say, like there's something caught in my chest," Marinette said smiling sadly. "Lila never said anything, and that's what stings the most but I know I leave you guys as better people and you'll never make the same mistakes again, I want you to know I forgive you, every one of you." Marinette looked over her classmates one last time eyeing their expressions of tear-filled faces. "I have a flight to catch, bug out," Marinette said taking Damian's hand and walking past Jon and Adrien at the door and out of the school.

For the first time in a long time, Marinette felt her heart flutter as she took a deep breath and got on the plane.

a/n: This was such a hard story to write for me and I'm so happy to anyone who is reading and hope you enjoyed this experience. It has actual factual information in it and maybe you might have even learned something which would be cool huh? I hope to end up like Marinette in the next 163 days. thank you for reading

-Zambie

Taglist is closed due to story being complete: @hateswifi  @crystalangelluna @liquid-luck-00 @thatonecroc @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @professionalfangirl1738 @mochegato @wannajointhecrabcult @ranger-gothamite @moonspiritwolf1 @mochinek0 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ash-amg @enchanted-nerd @mewwitch @zorua-adorable @jumpingjoy82 @coolspidermanmusicflower @yazz-frost  @bugsy05 @rhetoric-question-mark  @myazael @rosep16 @elmokingkong @kking13 @heaven428 @vixen-uchiha @arcticfox487 @toodaloo-kangaroo @battybatbat 

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 14

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 6689

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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

It had been three weeks since Dabi left and in those three weeks you hadn’t heard a peep from him. True to his word he never called you. Shoto seemed to be getting vague updates from Katsuki but nothing that could settle your nerves.

You threw yourself into working out to distract yourself. You refused to ever be weak again. Every day you got up early and hit the home gym that you built with Dabi’s money in his absence. You were surprised how good it felt to spend his money without his permission. You knew he had enough to go around, but it was almost like payback for him leaving you here without him.

The gym was simple. A treadmill, some free weights, and a punching bag.

The guys took turns coming to check on you. Shoto more than the others, which was fine with you considering he was the only one with the balls to spar with you. You didn’t know if they were scared of you, Dabi, or Katsuki. But whoever it was, they were keeping their hands to themselves. And that’s how you ended up here now pinned underneath Shoto’s knee.

“I told you, stop thinking so hard. Your moves are predictable, I can read your every move before you do it. You need to relax and trust your instincts.”

You shoved him off of you and sat up, putting your elbows on your knees.

“I knew I’d be rusty… but I didn’t think it’d take this long to get back into shape.”

Shoto handed you a water bottle and sat next to you. “Well you’ve always been good, but you’ve also relied on your quirk pretty heavily up until now. You’ll get there, just takes time.”

You sat for a while in silence. That’s another thing you appreciated about Shoto. His ability to find comfort in shared silence. He never forces a conversation or pushes you to talk about things you don’t want to.

“So how long can you stay this time?”

His mismatched eyes met yours with a guilty look. “Honestly I’ve already been here a little too long. My shift starts soon, and I have a long drive.” He sighed as he screwed the cap back onto his water bottle. “Last I heard from Bakugo there wasn’t really much change but they’re both still alive and well. I’m supposed to be hearing from him again sometime in the next few days. So, I should have a better update the next time I see you.”

You followed him to the front door, feeling your heart sink as you went. You hated this part. The part when they left. There wasn’t exactly a schedule, they just came and went when they could. It was incredibly lonely when it was just you and you were already getting anxious thinking about it. “I wish he’d just come home already. I hate being here alone…”

Shoto sighed with his hand on the door. “I can only imagine… I’ll see what I can do about getting you some better company. Maybe we can rework our shifts or something… I don’t know, but we’ll figure something out.” He reached a hand out and gently pressed it to your shoulder, “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone, and for the love of god follow my idiot bothers laws.” His eyes twinkled, “Oh! That reminds me…ware your fucking collar… his words not mine.”

Your eyes bulged. Those where the first words you’d gotten from him since he left. Your fingers darted to your bare neck, “I-It’s charging… the battery doesn’t last forever.”

Shoto chuckled, “Well according to him you haven’t worn it for two days. He interrupted my last call with Bakugo just to tell me.”

“I guess I should have known he’d be watching the stats like the creep his is.” You rolled your eyes and tried to suppress the blush that was threatening to break out across your cheeks. Of course he was watching. Watching the tracker to make sure you were where you were supposed to be. Watching your vitals to makes sure you were staying healthy. Watching your call log to make sure you weren’t doing anything you weren’t supposed to be doing.

For the first time since he left you felt an odd giddy feeling. It reminded you of the feeling you’d get when you were in school and a boy you had a crush on liked one of your pictures on social media. It wasn’t direct interaction, but it was a reminder that he cared.

Shoto gave you a quick hug before leaving, reminding you to lock the door as he went.

As soon as you heard the security system signal that is was on, the empty feeling returned. You were alone again. By yourself. With only your thoughts to keep you company… how awful.

You dragged yourself over to the where your collar was charging and put it back on. Your fingers brushed over the familiar material. A warm feeling started to push through the empty feeling in your stomach as you thought about how Dabi was probably checking on you every chance he got. The least you could do was reassure him that you were okay.

Despite being able to talk again you had decided to keep up with the sign language. It was a good distraction and also something really helpful to know. You learned from Shoto that Izuku had learned sign just in case Katsuki went deaf, and he ended up teaching Shoto. So it seemed it could definitely come in handy down the road.

You also spent a great deal of time watching cooking shows and trying to learn some things.

You were never that great with cooking before, hell you didn’t even really know how to efficiently shop for groceries. You were rarely home, and when you were you were ordering in or letting Katsuki cook for you. But now that you were home alone for days at a time, you decided it was time you learn.

Tonight, you watched a video on how to sign different colors and numbers as you attempted to make rice balls. The chef made it look so easy in the video you watched earlier. But so far you were finding it to be incredibly difficult.

You were trying to take this time alone to improve yourself. Now that he wasn’t here it was easier to see how much you had relied on Dabi. You wanted him to come back to a new and improved you.

You sat down to dinner with your pathetic looking rice balls and fought to push down the empty feeling in your stomach once again. The loneliness killed your appetite, you could feel yourself sinking into a funk. Every day it got harder to convince yourself that eating was important, that getting out of bad even mattered, that working out was worth it.

But then you thought about what Dabi would say if he found out you weren’t taking care of yourself. He’d probably bend you over his knee and spank you for even thinking about skipping a meal.

So even though your depressed brain tried really hard to convince you that you weren’t hungry, you shoved bite after bite into your mouth. He’d be livid if you so much as lost a pound while he was gone.

You thought about the way he loved to worship your body. How he groaned when his hands gripped your hips. How his hands traveled up your thick thighs and around to your ass before giving it a squeeze and… great… now you’re working yourself up.

There had been several times your needs had riled you up to the point where you had tried to take care of them yourself. But no matter what you did or how hard you tried, you hadn’t been able to get yourself off. Your hands were no comparison to Dabi’s.

You let out a frustrated growl as you dropped your plate into the sink.

Once again you had this burn in your core that was spreading and you were already frustrated knowing there was nothing you could do about it. You didn’t even have any toys to help and there was no way you could ask one of the guys to bring you one the next time they came. You flushed at the image of Shoto or Izuku handing you a vibrator.

With the ache between your legs only seeming to grow worse, you skipped to your bedroom, well Dabi’s bedroom, but you guess it was yours now too.

You were sweaty from your workout and was in desperate need of a shower which gave you the perfect idea.

You quickly stripped your clothing and stepped into the hot spray of the shower you quickly washed your hair and body before turning the hot water down a little to a nice room temperature.

With nervous hands you pulled the shower head down from it’s spot and played with the settings. You switched between them until you found one that seemed… promising?

The shower head slowly roamed from your neck to your chest, to your nipple. You sucked in a breath as you closed your eyes and tried to pretend that it was something or rather someone else. Your breathing picked up as the spray slowly moved further down until it reached the spot that was giving you all the trouble.

Suddenly a jolt of pleasure ran through you and you had to put a hand on the wall to keep yourself from falling over. A low moan fell from your lips and you rolled your hips against the pressure. “Oh god. Oh shit. YES!” It had been weeks since you last orgasmed and you could feel everything that had been building coming to a climax… literally.

Your breathing became erratic as you imagined rough callused fingers rubbing your clit while wet, sloppy lips mouthed at you neck. Your head swam with desire as you felt the familiar clenching in your core.

Then out of nowhere you felt your pleasure snap as your first orgasm in weeks washed over you in heavy waves. “FuUuck!” Your legs wobbled and almost buckled underneath you. Your orgasm seemed to go on way longer than any one you’ve had in recent memory. It just kept going and going till the point that you thought you couldn’t breathe.

Your legs crumpled underneath you and you fell as your orgasm finally finished.

After a few minutes you used your foot to turn the water off as your breathing finally started to even out.

Your heart practically leapt out of your throat as your collar started beeping with an incoming call. You answered it immediately in the hopes that it was Dabi.

“H-Hello?”

“Y/N!? Are you okay?”

That voice didn’t belong to Dabi but it was probably the second best option.

“Kats? Y-yeah I’m fine. W-why do you ask?” You sucked in a huge breath to help yourself come back down from your high.

“Dabi said he got an alert that your vitals were at dangerous levels. Apparently, your heartbeat was erratic… You workin out or somethin?”

You blushed and cleared your throat, “Or something.”

There was a brief silence on the other end before you heard a muffled curse. “Fuck, okay so you’re more than good.” You could almost hear the blush in his voice. “Sorry to interrupt… have a good night…”

Before he could hang up you panicked and shouted, “WAIT!”

“… Yeah?”

“How are you guys?” You hated how weak you sounded. How desperate you sounded for any update on their progress.

“We’re alive and making good progress. That’s all I can really say right now.”

“Good okay… hey uh Kats… please be safe. Both of you.”

“We’ll try… I gotta go now. Good night y/n.”

Before you could respond you heard the beeping, indicating that he had hung up.

Groaning you picked yourself up and made your way to the big comfy bed that just felt too big now that it was just you. You pulled one of Dabi’s shirts on that dwarfed you and queued up a movie on the TV.

Sleep didn’t take long to take you and your last thoughts were of how monotonous your life was now. You go to bed, wake up, work out, work on Sign Language, watch cooking shows, cook dinner, rinse repeat.

You just needed something to mix it up.

And your wish would be granted not even two days later when Kirishima showed up at your door with pointy toothed grin. “Hey Y/N! How’s it going? Gone crazy yet?”

“I think I went crazy years ago bud.” You giggled as you stepped to the side to let him in. Instead he just stood there looking at you funny. “So are you coming in or did you just drop by to stare at me and leave?”

“Oh! Right? Hold on… close your eyes! I have a surprise.”

You narrowed your eyes but complied with a sigh. “Kiri I swear if this surprise is a wet willy, I will hypnotize you and make you pee yourself.”

He was quiet as he tiptoed away quickly. Only moments later you heard the pitter patter of him trying and failing to sneak up on you. You knew he was next to you now, but you kept your eyes closed anyways.

“Kiri what are you—”

You shrieked as a wet tongue licked you from your chin to your ear. “WHAT THE FUCK KIRI!”

Your eyes bolted open to see a crying Kiri holding a puppy. He was laughing so hard you were scared he was going to drop the dog.

You reached out and yanked the puppy from him and could immediately feel yourself sinking into its soft fur. “Oh my goodness! Who is this sweat baby?”

You nuzzled into and started rubbing its soft ears.

“He is your new guard dog. Well he’s more of a guard puppy, but you get the point.”

He started to walk back towards his car, “Wait? Are you leaving already?”

He gave you a regretful look, “Yeah sorry princess, I only had time to come drop off your new friend. I have to go pick up my kid from school, but I think I’m coming back soon. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” With a wink he hopped into his car and sped away.

You were only sad for a brief moment before you scurried back inside with your new friend.

You plopped yourself down on the couch with the puppy sitting in your lap. He was a little ball of fur with big ole paws and floppy ears. From what you could tell he might be an Australian Shepheard. “What are we going to call you huh?”

The little furball cocked his head at you and started chewing on your fingers.

“Hmmm what about Buddy? No that’s cliché. Ajax? He was the strongest warrior in all of Greece.” You watched as the “warrior” in question sniffed his own butt. “Hm maybe not. What abouuuuut… Bravo?”

He looked at you and gave the cutest little “woof”

You smiled and scratched behind his ears. “Okay then Bravo it is. Welcome to your new home sweet boy.”

Bravo was exactly what you needed in order to break out of your slump. You could feel your serotonin rise every day as you bonded with him. He was keeping you company and also keeping you very busy. Between poddy training and teaching him basic commands he was a handful. He loved to follow you everywhere you went and nip at your ankles until you paid attention to him.

It was amazing how quickly Bravo was becoming the most important thing in your life. Since Dabi left you had frequent nightmares that often led to anxiety attacks once you woke up. But now you had a fuzzy four-legged friend who not only woke you up when you cried in your sleep but also laid on top of you until you calmed down. You almost laughed thinking about how Dabi would react when he came home. You knew he’d find a way to be jealous of a dog.

