#apparel psychology | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gainingfiction · 2 years

Text

Suitable

Summary: Patrick doesn’t believe in curses. He certainly doesn’t believe that the oversized suit he bought as a gag costume is cursed to make him gain weight. And yet….

(Enjoy my 2022 Halloweight-gain-story! Better late than never, right?)

There’s no such thing as magic suits.

At least, that’s what Patrick told himself as he donned his Halloween costume for the evening. The idea was downright laughable. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on the old salesman’s face when he issued his dire warning.

That guy was just weird, Patrick rationalized. It was true: the suit had been purchased from the octogenarian proprietor of an unkempt second-hand store, a heavily-accented man named Yuri who had sworn up and down that Patrick’s prospective Halloween costume was bound by some mysterious curse.

It was literally just a suit. A very big suit, to be fair, but that had nothing to do with magic: its former owner was just fat. Massively, enormously fat, judging by the way Patrick’s slender, athletic frame was drowning in yard after yard of Italian wool.

“You are warned,” Yuri had said. “You will grow into it. Will make you big man. Very big man.”

Patrick scoffed at the mere suggestion. He’d never weighed more than 180 pounds in his whole life. Well, 183, as of this morning. There was no way he’d ever “grow into” such a comically large outfit.

Feeding his belt through the loops, Patrick felt… nothing. No supernatural tingling, no sudden urge to gorge himself at a buffet. He just felt like a fit guy in a big suit. The old man was clearly trying to deploy some strange reverse psychology as a sales tactic. And, to his credit, it had worked. Patrick shelled out twenty dollars just to prove how ridiculous he found the idea of a so-called magic garment, even if it meant that he had no idea how to describe his costume. Sexy Biggest Loser contestant, perhaps?

He studied himself in the mirror, shirtless beneath the gigantic blazer. It wasn’t his usual slutty Halloween apparel, but foregoing a shirt allowed him to show off his tight little pecs and toned abs. Patrick was proud of his hard-earned body, and the way his sculpted jawline and strong cheekbones turned heads wherever he went. No “magic spell” was going to take that away from him.

With a smug smile adorning his perfect pink lips, Patrick left for the party.

The evening wasn’t as awkward as he’d feared. The host, Priti, was an old friend from his college days, and they hadn’t seen much of each other in the two years since graduation. But she welcomed him with enthusiasm, faithfully introducing him to his fellow partygoers: her coworkers from the pharmacy, a few college classmates Patrick had long forgotten about, and, most excitingly, her absolutely stunning cousin, Arjun.

To call Arjun a hunk would be an understatement. He was a walking deity, a 6’2” sculpted fantasy clad in a form-hugging Spiderman suit. If Hollywood needed a new Peter Parker for its endless reboots, they could scarcely do better. His white teeth almost sparkled, his eyes were as warm and deep as the summer sea, his glossy hair perfectly trimmed.

Patrick was smitten from the moment Priti introduced them, and he spent the rest of the evening practically hanging off Arjun’s big, brawny biceps. He was a personal trainer, of all things, and Patrick was quick to point out how much he looked the part. But Arjun didn’t seem put-off by Patrick’s incorrigible flirtation; in fact, he gave as good as he got, trailing his large hands across the lapels of Patrick’s massive suit and praising the quality of the fabric… and what lay underneath.

They were terrible guests, lingering by the snack table, locked in their own smouldering back-and-forth to the exclusion of everyone else in the room. But Patrick didn’t care, guzzling lager after lager and making come-fuck-me eyes at his sexy new friend.

And come-fuck-him Arjun did. They left the party as soon as they could without being rude, practically running to Arjun’s tidy apartment a few blocks over. And boy, did Arjun fuck him. He was a phenomenal lay, a deft top who could throw Patrick around like a ragdoll, bending him over and absolutely railing his toned, slender ass. Patrick came like a geyser, and, after a brief respite, came again.

When they finally collapsed into an exhausted pile, both men resolved to see each other again very soon.

“Very soon”, it so happened, was the next day. And the day after that. Arjun didn’t just look like a god, he fucked like a god, and Patrick couldn’t get enough.

As the weeks passed, Patrick caught himself snacking more than usual. He never kept junk food in the house, but whenever Arjun came over, he always brought something to eat: a bag of chips, a casserole dish of homemade lasagna, a box of fresh eclairs from the bakery down the street. For a personal trainer, he certainly had a taste for fattening treats. Not that he ever ate them himself: after their marathon lovemaking sessions, when they lazed on the couch, Patrick made short work of whatever offering Arjun laid out on the coffee table, while Arjun treated himself to the most occasional of bites.

Patrick knew he was overeating, and he tried to make up for it at the gym, but the weather was getting colder, and he often found himself skipping workouts in favour of a lazy afternoon with his insatiable fuckmachine. By the end of November, Patrick realized that his pants were getting tight.

He didn’t think much of it. It was winter weight, and he’d seen plenty of guys put on a few pounds in the early days of a happy relationship. And things with Arjun were going so well. He was a trainer, after all. Surely he wouldn’t let Patrick get doughy.

And yet, as the end of the year approached, Patrick was looking very doughy indeed. He was stunned when he stepped on the scale a few days before New Years and saw “197” flash across the display. How could he be almost 200 pounds?

He took a hard look in the bathroom mirror, still steamy from his morning shower. Pudge had piled up around his middle, hiding his abs and broadening his torso. And his pecs were looking noticeably puffy.

He turned around and studied his ass. Patrick’s butt had always been his favourite feature, kept trim and perky through years of dieting and rigorous exercise. It was still round and pert, but it looked bigger, now, and softer. There was more to grab and play with. Patrick cupped a handful, eyes widening as soft flesh gave way beneath his fingers.

“I need to go on a diet,” he said, frowning as he emerged from the bathroom.

Arjun looked over at him from the bed, his muscular body splayed out amid the messy sheets. They had been seeing a lot of each other, hooking up almost every day of the week, and Patrick knew that was part of the problem: Arjun was generous with food, and his visits were wreaking havoc on Patrick’s usual gym routine. It had been nearly two weeks since his last workout, and he was starting to feel soft and flabby.

Arjun’s eyes ran across his body, and he gave a small frown. “You look great to me,” he said, trailing a hand over his own abs. Patrick could see Arjun’s boner starting to tent the bedsheets. That was a little confidence boost, at least.

“I’m almost 200 pounds,” Patrick said. Saying it aloud felt shameful, even if Arjun was used to training far larger clients at his gym. But Patrick had never been big in his life. Even spread over six feet of height, 200 pounds felt like a bigger number than Patrick was comfortable with. “I’m getting chubby.”

Arjun shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you look sexy. Lots of guys are going for that beefy look, anyway.”

Patrick wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to be argumentative. Arjun was so easygoing, the last thing Patrick wanted was to seem high-maintenance. They hadn’t talked about labels yet, but Patrick was hoping to have that conversation soon. And if he wanted to be exclusive, he didn’t want to kill his chances by broadcasting his neuroticism to the hottest guy he’d ever dated.

But he couldn’t let it go completely. “Still,” he said, laying a hand over his heart and feeling the flesh that gathered around his nipple. “I need to start working out again. It’s been too long.”

Arjun gestured to his erection, and then patted the bed next to him: “Well, how about we have a little workout of our own?”

Patrick grinned, and nearly leapt into bed.

By mid-January, Patrick absolutely couldn’t avoid buying new pants. His usual rotation now dug into his waist almost painfully, the button protesting against his excesses. And his ass and thighs were an existential threat to the seams, which looked about one wrong move away from total collapse.

Patrick briefly considered a return trip to Yuri’s messy boutique, but he had no desire to see that weird guy again, or get another warning about magic spells. So he ended up at his favourite thrift store, where he was helped by a very handsome Middle Eastern employee in a Blondie t-shirt.

Patrick had to admit, size 34 fit a lot better than his usual 32s, and he felt his old confidence returning as he strode into the restaurant for a hot date with Arjun.

That confidence began to wane as he sat across from his jacked dinner companion, leaving Patrick feeling distinctly unimpressive. While Patrick had opted for a loose-fitting t-shirt, hoping to disguise his winter weight, Arjun filled out a tailored button-down like he was modelling it for a catalogue.

That night, they made their relationship official. They’d been practically exclusive since Halloween, anyway, spending almost all their spare time together. They fucked relentlessly, but they were also starting to act more like a couple: cuddling on the couch, window shopping downtown… and eating. Well, Patrick was eating, whether they were dining out, or staying in for the elaborate dinners that Arjun carefully prepared. A stud who could cook: Patrick felt like he had hit the jackpot. And now that stud was all his.

He was so excited to have locked down such a catch that Patrick didn’t think twice about polishing off Arjun’s half-finished chicken parm, and then eating 95% of the cheesecake they had planned on “splitting” for dessert.

As it turned out, Arjun was quite the romantic. Now that he was Patrick’s boyfriend, his generous doting ratcheted up to the next level: other couples might swap boxes of chocolate on Valentine’s Day, but Arjun started showing up with heart-shaped boxes of chocolate truffles four weeks before that. Big boxes. Patrick didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he dutifully munched his way through each one, even as he started to tire of so much chocolate, even as he grew uncomfortably full.

Patrick knew he should have been watching his weight, but his commitment to Arjun (and Arjun’s commitment to him) acted as a safety net, a way to avoid taking a hard look at the consequences of his new relationship. And those consequences were starting to grow: Patrick’s sides now sported a small pair of love handles, just big enough to overhang the waistband of his briefs, and a small dome of fat rested atop his torso. His ass swelled, his thighs thickened… he wasn’t just growing a gut, he was porking up all over.

When he stepped on the scale on Valentine’s Day, the number nearly made him faint. 213 pounds. This was bad. This was very, very, bad. Patrick knew he was gaining weight; his 34-inch jeans, not yet a month old, were already feeling snug. But to have stacked on 30 pounds of pure blubber in just three and a half months… Well, it almost defied belief.

For an instant, Patrick thought back to Yuri’s warning. Will make you big man. He shook his head. Surely this wasn’t the work of a magic suit. He had just gotten lazy, and perhaps a bit gluttonous. He had been to the gym exactly twice since New Years, but he was eating far more than he used to, even when he worked out almost daily. Of course he was bound to gain weight.

