#it’s using some techniques I haven’t practiced with much before

[my-craft]

Your ticket to the hottest dance floor in town: Welcome to Elysium.

Black and white version too

[thegainingdesk]

On Again, Off Again

As soon as I saw Mark I was head over heels. He was tall and naturally broad, a frame improved with well-honed muscles from years of manual labour. A mop of thick dark hair framed a broad, almost blocky face with dark brown eyes and a thick moustache, and mirrored tufts of hair poking out from the top of his shirt and at his cuffs. His voice was deep, but soft, with a slight Bristol accent.

He’d suggested we go to a local museum for our first date - I’d mentioned that I did art history at uni when we were talking on tinder, and there was an exhibition on the early impressionists. I spent a while pointing out some of my favourite paintings, explaining some of the techniques, the use of light, how the movement was different to what had come before but quickly noticed how quiet he was being and my initial attraction started to wane.

“Sorry,” he said after I asked him for the umpteenth time if everything was okay. “I don’t mean to- it’s just, I mean…”

I looked at him, expectantly. Despite myself, despite how flat the date was falling, I found myself crushing on him all over again, looking up into those big puppy dog eyes.

“I wanted to impress you a bit,” he said finally, running his hand across his moustache nervously.

I laughed reflexively, and felt awful as I saw him wince. “What do you mean, impress me? You don’t need to impress me.”

“I know, it’s not… You just said that you were into art and stuff, and that you work with this charity and-” He stopped and sighed. “I’m just this knob-head builder, you know? I didn’t think someone like you would really want to go out with someone like me, and I thought you were cute and the lads at the site said I should do something a bit fancy and… I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “You’re great. Really. I chose to go out with you, didn’t I?” He shrugged those gorgeous hulking shoulders, somehow looking like a scolded schoolboy, despite his size. “Go on, where would you usually take me on a first date, if you weren’t trying to go all fancy on me?”

“No, no, really,” he insisted, unconvincingly. “I’m enjoying myself here.” He pointed at the nearest painting, a Turner painting of a choppy sea, a bright red buoy at the centre. “Go on, tell me about that one.”

I took his hand, and felt my heart flutter as a smile spread across his face. “Seriously, I agreed to go on a date with you because you were a good laugh while we were texting.” A blush spread across his stubbled cheeks. Fuck, he was hot. “Where we going?” I pulled him towards the exit.

“A pub or something, I dunno,” he mumbled. “We can stay, really.”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “It's your round - you can’t wriggle out of it that easy.”

A couple of drinks in, the date was thoroughly back on track. Mark was funny, charming and charismatic - I’d go so far as to say he was gregarious, but trying to keep up with the way Mark drank turned that into a few too many syllables for me at the time. A few more drinks and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other - looking back, I cringe at the scene we must have made in that pub. Charitably, you could say we were somewhat hidden away in a corner; realistically, it was a Saturday evening in the city center and people were probably gawping.

“I told myself I wouldn’t fuck you tonight,” he grumbled into my ear, while his big square hand pawed at my achingly hard dick. “That I’d wait a couple of dates.”

I was practically gnawing at him at this point, my mouth deep into the soft crevice between his thick, strong neck and his strong, yard-wide shoulders. “This is basically our second date,” I told his neck. “The museum was number one, the pub is number two.”

I heard him laugh into my hair. “I’m serious, I’m trying to break some bad habits. Trying not to have so much casual sex.”

I moaned. “I’ll give you permission to make an exception.”

“I don’t want this to just be sex,” he whispered. “I really like you.”

“It doesn’t have to just be sex,” I whimpered back. “But it could also be sex.”

I heard him - felt him - practically growl. “I suppose if you came back to mine, we wouldn’t necessarily have to have sex.”

I nodded, and lifted my head to look him in the eyes. “Absolutely, no sex.”

The sex was phenomenal. It was like something out of an 80s romance novel. It was animalistic but sensual, passionate but slow. I think I actually swooned. Mark could throw me about like a ragdoll, and he made good use of that ability. His body was covered almost top to toe in dark, wiry hair, and his cock was so thick I could barely get my mouth around it - but by god I gave it a go.

We spent all of the next day together, nursing twin hangovers and cuddling up on his sofa. Mark explained his philosophy that the only worthwhile hangover cure is as much food as you can manage to keep down. While I nibbled on bread and butter and sipped on water all day, there was barely a moment where he didn’t have some food on the go - bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast, clearing his fridge for lunch, a string on deliveroo drivers.

By the time I felt well-enough to go home, he tried to convince me to call in sick to work the next day. Tangled up with him like that, I almost did. Even so, I managed to drag myself away, with the promise of seeing him on Friday.

We didn’t make it to Friday. We met up for dinner on Tuesday. Lunch on Wendesday. On Thursday I packed a bag and decided I could just go into the office from his flat in the morning. We were inseparable. Insufferable, most likely. But we couldn’t stop ourselves, didn’t want to stop.

The dinners out, the takeaways, the long days spent cuddled up without a thought of the gym started to add up - on Mark at least. And yes, maybe I encouraged that a little, but I’m allowed a type aren’t I? Okay, maybe more than a type - a predilection, if you were being fancy, a full-blown fetish if you were being honest. So I like them big! Is that a crime? I never went overboard - never stirred butter and double cream into all of his portions, never tricked him into gainer shakes, never slipped him appetite enhancers or miraculous weight-gain pills - I’m not the protagonist of a gainer story, after all.

All I did was nurture that healthy appetite of his. Gave him my unfinished portions, asked him if he wanted seconds, encouraged him to get dessert, muttered into his ear that no, he can’t go to the gym and leave me in bed, cold and alone, that I’d give him all the work-out he needed. He never complained, and I never made any real secret that I didn’t mind him putting on some weight.

It was subtle at first. He’d never had any abs to cover up, but there was a general loss of definition - muscular limbs got smoothed out, pecs started to go puffy, his belly started to permanently bow out into a little arc. His body, already big, sailed past 220 pounds easily enough, and you could barely tell that he’d put on any weight at all, not really, until he’d hit 240 or so.

But then, my god. It’s like some magical fat threshold was reached, almost overnight, like all the gaps in his body had been filled with fat, his whole body lightly covered with a thin sheen of chub, ready for the real work to build up over it. Smooth limbs got soft, puffy pecs drooped, his little distended belly curved out in all directions to form a proper little pot belly. Not six months into our relationship, he was sitting fat and happy at 260 pounds, a firm ball gut at his center, and all traces of that muscular hunk that tried to impress me at a museum were buried under soft, gorgeous flab. If he ever got self-conscious, he never said anything. Still, I told him how gorgeous he was, how sexy the extra weight made him, how he looked more manly, more mature.

We settled into a routine; huge dinners, hot sex, movie nights spent cradling his growing gut, an occasional date night at some new restaurant before moving onto a pub or a bar. We spent so much time at each other’s flats we both assumed we’d move in together sooner rather than later, that this would all last forever.