Bravo settled into a routine with you and he never let you out of his sight. He really had the potential to be an excellent guard dog. He was extremely smart, picking up new tricks and commands easily. He was perceptive. And most importantly he didn’t hesitate to attack any of the guys, in his cute puppy way, when they came to visit. He was one hundred percent a Mamma’s boy.

Today had been a weird one. It was officially a month since the boys left. You stayed in bed a little longer than usual but you had responsibilities now and Bravo wasn’t going to let you be sad all day. He decided growling and pulling on your blanket was the best way to get you attention.

“Bravo, no. I know you want to play, just let me be sad a little longer, and then we’ll go outside.” You knew he didn’t understand you, but it felt so nice to just talk to him even if he can’t respond.

Bravo continued to jump and bark at you obviously trying to get you play with him. You rolled your eyes as you threw the blanket off of you. “Alright, alright, I get it. Let’s go outside.”

You rolled out of bed and pulled your hair into a bun. It was cold out now, and it even looked like it might snow soon. You used to love the snow, but the older you got the more miserable it sounded. You pulled a pair of sweatpants and a baggie hoodie on and started to drag your feet towards the back door. “You couldn’t let me wallow for even a couple hours huh?”

You slid the sliding glass door open and Bravo took off into the backyard.

The sky was a dark and depressing shade of grey. You could see your breath escaping you and it made you shiver. “Okay Bruno let’s make this quick! It’s fucking cold…” You shoved your hands in your pockets as Bravo sprinted from one side of the yard to another before stopping to sniff a spot on the fence to pee. “Good boy Bravo… let’s go in now. Eat some breakfast, how does that sound?”

Snow started to fall and before long you could feel it soaking through your hoodie. “BRAVO! You little shit, come on it’s cold!”

He ran towards you like he was going to listen before turning at the last second and running off to the side. You groaned. You loved the dog, but it was times like this that reminded you how frustrating taking care of another living thing could be.

You took a couple steps towards him and he just stood there wagging his goofy little tale. You leapt towards him just for him to run off again in the other direction. “I swear Bravo, if you love me at all you will come to me right now!”

You tip toed towards him slowly, “Come on dude. It’s too cold.” You were so close now, you just needed to scoop him up. You jumped at him but again he leapt out of the way except this time… your foot slipped on some fresh snow on the concrete surrounding the pool… and in you fell.

The ice-cold water cut through you straight to your bones like a million needles. You gasped which was a huge mistake as you sucked in water into your lungs. Now the panic was setting in. The last time you were in this pool you drowned. And this time there was no Dabi to resuscitate you. There was no one here. You could die here, and no one would even know for days.

No, no, no, this was not the time to have a panic attack. You had to think. You had to get out of this pool. But you couldn’t, the only thing you could think was how cold you were, how painful the water in your lungs was, how the cold water felt like you were being stabbed. You vision was blacking out, your limbs were becoming numb, you finally started to try and swim, but your muscles were so sluggish. It was agony trying to get your arms and legs to cooperate. Were you going into shock?

You felt yourself sinking and there was nothing you could do. Your baggie hoodie and sweatpants were only getting heavier on your limbs. It was like you had forgotten how to swim. Or like one of those dreams where it doesn’t matter how hard or how long you keep swimming you never make it to the surface. You expected your life to flash before your eyes, but it didn’t. Instead all you had was fear. Fear and regret. And those almost weighed you down more than your soaked clothes.

You have unfinished business. You had a corrupt hero system to dismantle. You had a life to reclaim. You had… people who loved you, and you couldn’t leave them behind just yet.

You pushed as hard as you could now. You refused to give up. Just before you blacked out your head broke the surface. You struggled to stay afloat as you managed to get yourself to the ladder. You gripped it with all your determination. Your breathing was getting shallow but you didn’t know if it was the panic or the cold.

You screamed as you tried to pull yourself out of the pool. It hurt so bad. Your muscles sched and it was almost like they stopped working all together. You could hear Bravo barking as he paced the side of the pool. As soon as you got your upper body on the concrete Bravo took your sleeve in his mouth and tugged. It wasn’t enough to pull you out on his own, but it definitely helped.

Your body was wracked with shivers. You were shivering so hard it hurt. Your collar was beeping but you couldn’t bring your fingers up to push the button to answer. You were literally frozen… from the cold, from the fear.

The beeping just continued, and tears flowed down your cheeks. All you had to do was move your hands, you just needed to push the button, and you could answer, you could ask for help. You knew Dabi had to have been alerted that you were in danger by now. Someone had to be coming for you.

Bravo laid on top of you licking your face as you lost your mind. The beeping from your collar kept going, and you don’t know what possessed you, it must have been one last surge of adrenaline, your bodies last effort to save yourself. But your fingers crawled towards your collard and clicked the button.

“Y/N! Thank god! I’ve been calling! Are you okay?” It was Kats again. You were quiet for a while as you tried to cough up some water. “Y/n? Are you okay? Or is this another… false alarm?”

You sniffled, “I-I-I F-Fe-Fe-ll I-In T-The-Pool.”

“Uhm Okay? Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”

A sob left you, “No! I-I’m Not O-Okay. I-I”

There was a muffled sound on the other end of the call, "Y/n, baby I need you to breathe. I know you’re scared. Can you get inside?”

“Dabi?” His voice filled you with the warmth you desperately needed, but it wasn’t enough to get your body moving. “No. I-Its t-too C-Cold. I-I-“

“Stop talking! Conserve your warmth. Shoto’s already on his way. He’ll be there soon baby. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until he gets there, but I need you to stay awake. Can you do that?”

Bravo curled up next to your neck and nuzzled into you while whining.

You don’t remember passing out. But when you woke up you felt like you were in an oven.

Your eyes slowly opened to find that you were under several blankets with Shoto sitting next to you with his hand on your forehead. “She’s still asleep… but I’m worried she’s getting sick. I’m pretty sure she has a fever.” He was on the phone with someone, “I keep going back and forth from trying to warm her up to cooling her down… Well what do you want me to do I’m not a doctor… Do you know anyone we can trust?” Whoever he was talking too was obviously not happy. “How do you suppose we do that?”

Your eyes closed and sleep claimed you once more. You tried to stay awake, but it seemed impossible. You didn’t even dream, you were just sucked into the black abyss.

The next time you woke up there was a cloth on your forehead and two voices whispering by the door.

“She probably needs an IV at this point. She’s been in bed for three days and she hasn’t eaten anything. Shoto this is more than just a cold. She’s really sick.”

You knew that voice belonged to Izuku. He sounded stressed out. Had he really said there days. There’s no way you had been sleeping that long.

“I agree, but where would we get one? Do you know how to set one up? No? Because neither do I. I swear all of you are crazy. First Dabi rips me a new asshole over the phone about how I was supposed to keep her safe, then Bakugo gives me shit for not being able to find her a doctor, and now you. I’m doing my best!”

You wanted to sit up and tell him you were fine. But you couldn’t because once again sleep was calling you back. The black abyss sucked you back in.

The next time you woke you felt slightly better, your head definitely hurt a little less.

“I can’t believe you idiots where hiding this from me? Did you not trust me, or did you just think you could dismantle the entire system on your own?”

When the fuck did Aizawa get here?

“You’ve been retired for years… we didn’t want to drag you into this.”

A brief silence passed, and it sounded like he was standing up from a chair, “Well I’m glad you did. She was in rough shape. The IV will help. Let me know if you need anything else. And I mean anything. Like you said… I’m retired now so I have a lot of free time.”

You managed to open your eyes, but had to squint at the bright light. “Was that Sensei?” Your voice sounded rough and foreign, but it was unmistakably yours.

Shoto’s mismatched eyes filled your vision, “Oh thank god you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You tried to clear your throat but if felt like sandpaper, “Like shit…”

He climbed into bed next to you, “When I found you, you had hypothermia. I warmed you up but then you got really sick. I finally caved and had to call Aizawa. I don’t know how he knows how to set up an IV or how he even got his hands on all this medicine and medical equipment. But I’m not going to question it either.”

You leaned on him. “That was nice of him…” Your muscles still ached, and you you’re your skin was so sensitive. You just wanted to pass out again and wake up when all of this was over. “Where’s Bravo?”

At the sound of his name you felt a weight near your feet shift. He got up and made his way to you putting his head on your chest. His big fuzzy head was making you all warm and cozy. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

“Y/n no, come on I need you to eat something. Seriously, it’s one of your laws, you have to eat, so you need to stay awake.”

You hugged your blanket to you. “I’ll eat when I wake up… promise.”

This time when you slept you had dreams waiting for you. They were all weird and generally involved your time at UA. You dreamt of sports festivals, hanging out with your friends, and training with Sensei. But for once you didn’t have a nightmare. Which was a blessing.

“Wake up… you need to eat something… open your eyes baby.”

You stirred and found that you were laying on top of something, or rather someone. A hand was wrapped tightly around your waist while the other was brushing your hair out of your face.

Your sleepy brain was desperately trying to figure out if you were still sleeping because this had to be a dream.

“Are you really here?”

A kiss was placed on your forehead, “Yes baby, I’m really here. And I really need you to eat something so you can get better.”

His words had your stomach growling, making your groan.

Your eyes opened to find his blue ones staring back at you. The amount of concern in them was startling. “I must look like shit if you’re looking at me like that.”

Dabi didn’t so much as crack a smile at your humorless joke. “Well by law I can’t lie to you… so yeah. You’ve definitely looked better.” His thumb brushed your cheek, “Nothing that can’t be fixed with a shower and a good meal though.”

He helped you sit up and fluffed some pillows behind you. “You don’t have to do all this. I’m feeling better now. I can do it myself—”

Dabi cut you off with a glare. “Does it look like I care. I’m sure you could take care of yourself, but when will you accept the fact that you don’t have to anymore. Stupid girl.”

He reached next to him and picked up a bowl of soup. “This will be easy enough on your stomach. You are going to eat every last bite, and then we are going to take a shower.”

He didn’t leave anything up for debate. It was a demand. “We?”

“Yes we. You’re not leaving my sight for the foreseeable future.” He held a spoon full of soup up to your mouth. You wanted to protest that you could at least feed yourself but quickly thought better when you saw the look he was giving you. He wasn’t to be challenged or questioned.

So, you accepted it and swallowed, your eyes never leaving his. You continued on like that until the spoon scraped the last bit of soup from the bowl. You could see the tension in Dabi’s clenched jaw. He was upset, possibly even mad.

Your eyes averted to your lap, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? What do you have to be sorry about?”

You played with hem of your shirt. Trying to look anywhere but at those intense blue eyes. “I fucked up. I was careless and I… I fell into the pool.” Your fists clenched, “It wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t so fucking weak. I panicked, and it put me in danger. I’m sorry.”

His fingers intertwined with yours and pulled them to his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for, and you are most definitely not weak.” He kissed the tip of your nose, “Look at me please.”

It was so rare that he said please. It sent butterflies through your stomach. You raised your eyes to his once more, but this time they were much softer. “Your panic is totally understandable. If anything, it’s my fault because I’m the reason you have fucking PTSD.” He pressed his forehead to yours, “I feel like no matter how hard I try, I just end up hurting you. Even when I’m not here, my actions still have consequences.”

“Well you know what I think? I think I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I think you have saved me in so many ways, and you have been there when it matters most. Like right now.” You tucked yourself under his chin and hugged him until you felt the tension bleed from him as he relaxed into your hold.

You felt his chest rise and fall as you both just sat there holding each other.

Finally, he pulled back and sighed, “Okay as nice as it feels to hold you again… you kinda stink… can we go shower now?”

You frowned, “Hey! I’ve been sick. It’s not like I could bathe myself. Did you want Shoto to do it for me?”

He growled and threw you over his shoulder. “You’re lucky. If I wasn’t worried about nursing your sick ass back to health, that comment would have gotten your ass in trouble.”

It wasn’t until Dabi was stripping you down in the bathroom that you remembered Bravo. “Hey! Where’s Bravo?”

Dabi froze, “Who the fuck is Bravo?”

You rolled your eyes, “My dog asshole. Bravo. Where is he?”

He growled, “That little shit wouldn’t let me near you, so I threw him out.”

You pushed his hands away from you, “Excuse me… You WHAT? It’s cold outside. Go bring him inside right now!”

He grabbed your flailing hands and held them down at your sides. “I said I threw him out, not outside. If I had to guess the little runt is probably sitting outside the door to the bedroom, waiting to sink his teeth into my ankles the second I open the door. Relax.”

He let go of your hands and continued to undress you, and then himself. “You be nice to him. That little ankle biter is my new best friend.”

“Hmmm I don’t think so.” His arms wrapped around your now naked body. He picked you up like you weighed absolutely nothing and walked you over to the shower. “I think I’m your best friend.”

You smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Oh you think so huh? So we’re friends now? That seems like a demotion to me…” You kissed his chest before pulling away. “Last time I checked friends don’t shower together… so I guess I’ll just get out and wait my turn—”

“Don’t you dare step out of this shower.” His fingers dug into your hips. “I haven’t seen you in a month, and I had to come home to find you sick and skin and bones.” He leaned in and you could feel his breath on the shell of your ear, “You are mine. I don’t think you truly understand what that means.” He kissed the side of your head, “You are my best friend.” He kissed your forehead, “My responsibility.” He kissed your cheek, “My confidant.” He kissed the tip of your nose, “My lover.” He kissed you jaw. “My partner.” His lips hovered over yours for a brief moment, “My everything.”