He broached his concerns to Arjun over dinner. “I really need to stop pigging out,” he said, eying the bread basket that the waiter had just set in front of them. He wanted to grab a piece of bread, but he restrained himself.

Arjun looked bemused. “What do you mean?” he said, as if he genuinely hadn’t noticed Patrick rapidly gaining 30 pounds.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and gestured to his middle. “Look at me. I told you I was getting chubby, and now I’m getting fat. It’s gross.”

Arjun’s face fell. “Don’t say that,” he said, reaching out to rest his hand on top of Patrick’s. “I think you’re every bit as hot as the day I met you.”

Patrick scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled, avoiding Arjun’s gaze. It was embarrassing: Arjun looked as perfect as ever; clearly he could control himself. And yet, Patrick had done nothing but laze around, sitting on his ass all day at work and then going home to eat. Having sex was about the extent of his physical activity, these days.

“I mean it,” Arjun said, firmly. “You’re gorgeous. I’m lucky to have you.”

That coaxed a smile out of Patrick, but he was still embarrassed. “Even if I’m letting myself go?”

Arjun’s face took on a defiant quality. “I hate that phrase. ‘Letting yourself go’. It makes it sound like you’ve given up on life. But you haven’t. Look at me, are you happy?”

As he gazed into Arjun’s eyes, Patrick considered it. He had the man of his dreams, things were going well at work… finally, he nodded. He was happy.

“Then you haven’t let yourself go. You haven’t given up on life, you’re enjoying life. And if it shows, it shows. I could not care less,” Arjun said, stroking Patrick’s hand, his eyes searching Patrick’s face.

“You work at a gym, though,” Patrick said, resting his free hand on his stomach. His belly now rubbed against the front of even his loosest shirts, making itself unignorable. “You’re surrounded by guys who are way hotter than me, hotter than I’ve ever been.”

“Honey,” Arjun said. “Stop. Let me tell you what we’re going to do. You’re going to eat that bread, because I know you want to. We’re going to get a bottle of wine. You’re going to order the fettuccine, because it’s your favourite, and I’m going to treat you to that lava cake you love for dessert. Then we’re going to go home, get naked, and I’m going to show you how sexy I find every single inch of you. I know we said no gifts, but… I hear I’m pretty gifted.” He smiled.

Patrick had to admit, that sounded pretty good.

Over the following weeks and months, the pattern repeated itself. Arjun showered Patrick with love, in the form of massive meals and piles of snacks. Patrick outgrew his 34s, and then his 36s. His weight slipped up to 224 pounds by the end of February, and 231 by the end of March. Even as “winter weight” ceased to be an excuse, and sunny April gave way to May, Patrick’s weight climbed beyond 240 pounds, and his 38-inch pants were getting uncomfortable.

He was confronted with a twinge of apprehension every time he checked the scale, every time he had to buy clothes in a size he never dreamed he’d need. And Arjun faithfully assuaged his anxieties, his gentle touch and loving words so soft and soothing that Patrick’s fears melted away.

But it wasn’t Arjun’s gentleness that made the biggest difference, it was his forcefulness. In the bedroom, his enthusiasm only seemed to grow alongside Patrick’s body. In the early days of their relationship, Arjun had been smooth and methodical, confidently gripping the firm edges of Patrick’s muscular frame. But lately, his lust was palpable, almost animal. Patrick could feel Arjun losing control as he gripped and squeezed Patrick’s broad, round stomach, cupped his budding breasts, slapped and groped and generally manhandled Patrick’s ever-fattening ass. There was a new intensity to their sex, already intense to begin with, that filled Patrick an unfamiliar, slightly disorienting sensation: excitement about his fattening body. A desire to grow.

He tried to deny it, at first, to dismiss it as a side-effect of the consistently Earth-shattering sex he was having. But even when Arjun wasn’t around, when he was all alone with just his fat belly to keep him company, that excitement didn’t abate. Something was happening to him. When he stepped on the scales on May 14th, his birthday, and saw that he weighed 251 pounds, he did still feel a little pang of anxiety. But he also felt something else, a distinct and undeniable stirring in his crotch that could only be arousal.

“Happy birthday,” Arjun purred, as they lay in bed that night. Patrick had just enjoyed the absolute best rimjob of his life, a sexual experience like no other. Arjun may not have been a big eater, but he ate ass like an absolute glutton, planting his face firmly between Patrick’s big, round buttocks and going to town with insatiable vigour. “Did you like that?”

Patrick could only nod, still trying to catch his breath. His extreme sedentariness, on top of gaining almost seventy pounds in less than 7 months, had left him seriously out of shape. His old workout routine wouldn’t just be a challenge for him, it would be an impossibility.

Arjun must have sensed how spent their sexcapade had left Patrick, since he gave a slight chuckle. His hand was draped across Patrick’s chubby chest, his nimble fingers stroking Patrick’s perky nipple. Patrick was acutely aware of his double-chin as he lowered his face to look down at his tits; he hadn’t expected that even his nipples would grow, but he was certainly enjoying the added sensitivity.

“You’re really good at that,” Patrick said, lamely, still trying to bring himself back to Earth. “Like, really good at that.”

“Well, you have a very delicious ass,” Arjun said, giving Patrick’s nipple a tweak and making him shiver. With a smirk, he added: “Like, very delicious.”

“Well there’s a lot of it, these days,” Patrick said. He didn’t even know how he felt about that: bitter? Gleeful? His emotions were so muddled, so clouded by his libido—especially in the afterglow—that they had become a Gordian Knot.

“More cushion for the pushin’,” Arjun said, simply, and patted Patrick’s gut.

“So you really like fat asses, huh?” Patrick said. Arjun’s inclinations had been obvious for months, but Patrick had been avoiding the conversation. He knew he was falling for this guy, but he was afraid that Arjun just saw him as a kinky sex-toy, someone he could fatten up and discard before moving onto the next unwitting twink. He knew that was irrational, and horribly unfair to a man who had been nothing but good to him, but he couldn’t stop looking for a catch.

“I do,” Arjun said. He looked Patrick in the eyes, and Patrick looked back. No matter what Arjun’s body looked like, those eyes could make any man fall in love. “But I specifically love your ass, fit or fat.”

“But you prefer it fat,” Patrick pressed on. He wanted an admission, tangible proof that Arjun had been knowingly spurring on his explosive weight gain. Surely it couldn’t be—

Patrick nipped that train of thought right in the bud. It wasn’t the fucking suit. There’s no such thing as a magic suit.

“Yeah, I like it fat,” Arjun said, biting his lower lip as he glanced away. It was a very cute look. Bashfulness suited him.

Patrick had his confession. Arjun was a chubby chaser, and Patrick was getting chased. He was quiet for a few moments, deciding what to do. Did he want to be thin again, an archetypical hottie who lit up a room? If so, he could destroy everything that might have caused this slide into obesity—because that’s what he was, now, fully and definitively obese. He could burn his old Halloween costume, kick Arjun to the curb, and diet interminably until he could see his abs again. It wasn’t too late.

He could also try to lose weight with Arjun; if he was telling the truth, if he really did appreciate Patrick’s body at any size, he would support him. He’d probably still burn the suit, in that case, just to be on the safe side.

But then, there was a third door. A very wide door, beckoning Patrick to step forward until his steps became a heavy, lumbering waddle. He could keep eating. Keep gorging. Keep gaining. Let himself blow up like a balloon, pack on the pounds until Arjun’s handsome face was entirely lost in a sea of ass-fat.

Patrick stepped towards door number three. Maybe he could try it, just for a while. What harm could a couple more pounds do, on top of the 70 he’d already gained? He smiled, lopsidedly. “How fat do you like it?” he asked, finally. “How fat are you gonna make it?”

Arjun looked up at him, mouth agape. “I—You—What?” he stammered.

Patrick doubled down. “What are you gonna do to my ass? How big are we talking: pumpkin? Beach balls? Minivan?”

Arjun inhaled sharply, no doubt surprised by this turn of events. Patrick could feel his boyfriend’s cock swelling against his pudgy thigh. The fact that the suggestion of a minivan-sized ass inspired that sort of arousal told Patrick all he needed to know. Surely he wouldn’t get that fat—it was a little bit of anatomically-implausable sexual hyperbole—but he definitely wouldn’t mind giving Arjun a bigger ass to play with. At least a little bigger.

Patrick didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Why don’t you go get the rest of my birthday cake and you can show me again how much you love fat asses?”

Arjun leapt out of bed like the athlete he was, bare cock standing proudly at attention. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

Patrick grinned. His 25th year was off to a very good start.

It was hard to get used to the idea that he might actually enjoy being fat, and want to get even fatter. He was naturally thin—he used to be, at least—so the concept that weight gain could be something fun, something to be encouraged, was alien to Patrick at first. And yet, he couldn’t deny his body. His belly was growing accustomed to eating big, and his dick was clearly enjoying it. With those two powerful appendages urging him on, compounded by Arjun’s relentless feeding, Patrick continued to balloon.

I’ll gain maybe five more pounds. Ten tops, Patrick told himself the day after his birthday. And yet, a month later, the scale said he had gained 12. Okay, maybe ten more, he reasoned. 260 didn’t feel as big as he thought it would, anyway. Sure, he was huge, but he didn’t feel that huge. 250 and 260 weren’t so different, right? And besides, what was he supposed to do? Stop eating the food he’d come to love? Go back to the gym he’d abandoned months ago? Deny Arjun the great pleasure of his growing body?

He still had moments of uncertainty. When he couldn’t button his pants, and he realized that he had hopelessly outgrown anything smaller than a 42-inch waist, Patrick felt a pit in his stomach. What am I doing to myself? He wondered, as he made one last feeble attempt to stuff himself into a pair of 40s.

But when he gave up, and let his hands roam across his gut, his nervousness evaporated. It was so soft, so fun to knead and fondle and play with. He’d gained so much, so quickly, that it still held its round shape, but rolls were starting to crop up, with a noticeable one forming between his breasts and his belly. His love handles expanded, too, and he realized how apt that name was: they really were like handles, slabs of side-fat that he could wrap his fingers around and properly squeeze, feeling the give of so much stretch mark-lined flesh. And he really did love them.