“Australia?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I know, I know,” he said, pacing and stroking his moustache nervously. “But the money’s so good, I can’t really pass it up.” I closed my eyes. Gripped the table. Tried to wish it away. “It wouldn’t be forever,” he said, lamely.

“It would be for a year though,” I whispered, opening my eyes.

He slumped down into the chair opposite me. One hand continued to stroke his moustache, the other sat on the shelf of his belly, stroking it ever so slightly. Even while I was distraught he could still drive me wild without even trying. “I’m sorry,” he said simply after a while. I knew there wasn’t any point arguing. That I wouldn’t want to stop him taking the opportunity. It just hurt.

We agreed we’d not wait for each other. We’d stay in touch, but we’d be free to date, and if either of us met someone over the year, or if we’d changed as people, no obligation to go back to how we were.

I spent a full week moping. I became a walking cliche - I barely ate, I barely slept. I sustained myself on a diet of Carole King songs and Richard Curtis films. Mark never had any social media - barely used his phone for anything really - a fact which I was, in turns, thankful for and furious about. On one hand, at least I couldn’t obsessively stalk his profiles all year while I missed him, on the other hand, I couldn’t even stalk his profiles all year while I missed him.

I still can’t decide if that year went fast or slow. There were points when it felt like I was going through the same old bored routines for decades, and days when I’d realise how soon I could see Mark again and it would feel like seconds. I did my best to get on with my life - I met with friends, picked up hobbies I’d let fall to the side while I spent every day with Mark, even plucked up the courage to go on a date. It was nice. He was nice. But it wasn’t Mark. I’m not even sure I could tell you his name. After that, I resigned myself to waiting.

I’m back! The text said. My heart fluttered. Want to meet up for a drink?

I tried to not reply immediately. Wanted to come across as cool and unbothered.

Amazing!!! I replied, not two minutes later. Yes! Where?

As a cucumber.

The Goose? Or maybe your flat? Up to you.

My heart pounded. Meeting at my flat was not the act of an uninterested man. Meeting at my flat was not the act of a man who’d fallen in love with some gorgeous Australian surfer.

My flat’s fine! I responded.

Great. I’ll be like an hour?

My flat was already impeccably clean - I was a bit of a clean freak as it was, but I had it practically sparkling in anticipation of Mark’s return to the northern hemisphere - but still, I busied myself cleaning every nook and cranny. I hoovered my spotless carpet, smoothed my immaculately smooth bed, dusted corners that I previously didn’t know existed.

I had just decided that the flat was too unnaturally clean, like I’d gone out of my way to clean it for Mark or something, and was in the middle of pulling various items just slightly out of position, when my doorbell rang. I yelped, and hurriedly crumpled a throw blanket, before breathing slowly and making my way to the door. It was just Mark, I told myself. Everything would be just the same as it was before. It’s just Mark. It’s just Mark.

I opened the door to a man I barely recognised. Mark was buff. Beyond buff. The fat I’d so deviously piled on him over all those months had disappeared without a trace. He’d not simply returned to the naturally broad, built figure he’d had when I’d first met him, either - he’d added hard, shredded muscle - at a guess I’d say 20 pounds easy. His face was thinner, sharper; his arms were vascular, and I could swear I saw the stitches on his sleeves almost pulling themselves apart; when he raised his arms and his t-shirt rode up, I could make out a defined six-pack even through his dense pelt of body hair. Worst of all though - he’d shaved off his moustache.

I just stood blinking for a while, until I realised that tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite it all, despite the time, despite the body, despite the fucking moustache - it was Mark. It was really, actually, fucking Mark.

Neither of us said anything, he just stepped through my door, held my face in his hands and kissed me, deeply and desperately and hungrily. We stumbled backwards through my flat, knocking perfectly placed objects as we went, pulling at each other’s clothes, never once stopping kissing, until he picked me up and tossed me onto my bed. This time, I definitely swooned.

We didn’t properly talk until the next morning, while I lay with my head on his chest, my fingers lazily pulling through the curls of his chest hair. “Go on then,” I said. “What’s all this?”

Mark yawned. “What’s what?” he asked.

I lightly slapped his six-pack. “Who invited He-Man over here?”

He laughed. “I bet you had a thing for He-Man didn’t you?” he said, running a hand down my back and squeezing my bum, avoiding the question.

“No really,” I insisted. “What happened to my sexy teddy bear I sent off?” I steeled myself. “I bet it was for all those sexy ozzy men, eh?” I forced myself to laugh.

Mark was silent, and didn’t move.

I held my breath. “It’s fine, you know. We said. Date whoever.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said simply, after a while. “I umm… couldn’t bring myself to. That’s why I spent so much time in the gym actually. To take my mind off of…” He trailed off. “Did you? You know…”

“One guy,” I said. “Just a date, you know, nothing…" I added quickly, keen to reassure him. "It was awful.” I sighed. “No, it was probably fine, it just wasn’t…” I looked over at him, took in his chiseled jawline and perfect cheekbones. “It wasn’t you.” We stayed like that for a while, just smiling at each other. I shuffled up his body to kiss him, and rolled over. “I might have to change my stance on that if you don’t grow your moustache back though.”

We were back to our old routine almost immediately, illicit feedings and all. By the time Mark had regrown his moustache, his abs had been hidden by soft fat and he was on his way back to the Mark I knew and loved. It’s like his body missed the fat - it piled on faster than it had the first time, and within a few months he’d put on all his lost weight, plus extra. His newfound muscles clearly faded a little, being neglected so thoroughly by time spent away from the gym, but they provided a firm base for all the fat to cling to, so that all his fat was perkier and bouncier than last time - I was in heaven.

“I need to lose some weight,” Mark murmured around one of his breakfast donuts one morning. I looked over to see him trying to tug a pair of scruffy work jeans closed, but there were several inches of soft fat between the button and its hole. I inhaled and set my shoulders - it was time to bite the bullet.

“I don’t think you need to lose weight,” I started, nonchalantly.

Mark laughed and shook his gut. I fought to stop myself from getting hard. “Look at me - I’m 20 stone and can’t fit into 40 inch trousers. 40 inches! I need to lose weight,” he repeated.

I stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on each side of his middle. “I like it,” I told him matter of factly, before kissing him.

He smiled and returned my kiss. “You’re sweet, and I know that you’ll love me no matter what size I am, yada-yada-yada, but come on,” he slapped his belly again. “This is getting ridiculous.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I like it. I…” I inhaled deeply. “I prefer it. Actively prefer you fat, actually.”

He stared at me and blinked, not speaking for almost a whole minute. “You… like me fat?” he asked, finally.

I nodded. "Mm-hmm," I said, as casually as I could pretend to be.

He squinted his eyes at me. “Fatter?” he continued.

“I… wouldn’t complain,” I said slowly, studying his face.