His lips smashed onto yours and you could feel all of your little puzzle pieces fit together again. The emptiness you had felt the past month evaporated. You felt whole once more.

There wasn’t anything overly sexual about this kiss. For the first time since you’ve known him, this was the first time Dabi had ever kissed you just to kiss you. And so you let him. You just stood under the water with him and kissed until you started to get lightheaded.

He must have felt your shift because he pulled away from the kiss and pulled you to lean on him. Without another word, he ran a washcloth over your skin and cleaned you up.

You remembered back to the days he’d help you bathe when you couldn’t walk. He’s taken such good care of you without asking for anything in return. So much as changed in the past few months, but there was something about this moment that felt permanent. Like no matter what happens Dabi will always be there to clean you up afterwards.

Dabi could feel the stress and the worry that had piled up over the last month melt away with every rise and fall of your chest. You were safe, you were okay, you were alive, you were in his arms.

Something almost broke in him when he heard the fear in your voice that day. When Bakugo called you after you fell in the pool. He had never felt so fucking helpless. He had a constant eye on your vitals after that. Calling his brother every single time there was even a tiny change. He’d never tell you this, but for a brief moment when Shoto couldn’t get your temperature down he panicked. He couldn’t lose you. Somewhere deep down he knew it was irrational to think you were going to die. But he couldn’t help it. You were sick, and only getting worse and he was thousands of miles away.

There was a constant nagging at the bag of his head of what if he didn’t get back in time. What if he didn’t get to say goodbye. What if… what if…

No. He’s fine now. You’re fine now. He had freaked out for no reason. You’re here, you’re safe, you’re alive, you’re his.

You had eaten the soup, showered, and taken your medication without even a hint of protest. You were being such a good girl for him. Doing everything he asked, never leaving his side.

It was obvious you missed him, and for some reason that made him feel… pride.

Now he had you curled up with him on the couch eating ice cream as you showed him all the things you had trained Bravo to do. You had a glint in your eyes as you commanded the furball to sit, lay down, roll over, and whatever the fuck else you had taught it.

Dabi had this weird feeling settle over him. Sitting here with you in his lap, as you ate ice cream and played with your dog. It felt like you had become… a family.

Family… was never a word that had inspired positive feelings for him. He had terrible memories of his old home life. He had a few fond memories of his siblings, maybe even some of his mother. But everything was overshadowed by the hell his father put him through.

But now he could feel that frozen heart of his, start to thaw out. He still struggles convincing himself that he doesn’t deserve you, and sometimes he still thinks you might be better off with Bakugo. But for now, you were his, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

His hand snaked down and spread out over your stomach and his chin rested on your shoulder. He watched Bravo hop into your lap and had to admit he was a little jealous of the little guy.

“Aw who’s a good boy? Who’s mommy’s good boy?” You squished Bravos cheeks together and kissed his nose.

“Okay enough with the dog. You’ve been loving on the dog since I got home. It’s my turn.”

You scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you feel threatened by a puppy.”

He flipped you over so you were chest to chest with him laying on top of you, caging you to the couch. “Of course I’m not threatened… but I’ve been gone a while and the mutts hogging all the attention.”

You giggled as he nuzzled into your neck demanding that you love him. “I can’t believe big, bad, who’s your daddy, Dabi is jealous of a little puppy.”

Your hands moved, one to his hair and the other snaked under his shirt and scratched his back. He hummed as his lips pressed a quick peck to your jaw. “I missed you…”

Your hands continued to trace patterns up and down his back. “I know. I missed you too.”

His breathing started to slow and he squeezed you closer to him. He started mumbling things as he slipped into the first peaceful sleep he’s had since he left.

“What was that? Dabi you’re mumbling honey.”

He let out a huge sigh and mumbled again only this time slightly louder, “Said ‘m gonna putta baby in you.”

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

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn't your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

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

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance

[overweightana]

10 things about being morbidly obese (250+lbs) that has ruined life for me and is my main source of motivation:

1. My health is complete shit and has gotten progressively worse as I’ve gotten bigger. I developed PCOS and GERD. I stopped getting my periods, I’m hairy, and I choke on heartburn at all hours of the day. I have a rash on my chest from my boobs and belly fat being squished together all day, I have cysts that grow between my thighs from friction of them rubbing together.

2. My sex life with my boyfriend has always been a hit or miss. Once in a while we have good sex, but for the most part, I’m constantly choking on heartburn acid so I can only do certain positions, it’s hard for him to maneuver my fat rolls, I feel insecure and therefore I’m moody and usually hate sex. He is 160lbs, so he’s about 100 pounds less than I am. He says he finds me beautiful and sexy everyday but it’s hard to believe it.

3. It’s nearly impossible to find clothes that fit me. Half of the stores don’t carry my size (XXL, size 22 pants). Stores that do carry my size only sell boring ugly clothes in those sizes. I have progressively felt my clothes get tighter and tighter and it’s always so heartbreaking when pants or shirts that used to be huge on me are suddenly tight.

4. Oftentimes being the largest person in the room, but almost always being the largest woman in the room. Accepting the fact you just aren’t attractive. When guys look at me, they glance and look away quickly. I don’t get treated with respect often. When you’re fat, oddly enough you become more invisible.

5. Feeling guilty and embarrassed every time you eat around anyone. Hiding food and eating it when nobody is looking and entering your complete comfort zone. Food being my only escape. Being extremely dependent on food, if I don’t eat every few hours I get extremely shaky, moody, and lethargic.

6. Constantly thinking of new diet plans and trying to slip back into my past anorexic mindsets so I can finally lose weight but then like always, giving up within a few weeks, finding myself at the bottom of a chip bag once again. The constant letting myself and others around me down. Getting my boyfriends hopes up that this time it’ll be different and then... it isn’t.

7. People aren’t afraid to share how disgusting your body is to them all the time. When I get on Omegle with my friends, I constantly get told to lose weight or that I’m fat. It’s constant scrutiny. I had a guy on tinder match me and say that I was pretty enough to fuck, but too fat to date, and that if he could help me lose weight he would date me.

8. Knowing that if I get pregnant, I’ll end up over 300 pounds most likely. Knowing that I’m less likely to get pregnant and less likely to have a happy healthy pregnancy. Knowing that I’m at risk for heart disease and diabetes and won’t be alive for my children and spouse as long.

9. Being terrified of trying to get on amusement park rides because I’ve nearly been kicked off of rides for being too large, and that was 20 pounds ago.

10. The worst of all, knowing that it is 100% my fault and that I completely let myself go. In 2013 I had anorexia and I was 115 pounds. I went through a few very traumatic events over the years and slowly gained weight until I reached my highest weight of 270lbs. I am covered in stretch marks now. My stomach has stretch marks that go from my groin all the way past my belly button. My boobs have them, my armpits have them, my butt and thighs have them, I’m sure my back has them too. They will never go away even if I lose the weight. When I do lose the weight, my skin will be flabby. I will never be the thin pretty perfect body girl ever in my life, because I let myself get this big once.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. It was really painful to write, but ultimately inspiring. There is no reason to live another day where I don’t do something to lose weight. The best investments you can make in life are your health. I have to do this. Let this be a warning to anyone to never let yourself get obese. It is a living nightmare every day.

[nonagesimus]

Tristan what if I promoted about Jess noticing Sam avoiding salty foods or his cross necklace leaving faint red marks :)) stuff like that:)) yknow the demon blood affecting him early on

Their first Christmas Jess was flying out on the 23rd, so they did gifts on the 22nd. In Jess’ dorm, because Sam had absolutely no decorations up, and when Jess had asked why he’d just shrugged and said he couldn’t be bothered. But he was happy enough watching her unwrap a set of bracelets that she knew he spent more on than they’d agreed to. But she didn’t call him out, because she had too. See, while he didn’t go to a Sunday service- at least as far as she knew - he liked wearing a cross. It wasn’t a sentimental thing, either, because when the chain had broken and he lost one he wasn’t sad, he just got a new one the very next day. But he kept buying the cheap ones, so he’d had a thin red rash, worst where the cross itself sat, the entire time she’d known him.

Sterling silver was a little bit of a splurge, but it was worth it.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Shouldn’t trigger the nickel allergy either,” she said. He grinned at her, taking off the one he was wearing and replacing it with the new one.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She got back after Christmas and he picked her up from the airport in her car. The chain around his neck was the new one, but the rash was still there. She frowned, hurt a little despite herself.

Waited until later in the evening to comment.

“If you like your old one better it’s fine, you don’t have to wear this just ‘cause I got it for you.” She said, lying in bed with her fingers resting on the cross.

“What?” he asked, so genuinely confused she sat up to look at his face.

“The rash,” she said. “You’ve been wearing your old cross.”

“I’ve been wearing this one since you gave it to me,” he said. “I think it’s just not a nickel allergy, I must just have sensitive skin. It doesn’t itch or anything.”

Jess didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t push. And she only ever saw him wearing the silver cross, and that rash never did go down.

—

Jess always thought she was a healthy eater, but that was before she met Sam. Ate-meat-only-once-or-twice-a week Sam, bought-fruit-on-seven-eleven-snack-runs Sam, got-the-depressing-mcdonald’s-side-salad-instead-of-fries Sam. Didn’t-even-use-the-little-paper-seasoning-sachets-that-came-with-the-depressing-salad Sam. Brady, already grumpy from something that’d happened in his morning biology lab, had already made three snide comments about low sodium diets that Sam had ignored and Jess used as excuse to throw ketchup packets - that at least perked him up a bit.

“It’s not a health thing,” Sam protested eventually. “I just don’t like the taste that much.”

“The taste of salt,” Brady said, drily. “A thing that only exists to make things taste better.”

“You could say the same thing about cilantro and according to you that ruins everything it touches,” Sam pointed out.

Brady shrugged. “If I wanted my burrito to taste like soap, I’d put soap in my burrito.”

Sam sighed, reached over, and stole a few fries off Brady’s tray. Dodged Brady’s attempt to grab him easily and popped them in his mouth.

“Will you shut up now?” he asked, before taking a long swig of his drink.

“Sure, if you stop stealing my fries,” Brady said.

“Great,” Sam said, rolling his jaw like he was trying to scrape an unpleasant sensation off his tongue.

—

Junior year Jess stayed behind for Christmas. Sam was still a little antsy at the prospect of spending a week in her parent’s house, and she didn’t really understand but wasn’t going to push. Instead she decorated their apartment, and forced Sam to make hot chocolate even though it was still pretty warm in Palo Alto.

“Do you think,” he started nervously, “I haven’t been in a long time but- I was thinking of going to Mass on Christmas morning? You don’t have to come.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Jess said.

The closest Catholic to campus was St Thomas Aquinas, complete with spires and stained glass for all it was built of wood. Jess’ family had been baptists, but Sam had promised to lead her through any of the pomp and ceremony she wasn’t used to. Starting with the basin of holy water at the door - she mimicked him as he wet his fingers and did the sign of the cross. There was a slight grimace on his face, and as she put her hand on his back a tension in his spine.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

But as the service went on, he just seemed to get worse. The blood drained out of his face, while the ends of his fingers went pink. Fever damp, then starting to sweat bullets. They had to stand and he swayed a little into her; she tried to take some of his weight without it looking too obvious. All the ceremony he’d promised to guide her through he was half-a-step behind on, hazy like he was thinking through a fog. A few times she squeezed his arm, trying to find out if he wanted to leave, but every time he just shook his head.

Finally, the service ended and Jess dragged Sam out past the Priest who was politely wishing people a Merry Christmas and out the door. There was a tremor running through him. And he barely protested the manhandling, just let her pour him in to the passenger seat of her car.

“You should’ve let me get you out earlier if you were feeling this sick,” she said.

He was sitting with his head tipped right back, eyes shut, breathing shallow. “I didn’t feel that bad,” he said.

And maybe it wasn’t the bad, because he’d stopped sweating bullets by the time they got back to the apartment. An hour later his forehead didn’t feel warm, and he’d gotten his colour back. As he improved, though, he only seemed to get more withdrawn. Swapping illness for a shadow in his eyes. As much as Jess tried to get him to talk, he refused.

“Sorry for ruining Christmas,” he said, as they lay on the couch. More into her neck than to her face.

“You didn’t,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

He didn’t answer.

[nepenthendline]

Tummy - Asahi

I should be working on requests rather than writing my own stuff but you can blame @mintmatcha​ for this, she got me thinking about asahi’s tummy

summary: this is just me thirsting over asahi who has gained a little weight and now is a god of muscle and chub but he’s feeling a little insecure

In the past 6 years that you had been with Asahi, things had changed a lot. He had been to nationals with his team, you both finished education, Asahi was working as a talented designer and you in your own field. You were both 25 now, figuring out your way as an adult and balancing responsibilities with friendships and relationship. Even the connection between the two of you had changed; Asahi was more confidence showing affection towards you, you learned to open up to him, and your love continued to grow every day. You learned so much about each other over the years, memorising every inch of each others bodies and every pattern of thought inside your minds.

You had both been busy recently with work, so you decided on a date-night where you could both relax and enjoy each other’s company. There was a restaurant nearby that had the perfect mix of romance and comfort, somewhere you both preferred much more than fancy establishments, that you were looking forward to visiting again. 