He let his hands slip up further, cupping his breasts, bouncing one and then the other. He felt like an absolute cow as mammary fat spilled between his fingers. Those last 12 pounds must have hit his chest and upper belly hard.

By the time Patrick stood, kicking off the jeans that could no longer handle him, he wasn’t anxious at all: he was horny.

Arjun took care of that.

Over the following months, Patrick felt like a kid who couldn’t go to bed. But instead of “ten more minutes”, it was “ten more pounds”. His ass, a feature that Arjun adored even more than Patrick himself, spread and swelled, and he found himself bumping into things constantly. He could still remember what it was like to have small, hard glutes, but that memory was starting to fade as he buried those glutes deeper and deeper under an ever-growing layer of pure, unadulterated lard. His perky little ass, the crown jewel of his twinkish body, had given way to a pair of vast, juicy buttocks. It was still holding its round shape, each cheek almost perfectly globular and still pert. But as he passed 280 pounds, Patrick could tell that gravity would have the last laugh.

By early July, he’d gained exactly 100 pounds, sitting pretty at 283. He hadn’t expected that gaining weight would make him hairier, but it made sense. More surface area needed more fuzz to cover it all, and his gut was getting massively fuzzy. That was one of many unexpected changes. Others weren’t quite as fun, like the soreness he felt in his lower back when he had to stand for more than 20 minutes, a side-effect of living life with a 50-pound medicine ball strapped to his abdomen. But even that wasn’t so bad: it gave him an excuse to live an even more idle existence, with Arjun happy to indulge him.

The sweating was another unwelcome companion. In the summer heat, he could really feel the hundred pounds of added insulation. He used to love going to the beach, playing volleyball with his friends and flaunting his slender body for admiring onlookers. This year, he preferred relaxing indoors, where he could let it all hang out and feel the cool AC on his sprawling belly. Arjun joked that his house was like an icebox, and Patrick pointed out that that was where a pig belonged.

They did make it to the beach a few times, including on Labour Day. Patrick shied away from taking off his shirt, at first, but Arjun talked him into it, and his expression of unrestrained adoration made it all worthwhile. They must have made quite the pair: the personal trainer, 200 pounds of rock-hard muscle, walking hand-in-hand with a red-faced porker who outweighed him by a hundred pounds, rolls of fat bouncing and wobbling as he ambled down the boardwalk.

“I think we’re confusing people,” Patrick said. He lay in the sand, tonguing an overloaded ice cream cone. A middle-aged couple openly stared at him as they walked past, looking from Arjun to Patrick and back again in search of a logical explanation. The explanation was obvious, but clearly beyond their comprehension.

“Well, you’re due for some more sunscreen. How about we really put on a show?” Arjun suggested, licking his lips.

Patrick leaned back, flicking down his sunglasses, and kept working on his ice cream as Arjun slathered his belly with creamy lotion. It was a blatant belly rub, and heads certainly turned at the sight of the stunning jock basting his beloved pig, but Patrick was so focused on the pleasurable feeling that he barely noticed the slack-jawed onlookers. Arjun pressed his fingertips deep into Patrick’s flab, a skillful massage that left Patrick wanting more.

When he finished his ice cream cone, he got his wish: “Roll over,” Arjun said. “I’ll do your back.”

Another shift occurred when Patrick crossed the 300-pound mark. He’d expected 300 pounds to be incomprehensibly fat, a size beyond all reason, but it didn’t feel that much bigger than 250. The difference between 250 and 200 had felt much more pronounced. Sure, he had more rolls now, and his gut hung out well in front of him, but he wouldn’t mind being bigger. He did dispense with the fiction that he’d stop in another ten pounds: he’d reassess at 350. That was a nice, round number, and it wouldn’t sneak up on him the way 10 pounds always seemed to.

He thought back to January, just nine months earlier, when he’d been terrified of crossing 200 pounds. It was an amusing thought; that version of Patrick was positively tiny compared to the man he now was, and he was far from afraid of growing. He was actually looking forward to it. Dating an incredibly sexy feeder had grown his confidence. It had changed him.

Or maybe it’s that suit, a nagging voice in Patrick’s head said. Sometimes, when he was self-conscious about how quickly he was ballooning, he fell back on that old line: it wasn’t his fault, he was the victim of paranormal forces beyond his control. But he knew he couldn’t blame a stupid Halloween costume for his out-of-control gluttony. It was all on him, and his encouraging boyfriend.

Changes were occurring in the bedroom, too. As fat became a bigger driving force behind his sexuality, Patrick leaned deeper into his submissive side. He liked feeling Arjun’s forceful hands all over his bulging body. He liked to hear what a fat, out-of-control pig he was becoming. Just hearing the word “hog” leave Arjun’s lips was enough to ratchet up Patrick’s arousal by an order of magnitude. He was a pig, a desperate little piggy who needed to be stuffed from both ends.

When he could feel Arjun inside of him, his voluminous belly tantalizingly close to brushing the bed, his fat jiggling with every forceful thrust… that was pure heaven. He honestly wasn’t sure he could go back to sex as a skinny boy again. Now that been told that he was Arjun’s pig, felt his hundreds of pounds shake and bounce as he bottomed, he didn’t see how it could compare.

“Can you believe we’ve known each other for almost a year?” Arjun asked one day, in mid-October. He was nearly done unpacking the last of his boxes, having moved into Patrick’s apartment as soon as his lease was up. That had been the source of some debate: Arjun’s place was nicer, but it was a fourth-floor walk-up, and Patrick didn’t think he could handle all that cardio. The rent was cheaper in Patrick’s building, anyway, and between the elevators and the air conditioning, it felt like a better fit for a growing fatboy.

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” Patrick replied. He meant it. He thought back to the person Arjun had met, and how much he’d changed in their time together.

There had been one other change since last Halloween: Patrick was starting to wonder if maybe there were such things as magic clothes. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t blame his weight on a spell, but still… Yuri had said Patrick would get fat, and fat was exactly what he had gotten. He was shirtless, his heavy thighs overloading a pair of stretchy basketball shorts. He eyed his gut, admiring the way it bounded forward into his lap, a crop of hair covering his impressive collection of stretch marks.

“Priti’s throwing another Halloween party this year,” Arjun said, as he shelved some of his books. “Any couple’s costume ideas?”

Patrick mulled it over. Just six months ago, he would have been embarrassed by a costume that emphasized his fat. Now, he wanted to display the full magnitude of his size. “Farmer and prize pig? Fat guy, hot wife?”

“Oh, I know. Jabba the Hutt and Princess Leia,” Arjun said, smirking.

“I would love to see you in that metal bikini, but you might get cold,” Patrick said. “We have some time to think it over, at least.”

Arjun nodded. “We could always just repeat our old costumes,” he said. “But I think ‘Biggest Loser contestant’ might take on a new meaning, in your case.”

“That may have been my worst costume ever,” Patrick said. “But I do remember one guy seemed to appreciate it.”

“Well, he sounds smart, and very handsome,” Arjun said. He tossed himself onto the couch, slinging his arm over Patrick’s protruding keg.

“Yeah, but he has a bit of an ego,” Patrick teased, kissing his man on the cheek. “Thank God he’s great in bed.”

Arjun snuggled in closer, and Patrick melted beneath his forceful touch, delighting as his bare belly was kneaded and rubbed. Whatever the costume, Patrick couldn’t wait to spend another Halloween with Arjun.

“I really don’t think it’ll fit,” Arjun said, staring at the suit that Patrick had worn for Halloween just three years before.

In that time, he’d gone far beyond doubling his weight: he’d shot past 400 pounds, and now hovered—or rather, sprawled out—around 460. Naturally, his gains had slowed down, but he was still growing at a fairly rapid rate, and he could see 500 pounds in the not-so-distant future.

“Just let me give it a try,” Patrick said, feeling defiant. The suit had been so outrageously large on him, swallowing his lean body. But as he held up the pants, each leg larger than his waist had once been, he was forced to reckon with the fact that they looked smaller than anything he usually wore.

He stepped into them as gingerly as a man of such impressive proportions could hope to, and started to pull them up. But as the fabric gathered around his thighs, he could feel trouble brewing. As he started to tug them over his ass, he knew that this was a fool’s errand.

Too proud to quit, he kept trying, his enormous gut swaying and wobbling from the motion, the exertion starting to take his breath away. He could feel his rolls quivering and his ample breasts bouncing as he pulled pointlessly on the waistband. He’d covered a little over two thirds of the sprawling hillsides he called an ass before he finally surrendered, out of breath and sweating.

He sighed defeatedly. “I definitely can’t wear this to Priti’s wedding.”

Arjun rubbed his broad back. “Hey, no worries. We can give it away. And who knows, maybe we’ll find a tailor who can turn a canvas tent into a kurta big enough to fit you.”

Patrick laughed. “Or maybe we can just go shopping at Big & Tall. And as for getting rid of this suit, I think I know where to go.”

He had to go back to the place where it all began, the source of this mysterious garment. There had been a brief window of time where it had actually fit, but for most of the time Patrick owned it, it had gathered dust in his closet, either too big or too small for public consumption, taunting him all the while.

He’d told Arjun long ago about Yuri’s bizarre warning, and Arjun had dismissed it as quickly as Patrick once had. Patrick knew it was nonsense, but still… if he had the opportunity, he wanted to hear it from the source.

He paused to rest and recover for a bit once he’d stripped off the pants, sitting on the bed as Arjun carefully placed the massive outfit on a hanger. Finally, Patrick got up and stuffed himself into an enormous pair of sweatpants, before pulling on a colossal t-shirt that nevertheless failed to fully contain his girth, leaving sizable swathes of fat exposed at the front and on the sides.

He waddled his way to the elevator, different rolls and bulges shifting and bouncing with every step. Finally, he reached Arjun’s car, relieved to be able to sit down again. He dropped himself into the passenger seat, and the car dipped to the side beneath so much added weight. Driving him to work must have been hell on poor Arjun’s gas mileage, but Patrick was getting too fat to safely operate his own little sedan.

He gave directions to the shop, eager to see if it even still existed. Perhaps that was part of the magic, and it had never existed at all… but no, eventually Arjun turned onto the quiet street at the edge of downtown, and parked mercifully close to the store’s shabby storefront. Somehow, it was very much still in existence.