He took a few steps away from me and looked down at himself, as if seeing his body for the first time. He hefted his gut a couple of times, almost experimentally. His hands drifted upwards, squeezed his soft pecs. I just watched, knowing he needed some space. Finally, he raised his head to look at me. “Why?” he asked simply.

I shrugged. “Why is anyone attracted to anything, you know? Big guys have always just done it for me, I guess,” I explained. He carried on looking at me inquisitively, clearly expecting me to continue. “I mean… it just seems more manly, you know? Like you’re tall and you’re hairy and you’ve got this great moustache and hot face, and being bigger is just one more thing that just makes you even more masculine, you know?” He nodded and I saw him subtly flex, as if in admiration of himself. “So you’re okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I mean, if it means I don’t have to diet or go to the gym, why not?” he laughed, and carried on getting ready for work. “You might need to pop out today to buy me some new clothes though,” he added.

I nodded and smiled, happy that inevitable, awkward conversation went as well as could I could realistically hope. I started to get set up for my day working from home, and brought Mark a donut as he was about to leave, kissing him on the cheek as I passed it over.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked carefully at the donut. “Did you do this Ben?” he asked, after a moment or two.

“What?” I asked. “Yes Mark, I brought you the donut. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No. Not the donut. Me. Did you make me fat?”

I swallowed. Hard. “What? Mark. How could I make you fat? I can’t eat for you,” I pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I put on weight almost as soon as I met you. You’ve always given me half of your dinner, told me to get dessert, stopped me going to the gym.”

“Mark, you can’t seriously be accusing me of manipulating you into gaining weight,” I told him, feeling myself shake a little. "You have a big appetite." Was I trying to convince him, or myself?

“But did you?” he pressed.

I paused just a little too long and he sighed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not like I forced you to eat anything!” I protested. “You enjoyed the food, you wanted it, you never cared about putting on weight, never enjoyed the gym. I just tried to give you permission to let yourself go a bit.”

“But you didn’t Ben!” he snapped. “You didn’t give me permission because never had a choice!”

“Mark, come on,” I reached towards him, but he knocked my hands away. “I’m sorry for being sneaky, but that’s all it was - a bit sneaky. I never lied, I never convinced you to do anything you didn’t want to, I just made the choice a bit easier.”

He opened the door. “I’m going to stay at my parents for a bit,” he said.

“Mark, no,” I pleaded.

“I just… I just need some time to think.” He moved through the door.

“Please Mark, I love you.”

He sighed. “I love you too,” he said. “It’s just a lot.”

The door closed. The day was a write-off. I spent the whole day cleaning and tidying, scrubbing floors and counters and remaking my bed. I thankfully didn’t have any meetings, and the only work I needed to do was busy-body work that no-one would notice was getting done badly. I fell back into old routines - didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, Carole King, Richard Curtis.

Staying at his parents “for a bit” meant a couple of weeks, as it turned out. I was mid-Notting Hill when I heard the door open and I turned to see Mark walk in, an old band t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of his gut. I rushed over to him, but stopped before I reached him, unsure of what was about to happen. He closed the distance and pulled me into a hug. I melted into him, and we stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I overreacted. I… freaked out.” He scratched his gut. “You were right. It could have happened in any relationship, I just…” He closed his eyes. “I’ve been fit for a really long time, you know, and I’ve never done a proper relationship, and I always felt like people just use me for sex and all of a sudden I find out that you’re a big part of why I’ve put on so much weight and it just felt like… Like you were changing me.”

I shook my head and hugged him again. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to change. You’re exactly what I want, any weight, I promise.”

He hugged me back. “I want to change for you,” he murmured into my hair. He pulled away and held my shoulders, smiling. “I spent a lot of time trying to figure stuff out and… you're right. It’s hot.” He slapped his gut. “I get it, I think. I like being big and I like eating and I like that you like it.” I must have looked skeptical because he carried on. “Okay, I’m not, like, thrilled with putting on quite so much, but I also don’t care enough to lose you over it, and I can see where you’re coming from.” I didn’t know what to say, so just kissed him, running my hands under his t-shirt and up his love handles. He pulled away. “I want you to get fat as well though,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I think you should put on weight as well,” he said again. “To see what it’s like.”

“Mark, I… I thought you’d forgiven me. I said I was sorry.,” I said.

“I’m not saying it as some kind of punishment or whatever,” he said, and patted my own flat stomach. “I’m saying that I think you’ll like it. That I’ll like it.”

“I think you might be confused,” I told him. “I don’t want to gain weight,” I explained. “I just like fat guys. It’s a different thing.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I didn’t want to gain weight either, and it turns out I kind of like it.” He squeezed his gut for emphasis. “You already like all this stuff, and I just think you owe it to yourself to see whether you like all the aspects of it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You want this?”

Mark shrugged. “Why not? Maybe it’ll be hot, and if you don’t like the first twenty pounds, you can lose it all faster than I’ll be able to lose all this.” He slapped his gut and sent it shaking.

“I uh… okay,” I agreed. “Yeah, I’ll try it out.”

The changes to our classic routine were unsettling at first. No more subtly suggesting dessert or quietly giving extra portions, now Mark would quite happily take seconds and snack throughout the day. He also made sure he wasn’t alone though - everything he ate, he would make me match, to the point that most days I’d end the day cradling my too full stomach while he gently rubbed it for me. Being more open about my preferences meant that we could start introducing food into the bedroom as well - sex now meant ice cream and chocolate and whole-cakes, all eaten off each other’s bodies or while Mark was deep inside of me.

While Mark’s gains kept up a good pace, especially for a man his size, the weight hit my body like a freight train. Without the base of muscle that Mark had, my gains were much softer, and spread across my body as opposed to Mark’s firm core ball gut and fat covered muscles. I found myself loving it - I'd get distracted by the way my flesh would slide past itself, the gentle restriction of clothes just on the verge of being too tight, and the pillowy softness of my body. I would find myself in work-meetings slipping a finger between shirt buttons to stroke around my navel, and it became one of Mark’s favourite jokes to point out when I’d mindlessly pull my shirt up while at home so I could play with my underbelly.

"You not going to lose too much weight while I'm gone, big guy?" Mark asked, kissing me on the cheek as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

I swallowed the last of the custard slice I was eating. "You're only going for a week," I pointed out. "Besides, you've managed to put nearly a hundred pounds on me in less than a year, I don't think I'm likely to stop losing weight anytime soon."

"Oh, I see," Mark said laughing. "It's me who put all that weight on you is it? You didn't have anything to do with it?"

"I should be more worried about you!" I said, changing the subject. "Going with all those skinny twigs - they're hardly going to make sure you're eating right."

He gripped his gut with both hands and lifted it. "It's a stag do," he said simply. "My diet's going to consist of beer and kebabs. I don't think you have to worry."

I kissed him goodbye, our guts melding into one another, and he left to get his taxi. I made my mind up to give him something special to come back to - as much weight as I could conceivably gain in the week he was away. I was sure I could put on five pounds (we both did that easily in the week between last Christmas and New Years), but how much more could I do?