Since you lived together now, dates were a little different from the rush of getting ready beforehand and the wait for Asahi to come pick you up, then bringing you home with a kiss on the cheek. You felt more comfortable now, letting yourself enjoy the process of picking a cute outfit while you heard him finishing up in the shower. Even so, dates still made you a little giddy like the lovestruck teenager you once were, especially with such a catch of a man. 

You had finished getting dressed, now focusing on managing your hair and the last little touches when Asahi came into your bedroom, shuffling through the closet. Being a man of fashion, he, surprisingly, didn’t have a ton of clothes, saying he’d much rather have fewer higher quality pieces, than many styles that wore out fast and didn’t suit his body. 

He only had on some dark brown slacks as he looked through, lining his long, muscular legs perfectly. Even after so many years, you couldn’t help but stare whenever he walked in shirtless, or even naked, despite trying your best to divert your attention. Even through all the changes and growth spurts his body went through, he was still perfection to you. The broadness of his shoulders, his padded biceps, the torso that enveloped you whenever he hugged you, the way his body perfectly mixed his muscle and fleshiness. His abs were no longer as visible as when he was a younger athlete, but the way his waist dipped in a little under his bulked chest, then flared out to his hips and v-line that perfectly framed his, now, softer tummy was a sight to see. It was good he had such thick, toned thighs though, after all they needed to support that rounded ass of his. Honestly, you were jealous. 

As hot as he was though, the best thing about him was the way he surrounded you in his hold. He was a big guy: tall, wide and strong, and being in his arms felt like safety, like you were hidden away from the world. He was always so warm too, his heat spreading over your skin as if he were a blanket or an oversized teddy bear. 

Pulling out a beige linen shirt, he slipped his arms. Watching as his fingers buttoned up the shirt, you noticed how it fit a little more snug than it had when he bought it a few years ago. If anything, it enhanced his shape even more, allowing you to see the swell of his bicep as he flexed his arms to button to the top. It certainly wasn’t too small, but it clung to his figure more than it used to.

You could see his reflection in the mirror, watching as he looked over himself carefully, tugging down a little at the shirt as if it would make it fit looser. His eyebrows knitted together with his lips pursed tightly shut as he observed himself. Quickly, he unbuttoned the shirt, tearing it off and letting it fall on the bed behind him and he went searching for another. This time, he picked up a different shirt, this time in white that had a boxier, longer fit than the previous. After putting it on, however, his reaction didn’t seem to change. This shirt skimmed past most of his body, creating a flat line all the way down, expect for where the bottom of his stomach poked out a little, grazing the material that felt a little tighter there. He let out a sigh, lifting his hands to start unbuttoning the shirt. 

“You look good in that shirt, but I preferred the first one,” you piped up, making him jump as little as he had no idea you were watching him. He turned round towards you, quickly working to pull off the shirt and let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Uh thanks, I’m gonna find something else to wear,” he muttered, dropping the shirt and going back to the closet for another option. You stood up, making your way over to him, picking up the linen shirt as you passed the bed. You placed a gentle hand on his back, catching his attention. 

“Why don’t you try this one again? I love this one on you,” while it was true that you did find him particular appealing in that shirt, you mostly wanted him to admit to why he wouldn’t wear it without you prying. Pulling back from the closet, he lifted a hand to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing it as he looked away. 

“It doesn’t fit right anymore, I’ve put on too much weight to wear that now,” his voice was low and deep as he murmured, the corners of his lips turned down. 

“Put it back on for me,” you told him, rather than asked. He stared at you with wide eyes, frozen in his spot, “please?” Slowly, he nodded, picking up the shirt from your hand and sliding his arms back in. His movements were hesitant as he buttoned the shirt back up, grimacing slightly at the way it hugged his body, revealing the curve of his waist, his doughier hips and stomach. But to you, he couldn’t look hotter than he did in this moment. 

“So, what’s wrong with it?” You ask in a calm tone, looking over him. He looked back and forth between you and his body in the mirror, before taking in a deep breath.

“You can see my stomach sticking out in it, and how big my arms have gotten,” he lifted his arms a little, showing how the shirt enclosed his flesh and the dips and mounds of his muscle. 

“What’s wrong with that?” You reply, somewhat rhetorically. His jaw moved a few times, trying to find something to say but nothing was able to leave his throat. “The problem is what you think your body, not your shirt. But you’re perfect how you are,” you watched as he stared at himself in the mirror, eyes dropped and his fingers fiddling with the edge of the material. “You’re not the athlete you used to be in school, and that’s perfectly ok. You’re older now, you have a different life, you’ve grown and you’ve changed, so it’s expected that you’ll look different to how you did 5 or 6 years ago. You were healthy and gorgeous as a volleyball player, and you’re still healthy and gorgeous now not being one.” 

You moved in front of him, standing between him and the mirror while reaching up to cup his check in your hand, feeling the roughness of his beard against your palm. “You’re still just as perfect as you were then. I think you look beautiful. In fact, I think this weight suits you really well,” you mention with a smile, gazing over his chest and thicker arms. 

“Y-you do?” He stuttered out, searching your face for an answer. You nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him. Leaning forward, you buried your face in his warm chest, wrapping your arms around his to muffle your voice as you spoke again.

“You look really sexy like this, Asahi,” your faced burned as you confessed, not helped as you breathed in his musky scent and felt his heart race more. 

“O-oh. Uh, thank you,” his nervousness made you chuckle a little, even after so many years together, he still got bright red whenever you complimented him, especially like this. Pulling away slightly, you looked up at him, watching his cheeks grow pink with a grin. 

“You don’t have to wear this shirt tonight, you should wear whatever you feel comfortable in, but I just want you to know that you look so good in anything, and in nothing,” you teased a little, watching as he swallowed hard and his eyes widened. “I love you, I have since you were younger, smaller and working out non-stop, and I still love you now as a grown, successful designer.” Fiddling with the ends of his hair, you stood on your toes, reaching up to press a gentle kiss on his lips, sealing the confession that you had declared hundreds of times already. 

[rovelae]

Behind the Scenes of “Hologram”

           Today marks exactly one year since I posted arguably my most popular fic. “Hologram” is a postgame Saiouma one-shot about escapism, loneliness, and running away from the past. I put a lot of myself into this fic and I’m blown away by all the love it’s received, not only on AO3 but in Discord servers and other social media. All that excitement made me keep thinking about it, so I thought I’d share a (very self-indulgent) behind-the-scenes of sorts about how I wrote it, as well as what I think of the story.

           This essay will contain spoilers for the whole fic, so if you’d like to read it first, you can find it here. Of course, if the tags scare you off, that’s valid, but you might want to skip this post too since I’ll be quoting it throughout (so, just to be safe, expect the warnings I’ve posted on AO3 to apply here too).

           If you’re a Lorde fan you’ll recognize the lyrics in the fic summary – “Nothing’s wrong when nothing’s true,” from “Buzzcut Season.” The inspiration for this fic came to me while I was on my way to an early shift at work, and I needed a good song in my head to give me the will to live for the next eight hours. Not sure why I chose that song in particular, but maybe part of it is because I like imagining stories to go along with the songs I listen to, like AMVs playing in my head, and I’d never been able to pin down exactly what this song reminded me of.

           The mood of the music is really what compelled me – there’s something lonely about it, and the lyrics sound like the singer’s trying to convince herself that everything’s okay even when all evidence points otherwise. There are “explosions on TV”, and “The men up on the news / They try to tell us all that we will lose,” but “we live beside the pool / Where everything is good.” Despite everything going wrong, despite the notes of fear creeping into the pre-chorus, the character will “play along… in a hologram with you” and “never go home again.”

           From there, it was an easy jump to “postgame Saiou” and that was that.

             There’s a cloud of seagulls hovering in the air around him, and a dozen or so more standing just out of reach, staring him down with beady black eyes. Kokichi takes a slice of bread from the loaf he’s holding and tosses it to one of the birds, watches it catch it and stumble under the weight, watches its head bob as it tries to swallow the whole thing at once. It gets remarkably far before four other birds descend on it, shrieking wildly.

           “Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles into his folded arms, wondering if Shuichi would get the reference.

           He really wishes Shuichi was here.

           Kokichi upends the rest of the loaf of bread onto the sidewalk and laughs at the resulting chaos until his chest aches.

             To start off, I wanted to create the same lonely mood from “Buzzcut Season” in Kokichi’s simulation. He’s not exactly trapped there, but he’s refusing to leave, because as long as he’s on the fake Jabberwock Island, he can pretend the killing game never happened. The trade-off to that escapism is that the only people he can talk to are the NPCs, who aren’t complex enough to be remotely interesting to him, and Usami, who… well, tries her best, but is more of an informational / moderation program and can’t offer him what a therapist could.

           The only thing Kokichi has to look forward to is Shuichi, who he’s convinced is an extremely lifelike computer program rather than the real thing, because the real Shuichi would definitely hate him for everything that happened during the killing game. He’s so locked into this line of logic that he doesn’t let himself consider that Shuichi has forgiven him – he doesn’t even have a good answer for why the Future Foundation wouldn’t just keep the supposed Shuichi AI on indefinitely, believing it’s their way of baiting him into leaving the simulation.

           It’s not a healthy or sustainable lifestyle in the slightest, but Kokichi stubbornly refuses to do anything but wander the islands aimlessly, passing the time with ice cream and feeding seagulls until the next time he can see Shuichi.

             He dreams that DICE is here in the simulation with him, smiling and carefree as they explore the weird music venue. One of them has gotten the karaoke machine working, and another found a box of kazoos and maracas in the back room. Kokichi already pities anyone unfortunate enough to walk by the building tonight.

           “Not going to sing, Joker?” one of his DICE asks (over the sound of their youngest member shrieking through seven kazoos at once), sitting on the bench next to him.

           “Some games are more fun to watch than play,” he answers, leaning back on his hands and sighing.

           “Like a killing game.”

           The warm dream-atmosphere turns cold then, and Kokichi’s head snaps over to look at him—but his brother is gone and Kaito’s looking back at him instead, blood in his teeth and face ashen pale.

           “You... we don’t have to do this, man,” Kaito says, but it’s a lie and they both know it, and he doesn’t want to look behind him because he knows the machine’s looming over him with its unyielding steel and slow slow slow descent—

           “You’re not real,” he snaps at dream-Kaito, who doesn’t respond except to lift him up again. “Nothing’s real, none of—PUT ME DOWN! LET GO OF ME! DON’T PUT ME BACK IN THERE!”

           “Death is more mercy than you deserve,” Kaito says, and Kokichi claws and bites and kicks his way out of Kaito’s grasp like a wild animal, only to end up in front of a prison cell full of—

           DICE, his beloved DICE, trapped and hurt and afraid, bloodied and beaten and helpless.

           “Why didn’t you save us, boss?” says his second-in-command, clutching the bars with bleeding hands. “Why didn’t you do more? Now we’re all dead and it’s because of you.”

             Moments like this are my reference to Buzzcut Season’s pre-chorus, where the not-okay starts to creep into the illusion. Despite Kokichi’s valiant efforts to forget, he’s still dealing with the aftermath of seeing his family hurt and in danger, watching his friends die, orchestrating the deaths of two of them, being killed himself— and then being told every bit of it was made up to entertain an audience who sees nothing wrong with that picture. Running away is not the way to heal from trauma, and one day soon it’s all bound to come crashing down around him.

             “Do you know what this … island paradise represents, Kokichi?” [Hinata] asks, and Kokichi’s really not in the mood for a lecture but he continues anyway. “Jabberwock Island … was the setting for the fiftieth season of Danganronpa. The golden anniversary, they called it. It was my season.”

           Kokichi hunches over, hugging his arms over his torso and stifiling a scream. He does not want to think about this right now—

           “They wanted it to be the best season of all, which, unfortunately for us, meant it was also the bloodiest,” Hinata says. “Twice as many participants, deadly traps hidden across each of the islands— they even changed the way the motives worked, like when they told Fuyuhiko to cut out his own eye so Peko could have a quick death instead of suffering for days.”

           “Do I look like your therapist, porcupine-head?” Kokichi hisses. A sharp pain is pounding into his skull, and there’s a bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. A taste like poison and blood.

           “There was so much going on that the simulation malfunctioned,” Hinata says. “When people died, their Ultimate talents downloaded themselves into me. I’m told that the stress of so many personality grafts came close to liquefying my frontal lobe. I’m lucky I woke up at all… especially considering more than half of the others didn’t.”

           “Why are you telling me this?” Kokichi grates out through the static building in his head. If he opens his eyes, will he see the beach or the dull chrome of the machine closing in on him?

           “Because I know how much you want to forget about what happened,” Hinata says. “Believe me, I get it.”

           ….

           “These things that happened to us… we can’t erase them, no matter how much we want to. Some things have to be remembered.”

             I’d mostly like to leave Hajime’s season up to interpretation, but there are a couple things I wanted to say about it. I imagine Danganronpa is like the Hunger Games in that it’d go all out for big anniversaries. So, there were twice as many participants for the Jabberwock Island beatdown that was probably subtitled “Bloodbath Bay” or something equally appealing. The game’s formula changed from a focus on the mystery and the trials to “look at all these kids massacring each other a la Lord of the Flies,” and since the VR system wasn’t equipped to handle that many people and their deaths, it malfunctioned, giving Hajime way too many Ultimate talents and putting half the cast into comas from which they never woke up.