Patrick lumbered through the doors, expecting to see Yuri doing some sort of mysterious ritual. Instead, he saw a handsome young man in a purple tracksuit, staring distractedly at his phone. The store was empty, just as it had been last time, and no neater than Patrick remembered.

He bellied up to the cash register, resting the frontmost portion of his gut on the counter to take some of the load off his back. “I’m—” he paused, realizing that the short walk from the car had left him out of breath. Jesus, I’m out of shape, he thought. He looked around for Arjun, who wore an unimpressed expression as he browsed one of the disorganized racks. “I’m here to donate this,” he managed, his breathing having slowed enough to converse.

The guy looked up from his phone, awestruck. Patrick was used to being the fattest person a lot of people had seen in a while, sometimes ever, and he had acquired a taste for their shocked expressions. He liked to watch their eyes try to explain to their brains the full scope of the human being in front of them. Patrick sat the suit down on the counter. “I bought it here a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Uh, okay,” the guy said. Clearly this was TMI. The cashier at his go-to thrift store always seemed excited to hear about Patrick’s escalating poundage, but he was a rare breed. “You can just leave it here.”

Patrick couldn’t just leave. He’d come here for a purpose. “But… I’ve got to know,” he said. He glanced around the store, still empty, and lowered his voice. He leaned towards the cashier, who looked more confused than ever. “Is this thing really cursed?”

The cashier goggled at him. “Cursed?” He repeated, probably questioning his hearing.

“Yeah. That’s what the old man who works here told me, but I didn’t believe him. I was smaller than you when I bought it, but now look at me.”

“Wh—old man? You mean uncle Yuri?” The guy said. His face broke into a broad grin and he covered it with his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry, but that suit is definitely not cursed.”

“Look at me, though,” Patrick repeated. “I’m a whale!” To drive the point home, he grabbed the part of his belly that poked out from under the hem of his shirt and gave it a shake, sending waves of gelatinous motion through his rolls of flab.

“Okay, but…” the cashier sighed. “Yuri is a weird guy. He likes fat guys. Half the clothes he sells are supposedly ‘cursed’ with some spell that makes guys fat. But it’s not real. He just thinks he can fatten guys up with the power of suggestion. I don’t know why he does it, it’s not like they ever come back.”

Patrick folded his chubby arms, forcing his voluminous cleavage together. “So the ‘power of suggestion’ made me gain 275 pounds?”

The cashier’s eyes widened. “Well, what have you been eating?”

Patrick considered his consumption that morning. It was only 11 AM, but he’d already eaten two breakfasts. The first was a handful of sausage McGriddles with a half-dozen hashbrowns, washed down with a large iced mocha, and followed up with half a dozen powdered donuts. “But… maybe it’s the suit that’s making me hungry,” he said, halfheartedly, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

The dreamboat behind the register arched an eyebrow. “C’mon, dude. You seriously believe in magic clothes?”

Patrick hesitated. It all seemed crazy, to him, but how else could have turned into such a fatass? He’d been a hunk! There had to be a supernatural explanation.

The cashier picked up the suit and studied it. “I remember this. People don’t bring us bespoke Italian suits very often. The guy who gave it away lost a bunch of weight, he said he wouldn’t need it anymore. Does that sound cursed to you?”

Patrick frowned. His ego compelled him to come up with some explanation other than gluttony and sloth, something that would absolve him of responsibility for his own fattening choices. “Well, maybe Yuri put a spell on it.”

The cashier rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself, man. Yuri was a professor of statistics at Lomonosov. Not some wizard. He moved to this country to hit on chubby American boys, like yourself, not to hex twinks, or whatever you think happened to you.”

“Chubby” seemed like an understatement, given Patrick’s current state of morbid obesity, but he appreciated the guy’s generosity. “So I’m… just fat, for no reason?”

The guy smirked. “Well, I’m sure there’s a reason, but it’s not this suit.”

As if on cue, the reason for Patrick’s staggering size appeared at his side. “So, no curse?” Arjun said.

The guy rolled his eyes. “No, no curse. I can take it off your hands if it doesn’t fit anymore, but I wouldn’t expect anything to change.”

Patrick was pensive as they left the store, contemplating what he’d just heard. So Yuri had just… made it all up? Because he was kinky?

Then what was this all about? Patrick wondered. Surely there were more direct ways to indulge in your kink. It all felt a bit strained.

“I don’t know,” he said, as he waddled over to Arjun’s SUV. “I still think the spell could be real. I mean, I was wearing the suit when I met you, and you’ve been a horrible influence.”

Arjun seemed to consider this theory. “Eh, come on. I’ve dated gainers before, and they’ve all gained weight without magic clothes to help them. And now that the suit is gone, do you really think you’ll stop gaining?”

Patrick sighed. Was he the author of his own massive fate? Was there really nothing supernatural at play? He felt like pointing out that those guys had been gainers when Arjun met them, but he continued before Patrick had the chance.

“But…” Arjun rubbed his chiselled chin as he reached the driver’s side door. “Maybe you’re onto something. Maybe our relationship is the spell, the thing that’s turned you into such an insatiable gainer. Maybe it’s our love that’s magic.”

Patrick laughed out loud as he started the process of heaving himself into the passenger seat. “You’re so damn cheesy. C’mon, man. ‘Power of love’ my fat ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arjun smiled. “Speaking of cheesy, want some poutine?”

Patrick pawed at his massive gut, which grumbled its demand. “That depends, lover boy. Is it magic poutine? Will it make me even fatter?”

Arjun’s smile broadened. “I think we can figure something out.”

#non-consensual feeding/fattening #light teasing/degradation #weight gain #male weight gain #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction #apologies to my followers in Australia and New Zealand who will wake up to this on November 1st lol

908 notes · View notes

we-are-inevitable · 4 months

Note

frat au!! what’s everyone’s major/minors? (sorry if you’ve already answered this! if that’s the case then use this as a free bingo space to ramble)

ohhh shit !! all of these are majors and minors at my uni so im not just making them up lmao <3 i put so much time into thinking of these and they might change but here’s what i’m thinking for the main gang!

jack kelly (frat version):

major: marketing communications

jack kelly (bisexual version):

major: graphic design

minor(s): arts administration

david jacobs:

major: non-profit management

minor(s): sociology & educational psychology

katherine pulitzer:

major: multimedia journalism

minor(s): creative writing

sarah jacobs:

major: apparel design and merchandising

charlie “crutch” morris:

major: human development and family science- child and family services

minor: american sign language and sociology

antonio “racer” higgins:

major: biochemistry and molecular biology

minor(s): dance

albert dasilva:

major: architecture engineering

minor(s): history and theory of architecture

siobhan “spot” conlon:

major: recreational therapy

minor(s): public health

#thank u chandler for the al consultation #feel free to ask questions!!#jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #katherine pulitzer #sarah jacobs #charlie morris #crutchie morris #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #newsies #livesies #uksies #west endsies #frat boy jack au

21 notes · View notes

papillon-de-mai · 8 months

Text

Proust, Joyce, Faulkner, Rilke, Lawrence, Gide…one could go on citing author after author; the list is endless of those around whom thick encrustations of interpretation have taken hold. But it should be noted that interpretation is not simply the compliment that mediocrity pays to genius. It is, indeed, the modern way of understanding something, and is applied to works of every quality. Thus, in the notes that Elia Kazan published on his production of A Streetcar Named Desire, it becomes clear that, in order to direct the play, Kazan had to discover that Stanley Kowalski represented the sensual and vengeful barbarism that was engulfing our culture, while Blanche Du Bois was Western civilization, poetry, delicate apparel, dim lighting, refined feelings and all, though a little the worse for wear to be sure. Tennessee Williams’ forceful psychological melodrama now became intelligible: it was about something, about the decline of Western civilization. Apparently, were it to go on being a play about a handsome brute named Stanley Kowalski and a faded mangy belle named Blanche Du Bois, it would not be manageable.

— Susan Sontag, from "Against Interpretation"

#susan sontag #sontag #lit #literature #against interpretation #proust #joyce #faulkner #rilke #lawrence #gide #hermeneutics #art #a streetcar named desire #elia kazan

44 notes · View notes

vaulttecinterns · 3 months

Text

Just a friendly reminder, fellow Vault dwellers and Vault-Tec fans! You can ask any of us questions about our work, our lives and other topics! We’ll do our best to answer!

People you can ask questions to:

Branden Finnegan- Intern Researcher in the Vault Tec Agricultural Labs

Madeline Turner- Junior Designer of the Apparel Department

Leo Rojas- Intern Programmer in the Robotics and Electronics Department

Hank MacLean- Executive Assistant to Barb Howard

Ella Carlyle- Intern in the Psychological and Mental Sciences department-

Isabelle Ruiz- Junior Researcher in the Medical and Physical Fitness Department

Edward Holt - intern in the Geographical Survey department

Theo Dyers- intern in the Equipment and Financial Department

Ian Flint- Marketing and Art Advisor

Happy asking!

#fallout #fallout 2024 #fallout show #vault dweller #barb howard #vault tec #fallout roleplay #hank mclean #in universe blog #vault boy

12 notes · View notes

beasiannow · 6 months

Text

Meanwhile, in an upscale suburb of Seattle, Washington, the Sharma Sisters from Hyderabad are still running their successful line of clothing stores.

At first, a small affair known as The Sharma Sisters' Indian Apparel Boutique sold sarees, where they sold sarees, dhoti kurta, salwar suits, and other items of Indian apparel.

Not a business fated for grand success in your average upscale Seattle suburb.

Then, as fate or karma would have it, they came into possession of something they came to call The Threads of Karma Cloth.

This, though super-science they didn’t understand, caused those who wore it (picked from a selected few) to become physically and psychologically attuned to the land of India. This, in turn, led to a much larger clientele in search of other less “esoteric” Indian apparel.

That's why they renamed their shops, which now had four in Washington state, to “You Are What You Wear Fine Indian Apparel.”

Which at last led them to branch out again with the opening of a shop in Boise City, Idaho.

To run it, they hired experienced local sales manager Pamela Sheridan, whom they insisted she and everyone she employed in their name dress in East-Indian style while doing so.

Pamela played along, being a go-along-to-get-along sort of person; plus she really needed the job. However, she had to ask.