Me and Mark were both used to four enormous meals as standard by now, so I added multiple tubs of ice cream and gainer shakes each day on top, to really kickstart my growth. I spent the next week bloated, groggy and uncomfortable - it was one of the hottest things I've ever done.

By the time Mark was back, I'd managed to push eleven more pounds onto my body, bringing me up to a cool 267 pounds. He walked into me lying prone on the sofa, shirt off, fresh stretch marks covering my gut, melted ice cream dripping onto soft moobs. I struggled to sit up to greet him, burping through a smile.

"Uhh, hi," he said, not moving from the doorway. His gaze hovered somewhere over my head.

"How was Berlin?" I asked, finally managing to sit up with a soft "ooft".

"Yeah it was…" he trailed off. "You know, fun. Good to see the lads." Still by the doorway. Still no eye contact.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, the ice cream sitting less comfortably in my stomach by the second.

"Yeah, no, it was just…" He finally moved away from the doorway, pacing around the room, eyes looking at everything except my expanded form. "They kept on taking the piss out of me," he said eventually. "You know, for being so fat."

"Right…" I said slowly. "But you're… you're okay with that, right?" I stood up with some effort and moved towards him. He moved towards the kitchen, still not meeting my eyes. "You've said you find it hot?" I felt self-conscious now, and looked around for a t-shirt I could put on.

He sighed, and finally looked at me. "Maybe not everything has to be hot," he said simply. "Like, yeah, it's great for sex but… Christ Ben, I'm over 24 stone now! Look at me!" He gestured down to his body, swollen with fat in every direction. "Every fucking day was just me trailing behind everyone else, completely out of breath, putting up with fucking jokes every other minute about my double chin and moobs and rolls-"

"Okay, your mates are arseholes!" I said. "Does that matter? Your workmates make jokes like that all the time."

"It's not my mates!" His voice was growing louder. "They're right! We've- I've-" He sighed and rubbed his face, his double chin moulding under his fingers. "We've taken it too far." He looked at me in the eyes. "This," he gestured down at himself and looked guiltily at me, "isn't just 'being a big guy' anymore. It's really, properly fat."

We tried to avoid talking about it for a few days. Then talked about dieting, going to the gym, building muscle, what weight might be a good compromise. Every conversation turned into an argument. Every meal, every shopping list.

I'd gotten so used to over-eating that I'd sneak off in the middle of the night or when he was at work to gorge. The couple of times he caught me turning into raging arguments. The times I caught him doing the same weren't much better.

Three weeks later, he'd packed his bags and gone to his parents. Whereas in the past I'd have stopped eating, I'd now fundamentally rewired my brain. Comfort eating was now de rigueur and every day seemed to overshadow the last. My snacks would have left a grown man satisfied, my meals turned into feasts, ice cream filled the time between like it filled in gaps in my stomach.

I ballooned. My tits drooped, my stomach swelled, my thighs chafed. I was grateful my job was mainly work-from-home, since my old clothes became restrictive to the point of pain. Buying clothes became a matter of adding the biggest size available to my cart and hoping for the best, waiting for the day I had to move to big-and-tall shops. Whenever I did have to go into the office, button-ups strained, my belt dug in, ties became comedically short. I saw my coworkers talking to each other, jokingly at first, then with concern. How could they not? I took up twice the space that I had done not long before, my face was round and jowly and soft. HR sent an email asking if I'd like a stronger chair. Emails were sent round reminding people about the gym memberships that the company offered, ostensibly office-wide, but I knew who they were targeted at.

When I reached 325 pounds I realised I almost weighed as much as Mark had when he left. Would I celebrate, I wondered, once I passed that milestone? Eat a cake to myself? Would that even register at this point?

I heard the door open and close, and I twisted around as best as I could. My flexibility had reached a critical point - now every action came with resistance, as fat bunched against fat and stretched around the sheer bulk of me. I looked around desperately at the mess around me, the ice cream cartons, cake boxes, tubs of cake frosting eaten straight.

"Ben?" Mark asked. I stood up as quickly as I could, tried to pull down my t-shirt so it covered the rest of my gut, did my best to button my shorts. I felt his hands on my arms before I even had a chance to get a good look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I looked up, finally. "You've lost weight," I said. It was true. His gut, his double chin, his tits, all were still there, big, but diminished.

He chuckled. "The lads at the site still call me a fat bastard," he said and shook his belly. It was true, I supposed - by anyone else's standards he was still obese. "You, erm, haven't," he added, quietly. "Lost weight, I mean."

I felt huge. Disgusting. "I can lose it," I promised, tears welling up in my eyes. "I just missed you so much and-"

"No," Mark said.

"No?" I asked.

"No," he repeated. "I don't need you to lose weight, I don't need…" He sighed. "I thought I needed to get fit again. Lose all the weight. I started going to the gym, dieting. Started seeing results. Got down to two-sixty."

I peered at him. "You're not…" I began.

"No, I'm about two-eighty now. Probably a bit more," he answered my unspoken question. "I realised being smaller wasn't making me happy. Once I stopped dieting, the weight piled back on." He ran a finger across his moustache and looked around nervously. "Then I realised the reason I wasn't happy was because I wasn't with you." I noticed for the first time that he was holding back tears.

I moved towards him and help him for a while. He gripped me tight, his strong arms sinking into my soft back.

A while later, we were sat at the table, a chinese takeaway in front of us - a small attempt at normality.

"So," Mark said, looking at me sideways and speaking slowly, as if to test the waters. "What are you weighing at these days?" he asked.

I sucked air through my teeth. I knew this was coming. I wasn't upset as such - by this point, our relationship was defined by fat. It was a shock though, him coming back having lost so much weight, me having put on so much. "Three-two-five," I said, as calmly as I could. "Well, a couple of weeks ago at least."

Mark whistled and reached over to slide a hand across my belly, as if in admiration. "God, did you ever imagine you'd be the bigger one in the relationship?" he asked. I felt my face go red, and I started to stammer a response. "I've got to be honest," he continued. "I'm pretty jealous."

I choked. "Jealous?" I managed to spit out. "Of being this big?"

He sighed wistfully. "I've always been a big guy, you know? And then when I started going out with you I got used to being the biggest guy in most situations. And I definitely never thought I'd be smaller than you."

I smirked. "Fancy changing that?"

He chuckled. "Just you wait," he said. "I'll be the bigger one again in no time."

I grinned and picked up a rib. "Good," I said. "No man of mine is going to be under three hundred. You'll have to hurry up and catch me though," I told him. "I'm going to be a moving target."

He smiled. "Sounds great." He spooned some food onto his plate. "See you at three hundred and fifty pounds?" he teased.

I grinned. "At least."

[lilacskyly]

Honored Ones: Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

(This might be bad idk :,> not that proud of it)

Throughout Heaven and the Earth, he  is the honored one. 