           Viewers either absolutely loved or absolutely hated this season, depending on whether they were DR fans because of the “blood n’ guts” factor or the “mystery and psychological thriller” aspect. Team Danganronpa faced quite a bit of backlash for actually causing the real-life deaths of half its participants, but were able to weasel their way out of serious legal repercussions because of the waivers the participants had signed beforehand (plus a lot of bribery and falling back on their longstanding popularity). So, the cast of Season 50 failed to end the killing game, but helped provide great evidence for the “Danganronpa is morally wrong” argument.

           Hajime works as a victim liaison for the Future Foundation and has been trying to take down Danganronpa since he got out of it. He’s like that in a few of my fics, actually; I like the idea of Hajime acting as a big brother of sorts to the V3 cast. It’s especially entertaining to imagine his interactions with Kokichi— though maybe not so much in Hologram, since to Kokichi he’s a representation of the past he’s trying so desperately to forget and the future he refuses to acknowledge.

             “SHUT UP!” He launches himself at Hinata, his hands wrapping around the other man’s throat as he uses his momentum to slam him to the ground. “SHUT! UP!”

           “Ko— ghk—” Hinata coughs, eyes wide with surprise, but aside from moving his hands up to grip Kokichi’s wrists, he doesn’t seem all that worried about fighting back.

           The thought only fuels Kokichi’s rage until he’s choking Hinata so hard his knuckles are white. “If you want me out of this simulation so badly, you can kill me,” he snarls. “I’m never waking up! I’m never leaving, do you UNDERSTAND ME?”

           Hinata grimaces, the outline of his avatar flickering, but he still doesn’t struggle, and Kokichi hates him all the more for it, despises him with a seething malice that festers low in his stomach. He wonders distantly if he’d actually kill this man in real life. Or if he’d be able to stop himself, feeling like this.

             Kokichi’s breakdown here is more out of fear than anger. Like I mentioned, Kokichi sees Hajime as another piece of what’s hurt him, and no matter how Hajime tries to help, Kokichi will always remember Danganronpa whenever he sees him.

             Warm yellow-orange light casts a relaxed, cozy glow over the dining hall. It’s an ambience compounded by the flickering candles on the table, which seems overly idyllic, but Kokichi will let it slide because of the adorable way Shuichi flushed when he noticed them as they sat down. Well, if he’s being honest, everything about Shuichi right now is adorable, from the way his hair keeps falling into his eyes to the way he’s nervously fiddling wth his chopsticks. Kokichi wishes he could keep staring at him forever.

           Ah, not… not in a weird way, though, just… because Shuichi’s beautiful, and when Kokichi looks at him he can forget everything bad that’s ever happened, can create some new and brighter world to exist in.

             This is an idea I wish I’d had room to explore a bit more in the story— that is, just how far Kokichi will go to pretend everything’s fine. I thought about making him border on delusional, like having him talk to people who aren’t there or forget what’s actually happening around him because he’s so lost in his fiction-within-a-fiction. It would have creeped Shuichi out a whole lot.

           Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room for that past the plot I’d already nailed down, so I focused on his loneliness and escapism instead. I do touch on it later in this scene, though— the couple paragraphs where he slips into fantasizing about being a phantom thief having a surreptitious meeting with his detective under the not-so-subtle supervision of his DICE. There would have been a lot more of that if I’d gone with the ‘delusion’ stylistic choice, to the point where even the readers would be confused about what’s real. Maybe I’ll look into writing something similar in a future story.

             Eventually, Shuichi sets down his bowl and looks away with a little sigh, and Kokichi clenches his teeth because that’s the sigh he does when it’s time for that conversation.

           “Um… Kokichi?”

           Kokichi’s only response is to exhale the breath he’d been holding in a quiet hiss.

           “I-I know you don’t want to, but… but I really need to talk to you about something,” Shuichi says. “Please?”

           “My Mr. Detective can talk about whatever he’d like!” Kokichi says with a lilt to his tone that makes it sound more sarcastic than he wants it to. He takes the last bite of curry and wishes that it burns hot enough to hurt.

           “It’s about Kaito.”

             This more serious part of the date scene is meant to reflect the little bridge in “Buzzcut Season”:

“Cola with the burnt-out taste

I’m the one you tell your fears to

There’ll never be enough of us.”

           It’s a part of the song that sounds especially bittersweet to me, a bit of self-awareness between the insistence that everything’s okay.

           Really all I think I managed was to reference it when Kokichi’s internal dialogue comments on his drink being “so sweet it tastes burnt” and then later not tasting like anything. But hopefully the mood’s still there.

             “Tell him… that I have nothing against him,” he says.

           “That’s … not a lie?” Shuichi presses.

           Kokichi shakes his head idly, still not raising his gaze. “I wanted to wreck the killing game and he wanted to save his friend. We both got what we wanted. I’d say the end more than justifies the means.”

           Was that a lie?

           (I don’t want to die Shuichi I’m sorry I’m sorry save me Shuichi please I’m sorry ithurtsmakeitstop—)

           His fingers tighten into clawlike shapes, nails digging sharply into his forearms.

             I really don’t think Kokichi would have anything against Kaito, even if here he’s not being completely honest with how much he’s affected by what happened. It wouldn’t make sense to him to hate Kaito for something he himself proposed, but I think there’d still be a subconscious barrier between them. Too much history.

             “Don’t go, Shuichi, I’m so sorry, I— that was so dumb, what I said, please don’t be sad anymore.” He’s not sure if he can’t breathe because of the exertion of running or because of the hysteria boiling over in his head. “Please don’t go, I didn’t mean to hurt you— please don’t leave, Shuichi, I’m so sorry.”

           “Oh, Kokichi….” Shuichi’s tone is strange, soft and pitying, like he sees something Kokichi doesn’t, and he shakes his head slowly as more tears follow the paths of the others.

           Kokichi goes to his knees, ready to grovel if that’s what it takes, but Shuichi follows him down, closing his other hand over Kokichi’s, and then they’re both crying and he doesn’t know why, and all he can do is repeat a mantra of I’m sorry and hold on as tight as he can.

           It’s horrible. Shuichi’s horrible. Shuichi’s wonderful, and kind and lovely and perfect and Kokichi hates him, Kokichi adores him, and it doesn’t matter because Shuichi’s not actually here but Kokichi doesn’t want to be alone, just let me pretend some more, please, please let me have this—

           “I’ll… I’ll stay,” Shuichi says at last. “I can stay a while longer.”

           You shouldn’t, Kokichi wants to say, but his mouth won’t obey him. You shouldn’t stay if you don’t want to. I don’t deserve having you here. I’m not worth your mercy.

           But there on the bridge, crying tears of relief, he soaks up as much mercy as he can get and hopes it’s enough to drown him.

             I wanted to create a contrast between them that highlights just how the isolation and trauma Kokichi’s experiencing has affected him. He has an almost unhealthy reliance on Shuichi as “the only thing that makes this world bearable,” and panics when faced with the prospect of being alone again so soon. Part of why Shuichi’s crying is because he’s realized the extent of Kokichi’s desperation. It’s not that he thinks Kokichi’s apology is insincere, but that he’s hardly heard him apologize for anything before, so Kokichi going this far has him realizing how bad things really are.

             The door rumbles and slides open when they approach, revealing the bright light of the log-out point that took Shuichi away every time, that would wake Kokichi up in his real body if he walked into it. Shuichi stops just a step away from it, biting his lip as if searching for something to say, but before he can find it, Kokichi reaches out to tug at his sleeve.

           “Shuichi?” he says, distant as the waves on the beach that he can still hear if he listens closely enough. Shuichi turns back toward him. “Before you go, can I be selfish one more time?”

           “Huh…?”

           Shuichi doesn’t move when Kokichi steps closer, reaches up to ghost his fingertips over Shuichi’s jaw and around the back of his neck. He lets Kokichi tilt his head downward, lets him hover inches away, close enough to feel their breath mingle in the night air. Kokichi pauses there to give him the chance to pull away. He doesn’t.

           So Kokichi closes his eyes and the distance between them.

             That last line is a ZEUGMA! It’s a literary device where one word refers to two more in a different way. A popular example is the hyenas’ line “Our teeth and ambitions are bared” from The Lion King. It’s my favorite grammatical trick and I’d love to see more of it in fanfic.

             Slowly, he slides his hand down to Shuichi’s shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself away. That hurts even more. He can’t seem to open his eyes, and he feels so weakened, breathless, fragile. Cracked open, hollowed out.

           When he finally does open his eyes, Shuichi’s are wide with some mix of astonishment and a dozen other emotions. Kokichi bows his head, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I just wanted to know.”

           “Kokichi,” Shuichi breathes, like a bullet through his heart.

           “Goodbye, Shuichi,” Kokichi says, and shoves him into the light.

           Shuichi’s little yelp of surprise cuts off abruptly as he falls through the door, vanishing into the glow, and all too soon, Kokichi’s alone again in a dream that suddenly seems far too vast. Alone, with the faintest taste of Shuichi’s lips still lingering on his own.

           And he thinks, It was enough just to know you.

           It’s a lie.

             Nothing to say here except that this is my favorite scene and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

             Fake sun rises over fake ocean, fake seagulls glide through fake sky while fake wind tousles fake palm fronds. Kokichi lies on his stomach in the fake grass and talks to his fake family in the fake notebook. Gives them fake names and runs through everything he remembers about them. Apologizes, over and over, wishes he could hug each of them goodbye one last time. Wonders if it would be more painful to die or to never have existed at all.

           He leaves the notebook of his memories on the seat of one of the Ferris wheel cars on the fourth island, because one time he promised them they’d steal the London Eye together.

           He buys a can of fake soda from the fake convenience store on the first island and sits on the fake beach watching the fake waves. Wonders when he’d hit the end of the simulation if he started swimming, or if he’d drown first.

           White sand, blue sea, bluer sky. Washed out, like an amateur watercolor painting.

           He opens the soda can and raises it to his mouth, but … even the thought of drinking it makes him sick to his stomach. He sets it down in the sand and flicks it over, watching the bubbly liquid run down and sink into the sand. The color’s all wrong, like blood streaked against a metal floor.

           He walks the fake streets of the fifth island, passing fake skyscrapers and fake commuters and their fake conversations, until he finally stops outside the factory he’s never been able to bring himself to go into. Smells like oil, and metal and machines and he can hear the sounds and he’s immediately back in the hangar, dizzy on adrenaline and desperation and leaning heavily on Kaito so he doesn’t keel over and die then and there. Kaito says something about how maybe he should sit down for a minute, and Kokichi didn’t agree back then but he does now, goes down on all fours and dry heaves.

           When his vision solidifies and he can stop gasping for breath, he sits up and presses his back against the factory wall, covering his ears and hiding his face in his knees. Tries to convince himself not to imagine Shuichi’s there with him, holding his hand again, promising everything’s going to be okay.

           “I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” or maybe, “Breathe with me, it’ll be over soon. You’re safe now.”

           I love you.

           He laughs until there’s nothing left in his lungs. He called these little daydreams obsession, before, but now they just seem sick and insane.

             I wanted to indicate throughout this scene that Kokichi’s gotten substantially worse. Instead of halfheartedly interacting with the NPCs or finding something to spend time doing, he’s aimlessly wandering the islands, focused on how fake all of it is. Not even talking to his sketches of DICE can make him feel better. The suicidal ideation starts to slip in even if he doesn’t realize it— a fixation on wondering what death is like, purposefully triggering himself by walking by the factory….

           The thing I want to talk about most though is the italicized I love you. I left it outside of quotation marks and dialogue tags on purpose because I wanted it to be ambiguous as to who’s saying it. If it’s Kokichi’s line, it’s sudden and almost out of place, like he couldn’t hold back from thinking it anymore. But it could be Shuichi saying it, too. Since it’s outside quotation marks, unlike the previous dream-Shuichi lines, it’s more vague, almost a whisper in Kokichi’s thoughts— like he can barely bring himself to imagine it and even feels guilty doing so, because there’s no way it could possibly be real.

           Which do you think?

           Eh, I don’t have an answer. When I hear it in my head, they say it at the same time.

             “How did you know?” he finally croaks.

           Shuichi’s breathing still sounds shaky, too. “Because you said ‘goodbye,’” he says.

           Kokichi finally looks up at him in a silent question.

           “You never say goodbye,” Shuichi says, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes. “It’s always….”

           “‘See you later,’” Kokichi finishes for him. Despite himself, a tiny huff of astonished laughter escapes him. “I didn’t even know, not until a couple of hours ago. And you figured it all out from one word?”

           Shuichi bites his lip at that. “You kissed me,” he says.

           Kokichi’s stomach twists and he looks away. “I said I was sorry—”

           “No.” Shuichi squeezes his hand into a fist and lets it fall to thump against Kokichi’s chest, like he’s trying to knock some sense into him. “It was so honest, and vulnerable, and… and I know how much you hate showing how you really feel.” Another tiny sob catches in his throat. “And so it felt like … like something you’d do if you weren’t going to s-see me again.”

           “Shuichi….” Kokichi trails off as Shuichi muffles his cries in his hand again. He’s so breathtakingly smart. There’s no one else in the world who thinks that way, no one else who could possibly be that attentive and that clever. Not a programmer, not a team of shrinks… how can an AI manage it? How is it that Shuichi always manages to take him by surprise? How can he see straight through him when he least expects it?