“I’m sorry, but isn’t this cultural appropriation?” “Not to worry,” said the Sharma sister, who had helped her get dressed in her first saree. Trust me, wear what I’ve given you, and things will work themselves out before you know it.”

A week later, Pamela Sheridan was surprised to find this to be more true than she could have imagined.

A month later, Pamvati Shiravadan was reassuring her four new Western women hired for the coming opening day that they, too, would soon be as comfortable in their new free sarees as she was.

The four young ladies just hired, Vivian, Chloe, Lydia, and Willow, did not greet this news with much excitement.

However, a year later, the four, now known as Veha, Kavuri, Lakshmi, and Wishi, were more than happy on winning the outstanding sales team with accompanying big bonuses.

12 notes · View notes

mystic-scorpio · 1 year

Text

WHAT TO GIFT YOUR FRIENDS BASED ON THEIR ZODIAC SIGN

Can't come up with the perfect gift for your friend? All you need to know is their zodiac sign.

[This is PART 2 with only the last 6 zodiac signs. PART 1 link at the end]

[copyrights reserved ©️mystic-scorpio]

7. LIBRA

Libra(MALE):-

- air diffuser or purifier and a nice fragrance (to help them keep in touch with nature)

- a quote board (to keep them motivated and happy)

- chocolate with dried fruits and nuts (chocolate of their taste preference)

Libra(FEMALE):-

-Skincare like clay masks and sheet masks to keep them glowing 24/7.

-Cosmetics (a colorful eyeshadow pallet fit for the diva.)

-Gourmet chocolates with dried fruits and nuts.

8. SCORPIO

Scorpio(MALE):-

- an oversized moody coloured hoodie or jacket (since they are most comfortable in their own skin and have a safe space for themselves)

- crystal candles with a nice aroma and a long wick (these people love to live by the candlelight and a long wick so that they don't burn themselves)

- metallic bracelets, watches, tiepins or cufflinks with a edgy vibe (since scorpio is the house of death and transformation)

Scorpio(FEMALE):-

-Essential oil diffuser, bath salts and oils, and scented candles to keep their stress at bay

-perfumes (preferably woody scents)

-books(criminal mysteries, detective or horror stories)

-Elegant minimalistic silver accessories

9. SAGITTARIUS

Sagittarius(MALE):-

- sports apparels like spiked running shoes, ropes for climbing or skipping

- take them out for skydiving, bunjee jumping or car racing (sports that gives them a thrill)

- take them to a club, late at night and give them a dance floor to themselves to dance the night away

- exotic truffle chocolate collection with a variety of different fillings (they like to expand their edible variety)

Sagittarius(FEMALE):-

-A gourmet coffee sampler (because they are probably overthinking at night.)

-Metallic watches (they need to look as smart as they are)

-Shoes of their choice.

10. CAPRICORN

Capricorn(MALE):-

- a boxed chess set (no sign appreciates craftmanship and the art of strategy making more than them)

- ambitious people get stressed easily and nothing can it away more than a nice aromatic candle

- ruler of the house of legacies, they love antique products and anything that improves with time like an old grandfather clock

- blankets that are true to their form so as to keep them warm in their safe space

Capricorn(FEMALE):-

-Aesthetic phone covers (to reflect their cool personality)

- Hoodies (of their preferred color)

- Headphones (to keep the noise out while they concentrate)

-Books with a pinch of drama.

11. AQUARIUS

Aquarius(MALE):-

- being believers of the phrase, "reality is not what it seems", they love to ponder the infinite and bend boundaries of the mind, therefore reading psychological books would make sense

- latest trendy tech products such as wireless headsets, smartwatches would make them happy. They just have a knack for it.

- branded sneakers of vibrant colours

- plan a day out with them and invite all their friends since they are social butterflies

Aquarius(FEMALE):-

-They like to keep up with the trends, the latest electronic devices make them happy.

-Clothing items and accessories of vibrant colors to match their vibrant personalities

-A Polaroid camera to cherish the memories they make with the people they love.

12. PISCES

Pisces(MALE):-

- they would love romantic books with a happy ending

- they would really appreciate a heartfelt gift like a bouquet of flowers with a handwritten card inside it

- small gifts of high sentimental value such as an engraved photo frame to keep in their living room

- a nice small notebook to write down their thoughts when they overthink would be highly appreciated

Pisces (FEMALE):-

-Jewellery like earrings and bracelets to make these kind souls shine.

-A personalised gift like a picture album or a handmade scrap book to take them down the memory lane.

-A Spotify playlist made exclusively for them.

_____________________________________

[I do not own any of the pictures used here. Credit to their respective owners.]

A/N: Please remember that people are diverse and unique. Everybody may not act as per their zodiac sign. So this guide may not completely apply to the concerned person.

All advice are based on the general behaviour of the zodiac signs.

I hope you enjoyed reading.

Link to PART 1 :

28 notes · View notes

kennessycognacxo · 8 months

Text

Books of 2023 - A Retrospective

With 2023 having finally ended, here's a list of the books of 2023 that left an impression on me:

The Psychology of Money. The book seems to follow the mantra of "keep it simple, stupid". A lot of the insights the book provides seems to be simple, borderline obvious. But that's the appeal of the book and a major reason why it makes for such good reading. Morgan Housel is able to translate seemingly obvious financial truths in such a digestible manner that it makes reading the book a joy. With a lot of books floating around purporting financial freedom, Psychology of Money provides a good entry point for sound financial advice.

Pachinko. There's little that needs to be said about this book that hasn't been said already on BookTok or elsewhere. If you haven't read this book already, do yourself a favour and pick it up immediately. Min Jin Lee's intergenerational story of Korean immigrants moving to Japan set during Japan's colonial era in the early 20th century, the novel not only highlights the lasting discrimination Koreans faced and continue to face within Japanese society, but shows how the threads of family and legacy stretch across time and space. Would recommend this to anyone with a pair of eyes.

Shoe Dog. For all the bootstrap entrepreneurs out there, this book should already be on your shelves. And if you aren't looking to kickstart your own billion dollar shoe company, give it a read regardless. An energising memoir about the founder of Nike and his Herculean task to create the ultimate running shoe, Mark Knight makes you feel like you're in the trenches with him as he and his band of misfits take on the sporting apparel world. For anyone wanting to read a David & Goliath story as the underdog claws their way to claim their own space within an already dominated market, pick it up.

Sapiens. I know I'm a little late to the party with this one, but given its size and heft, you'll have to forgive me. Honestly, it's such a sweeping book that's able to condense history, anthropology, and sociology into a forgiving format. For anyone wanting to learn more about the world we live in, and how we came to be as a species, Yuval Noah Harari makes learning about the history of humanity less of a chore and more of a well made documentary. Also, it does boost your cool literary points by at least 10 anytime you mentioned that you read a book on Obama's reading list.

Confessions of an Economic Hitman. For anyone wanting further confirmation of America's deeply self serving agenda in the pursuit of global dominance, John Perkins' memoir as an economic hitman might be worth the read. With settings and characters akin to a 007 movie, Perkins takes you into the shadowy world of foreign aid as a thinly veiled disguise of neo-colonialism. The memoir dives deep into a setting filled with handlers, joint government partnerships, and coups. Honestly, reads similar to Manufacturing Consent, but with less statistics and graphs which makes it very easy to read.

1000 Years of Joy and Sorrow. Ai Weiwei is truely a singular artist in his own right. From defacing and destroying centuries old Chinese artefacts to make a statement on global consumerism, to investigating the Chinese government's ineptitude in the face of the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, Weiwei has never shied away from his most hard held beliefs of bring voice to the people. 1000 Years of Joy and Sorrow serves a mirror, reflecting not only his own youth and rise to artistic stardom and subsequent imprisonment by the Chinese government, but the life of his father, a young struggling artist in Paris who becomes a political pariah during Maoist China. For anyone wanting to understand the inherent political power art has, or wanting to read a son's ode to a father's sacrifice, this is a must read.

#books #booklist #mypieces #book list 2023 #The Psychology of Money #Pachinko #Shoe Dog #Sapiens #Confessions of an Economic Hitman #1000 Years of Joy and Sorrow

3 notes · View notes

hoodinyarn · 6 months

Text

Why Knitting is important?

Knitting is an age-old art form that has endured through the decades, changing from a useful skill for clothing to a popular pastime. Beyond only being used to make warm sweaters and comforting scarves, knitting has many advantages for both individuals and society.

Importance of Knitting

Creativity and Self Expression

Stress Relief and Mindfulness

Sense of Accomplishment

Social Connection

Sustainable and Eco-Friendly

Creativity and Self Expression

Knitting is a creative expression

Knitting is a creative medium through which one can convey their feelings. They may turn ordinary material into a superb work of art by using yarn and a needle to create amazing patterns and designs.

People can exhibit their creativity through their choice of yarn, colors, and patterns when they knit. It’s a creative outlet that has the potential to be incredibly rewarding.

2. Stress Relief and Mindfulness

Knitting is like meditation

Knitting is a calming and contemplative hobby for many people in our fast-paced, technologically-driven age. It encourages attention and lessens stress.

Like meditation, the repetitive actions of knitting can have a relaxing impact on the mind. It enhances general mental health by lowering stress and anxiety levels.

3. Sense of Accomplishment

Relaxing

Whether you’re knitting a complicated sweater or a small dishcloth, finishing a project gives you a sense of pride and satisfaction. It’s a concrete method of observing advancement and proficiency in a skill. Knitting is not only a lone hobby; it’s a social activity that promotes community.

It circles, also referred to as “stitch ” get-togethers, provide a space for knitters to connect, socialize, and form friendships. These gatherings unite anyone, regardless of age, gender, or nationality, who have a passion for yarn and needles. In an increasingly digital world, the sense of connection that the groups offer is essential.

4. Social Connection

Knitting fosters a strong sense of community; knitters may interact, exchange advice, and encourage one another through knitting circles, clubs, and online forums. It encourages camaraderie and a feeling of inclusion.

5. Sustainable and Eco-Friendly

By encouraging the use of natural fibers and lowering dependency on mass-produced, disposable apparel, knitting promotes a more sustainable lifestyle. It’s a method for making high-quality clothing endure longer.

Conclusion

Knitting has numerous physical, psychological, and social advantages and is more than simply a pastime. It’s also a creative, therapeutic, and community-building exercise. Whether you’re a novice or an experienced knitter, learning this art form can improve and brighten your life.