Then what does that make you?

“Oh goddess~ You aren’t hiding from me, are you?” you heard Satoru Gojo coo as his steps echoed throughout the abandoned building. You covered your mouth, trying your best to cover your shaky breath. “You can’t hide from me forever~ You know we’re bound… right goddess?” You heard him laugh and then a chain rattled. You froze, staring at your wrist to see the spirit bind chain that was shackled to your wrist. “Stop fighting me. You already know I can sense you… right?” he questioned. Tears fell out of your eyes just as Gojo teleported in front of you. “Found you~”

You jumped before he covered your mouth. He put a finger to his lips, “Sssshhh my dear…. Ssshh… I’m here… those special grade curses are gone… there’s no need to cry!” He smiled for you before planting a small kiss on your forehead. If you didn’t know better, he would’ve just been his normal self. But, after you saw him kill those curses and some of his fellow jujutsu sorcerers for ‘getting in the way’, you knew you couldn’t trust his smile.

“S-satoru…”

His smile only grew upon hearing his name come from your lips. God.. those perfect lips of yours. He was practically salivating.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts. “Yes my goddess?”

“W-where are the others?” you asked.

“The others? Oh… you mean the pests. They're gone now. They can't bother us now~” he whispered in your ear. “You cryin’? It's okay my goddess… you're safe now.” 

He took your hand in his and lifted you off the ground. Despite your fear of him, you hugged him and started crying even more. He engulfed you in a hug as well. “Never do that again.” he said, getting scarily serious for once.

“I-I won’t! I swear I won’t!” you cried. He knew better than to take your word for that.

He sighed, “Let’s go home goddess. You’ve had a long day..”

You couldn’t track how long it took you to get to his place. Time always seemed to mush together when you were with him. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. Gojo locked the door behind you two when you entered his place. He collapsed on the sofa, pulling on the spirit bind chain to get you to come over. 

“Y’know goddess, I never imagined being this close to you…” he started. “After all, you’re barely a jujutsu sorcerer my dear… it’s a miracle we even met.”

“... y-yeah… I-I’m sorry, I’m really weak..” you said, looking down at his hands. 

He shook his head. “Stop lying to yourself. You may not be as strong as you want… but soon enough you will be.”

“H-how?”

“I’ve been hinting at a surprise haven’t I? I think it’s about time I finally reveal it.” he smiled softly at you.

You tilted your head, confusion spread across your face. “W-what do you mean?”

“You’re almost entirely mine, my precious goddess~ Did you figure out what I’ve been doing yet?” he asked innocently. 

Wait. He didn’t.. He fucking wouldn’t.

He smiled after seeing your expression. “You’ve figured it haven’t you? You’re so smart my goddess! I’ve been putting drops of my blood into your food I’ve prepared for you… and you know how your cursed technique works.. Right?”

Of course you did! You weren’t stupid.. Were you?

“Your cursed technique isn’t very practical… at least for you. You have to quite literally consume a part of a person to gain their strength. But but but! If you ingest too much, your life becomes officially theirs to control. It’s funny really.. You get stronger but you become less and less you the more you do so!”

“G-gojo… w-what..?”

“Look my goddess… I know someone as holy as you could never be mine… so, I’m taking fate into my own hands. We will be together now, forever. No matter what you do, you won’t be able to die as long as I’m alive. You can’t even escape me in death. We’re bound, remember goddess? You’ve sealed your fate the very moment you agreed to this.” He grabbed your wrist, showing the spirit bind you two established. You both had to ingest some of each other's blood to even establish it. You just wanted to be stronger… to be protected by someone…

You should’ve died to those curses in that building earlier.

Before you knew it, Gojo tore at his wrist till it bled heavily. He held it up for you to drink his blood. He chuckled as you looked at him in horror. “H-how… how long have you..”

“Oh, since we made the pact. I’ve had my sight on you for quite a while my dear.” he said nonchalantly. “Now, drink up. Haven’t got all night.”

You shook your head causing him to laugh loudly. “Seriously? You’re still being stubborn? You really don’t get it dear… you’re mine.” His blue eyes pierced your own, seeming to tear into your brain. “Now, drink.”

Your body moved without you as you downed his blood. The taste was repulsive, you hated doing this. Gojo however seemed to be enjoying it as he petted your hair muttering ‘good girl’ every now and again. He pushed you away after some time. “Now now dear, we don’t want to suck me completely dry, do we?” he teased.

“Mhm…” was all you managed to say.

“Y’know… the pact is fully made now, right? Ha! How funny! I can literally control you now!” he laughed lightly. “We can claim this world as ours… and ours alone. After all, we’re gods… together we are the honored one…”

He pulled on the now fully materialized chain around both your wrists and hummed cheerfully. 

“Let’s go have some fun, shall we?” 

[sunlightmurdock]

For apocalypse dbf!jake, do you have any ideas for Jake trying to train you and it gets a little heated?

Before the apocalypse, Jake was always so cool with you — even when your dad was flying off the handle about something, you could always trust Jake to be calmer and more level-headed about it. It’s one of the things that you loved about him back then.

He’s like that now, but with the smaller stuff.

The deeper into this shit the two of you get, the more that Jake struggles with the realisation that he can’t stick by your side twenty-four seven. He’s no used to you exhausted, but he hates the thought of being asleep and not watching over you.

You’re the one begging him to train you. He’s more than happy to give you knife and hand to hand training. He found you a pretty light machete that can do some serious damage. But he’s a pro with all kinds of guns, and you just want a fraction of the skill he has. For safety.

By the time the world fell, Jake had been a pretty decorated Vice-Admiral with a very impressive resumé. He’s used to barking orders and laying down the law. But not with you, he doesn’t know how to be tough with you. Well, he thinks he doesn’t.

One day, there’s a call that’s just too close. He almost loses you and after that, something changes like a switch flips in him. Dawn the next morning, he’s hauling you out to a clearing in the woods. He’s not an asshole, he starts you off easy with a stationary target. A dead tree, with a red circle marked on it about chest height.

He stands behind you, brings your arms up and adjusts your fingers around the pistol. His chest pressed to your back and his arms caging you in, his voice is low as it grazes your earlobe. “Focus, alright? — Breathe in, hold it.”

He waits to hear your breathing pause.

“Alright, when you let it go, your going to squeeze the trigger, firm. Commit to it.”

You exhale and squeeze, the shot rings out. Jake grits his teeth.

“Did you just close your fucking eyes?”

He doesn’t give you room for error. Aim comes with time but technique? — He’ll be damned if you don’t nail that in a day. Shoulders squared, feet planted, breathing steady. Eyes. Fucking. Open.

Stationary target practice doesn’t last long. Once you manage three square shots within the circle, he’s moving on. The second task is a moving target — this was easier to simulate in the military. Not that his job was really handguns. Out here, it’s a thick log, tied to a rope and pushed hard.

“Focus!”

“I am!”