           Kokichi’s hand reaches up to Shuichi’s cheek. Reverently traces the path of the tears falling down it.

           “I wish you were real,” he confesses in a whisper.

             Kokichi’s stubborn. So, so stubborn. And he’s not used to being cared about, if the way he does everything by himself is any indication. So it makes sense to me that he’ll refuse to believe anything good can happen to him even in the face of convincing evidence. He’s pretty self-hating for someone so arrogant.

             Kokichi’s weak, deep down to his core, weak for this man. Already knows he’d do anything for him, and the thought is terrifying—that one person could have that much power over him, even if he doesn’t realize it.

           But what if he has realized it? Couldn’t this all be an elaborate ruse, a lie he knew Kokichi would be so desperate to believe that he wouldn’t bother questioning it?

           …Shuichi’s never hurt him, though. Only that one time, when he really deserved it. Shuichi wouldn’t … betray him, even for what he thinks is Kokichi’s own good. They’re… different from each other, that way.

           But still….

           “I’m so scared, Shuichi.” It’s barely a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

           “You won’t be.” It’s so hard to be skeptical, lost in his eyes. “I’ll be right there with you, for as long as you want. I won’t let you feel like this anymore.”

           Promise me, he wants to blurt out. Promise you’ll stay. Promise me you’ll never leave me, Shuichi, he wants to demand, but that’s wrong, that’s manipulative and selfish and everything he doesn’t want to be for Shuichi anymore.

           Shuichi, of course, says it anyway.

           “I promise, Kokichi.”

…        

           “Kiss me again,” he says. “Please?”

           Shuichi leans in close, then pauses, his brow furrowing the way it does when he catches him in a lie.

           “I’ll kiss you again in the real world,” Shuichi says. “Okay?”

           Kokichi shakes his head. “Shuichi, please.” Please, I don’t think I can do this. Please, I don’t want to wake up to a lie. Please, one last kiss for me to remember in case it was all fake.

           Shuichi reaches out to tilt his chin up and Kokichi closes his eyes, savoring every second, burning it into his memory.

           Shuichi’s soft breath ghosts over his lips.

           “Trust me,” he murmurs.        

           Kokichi’s eyes flutter back open, searching his face. Shifting him around on the white board in his head, seeing what categories he fits into this time. Weird, of course. Suspicious, maybe not. Trustworthy?

           Trustworthy….

           “I do trust you,” he realizes.

             Kokichi’s still hesitant to accept all of this— Shuichi kissing him didn’t magically fix everything. He’ll still doubt all the way to the log-out point, but at least now he realizes that this simulation is only hurting him— that if things are to get better they’re going to have to change, too. He’s got a long way to go before he’s all right, but he’s not going to have to face it alone anymore.

             And that’s a wrap!

           Once again, I’m really proud of this story, and I feel like I grew as a writer because of it. There are a few things I would change if I wrote it again, but for all its flaws it’s still my baby and I like how it turned out.

           Thanks again for all your support for “Hologram,” and thanks even more if you actually waded through all this nonsense of a director’s cut. It’s a huge confidence-boost to think that people liked what I wrote, and even wanted to hear what I had to say about it. If there’s any interest, I’d love to review some of my other fics here, or theorize or brainstorm or whatever else  you’re into. (Ask me what Byakuya’s Thing is in my superhero AU, I dare you 😉)

           I do have a WIP in my folder of bits and pieces currently titled “boy finally gets that kiss”, and it’s a post-Hologram scene from Shuichi’s point of view to just sorta… tie it all together, have them talk things over again… and kiss, of course. We’ll see if anything comes out of that.

           Until next time!

[janetbrown711]

"If I die, I'm never speaking to you again" - Wakko

Yakko had never considered himself the lucky type, which was hard to refute looking back at his past, but ever since Dot got sick, every time she lasted the night felt like a miracle. 

Scratchnsniff had been ultimately been right, staying there for three days did a lot to revive Dot’s spirits, though it was still clear she was still sick. It was just... better now. She wasn’t sweating and shivering uncontrollably anymore. 

The list of foods the doctor gave him wasn’t totally unreasonable, they were affordable and were often in the market. However, Dot had a tendency to be a picky eater, and since taste and healthiness often didn’t correlate, Yakko often had to trick or force her to eat. It was frustrating, but there was no way in hell Yakko was going to let her get away without eating, no matter how much she pleaded. She was losing weight at a frightening pace, she needed to eat. He didn’t care what she wanted. He’d do anything to keep her alive. 

And Wakko... poor kid. Wakko seemed just as- if not more- worried about Dot than Yakko was. He spent every day working as hard as he could for money, but the results were starting to get worse. The taxing on Acme Falls increased, and soon the menial tasks Wakko had been doing disappeared, as shop keepers simply couldn’t afford to lose a single ha’penny. Because of that, the amount of food they could buy was becoming scarce, so now they only had stale bread and vegetables for Dot. Everything Yakko and Wakko ate was hunted. However, the lack of business never stopped him from going into town and trying though. Yakko was pretty sure nothing could ever stop that kid from at least trying.

Still, it left Dot feeling awfully lonely. She missed her brother a lot, and was always happier when he came home. Hell, even he was happier when he was home. Goodness knows taking care of a sickly younger sister who would be running around and playing with her dolls one day and then unable to move for pain and coughing the next was damaging to one’s psyche. Wakko was a welcome relief and distraction for the both of them. 

“Whatcha thinking about Yakko?” Dot asked as she took a nibble from a piece of her stale bread. Yakko snapped out of his thoughts and noticed both of his siblings had been staring at him, probably for a while. 

“The usual,” Yakko shrugged and took a bite of his rabbit meat.

“Sorry,” Dot whispered. Yakko froze. 

“Dot, stop that. This isn’t your fault,” Yakko shot her a look. They had had this conversation roughly a million times, but no matter what he said it was never convincing enough. Dot didn’t argue this time, and just nodded her head. Yakko sighed, suddenly not hungry. He handed it to Dot. 

“Eat this too, you need your strength,” He said, standing up. 

“But Yakko-”

“No ‘buts’ Dot. Eat it.” He looked her in the eyes. “I’m going outside for a moment. When I come back in I expect all of it to be gone.”

Dot didn’t argue, thankfully. Satisfied, Yakko went outside of the small abandoned flower shop and sat down on a bench, feeling the cool air of the early mid-winter night. 

It had been two very long months since Dot had first gotten sick, and Yakko hadn’t stopped worrying since. After all, the last time he tried to relax Dot ended up sick. To say he felt guilty was a bit of an understatement. Every time she got worse, he basically spiraled into a ball of worry and never left her side, not even to take care of himself, something he also knew was bad, but he didn’t know how to stop.

Moments like these, where he was able to step outside and just... sit for a moment was nice. It was relaxing (if his mind didn’t wander and spiral, as it just had. If Yakko could have anything in the world, it would be an off switch for his brain). 

“Yakko..?” Wakko surprised his brother when he popped his head through the door. 

“Yes? Is everything okay?” Yakko said, glancing at the boarded-up window.

“Dot’s fine,” Wakko said, and Yakko relaxed again. “I just... need to talk to you.”

That part surprised Yakko. He gestured for his little brother to sit next to him, and he did. 

“Yakko, you know how there hasn’t been any work here for the last week?” Wakko said. Yakko bit his lip, how could he not? He nodded. 

“W-well, I heard rumors from the baker that a few towns over there were blacksmiths in need of apprentices and other jobs and I was thinking-”

“No.” Yakko shut him down. 

“Yakko, you didn’t let me finish,” Wakko frowned. 

“No. You aren’t leaving Acme Falls Wakko,” Yakko crossed his arms. 

“Why? I could earn more money out there than I can here,” He argued. 

“You’re barely nine years old. You can’t travel by yourself,” Yakko fought back. 

“Can too,” Wakko huffed. “You were eight when mum and dad died. You traveled alone.” 

“That is an entirely different situation Wakko and you know that,” Yakko shot him a look. 

Wakko didn’t back down, asking, “How?” 

Yakko thought hard about that. 

“Because Mom told me I had to. I’m not telling you you need to go, so you won’t,” Yakko said. 

“Yakko, stop being stubborn,” Wakko groaned and pulled at his ears. 

“You know we need the money.”

“The jobs won’t be easy- you know that, right? They’ll be borderline exploitative,” Yakko pointed out. Wakko rolled his eyes. 

“I know that, but if I go away for a year then you can really save on food and-”

“Hold up- a year???” Yakko stopped him again. Wakko looked away. 

“I-i mean... I’d try to come home earlier, but... a year most likely.”

“Wakko, we don’t know if Dot- if... if Dot has a year,” Yakko said, the words feeling like a stab in the chest to admit. Wakko’s ears lowered. 

“I know... I just- If I stay you’re gonna run out of money for Dot’s food a-and I can’t be the reason you end up not eating because money is tight,” Wakko couldn’t look at his older brother as he said that. Yakko paused, unable to speak. 

Sometimes he really hated how observant his little brother was.

“Wakko... you can’t...” Yakko tried to argue more, but something deep within himself told him that Wakko was right. 

“I’ll send any money I earn in the mail so you can keep buying Dot her medicines and stuff, maybe even get her new clothes and blankets,” Wakko explained. “I bet she’d really appreciate that.”

“She’d miss you a lot Wak...” Yakko said. Wakko sighed. 

“Yeah... I know. I really want to be here for her if something happens but I don’t know what other options are out there. I’ve thought about this a lot, it’s what I have to do,” He replied.  

“That’s evident,” Yakko ran his hands through his fur and sighed. 

“I guess... I guess you’re right, Wak,” Yakko admitted. 

“You mean you’ll let me go?” Wakko sat up. Yakko nodded and Wakko hugged him in a bone-crushing embrace. 

“Thank you thank you thank you Yakko! I won’t let you down!” Wakko smiled up at his brother. 

“Thanks for what? What’s going on?” 

The brothers froze when they saw their little sister standing in the doorway. 

“Dot- I-”

“Are you going away?” Dot asked, clutching her rag doll tightly. 

“Now Dot, Wakko and I were discussing it and-”

“You’re letting him?!” Dot’s eyes were now filled with tears. Yakko sucked in a breath, biting his words. 

“Dot-”

“No! You can’t go Wakko! I won’t let you!” Dot shouted at him. Neither brother moved. 

“Dot, we need the money-”

“I don’t care about the money Wakko! I care about you! You can’t leave me!” She pleaded with him. 

“Dot, maybe we should go back inside-” Yakko said, noticing the people around beginning to stare. 

“No!!! He can’t leave! I’ll die before he comes back!” Dot sobbed. 

“Dot- don’t say that!” Yakko scolded, trying to ignore the stares.

“NO!!! I won’t! If I die I’ll never speak to Wakko again! He can’t leave! He can’t he can’t he can’t!” She was uncontrollably sobbing now, and Wakko’s head was so low you could hardly see his eyes, but Yakko could see the tears streaming down his cheeks. 

With a determined breath, Yakko picked up his crying sister and brought her inside, Wakko followed close behind. 

“Put me down!!” She kicked and pounded her fists, but she was weak on account of her illness. Yakko set her down once Wakko closed the door. 

“Dot, I need you to calm down and let Wakko explain himself,” Yakko said. 

“Y-you’re sup-supposed to be on m-m-my side,” Dot sniffled and cried. Well, at least she was kind of calming down...

“Dot... Wakko and I just want what’s best for you. We need to be able to buy your medicine and food so you can stay strong and healthy, but right now it’s hard. There isn’t a lot of work in Acme Falls anymore and Wakko thinks there might be more opportunities outside,” Yakko explained calmly, not sure how much Dot could hear over her hiccupping and crying. 

“B-but I want Wakko to s-stay,” She said, a lot quieter this time. 

“I want to stay too Dot,” Wakko joined in. “But you need medicine and food, and for that we need money, and I can’t get the money we need here.”

Dot looked at the ground, trying to stop her crying.

“I might die and never see you again...” Dot gave in and cried again. Wakko didn’t hesitate and quickly hugged her. 

“I know... that’s what scares me...” He said. 

“So d-don’t go,” Dot looked up at him. 

Wakko sighed. “I can’t. I have to go. You’ll die a lot faster if I don’t.”

Yakko grimaced. Whether or not it was the truth, Yakko didn’t like to think about how soon Dot could easily... you know...

Dot sniffled and wiped away her tears. “I-i dunno...”

“Dot, please,” Wakko pleaded with her, before getting an idea. 

“I’ll write you letters whenever I can. We’ll keep in touch, it’ll be like I never left!” Wakko smiled, glancing at Yakko. He nodded in approval. 

Dot then glanced at Yakko. Yakko gave a similar look back, one that suggested “hey, I’m not the one in charge here, it’s whatever you wanna do”, if it translated correctly. 

“I-i’ll miss you a lot...” Dot kicked the floor. “B-but if you have to...”

Wakko smiled and hugged her again. “I knew you’d understand. You’re the best little sister ever!”

Dot smiled weakly. “I know.”

Yakko smiled too, glad she still had her sass despite everything. 

And so it was decided. Wakko was to leave the following week, spending as much time as possible with Dot- who was doing her best to try and act like she wasn’t feeling terrible and sick. But Dot never got past Yakko, and he made sure to give her more food than normal that week. 