A knitting blog that explores many interpretations can help readers understand the depth and significance of knitting beyond its practical applications. It can provide tools, inspiration, and guidance to both experienced and inexperienced knitters. Small pleasures that are easily missed in the hurry of contemporary life are provided by it. It is helpful not only in daily living but also in the areas of artistic expression, healing, and community development.

For More details read Visit our website-

Hoodinyarn.com

2 notes · View notes

oneknightlight · 8 months

Text

Cosplaying is funny because like. Yeah I become a little freak for fun. My freetime is dedicated to fictional entities that I bring to life. My calling is making the world a weirder place. I can forge a sword out of plastic. I can create apparel from duct tape and cling wrap. I’m magical. I’m hated on a daily basis. Im studied psychologically. I view gravity as a challenge not a law. Oh geez the crunch is kickin in! YOOOOWWWHOAHAHOOOOOYYY

#Walt talks

2 notes · View notes

brokehorrorfan · 2 years

Photo

Super Yaki has teamed with Focus Features to release official Inside apparel: a T-shirt for $35 and and a dad hat (pictured below) for $30.

In theaters March 17, the psychological survival thriller stars Willem Dafoe. Vasilis Katsoupis makes his feature directorial debut from a script by Ben Hopkins (Marionette).

#inside #super yaki #focus features #willem dafoe #psychological thriller #survival thriller #shirt #gift #vasilis katsoupis #ben hopkins

9 notes · View notes

into-the-elwoods · 1 year

Text

timeline i made a while ago of the flow of events in the original short story for reference when writing :)

TIMELINE FOR DREAMS IN THE WITCH HOUSE: ORIGINAL TEXT

Gilman came from Haverhill, but it was only after he had entered college in Arkham that he began to connect his mathematics with the fantastic legends of elder magic.

He knew his room was in the old Witch House—that, indeed, was why he had taken it.

Gilman believed strange things about Keziah, and had felt a queer thrill on learning that her dwelling was still standing after more than 235 years. When he heard the hushed Arkham whispers about Keziah’s persistent presence in the old house...he resolved to live in the place at any cost.

A room was easy to secure; for the house was unpopular, hard to rent, and long given over to cheap lodgings.

nothing happens until the time of "the fever"

Gilman’s room was of good size but queerly irregular shape

As time wore along, his absorption in the irregular wall and ceiling of his room increased; for he began to read into the odd angles a mathematical significance which seemed to offer vague clues regarding their purpose

february: the fever begins

Whether the dreams brought on the fever or the fever brought on the dreams Walter Gilman did not know.

sound problems start

or some time, apparently, the curious angles of Gilman’s room had been having a strange, almost hypnotic effect on him; and as the bleak winter advanced he had found himself staring more and more intently at the corner where the down-slanting ceiling met the inward-slanting wall.

unable to focus on anything else

hen it came from beyond the slanting north wall it was mixed with a sort of dry rattling—and when it came from the century-closed loft above the slanting ceiling Gilman always braced himself as if expecting some horror which only bided its time before descending to engulf him utterly.

dreams start

brown jenkin :)

Worse Dreams!

fragment of bone appears

Gilman did not report his fever to the doctor, for he knew he could not pass the examinations if ordered to the college infirmary when every moment was needed for cramming. As it was, he failed in Calculus D and Advanced General Psychology, though not without hope of making up lost ground before the end of the term.

March: an overgrown rat darting across the shadowed mouth of a neighbouring alley had made him think irrationally of Brown Jenkin. Now, he reflected, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his disordered dreams. Keziah appears

That the influence of the old house was unwholesome, he could not deny; but traces of his early morbid interest still held him there.

dreams are getting deeper but he cant remember

end of march: he began to pick up in his mathematics, though other studies bothered him increasingly. He was getting an intuitive knack for solving Riemannian equations, and astonished Professor Upham by his comprehension of fourth-dimensional and other problems which had floored all the rest of the class.

an increase in the always plentiful gossip about his nervous and solitary eccentricity. What made the students shake their heads was his sober theory that a man might—given mathematical knowledge admittedly beyond all likelihood of human acquirement—step deliberately from the earth to any other celestial body which might lie at one of an infinity of specific points in the cosmic pattern.

April 1st: Gilman worried considerably because his slow fever did not abate.

He was also troubled by what some of his fellow-lodgers said about his sleep-walking. It seemed that he was often absent from his bed, and that the creaking of his floor at certain hours of the night was remarked by the man in the room below.

this fellow also spoke of hearing the tread of shod feet in the night; but Gilman was sure he must have been mistaken in this, since shoes as well as other apparel were always precisely in place in the morning. One could develop all sorts of aural delusions in this morbid old house—for did not Gilman himself, even in daylight, now feel certain that noises other than rat-scratchings came from the black voids beyond the slanting wall and above the slanting ceiling? His pathologically sensitive ears began to listen for faint footfalls in the immemorially sealed loft overhead, and sometimes the illusion of such things was agonisingly realistic.

However, he knew that he had actually become a somnambulist; for twice at night his room had been found vacant, though with all his clothing in place. Of this he had been assured by Frank Elwood, the one fellow-student whose poverty forced him to room in this squalid and unpopular house.

EWOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elwood had been studying in the small hours and had come up for help on a differential equation, only to find Gilman absent. It had been rather presumptuous of him to open the unlocked door after knocking had failed to rouse a response, but he had needed the help very badly and thought that his host would not mind a gentle prodding awake. On neither occasion, though, had Gilman been there—and when told of the matter he wondered where he could have been wandering, barefoot and with only his night-clothes on.

thought about flour on the floor!

As April advanced Gilman’s fever-sharpened ears were disturbed by the whining prayers of a superstitious loomfixer named Joe Mazurewicz, who had a room on the ground floor.

May-Eve was Walpurgis-Night. It was always a very bad time in Arkham, even though the fine folks up in Miskatonic Avenue and High and Saltonstall Streets pretended to know nothing about it.

For three months Keziah and Brown Jenkin had not been near Joe’s room, nor near Paul Choynski’s room, nor anywhere else—and it meant no good when they held off like that. They must be up to something.

April 16: was surprised to find his temperature was not as high as he had feared. The physician questioned him sharply, and advised him to see a nerve specialist. On reflection, he was glad he had not consulted the still more inquisitive college doctor. Old Waldron, who had curtailed his activities before, would have made him take a rest—an impossible thing now that he was so close to great results in his equations. He was certainly near the boundary between the known universe and the fourth dimension, and who could say how much farther he might go?

But even as these thoughts came to him he wondered at the source of his strange confidence. Did all of this perilous sense of imminence come from the formulae on the sheets he covered day by day?

And now, too, there was a growing feeling that somebody was constantly persuading him to do something terrible which he could not do.

And what was that faint suggestion of sound which once in a while seemed to trickle through the maddening confusion of identifiable sounds even in broad daylight and full wakefulness? Its rhythm did not correspond to anything on earth, unless perhaps to the cadence of one or two unmentionable Sabbat-chants, and sometimes he feared it corresponded to certain attributes of the vague shrieking or roaring in those wholly alien abysses of dream.

the dreams Get Worse

He must meet the Black Man, and go with them all to the throne of Azathoth at the centre of ultimate Chaos. He must sign in his own blood the book of Azathoth and take a new secret name now that his independent delvings had gone so far.

dreams are more distinct

Two of the less irrelevantly moving things—a rather large congeries of iridescent, prolately spheroidal bubbles and a very much smaller polyhedron of unknown colours and rapidly shifting surface angles—seemed to take notice of him and follow him about or float ahead as he changed position among the titan prisms, labyrinths, cube-and-plane clusters, and quasi-buildings; and all the while the vague shrieking and roaring waxed louder and louder, as if approaching some monstrous climax of utterly unendurable intensity.

Night of April 19th--20th: In another second he was out of the abyss and standing tremulously on a rocky hillside bathed in intense, diffused green light. He was barefooted and in his night-clothes, and when he tried to walk discovered that he could scarcely lift his feet. A swirling vapour hid everything but the immediate sloping terrain from sight

He was good for nothing that morning, and stayed away from all his classes. Some unknown attraction was pulling his eyes in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for he could not help staring at a certain vacant spot on the floor. As the day advanced the focus of his unseeing eyes changed position, and by noon he had conquered the impulse to stare at vacancy. About two o’clock he went out for lunch, and as he threaded the narrow lanes of the city he found himself turning always to the southeast. Only an effort halted him at a cafeteria in Church Street, and after the meal he felt the unknown pull still more strongly

so with great resolution he headed against it and dragged himself deliberately north along Garrison Street. By the time he had reached the bridge over the Miskatonic he was in a cold perspiration, and he clutched at the iron railing as he gazed upstream at the ill-regarded island whose regular lines of ancient standing stones brooded sullenly in the afternoon sunlight.

keziah + BJ seeen on island

-The southeastward pull still held, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the old house and up the rickety stairs. For hours he sat silent and aimless, with his eyes shifting gradually westward. About six o’clock his sharpened ears caught the whining prayers of Joe Mazurewicz two floors below, and in desperation he seized his hat and walked out into the sunset-golden streets, letting the now directly southward pull carry him where it might. An hour later darkness found him in the open fields beyond Hangman’s Brook, with the glimmering spring stars shining ahead. The urge to walk was gradually changing to an urge to leap mystically into space, and suddenly he realised just where the source of the pull lay.

It was in the sky. A definite point among the stars

What was the meaning of this new thing? Was he going mad? How long would it last? Again mustering his resolution, Gilman turned and dragged himself back to the sinister old house.

Mazurewicz was waiting for him at the door, and seemed both anxious and reluctant to whisper some fresh bit of superstition. It was about the witch light. Joe had been out celebrating the night before—it was Patriots’ Day in Massachusetts—and had come home after midnight.

witch light baby

Perhaps Frank Elwood could tell him something, though he hated to ask.

When he climbed to the second story he paused at Elwood’s door but saw that the other youth was out. Reluctantly he continued up to his garret room and sat down in the dark.