“If you were focusing, you would have hit it by now!” He barks back, stopping the log, examining it. Not so much as a fucking splinter. You stare at him as he storms over to you and grabs your face. “These things aren’t going to fucking hold still. You get that? — Scared as you are, tired as you are— whatever — They will keep coming until they get you. You get that? — You get this right or you die!”

“I’m trying!” You bite back at him.

“Not good enough!” He snaps back.

By the time you get back to his truck, you’re beyond furious and you haven’t spoken a word to him in twenty minutes. He’s just as pissed off at you. About half a mile into your journey home, Jake speaks for the first time.

“You’re the one who asked me to show you.” He mutters bitterly, staring ahead of him at the empty stretch of road.

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” You answer him.

“I’d rather be an asshole than have to bury you. Now drop the attitude.”

“Attitude my ass. Make me.” You bite back.

[dreamii-yume]

(Pretends that I haven’t been gone for over 8 months)

It is time to eat! 🗣🔥 I have returned! …And what did I miss? 🫡 Not much? Okay, that’s good lol

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Toge Inumaki (Jujutsu Kaisen)

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Yandere | Non-Con/Dub-Con | Referring to Inumaki by His Last Name | Usage of “Senpai” Because I Don’t Know How to Translate Honorifics | Aged-Up Characters | Hurt/(No)Comfort | But It Ended Up Hurting Anyways | Female-Insert Reader | Cheating | NTR | Corruption Kink | A Subtle From of Mindbreak(?) | AU Where Shibuya Incident Never Happened | Reader is kinda menhera herself tbh

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“I’m sorry for not being there to accompany you with your mission, Inumaki-senpai.” Gentle hands ran down his somewhat swollen cheek, before the cold, yet delicate texture of a gauze replaces it and eases the sting. “Dr. Ieiri needed me for something, and it was a priority mission, so…”

“Salmon Roe.” Toge Inumaki replied, almost immediately—Holding out his hand to cut you off as if he already knew that you were about to go on a tangent. For the inexperienced, conversation without words are something of an impossible feat, but for the years that he was mentoring you, Inumaki has gotten confident of your understanding skills. It’s kind of learning process that most of his friends developed overtime, so he’s never worried that both of you would have some form of miscommunication anytime soon.

With that said, you sighed in relief at his innocent gesture. “…Alright, then please allow me to at least use my curse technique on you.” You suggested, but the moment Inumaki felt your cursed energy spiked in an incredible amount, he knew he didn’t have a choice anyway. Not only because it was your job, but he never planned to refuse your technique if you give him a chance to experience it. Just from this close distance alone, he could practically melt at the feeling—Like a warm fire in a winter night, gently embracing his body in a comforting manner.

“…Salmon.”

Rejuvenation as they call it…An innate cursed technique that you’ve developed while you were studying with him at Jujutsu Tokyo High. It’s not much when it comes to combat, since its only special feature is, as the name suggest, rejuvenation—The power to replenish the user’s body of lost cursed energy, and ultimately cutting back whatever physical consequences of the user’s cursed technique is. It was a shame that by Jujutsu regulations, it was considered a “cursed” technique like everyone else’s when in truth, it can very well be compared to a blessing in disguise for people like him.

Call it a senior’s pride or something like that, but Inumaki thoroughly believed that you’ve naturally developed a technique that he can greatly appreciate because he was the one who raised you better as a sorcerer than your own teacher ever did.

To think that you were but an ordinary civilian when you came in here felt like a fever dream. No relations to curses, sorcerers, or anything—Just a rare case of a normal person possessing a higher cursed energy than most people that they were able to see curses from a very young age. You were a chick fresh out of the egg when you arrived, an outsider to the world of Jujutsu, and Inumaki back then just found himself teaching you on a whim.

He loves watching you use your curse technique a lot more than he could ever admit—The control you have on your breathing, heart rate, and flow of curse energy was spectacular. You always make sure that you won’t hurt yourself in the process by giving too much, but at the same time, you knew exactly how much a current person needs for a complete rejuvenation. His favorite part had always been when you’re done, the way your eyes would snap back into your normal cheerful self after being in a trance like nothing happened. It never fails to make him smile.

”…Well, do you feel a lot better? Is there anything else I could help you with?” Your voice quickly got Inumaki back on high alert as he was in a trance himself. He just couldn’t help it sometimes; he could feel your cursed energy flowing in him in just the right amount that it was way too comfortable to just ignore.

Inumaki tilts his neck in a snap, feeling a satisfying crack from each side before giving you a thumbs up. “Pollock Roe.” He said with confidence to mask the embarrassment he feels inside. He would never say it straight to your face, but as someone who receives this treatment from you a lot, it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that he was addicted to the feeling. He’s a bit…sensitive on how you will react to this information, so he’ll keep it to himself for now.

“Well, that’s great then~!” You said, as he felt your observant eyes on him again—Constantly looking for any injury you might’ve missed, but your work was as flawless as ever. “At this point, please just get plenty of rest as always. If you notice anything else that feels wrong, please refer to Dr. Ieiri as soon as possible.”

Inumaki couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way you speak during work mode, it’s professional but it just wasn’t the normal cheeky junior he knew. So, with a mischievous look on his face, Inumaki pulled on your cheek slightly with judging eyes. “Mustard Leaf~?” He teased as you flinched at the contact.

“Ow, ow!” You exclaimed, yelping like a kicked animal until Inumaki let go eventually. In an instant, you pouted and rubbed on your slightly reddened cheek. “W-What was that for, seriously…!?”

Inumaki only pointed at you nonchalantly with two fingers. “Tuna, Tuna.” He stuck out his tongue which only puts an irritated vein on your forehead—But somehow, you knew what he was trying to say.

Instead of snapping like how you originally planned, you sighed. “I know, I know…” You said, eventually smiling in defeat. “But it’s work, you know? I have to be prim and proper when it comes to work.”

Inumaki hummed, eyes glancing to the side as if he hadn’t learned his lessons at all—In fact, he just wanted to catch your attention, that’s all. “…And you should be careful around your own work too!” Then came in you scolding him in the end. “Please stop rupturing your vocal cords every time you go on missions! I am not treating you next time, do you hear!?”

“Salmon Roe~” He heard what you said, but it was like the words go through one ear and escaped to the other—He didn’t have any intention of listening to your advice at all. If rupturing his vocal cords was the minimum requirement to come visit you again, then so be it…Besides, he knows you’re lying anyways. He just can’t see you refusing service to anyone who’s in need of help, what more of it if it was him?

“Ugh, why do I feel like you’re not taking me seriously at all…?” You grumbled under your breath but ending up shaking your head anyways. Eventually though, you smiled in a silly manner, just what Inumaki was hoping for. “No, whatever…Just have a good day, Senpai.”