Eventually, though, it was time for him to go, and it seemed the whole town showed up to say goodbye. At first, Yakko had been surprised at the turnout, but realized that Wakko had basically worked for all of them at one point or another. 

Yakko and Dot waited patiently for their brother to talk and say his goodbyes to everyone- even the mime, who Wakko (and most everyone else) hated. Once he was done however, the train had already pulled up, meaning their goodbyes were going to have to be quick. 

“I’m gonna miss you Wakko,” Dot said, giving him the best hug she could muster. Wakko hugged back. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, but don’t forget, I’ll write a letter as soon as I can,” He smiled. 

“You better,” Dot punched his arm. “Or else I’ll be mad.”

Wakko laughed. “Okay, okay. I got it. I’ll write, or else.”

Satisfied, Dot sat back down and it was now Yakko’s turn.

“So... you’re really going, huh?” Yakko scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yep,” Wakko said, bouncing on his heels. He knew it was getting close.

“Just-... don’t do anything stupid. And if anything happens, don’t be afraid to come home,” Yakko said. 

“I know, I know,” Wakko chuckled. They had had many conversations with that point sneaked into it several times in the past week. 

“I know you know, I’m just nervous. Mom always said to never split up,” Yakko sighed. 

“You’re a worry-wart Yakko. You need to relax, you’ll never be able to take care of Dot if you worry yourself sick,” Wakko pointed out. Yet again, Wakko flexed his amazingly strong observation skills. 

“I’ll try my best to keep that in mind,” Yakko said, and he meant it. 

“Just don’t forget to write- or else I’ll have to come find you and knock the senses back into you.” 

Wakko laughed. “I’ll write, I promise.”

Just then, the train’s whistle blew and the conductor made the last call. Wakko winced. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise. I’ll send whatever money I can every two weeks,” Wakko said, before giving his brother a quick hug and dashing onto the train.  He then stuck his head through a window and while the train started to chug along, he waved goodbye to Acme Falls and headed off to hopefully greener pastures. 

Dot and Yakko stayed at the station waving goodbye, even after the others had left and the train was long gone. There was a void now where Wakko’s presence had once been and the two felt it strongly. 

Eventually, Dot began to cry and Yakko had to carry her back to the flower shop so she could get some rest and conserve her strength. 

He was going to have to do that a lot if they were both supposed to make it through the year. But they could do it, Dot was strong, and Yakko could make an effort not to stress himself to death. 

They were Warners. They were fighters, and none of them were going to be giving up for quite some time. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[donutloverxo]

The proposition

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork asked for "hmm. Gentle fluff or smut, can be both. Whatever your in the mood for babes. Long or short as you would like." Ok I know the story doesn't really fit the gif or the request but I love it so much🥺🥺

Summary - Wilford has a proposition for you and Curtis.

Warnings - smut, virgin reader, blood/cum play, dark themes, technically non con/dub con since it is coercion

Pairing - Curtis Everett x reader

Word count - 3.5k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You looked at the wooden board contemplating your next move. You had gotten somewhat better at playing, after practicing for so many years. But you still weren’t nearly as good as Wilford.

“Check” You warned and grinned as you trapped his king with your knight.

“Hm” he hummed staring off into the distance. He was really out of it throughout the game.

“Is something wrong?” You spoke casually and felt a shiver go down your spine. Suddenly on edge again.

You often forgot that you’re supposed to hate him. After everything he’s done to so many people, even if he was somewhat kind to you, he was far from a good person.

You never even knew about the state of the tail section. Not until the revolution that happened months ago. Their conditions had gotten considerably better. But they and their leader were still struggling and fighting for their rights.

“Well if you really want to know...” He paused chewing on his finger while he supported the weight of his head with his palm. “There’s Curtis. He’s clearly not happy. He’s making it difficult for me to mould him into a perfect heir.”

“Oh” You let out. The disdain Curtis held for Wilford was really obvious. You had never spoken to him but you accompanied Wilford to several of his meetings. “Maybe you can meet him in the middle? Give into his needs a bit?” You said your voice strained. You didn’t need him second guessing your loyalty.

“I’ve been more than generous with him.” He scoffed “We have to maintain equilibrium. Perfect balance.” He went on his usual lecture taking out your knight with his queen “If only you were a bit smarter... and a man I wouldn’t even need Curtis.” He stated his eyes staring at the board.

“I’m sorry.” You hung your head in shame. Ashamed that you couldn’t be enough to satisfy him, be of any use to him. And that you craved his approval in the first place.

“At the end of the day” He said finally looking at you “How devoted are you? How far would you go for me?” He asked and looked at you expectedly.

“I – I’ll do anything for you sir. You know that.” You stammered. He had yet to ask you to do any tasks for him. Expect for keeping him company. You doubted he'd ask for anything too extreme from you. Not when he had so many skilled people do the job for him.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He said giving you a chillingly warm smile that highlighted the wrinkles around his eyes.

***

Curtis struggled to not punch a hole into a wall to let the anger bubbling inside him out. Every time Wilford called him up to the ‘sacred engine’ it was for something incredibly stupid.

Like fucking tea parties with macaroons or mini sandwiches. The pompous ass called himself ‘A man of taste. That’s how I know you’re special.’

Now Curtis would have to eat those ridiculous cookies or sliders or whatever he serves him and listen to his bullshit.

But he knew that had no right to complain. This was a small price to pay for all the work he had been doing to help HIS people.

They were given five more sections of the train. Proper food and clean water. It was acceptable. But it still wasn’t enough.

He had his own spacious room since he’s 'one of the big guys now'. He felt guilty living in it. To have clean water to shower everyday, have more than enough food to keep him full.

It had been 17 years since he was alone in a room. With his thoughts. Now he got to sleep on his plush mattress all by himself. It should feel good. But he was guilty. He wouldn’t rest until his people got the same privileges. No matter how long it takes.

Wilford agreed to his terms, and negotiated with him for hours, when he had him over a barrel. It was either that or Curtis blows up the train.

The first few weeks were rough. He felt completely hopeless and crushed. Knowing from then on that he could only trust himself in this dog eats dog world. The people he did love and care for were now all dead.

So he did what he had been doing for the past two decades. Threw himself into work and planning with a clear goal in mind.

He finally reached his destination finding Wilford waiting for him. Welcoming him with a smile.

“Why don’t you sit down for a while?” He asked when Curtis merely stood there glaring at him.

“Can we make this quick.” He snapped.

“Why do you have places to be?” Wilford laughed calling for you to come out of the corner. Where you usually stood and watched his meetings take place. He introduced you to Curtis “But you must know her by now.” He inquired raising a grey eyebrow at him.

“Yeah.” Curtis gave you a small nod glaring at you as if he was ready to cut you up then and there. You had no idea why he seemed more angry with you than he did with Wilford.

“Well you’ve been on edge. And you know men have needs...” He trailed off shrugging “You can have her as your own. You’ll need an heir soon enough.” He continued.

Leaving you completely stunned. He wanted to sell you off as if you were a breeding mare.

When your father ‘gave' you to Wilford ,just over 4 years ago, you thought you’d have to do that with him. Keep him satisfied like the prostitutes in section 5 do.

But you were surprised to find that Wilford never really cared much for sex. Not with you or anyone else. He decided to ‘keep' you even went far as to call you a pet. Someone adorably stupid he liked to teach things and impart his wisdom to.

The thought of being with Curtis in that way wasn’t repulsive, not as much as it was with Wilford, but you were sure that he’d hurt you. That he hated your guts.

“That won’t be necessary.” Curtis stated “is that all?” He said completely done with this whole situation. And needing to get out of this place that just stinks of Wilford.

“Now now what’s the rush? Is she not enough? I thought you’d like someone simpler or I would’ve called for a professional.” To which Curtis shook his head dryly laughing at the ridiculous proposition. “Do you have someone else in mind? Someone in the tail section? No one there would be healthy enough to bare a child.”

To which Curtis gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw.

He did you a once over. He could see your curvy and plump figure even through your baggy clothes. That’s what he hated about you the most. The fact that he was so attracted to you. And that you always looked so goddamn irresistible.

“I don’t need a whore.” He spit.

“How about you watch your language and your tone” Wilford frowned “She won’t be a whore. She’ll be the mother of your children. You can marry her if you want to. Not that it would mean anything.” Wilford paused letting him process his words. “I’ll tell you what. You can have any woman you want.”

“How about no?” He snarked even though he knew better.

“I wasn’t really asking.” he sighed. Irritated at just how annoyingly stubborn Curtis could be. “You do this and maybe I’ll be more open to negotiating.”

Curtis shook his head in disbelief and looked at you. You had been quiet the entire time. Just like you always are. He had never heard your voice. He would certainly remember it if he did.

“And you’re okay with this?” He asked you.

Your eyes darted back and forth between both of them. “Ye – yes” You stammered. Feeling as if you were suddenly put on the spot. You didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Does tonight sound good to you?” Wilford asked you and you gave him a small nod. “Well then you should go on and get ready sweetheart” He cooed at you softly and you followed. Looking at Curtis one last time before going back to your room.

“Is this really necessary?” Curtis asked as he watched you leave.

“You’re still in your prime. This is the best time to have a baby that’d healthy. You know what they said better late.”

Curtis stayed for a bit discussing these ‘negotiations' Wilford had promised. But he was sure of one thing. No way in hell is he fucking a front sectioner. Let alone have a kid with one. He wouldn’t be caught dead trying to bring a child in this fucked up world.

You seemed impressionable. He could easily convince you to lie.

***

Your roommate Laura helped you pick out a dress for the night. Giving you some pointers on how to please men.

“And don’t forget to remind him to pull out.” She warned. Knowing the penalty for birthing more than one baby, in most cases, is very high. “Oh yeah you wouldn’t need to do that...” She trailed off feeling sympathy for you “Then I’ve heard that you should keep his cum in you for as long as you can. Let gravity do the work.”

You zoned her out. Needing her to stop talking because you were anxious enough.

“Aren’t you nervous though? To be a mom? I’d be terrified.”

Terrified. Yeah that’s what you should be. But you felt eerily calm. “I’m taking it one day at a time. Or I’d go crazy.” You muttered out in response to her.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to Curtis. What happens if he finds you lacking? Or so repulsive that he can’t even get it up. Would Wilford forgive you. How grave would his punishment even be.

You found yourself worrying more for Curtis. Wilford still held a soft spot for you. But as much as he claimed to be smitten by Curtis, it was clear that he held a bias. Like most front sectioners did against the tail Enders.

You knocked on his door before letting yourself in. Looking around for him. His room was, as you expected, much larger than yours. It held a king bed in the middle of it, unlike your twin beds. It was much cleaner and organised as well.

Your eyes fell on an old worn out paper which held what looked like a charcoal drawing. You held it up studying it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You jumped as you heard him growl. You turned around to see him standing just a few feet away from you, dressed only with a towel hanging low on his hips.

“Uh I’m here for... the...you know...” What the hell were you supposed to call it? Babymaking?

“We won’t be doing that. You will sit there, quietly, for a few hours and leave.” He ordered looking through his dressed for his clothes.

Even though water was abundant to him now, he wasn’t going to be wasteful with it. So he only showered in the evenings. To wash the whole day off of him.

Maybe a part of him knew you’d be here. And wanted to look presentable to him. Which, he knew, was stupid. You’d never see him that way. And he didn’t need to work to impress someone like you.

“We can’t do that.” You mumbled taking in his naked torso. His shoulders were broad and he And you were pleasantly surprised to see just how huge he was.

“Why?” He asked pulling a shirt and some pants out. He looked back at you expecting an answer.

“He – a doctor will be examining me tomorrow. They’ll probably figure it out.” You said hugging yourself to make yourself small. Averting your gaze to avoid the intensity of his eyes.

“Fine then.” He huffed. He looked through the dresser to search for the lotion that came with the room. He could probably use it as lube, get it over with. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to do it and he wasn’t really looking to hurt you either. “Lay down on the bed” He instructed handing you the bottle as you settled on top of his mattress.

He opened his mouth about to tell you to apply it between your legs but then “I’ve never done this before you know. Just thought you should know.” You confessed still unable to look him in the eye.

“What? That’s not possible.” He frowned at you “Aren’t you supposed to be Wilfords whore?” He snapped.

Which set you off. This was the second time today he had called you a whore. “You really think you have the moral high ground to call me that?” you swallowed as he looked taken aback by your words. “I don’t know what I am to Wilford. What I do know is – if we don’t do as he says we’ll have to pay.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He scoffed.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it.” You said gravely. Shedding off your clothes. There was no point in prolonging it. “Can we turn the lights off?” You asked.

“No.” He let out as he looked at your dress. Bunched up around your waist. Giving him a generous look at your thick thighs.

He loosened his towel a bit as he felt himself harden at just the thought of you naked.

He hadn’t been with a woman in decades. Too afraid to bring a child in this world. There were offers from many to suck him off. But he was never particularly interested. He took care of himself as hastily and as quietly as he could, in his bunk late at night.

Despite everything, how lucky he was right now to have the things he had, how far he had come, he had also suffered a lot. Gave up a lot. Maybe he deserved something he took just for himself.

He dropped his towel onto the floor, revealing his erection to you. He climbed on the bed and crawled to you.