ELDER THINGS DREAM!!!

ilman awakened in his bed, drenched by a cold perspiration and with a smarting sensation in his face, hands, and feet. Springing to the floor, he washed and dressed in frantic haste, as if it were necessary for him to get out of the house as quickly as possible. He did not know where he wished to go, but felt that once more he would have to sacrifice his classes.

desire to head north

After about an hour he got himself under better control, and saw that he was far from the city. All around him stretched the bleak emptiness of salt marshes, while the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth

resists the pull once more

Plodding back to town and getting some coffee at a soda fountain, he dragged himself into the public library and browsed aimlessly among the lighter magazines. Once he met some friends who remarked how oddly sunburned he looked, but he did not tell them of his walk. At three o’clock he took some lunch at a restaurant, noting meanwhile that the pull had either lessened or divided itself. After that he killed the time at a cheap cinema show, seeing the inane performance over and over again without paying any attention to it.

bout nine at night he drifted homeward and stumbled into the ancient house. Joe Mazurewicz was whining unintelligible prayers, and Gilman hastened up to his own garret chamber without pausing to see if Elwood was in.

balustrade figure :)

dazed stupour

keeps contemplating the nerve specialist

He had stopped at Elwood’s door on the way, but had found all dark within.

flour on the floor!

pull north again

But that moment was very brief, for presently he was in a crude, windowless little space with rough beams and planks rising to a peak just above his head, and with a curious slanting floor underfoot.

The Black Man

sign the book <3

april 22nd: a pain in his left wrist, and saw that his cuff was brown with dried blood. flour undisturbed

His ears were ringing horribly, as if with the residual echoes of some horrible noise heard in dreams.

bathes and contemplates the dream

He knew he did walk—and the thing to do now was to stop it. He must ask Frank Elwood for help.

Elwood was in, thank heaven, and appeared to be stirring about. There was time for a little conversation before leaving for breakfast and college, so an account of his recent dreams and fears

His host was very sympathetic, and agreed that something ought to be done. He was shocked by his guest’s drawn, haggard aspect, and noticed the queer, abnormal-looking sunburn which others had remarked during the past week

As for a plan of action—Gilman had better move down to Elwood’s room and avoid sleeping alone. Elwood would, if awake, rouse him whenever he began to talk or rise in his sleep. Very soon, too, he must see the specialist.

Braced up by Elwood’s companionship, Gilman attended classes that day. Strange urges still tugged at him, but he could sidetrack them with considerable success

hat night he slept on a couch which Elwood had had the landlord bring to the second-story room, and for the first time in weeks was wholly free from disquieting dreams. But the feverishness still hung on, and the whines of the loomfixer were an unnerving influence.

During the next few days Gilman enjoyed an almost perfect immunity from morbid manifestations. He had, Elwood said, shewed no tendency to talk or rise in his sleep; and meanwhile the landlord was putting rat-poison everywhere.

crucifix

Paul Choynski thought he heard sounds in the halls and on the stairs at night, and claimed that his door had been softly tried, while Mrs. Dombrowski vowed she had seen Brown Jenkin for the first time since All-Hallows. But such naive reports could mean very little, and Gilman let the cheap metal crucifix hang idly from a knob on his host’s dresser.

For three days Gilman and Elwood canvassed the local museums in an effort to identify the strange spiky image

April 27th: rat hole apepars in Elwoods room

Elwood was out late that night, and Gilman waited up for him. He did not wish to go to sleep in a room alone

The next day both youths felt very tired, and knew they would sleep like logs when night came. In the evening they drowsily discussed the mathematical studies which had engrossed Gilman, and speculated about ancient magic and folklore

as Gilman and Elwood retired, too sleepy to argue further, they heard Joe Mazurewicz reel into the house half-drunk, and shuddered at the desperate wildness of his whining prayers.

violet light seen again

baby dream

April 29th: The instant he opened his eyes he knew something was terribly wrong, for he was back in his old garret room with the slanting wall and ceiling, sprawled on the now unmade bed. His throat was aching inexplicably, and as he struggled to a sitting posture he saw with growing fright that his feet and pajama-bottoms were brown with caked mud. For the moment his recollections were hopelessly hazy, but he knew at least that he must have been sleep-walking. Elwood had been lost too deeply in slumber to hear and stop him. On the floor were confused muddy prints, but oddly enough they did not extend all the way to the door.

Descending to Elwood’s room he roused his still-sleeping host and began telling of how he had found himself, but Elwood could form no idea of what might really have happened.

Gilman mechanically attended classes that morning, but was wholly unable to fix his mind on his studies.

At noon he lunched at the University Spa, picking up a paper from the next seat as he waited for dessert. But he never ate that dessert; for an item on the paper’s first page left him limp, wild-eyed, and able only to pay his check and stagger back to Elwood’s room.

Gilman sat in a daze all the afternoon, and Elwood—who had meanwhile seen the papers and formed terrible conjectures from them—found him thus when he came home.

ust what had really happened was maddeningly obscure, and for a moment both Gilman and Elwood exchanged whispered theories of the wildest kind.

April 30th: here was no sleep for either of them that night, but next day they both cut classes and drowsed.

walter wears the crucifix

Late at night the two youths sat drowsing in their chairs, lulled by the rhythmical praying of the loomfixer on the floor below. Gilman listened as he nodded, his preternaturally sharpened hearing seeming to strain for some subtle, dreaded murmur beyond the noises in the ancient house.

He saw that Elwood had dropped asleep, and tried to call out and waken him. Something, however, closed his throat. He was not his own master. Had he signed the black man’s book after all?

He hoped the electric lights would not go out.

The Sacrifice

Gilman found on the floor, catatonic

During the day the patient regained consciousness at times and whispered his newest dream disjointedly to Elwood. It was a painful process, and at its very start brought out a fresh and disconcerting fact.

Both, though, agreed that they must leave this ancient and accursed house as soon as it could be arranged

The crowning horror came that very night. Elwood will never forget it, and was forced to stay out of college the rest of the term because of the resulting nervous breakdown.

cast aside all thought of his lease and within a week had moved with all his older lodgers to a dingy but less ancient house in Walnut Street. The worst thing for a while was keeping Joe Mazurewicz quiet; for the brooding loomfixer would never stay sober, and was constantly whining and muttering about spectral and terrible things.

As soon as Dombrowski left it the pall of its final desolation began to descend, for people shunned it both on account of its old reputation and because of the new foetid odour

Indeed, there were always vague local tales of unexplained stenches upstairs in the Witch House just after May-Eve and Hallowmass.

Elwood, whose thoughts on the entire episode are sometimes almost maddening, came back to college the next autumn and graduated in the following June.

It is rather fortunate that Elwood was not in Arkham in that later year when certain events abruptly renewed the local whispers about elder horrors. Of course he heard about the matter afterward and suffered untold torments of black and bewildered speculation; but even that was not as bad as actual nearness and several possible sights would have been.

March 1931: a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the vacant Witch House, so that a chaos of crumbling bricks, blackened, moss-grown shingles, and rotting planks and timbers crashed down into the loft and broke through the floor beneath

bones :)

#whispers #in a response to a request to post more....some notes from my witch house section in my personal discord server

2 notes · View notes

skullaton · 1 year

Text

Heart of Glass

Wally Darling/GN Reader

Summary:

A roller rink opened up and your best friend, Wally Darling, invited you on a date to roller disco! How could you say no to some jivey songs with friends?

Genre: Romance/Horror Cw: Scopophobia, unreality, psychological trauma, gaslighting, vomit mention. AO3 Link Playlist Inspo Link Divider

“So, it’s a date, then.”

You recounted his velvety voice, his half-lidded eyes watching you as you walked back to your house. That damn smile, always plastered on his downy puppet face.

You had no idea what you got yourself into when you agreed to this.

A roller rink had opened up in the neighbourhood, so your neighbours suggested to host a roller disco to celebrate.

Okay, it was mainly Julie. That silly little monster is always thinking of new ways to liven up the town.

You were the newest resident in Home and you felt like you had to make a good impression on the rest of neighbours. In a place full of puppets, you were the only human. That, in itself, made you feel a bit of an outsider.

The one puppet that really helped your transition was the town’s favourite - Wally Darling. He was loved by all, and was always willing to lend a helping hand to anyone in need.

When you first moved in, he was the first to help you unpack - being a good neighbour that he is. It soon felt like he was inseparable from your side. As days passed, you felt like you can really trust him to be your good friend. He always listened to you, his sweet voice praised you for your strengths, and even your short-comings. So, when he asked you on a date to the roller disco… it felt natural to say yes.

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, nitpicking on the minute details of your appearance. You decided your hair needed another sticky spritz of hair spray. After staring at yourself for a few moments, you gave a resolved sigh.

This was as good as you’re gonna look.

Hair? Up. Chunky rose tinted glasses? On. Groovy apparel? Diggin’ it.

The glasses were a welcoming gift from Wally. Since he gave them to you, you felt like you couldn’t split from it. They were a statement piece now - to new beginnings!

A knock at the door pulled you from your inner musings. You gave yourself one last look over before sucking in a deep, calming breath. You found your voice finally as you skipped to the door, “Coming!”

You opened the door to view the cardigan clad man you expected. He gave his usual friendly smile, “Hey, neighbour! Are you ready?” wave of nervousness started to blossom in your chest as you gave him a shy nod.

Wally picked up on your unease. He extended his hand for you to take, his tone dropping in a warm, comforting reverb, “You look marvelous. There’s no need to worry. It’s just a hang out with friends, right?”

The kindness of his sleepy stare was enough to melt whatever knot you felt. You extended your hand to take his, feeling the warm fuzz of his palm. You gave him a nonchalant chuckle, “You’re right. I was just overthinking!”

“Yeah,” he pulled you off your porch, his gaze never leaving yours, “new things are scary, aren’t they? But don’t worry. You have me.”

Heat now warmed your stomach, soothing out whatever nervous knot that was there before. He was always there for you, even at your most stressed. There really is nothing to be worried about with him. “You’re the best, Wally. Thank you.”

A look of adoration beamed on him, love trickling from his voice, “And you’re the absolute most.”

You giggled at his euphemism. Such a Wally thing to say.

Both of you trekked to the roller rink, which was built just adjacent of Howdy’s shop. It really is convenient how small towns operate.

It wasn’t long before you both reached the double doors of the building, the blaring music thrumming the still night air. As you opened a door, jivey music released into the evening, revealing a multi-colour view of your friends blissfully skating.