Hearing that, Inumaki finally gave you his famous close-eyed smile to show his excitement. “Salmon~!” He replied enthusiastically after seeing that familiar attitude of yours for the day and quickly pat your head. You giggled as he hopped off the bed, raising his hand slightly to wave at you as he headed out for the door. “…Kelp.”

With one last smile, you waved back at him before going back to your desk, probably checking for the mission you’re assigned to next.

Honestly, for someone who came from humble beginnings, you were making quite the name for yourself as a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. Non-combatant cursed techniques are rare as it is, and for someone to have one that defies the very definition of a curse and turning it into something of a blessing—It’s no wonder you are highly valued by the higher-ups. It’s hard to imagine that just a few years ago, you were someone relatively unknown and though you did had some help from the teachers like all other students, you still had to teach yourself on how to differentiate between what is a curse and what is not.

Regardless, Inumaki can freely shrug about it now—He was glad you developed a technique that was beneficial to him, and that’s all it matters. You were good friends, on top of being senior and junior back in school, so your relationship with him was undoubtedly better than the rest. Maybe he’s a bit boastful about it, because who wouldn’t want to come home from a long and exhausting mission, only to lay down and be doted on by your cursed technique?

The feeling of a sore throat has been something of a wild fantasy to him ever since you mastered your craft, so what else was there to complain about?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Hornii?

This Sinfic was in one of my WIPs folder (Yes, I have a folder full of unfinished Sinfics and ideas ☠️ I’m a loser) and I had to travel back to the memory lane on what kind of plot I was trying to cook 8 months ago 😭

I think my goal was to write a  Sinfic is that proves that dialogue is not at all needed when it comes to fucked-up love ♥︎

[rhoorl]

Working Title - Chapter 5

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Belle

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: 6.2k

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Chapter 5 on AO3

Chapter Summary: It’s time for the party! We meet a couple more side characters. Plus, more best friend vibes happening with Belle and Indy. Toward the end we go through a more rapid fire of alternating POVs, I hope it translates the way I pictured it in my head!!

Warnings: This chapter has some swearing and allusions to smut. 

Indy could tell you were starting to get in your head about the party and knew just how to get you to loosen up. 

“Ok, pick a playlist,” she calls over to you as she tosses her phone.

“Jeez, you know I can’t catch for shit,” you say as you barely grasp her phone in your hands, looking through her Spotify to find what to listen to.

“You thinking champagne or a mixed drink?” she asks over her shoulder as she saunters into the kitchen.

“Isn’t it a little early?” you ask and before she can retort you follow it up with, “And don’t say it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, for the love,” you chuckle.

“We aren’t going to pregame hard, B, just a little something to sip on while we get ready!”

It had been a while since you both had gotten ready together to go to a party. When you lived in New York you’d spent many a night crowding into your tiny bathroom fighting for mirror space as you got ready to head to a club or bar. You’d sing and dance to whatever mix CD Indy had burned. Sometimes it still makes you gag to think you both used to rip cheap vodka shots straight without chasers.

Although the location is different, the energy is still the same with you two – giggling, reminiscing about old times, and sipping on the champagne Indy popped open.

She’s been on her phone off and on texting, smiling at herself when she didn’t think you were looking. At one point you both decide to Facetime Rhys.

“Hey! How are you two doing?” he picks up on the second ring, sitting on his couch presumably watching a hockey game or whatever other sport was on TV.

“Hi Rhys!” you wave. “Thank you soooo much for upgrading my flight, that was clutch!”

“Yea and this fucking room?! Rhys, you’ve outdone yourself!” Indy chimed in.

“Ha, well I’m glad you both like it, you deserve it, both of you.”.

“Oh Rhys, you’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“Shh, stop it he doesn’t want or need to know about that,” you chide her.

“Know about what?” he smirked.

“So I walk outside to the balcony this morning, which is huge by the way,” she says as she puts down the phone against the mirror and keeps putting on her eyeliner. “I was looking for Indy so we could have our coffee together and I walk out there and see her staring at the balcony next to us where freaking Dieter was standing – without a shirt on! Her mouth was practically on the floor drooling over him.”

“Oh my gosh Ind, my mouth wasn’t on the floor,” you roll your eyes. “Rhys, I was behaving myself.”

“Oh, you were behaving yourself when you moaned about how good a fucking cookie tasted?” she laughed.

“Wait, what?” 

“Ugh, never mind Rhys. It was nothing.”

Rhys starts to smile, laughing when he says “So I guess you met your neighbor then, huh?”

“It was so funny Rhys, she was so flustered it was so cute!” 

You kind of paused for a bit at his reaction. He was trying to act surprised, but he was a terrible liar. What is he up to?

By this point, he and Indy had moved on to another topic you barely even heard, still lost in thought. 

“I should be there in about a week or so. I haven’t booked my flight yet, but I’m excited to visit my two favorite girls!”

“We can’t wait to see you!” 

“Yea both owe you a big hug,” Indy added.

“Ok ladies, have fun tonight, but not too much fun,” he winked.

Indy hangs up her phone and you both finish the last touches to your makeup. You offered to do it for Indy, but she refused. She had watched you so much over the years, studying your techniques, and eventually picked up a few basic things. And honestly, with her, it didn’t take much to still look stunning. 

Putting on one last spritz of hairspray, you give yourself a final look before heading to your room to get dressed. You slip out of your t-shirt and shorts and walk over to grab a bra out of the dresser. As you open the drawer to look in, your mind wanders to Dieter. You were nervous to see him. Presumably, tonight was going to be the closest you’ve both been to each other physically. The first time you were separated by a couch and this morning you were separated by the balconies. 

Indy’s voice is coming through loud and clear in your head, if you want to feel confident wear something that makes you feel good. Spurned by that thought and the champagne, you rummage through the drawer and decide on the black bra that makes your boobs look amazing. You also decide to change into a skimpier pair of underwear figuring if you felt sexy, it may help you feel flirty. 

You head over to your shoes and slip on a pair of sandals. Your finishing touches were your watch, a bracelet Indy got you for a birthday, and a pair of diamond earrings. Grabbing your purse, you head out to the living room where Indy is texting and smiling at her phone.

She sees you and starts to whistle, “Ok sexy mama! I see you!”

“Oh my god, Ind,” you laugh.

“Alright, ready to do this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Oh c’mon, you’re getting good at going to these!”

You’ve been accompanying Indy to these types of parties for more than a decade now. They’ve run the gamut from boring to wild – the stories you both could share! By all accounts, tonight is going to be pretty chill; some of the cast and crew traveled with their families and were bringing them over. The only part that always made you nervous was when inevitably you and Indy would get separated. At least this time around, you will have some friendly faces in the crowd.

Indy shoots another quick text, smirking at her phone. 

“Ok, let’s do this!”

Dieter had spent the afternoon looking over scripts and chatting with the writers. He was a TV and film nerd and loved the process of making the art. Lizzie always told him he should write or direct something of his own, but he had never followed through despite the countless notes of ideas on his phone.