You stared at his long length, how scary and angry it looked pressed hard against this taut abs. “I uh what do I do with this?” You asked looking at the lotion.

“Forget about it.” He tossed the bottle away and worked on rolling your panties down your legs.

You shivered as cold air touched your exposed core. “Oh” You gasped as you felt his fingers nudge your warm folds.

“Off with this too.” He demanded taking your dress off your head.

You quickly brought your hands up to cover your exposed chest. Shifting in your place. The reality of the situation suddenly hit you. This was really happening. It was all too quick. There wasn’t nearly enough time for you to process your emotions.

He pushed you on your back and quickly settled between your legs. Smelling a whiff of your arousal. He knew he was being hasty. If he wasn’t patient it would be over too soon. But he was so damn hard he felt as he’d bust right then and there. He rolled his hips into the mattress to relieve some of the pressure from his groins.

He groaned at the sight of your naked body above him. Your soft stomach, your breast laid flat as your chest heaved. He dove in for a taste. Pleased with just how wet you already were and at the way you squirmed. He almost let himself believe that you wanted him. That you were so aroused just for him.

But he knew better than to believe that. It was far from the truth. You were just as forced into this situation as he was. He was just trying to make the best of it.

Before he could eat you properly you lightly pushed at his head. “Wait.” Your voice scratchy. You propped yourself on your elbows so you could look at him “I don’t... want it to hurt. Please.” You pleaded.

“That depends on how much you cooperate.” He threatened and you laid back. You whimpered as he sucked your clit, wrapping his mouth around it. He pushed a finger inside you and then another. Holding a hand flat on your stomach to stop you from moving. It was different than when you played with yourself with your fingers.

You cried out loud for the whole train to hear when he rolled your bundle of nerves between his fingers while fucking you with his tongue. You came on his tongue. Feeling more intense than you had ever before.

He lapped up everything you gave him. Not wanting to waste a single drop. He trailed kisses up your nipping just under your breasts and wrapping his lips around one dark hard bud. He sucked it harshly gently pulling on your other nipple, just to get a reaction out of you. You whimpered cradling his head close to your chest.

All too soon he released your nipple and supported his weight on his forearms to look down at you.

You looked so perfectly dazed. Staring at him hazily through your hooded eyes. Your lips bruised and bleeding. Were you biting them so hard to keep, and fail, from making those singular noises?

He couldn’t help it. He knew he’d regret it the second he thought of it. But he needed to know what your mouth tasted like. He nibbled on your bottom lip for a bit before capturing your lips for a kiss.

His first one as far as he can remember. He wondered if he was your first kiss too. He tilted his head to get an angle that would allow him to explore your mouth the best. Moaning into it he brought his hands up to cradle your face. Somehow kissing your mouth felt more intimate than kissing your cunt.

He finally pulled away so you could both breathe. He took in a few deep breathes before nudging your lips with his tip, before seething himself into you.

He was deliberately slow. Drawing out the pleasure for both of you because he didn’t want to hurt you. Far from it. He wanted you to scream his name just like you were minutes before.

He groaned into your ear as he bottomed out. Giving you all the time you needed to adjust to his length. He pulled your earlobe between his teeth. Snaking a hand beneath your hips he raised them so he could thrust deeper inside you.

You mewled and moaned under him, chanting his name as if it was a prayer, as he slowly rutted into you. He wondered, if it was because of him. Or it wouldn’t really make much of a difference to you of it was some front sectioners cock instead of his.

Your walls were so snug and tight around him. He knew he wouldn’t last long. He tried to think of all the work he had to do, hell even thought of Wilford just to hold off.

But he couldn’t. Not with the way you were squeezing him. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself to completion. Ropes of his cum painted your stomach. He felt strangely possessive at that. As if he marked you as his own.

He sat up on his knees, looking down at you and stroking your thighs, he admire his work.

“What did you do?” You asked as you felt his warm spend on your stomach. It had been feeling so good for you, you were almost at the edge when he pulled out. You knew he was supposed to finish inside you.

He didn’t bother to answer you before his broad shoulders nudged the inside of your thighs to fit him. He lapped up at your cunt again. Determined to bring you off at least once more. He moaned at the tangy taste of your blood, and your juices mixed with his.

It didn’t take long for him to work up your sensitive and overworked folds and cunt. This orgasm was somehow more intense, if that was even possible.

Curtis settled beside you. Wiping his mouth off with his hand he turned off the light. He thought about asking you to go back to your room.

But then you curled up against his arm, wrapping your little hands around it. You settled your head in the crook of his neck. He would get up later to clean you both up later. Right now he just needed to commit this moment to memory. So he’d never forget it.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist lemme know via dm/ask or click the link in the bio.

Yayyy I finally wrote for Curtis! Idk if there will be a part two to this. Snowpiercer is just too dark for a soft girl like me🥺🥺

Please note that my works are not to be reposted on any other website/blog. Reblogs are welcome though!

[sleepysailorghost]

Arcade wasn't sure what he expected when the Courier asked him to accompany them. They hadn't given a name, only said they were a Courier. It wasn't much to go on, but the Courier had looked up at him with big eyes. And for some reason, it didn't sound all that crazy to venture beyond the fort with them, a natural stanger.

They had listened so reverently when Julie spoke. They had fulfilled any job asked of them by the Followers. Certainly, if they harbored ill will towards the Followers, they would have gotten to their revenge before now.

He had asked for their name, if only to be polite.

"I don't have one. Courier or Six is fine, if you'd like."

"You don't have a name?"

"I guess I probably did once, but I don't remember any more. I just remember the man in the checkered coat- an 18-carat run of bad luck-and then waking up in Doc Mitchell's house. Maybe that man knows who I was. I don't know."

"That doesn't bother you, not having a past?"

"No, not really." The Courier leaned back. "I'm just me. Sure, I can't look back on the road behind me, but I can look forward."

"Interesting. Are you going to look for the man in the checkered coat?"

"I don't know. I guess I could. I'm supposed to, because he stole something from me and shot me in the head."

"Wait, he shot you in the head?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't remember much. It messed with my head too."

"Well, yeah. Getting shot in the head would do that."

"Oh, wait, I do have one hint to who I might have been." The courier starts to undo the many closures of their armor, like a fire's been lit under them. "What do you make of this?"

The Courier drops their armor clumsily on the floor, and then goofily flexes. He doesn't really know what they're refering to, but then he sees the poorly-done tattoo on their upper arm. It's a ring of roses and thorns that raps under their bicep. Despite being very mediocre, it is legible and in color.

"Huh." Tattoos aren't really unique, but it is something. "Maybe your name is Rose?"

"Maybe. It doesn't sound right."

"Maybe you just need to try it out for a while, wear it in." He's trying to help, but the Courier is a near stranger to him. "Or, if you'd like, I could arrange for you to see Dr. Usa-"

"No thanks. Don't want to take up her time." The refusal was off faster than a bullet from a sixgun. "If you're ready to go, so am I."

"Sure." He agreed. It wasn't really healthy of the Courier to act out against the idea of visiting the clinic, but it wasn't something he could force them into. At least, not as a near stranger.

This turned out to be one of the few times the Courier's former-NCR sniper friend wasn't travelling with them. He probably wouldn't have decided to go with the Courier if he had known they had company. Still, it isn't all that bad, even if he feels a little crowded with the Courier, their robot pet ED-E (he hates that thing), the King's robot-dog, the sniper, and the Remnant medical researcher. One more person, and the Courier will have a small army.

Not that the Courier normally has all of them traveling together at once. It's too noticeable, draws too much attention. It might even sound like a joke: an Enclave eyebot, a police cyber dog, an amnesiac Courier, a grouchy NCR sniper, and a medical researcher walk in to a bar...

It makes the Courier happy to travel with him, so he does it on occasion. Those occassions become a lot more frequent after they return from a place they call the "Big Empty".

That had been months ago. Now, he felt like he knew the Courier. Not that he wasn't surprised by the Courier-he certainly was. But he was familiar with the Courier now.

It was a dangerous sort of thing, that familiarity. He was even starting to think that perhaps it would be a good idea to let them in on his own origins.

And he knew how the Courier felt about him.

Leaning against his side while they sat at a fire, the Courier's hands stripping a defeated foe's weapon, they had muttered something.

"Sorry, say again?" Arcade responded. Most of the time, it was just complaints about bent springs or whatever, more to themselves than to him.

The Courier's hands stopped, laying the weapon on the ground.

"You're my brother, Arcade." The Courier says, and then continues before Arcade could interrupt. "Not by blood. Or hell, maybe you are. It's not like I'd remember. Course you are a heck of a lot taller than I am...maybe the tall gene skipped me."

Arcade doesn't say anything, attempting to process what the Courier was trying to tell him.

"No, we're not related by blood." He agrees, although he has no real way to confirm it without knowing the Courier's identity.

"I know." The Courier put their hand up to their chest. "I just...well, I know you're my brother. I, uhh, care about you."

Arcade didn't know what to say about that. It really did feel like it had come out of nowhere to him. A few weeks later, the Courier had gone running off to a place that might have been their home.

Antietam is walking by his side now, but their gaze is drawn over to an old poster. The pre-war store was filled with advertisements for many different products, from Sugar-Bombs to the newest products from Rob-Co.

Shelves, long ransacked and destroyed, have created something of a maze. The laminate tiling on the floor has become loose after centuries of neglect. Decorations littering the area would mark this location as a raider base at some point.

His friend doesn't seem to notice any of that, moving closer to a central display that might have been made of stacked shoeboxes once. Now, the boxes lay in a crumpled heap.

"Antietam, wait-" He says, and the courier stops.

"Yeah? Do you need something?"

"You need to be more careful! This could be a trap."

"I don't think it is. I'm pretty good at finding traps and I don't see any tripwires or bear traps. I've stepped in enough of those."

"Of course you wouldn't see them! It's a mess in here."

"I'm not going far. I just wanna see if I can find some of those."The Courier pointed at an advertisement. It was of a girl with little wheels on her shoes, looking over her shoulder as she spun away. Under the picture, it read "Roll with the punches with Roller-Ray skates!".

"Do you..need those?"

"Well, no. I just think they would be cool. Just rollin around town."

"I'll go with them." Boone added, if only so he could keep an eye on them.

"Yeah, plus ED-E's sensors haven't picked up on anything. I can handle myself while looking for skates, Arcade."

On that note, the Courier and Boone go to pick through the rubble. When they returned, Antietam raised their arm triumphantly.

"We found them! A little dinged up, but I can fix that. C'mon, lets go outside to try them!" With the hand not holding their skates, Antietam grabbed at Arcade's sleeve.

"Okay, okay." He said, because Antietam's enthusiasm for things was infectious sometimes. They exited the store, entering that had once been a parking lot. Rusted-through cars sat abandoned and the sun hung low in the sky.

Antietam dropped to the floor, strapping on their skates. They were metal and fit awkwardly with their combat boots and spurs. Awkwardly, like a baby radstag on ice, the Courier stood up.

"Okay,so I just." The Courier lifted one leg as if to take a step. Their balance was offset by the movement. Next to him, Arcade saw Boone move to catch the Courier if they fell, but the Courier braced themselves on a car instead.

They took a few more awkward steps.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of this." Their movements were jerky, but in time, perhaps they'd be alright at it.

Then they hit a skid in the destroyed asphalt and took a spill. Their left side collided hard with a rusted shell.

"Ouch." they groaned, and then collapsed onto the parking lot. "I'm just gonna rest here for a second."

Arcade laughed a little, and then helpfully whined about the sun.

"Alright, alright. Okay, getting up." The Courier pushed up from the asphalt with both hands, rising from their crumpled mass.

"Nothing broken?" Arcade asked, seeing Antietam avoid putting too much weight on their left side.

"No, probably just bruised." They replied, but that was what Arcade had expected. They were still extremely hesitant to be medically examined, even if it meant concealing and ignoring injuries. It stung Arcade-someone who the Courier allegedly loved like a brother-to be held at arms' length. That being said, he couldn't be upset with them either. The Courier had suffered greatly and been stripped of agency by doctors. It was a mark of pride that Antietam trusted him.

Actually, he could still be angry with them for concealing injuries.

The sun was beating down as steadily as it always did in the Mojave. A bead of sweat formed on Arcade's neck.

"Oh shoot." The Courier murmured, looking over their hands. They wore fingerless gloves, and a pip-boy on one arm. Arcade examined the injury. It would be a lot of work if the Courier came down with tetnus. "It's just a scrape, Arcade."

"It's not just a scrape. It's dirty and could get infected."

"Hottest part of the days coming up. We should wait it out in the store." Boone added, helpfully.

"C'mon, listen to your big brother, ok?" Arcade tried with a smile. The Courier looked up at him with their wide brown eyes.

Arcade was not above emotional manipulation.

Half a year ago, if someone told him that he was going to play big brother to a Courier who knew nothing about their past and hated doctors, he'd have likely sent them to see Dr. Usanagi.

The Courier ran their gloved hand through their short white hair. It fluffed up their bangs (despite the pin staying in place) and revealed the twin scars on their forehead and the surgical scar that ran around their skull.

"Okay." The Courier responded, sticking their wrist out to him for treatment.

"Oh, that's a nasty cut." he said, "Let's head inside so we can get this treated.:

In the end, even if the Courier was a hassle sometimes, he was glad to be their brother. He was turning into such a sap.