You can dance

You can jive

Havin’ the time of your life~

Abba blasted on the speakers while the disco ball twirled a rainbow light show onto the rink. The big bird with fluffy feathers, Poppy, was desperately holding onto Julie’s hand as they skated close to the wall.

Sally, the theatrical star, was soaking up the spot light in the centre of the floor, twirling in elegant circles. You internally wondered how she learned how to roller skate so well.

Howdy the caterpillar was behind the concession stand, handing over a cherry-topped hot dog to the towering blue dog, Barnaby.

The mailman, Eddie, was leaning on the side of the rink, talking to the stuffy researcher on the other side, Frank. Frank’s blue face was a bright shade of red while Eddie stared at him with dopey, love-drunk eyes.

“I’ll go rent our skates,” Wally’s voice cut through your observations. You offered him a nod and a smile before focusing back on your friends.

Wally began meandering to Howdy’s stall, casually greeting Barnaby in passing.

Julie had finally taken notice of your entrance and released an audible gasp. She released Poppy’s hand, to which the rainbow bird squawked and barreled around the rink. With lack of control, Poppy’s trajectory was aimed at Sally’s elegant solo-show!

THUMP!!

They collided with each other, both spiraling around on the hardwood floor. They groaned in unison, before Poppy chirped up, “Julie! Please give a heads up next time!”

Julie, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the blunder she caused. She was gliding her way toward you, a smile plastered on her cute little monster face. “Oh bless my world! You look amazing!”

You bashfully rubbed the back of your neck, “You really think so?”

She rolled her eyes, that playful smile still tugging at the corners of her fuzzy face. “Duh! Is it because this is…” she looked suspiciously over to Wally’s direction, her voice lowering, “a date?”

A hotness crept up your neck, your ears turning a vibrant shade of red. “I-is it that obvious?”

Julie giggled at your reaction, her hands coming to grasp yours, “Barnaby’s big mouth let everyone know.”

You groaned, wishing to just vanish on the spot.

“But if you ask me,” she tipped her head down to try to get your attention, “I think you’re both cute together.”

You sucked in a breath, giving her tiny puppet hands a squeeze. You gave your best chance to smile through the embarrassment. “Thanks, Julie.”

“Am I interrupting anything?” Wally appeared next to both of you, skates in one hand, and a smoothie in the other.

Julie’s hands dropped from yours, giving the other puppet a proud smile. “Nope! But, I think I’ll leave them with you!” She turned to leave, only to give one quick glance at you and winked, mouthing ‘good luck!’

You waved her off before looking over Wally’s offering. A smile broadened over your features, “Oh! How’d you know I like smoothies?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “You just look like the type.”

You happily accepted the drink while Wally escorted you to some seats.

“Sit, please.”

You followed his instructions without question. He then bent down and started to undo your shoes. It caused you to jump back in alarm. “Wh-what a-are you doing?” your voice raised.

“Hmmm?” Wally gave you a carefree smile, “Putting on your skates, silly!”

“Y-you don’t need to…”

“Well, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me not to!”

You released a pent up sigh, resigning to the fact that Wally was probably going to do this, even if you told him not to. You took a sip of your drink, tasting the delicious flavours of berries and milk. The tart sweetness calmed your senses and you hummed contently. You tried not to kick your feet happily as Wally pried your shoes off of you.

As he effortlessly tied the skates on your feet, he went to do his own. You shifted to help him, but he stopped you with a single gentle touch on your thigh.

“…You sure?” you mumbled, mouth full of smoothie.

He giggled, “You’re enjoying yourself. I could never ask you to stop what you enjoy.”

A blush warmed your face to the umpteenth time today. You were suddenly very aware of how soft his hand was against your leg.

Without warning, he pulled it away to finish tying his laces, and you secretly cursed him for stopping.

You both pulled up from the seats, awkwardly shuffling on your skates to reach the rink. You placed the smoothie on a nearby table before embarking onto the shiny hardwood flooring.

And the beat goes on

Just like my love for you

Everlasting~

All the groovy hits were playing, the music guiding both of you as the skates carried you across the waxed floor.

Julie had went to help Poppy and Sally off the rink, apologising for the mishap she put them through. But they were all laughing about it, feigning anger.

Next to you, Wally was swaying effortlessly to the rhythm of the song, the wheels of his skates elegantly gliding as he swirled.

You couldn’t help but be breathlessly gaze at his beauty.

And the beat goes on

Still moving strong on and on

Don’t stop for nobody~

Watching him move was hypnotising. You let him twirl to the centre of the rink as you watched from the side. Everyone was now watching as he boogied, his arm thrusting upward before pointing back down at his hip. Was he doing the John Travolta?

You giggled at his antics, all while all your neighbors cheered him on. They all moved to the side as they let the town favourite have the dance floor.

Wally’s eyes met yours again, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk now. He swayed his hips, fingers pointing out to you, beckoning out for you to come closer.

Embarrassment threatened to bubble in your stomach, but you heard Julie’s happy voice, hollering your name, encouraging you.

You bit your lip to try to soften your growing grin, your skates having a mind of their own as you glided out to him, joining him in the centre.

You both danced as another song started up, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that it almost clouded the beat.

Half past twelve

And I’m watching the late show in my flat all alone

How I hate to spend the evening on my own~

Your hands interlocked with his as you both began to swirl in a circle, looking at each other’s eyes. It felt like it was just you two in the world, the music willing both of your bodies to circle.

He speed increased, forcing you to keep up. The peripheral of your vision started to blur as you focused on his sleepy eyes.

It reached a speed now that you started to sway. Your foot angled awkwardly as the rubber stopper of your skate jarred your movement, causing you to trip. You braced for a fall that didn’t happen as Wally’s hands gripped tightly onto yours.

clatter…

Oh, your glasses.

You stared down at the disco floor, your rose-tinted glasses a few feet away. They had skidded across the worn wood, picking up a film of dust that was collected on the rink.

Dust? That wasn’t there before.

You pulled your gaze up, and your brain couldn’t process what you were witnessing.

The smell of mildew and mold was the first to penetrate your senses. The rafts and beams of the rink had broken through, water damage from long since gone thunderstorms had destroyed parts of the building. The wax floor beneath you was warped from disuse.

Your stomach churned as you witnessed something unreal.

Your friends on the side wall were all held up by strings, hanging lifelessly from the busted ceiling. Their body parts were mangled, some even missing limbs.

Barnaby’s head was gone, revealing a hollow suit.

The music still played, just low, corrupted version echoed through the old speaker system.

There’s not a soul out there

No one to hear my prayer

You vision finally snapped to Wally, fear and adrenaline rushing through your blood. He looked perfect, pristine. But his eyes were wide, and those tiny dark pupils were watching you.

“Silly, silly,” he tutted, his fingers tightening around your hand. You tried to pull away, but he only strengthened his bond. He pulled you to your feet, and he started to circle again.

You swallowed hard, feeling your chest and throat tighten with fear. He forced you both to resume, the speed increasing once again. You could only focus on his tiny pupils as the abandoned roller rink blurred into dark swirl mold and sadness.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away?

You tried to look away, the dizzying feeling of reality bearing too heavy on your fragile mind.

“Look at me,” he commanded, but his voice was that soft velvety sweetness. “I only have eyes for you. Can you not do the same?”

Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you did what he said. Your whole body shook as the dread settled into a cold knot in your tummy.

You stared into his eyes, his pupils dilating. Inside the dark mass was a spiral, ever circling, going deeper and deeper. Your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself lost in the circles.

Your body was going in spirals.

Your mind was going in spirals.

Everything is spirals.

Bile began rising from you stomach. A sickness pulled you from the hypnotic gaze as you found the contents of your stomach rising to your mouth.

Finally, Wally let go of your hands, allowing you to keel over and empty your stomach.

Tears streamed freely now as the sourness stained your lips. You sobbed with each passing heave, all while a soothing, fluffy hand rubbed your back.

When nothing else was threatening to come out, you felt a pressure on your skull.

Then something slipped behind your ears.

The world burst with life once again. The music was clear and happy, the floor was neatly polished, and the sound of your friends clamoured behind you.

“Oh my! Are you okay?!” Julie’s voice echoed to you. When the little monster puppet reached out to you, you instinctively coiled away.

“Ohhh,” Poppy crooned, “I had a feeling you shouldn’t have skated with that smoothie! You have to be more careful!”

You stared at the mess you made before you. Instead of chunks of vomit, was a spilled smoothie container, berries and milk splattered everywhere.

You felt your head go heavy, the adrenaline in your system slowly depleting.

“Wh-what…happened?” you finally felt words leave your trembling lips.

“Oh, just a case of the spinnies!” Wally was beside you, his eyes back to their half lidded state. “I think I spinned you too fast!”

Your eyes were starting to feel heavy, your whole body threatening to lay down. Wally’s arms were faster, though. He quickly wrapped an arm beneath the hook of your knees and raised you up bridal style.

“You just need some rest,” he assured sweetly.

Everyone gathered worriedly asking if there was anything they could do to help.

Wally was already gliding his way off of the rink with you in his arms. He hummed at everyone’s request, answering on your behalf. “Maybe clean up the spill? Would hate for that to go on the bottom of anyone’s wheels!”

Everyone giggled at Wally’s suggestion.

You, on the other hand, were shivering nonstop. Your reality felt warped and wrong. Did you just experience a hallucination?

The sweet smell of apples wafted from his blue cardigan. His warm touch cradled you, and the sway of his arms felt so comforting.

A hum could be felt thrumming from his chest as he lulled you with a song.

In between

What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine

Love is so confusing, there's no peace of mind

If I fear I'm losing you. it's just no good

You teasing like you do

You couldn’t resist the tempting call of sleep. Slumber found you as you relished in Wally Darling’s embrace, each click of his shoes echoing to the deep recesses of your mind as he carried you home.

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling / reader #vomit mention #psychological #unreality #mind warping #gaslighting #Scopophobia #okay so i decided to post this onto tumblr because why not #sorry moots for being exposed to me Writing Fanfic #how cringe #but you know sometimes you gotta embrace the cringe #okay but seriously i wrote this in one night #I didn't proof read this at all #i think I posted this at like 7am after pulling an all nighter #enjoy #writing

6 notes · View notes