He’s lost in a daydream, thinking of the morning and what he should have said, or wanted to say when his PA Danny walks in. In his early years, Dieter went through PAs like nothing. Over time he realized they only ever wanted the drugs he could score, or to fuck him. And, frankly, he saw them the same way too for a while. 

Danny had been with him for the past couple of years. He was young and a hard worker, no job or task was too small for him. Dieter liked his work ethic and respected his hustle, so he looked out for Danny. When Dieter wasn’t working, he would make sure to find Danny a gig with a fellow actor friend. They’d grown to have a bit of a brotherly relationship.

Danny sits down across the table from Dieter, unwrapping a package and pulling something out.

I know that packaging.

“Danny, what is that?” he pointed at Danny’s mouth as he was mid-bite.

“It’s…uh…a cookie,” he mumbled out with his mouth full. After he chewed and shallowed he added, “Did you get one in your welcome basket? They’re so fucking good and it’s from a local company too. Want one?” he offered Dieter the other one.

“Uh. Yea. I mean. No, I don’t want one, knock yourself out. Wait, did you say they were a local company?”

“Yea,” he continued to chew. “I’ve been talking with the other PAs, apparently they make them here on the island and there’s like a fuck ton of other flavors. It’s been like Pokemon trading cookies with everyone today,” he laughed.

“Dan - how close is this place?”

“Uh, I don’t know, let me look,” wiping his mouth and grabbing his phone. Once he pulled it up he turned the phone to Dieter, “Looks like it’s 20 minutes away!”

Looking down at his watch, Dieter does some quick math. “Danny, you up for a little adventure?” he asked with a lopsided grin. 

“Ok, phone, wallet, room key. Check, check, and check! Let’s go do this!” Indy said, slapping you on the ass as she walked by you and opens the door. 

“Hey, ouch!”

As you close the door behind you, you hear her yell “Hold the elevator please!” Your heart skips a beat at who could be waiting for you in the elevator.

You look down the hallway and see an arm pop through the closing elevator doors, stopping them and opening them back up. As the elevator doors open back up, you hear a deep voice call out, “Indy?”

“Hey Sam!” she gushes as she hustles over to the elevator.

You exhale but also have a tinge of disappointment come over you. You hurry so you don’t keep them waiting, glancing over to the door to Dieter’s room as you walk by. I wonder where he is. 

“Oh my gosh, Sam you haven’t met Belle yet!” Indy said as she ushered you into the elevator. You could see why Indy was into Sam. He was tall, fit, with a great smile, and he had the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you! Indy has been talking about you non-stop,” he laughs and goes in for a hug, which you reciprocate. Wrapping your arms around his back you add another reason to the “why Indy is obsessed with Sam” list – the guy was made of pure muscle. “She said you were beautiful, but you’re even more stunning in person,” he says in his low, Southern drawl.

Okay. I can see why she’s all googly-eyed now. This guy is a charmer. Normally this shit would be a red flag, but he seems sweet.

“It’s nice to meet you too Sam. You’re even more handsome than she described,” you winked at him. For as awkward as you could be, there was something about playing a wing woman to Indy that made you a little bolder.

Looking over at Indy she is beaming. She sidles over to Sam and you look down to your phone to give them a little privacy. You stop on a floor to let a few people in when you hear him whisper in her ear, “You look absolutely stunning, baby.”

They were practically eye fucking each other the whole ride down, which made you wonder how far Indy had gone with him. 

You make it down to the first floor and the elevator empties into the lobby. Ari is getting out of another elevator and you wave to her so she can join headed to the front of the resort. Along the way, Ari tells you that Mitch organized a few shuttles to help get people to and from the party. 

Getting to the entrance, you see a full shuttle leaving as an empty one pulled up. Sam let you and Ari go ahead before letting Indy board ahead of him. Ari takes a window seat and you scoot in next to her, Indy taking the window seat in the row behind you, Sam following closely behind.

Sitting at the front of the shuttle, you are practically the unofficial greeter, saying hi or at least smiling to everyone who boards. You look to the outside of the shuttle where a line was forming, looking for that distinct mop of fluffy hair above the crowd. He said he was going to be there, maybe he already left. Or, he’s not into this kind of stuff and is going as late as possible to still make an appearance. You battle back and forth with yourself and suddenly realize the shuttle closed its doors and is starting to move. 

Behind you, you could hear Indy giggling as Sam whispers to her. Oh, they’re fucking. Making a mental note to ask her long that’s been going on. You smile to yourself, happy that Indy seems to be head over heels for the guy, but a little concerned seeing as filming hasn’t even started yet – what if something happens? That would be awkward.

Ari makes small talk with you on the way to the party and before you know it, the shuttle is coming to a stop.

“Holy shit, this place is nice,” Ari says under her breath.

“Seriously. I’m totally going to get lost,” you chuckle.

You all file out of the shuttle and are greeted by servers with glasses of champagne. Add another glass to my tally. You follow the crowd up the stairs and across the threshold of the house which opens up into an open-air living room overlooking a huge backyard with a fantastic pool.

“Wow, this is nice,” you hear Indy come up next to you. 

“Seriously. So … who is Mitch?” 

Looking around, Indy spots him. “Hey Mitch!” she yells, waving at a man standing by the bar in the backyard. She grabs your hand and ushers you over to him, Ari and Sam trailing behind.

“Indy, great to see you,” the man says going in for a hug.

“Thanks so much for having us, it’s so fun that we get to start off the shoot this way!” Oh, she’s on her schmooze game. “Oh, I need to introduce you to one of the most talented hair and makeup artists I know, and she’s my best friend,” she beamed motioning over to you.

You introduce yourself and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, thanks for having us!”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, glad you’re joining the crew. I hope you all have fun tonight, make yourselves at home. If you want to get in the pool go ahead, we have towels. There’s a bar and food,” he motions over to the bar and the full buffet set up. “Otherwise, just have fun!”

“Thank you!” you all chime in. 

“Indy, Sam, could I steal you both?” he asks as he guides them to another group of people standing around a high-top table. They look a bit more dressed up than everyone else. They must be from the studio.

Poor Indy, these types of events seemed so exhausting. She had to be “on” for most of the party trying to make sure she talked with the right people and said the right things. 

You take a second to scan around the party. Another shuttle of people had been dropped off by this point. Hmm, I don’t see him. You tried to not let your disappointment show. Besides, it’s not like even if he was here he’d talk to you. Look at Indy, she’s going to be busy all night, so he will be too.

You and Ari head over to the bar to grab a drink. A few of the other PAs were hanging out at a nearby table so she heads over there. You manage to find Meredith and some of the other stylists and grab some food and talk. She gets you all to play two truths and a lie as an icebreaker to get to know everyone. You all end up laughing to the point of tears at how ridiculous some of the lies were. After a while, some of the group decides it’s time for a cigarette so they get up to leave. 

With the sun starting to set, you take it as a good opportunity to sneak away and try and take some photos of the spectacular sunset. And also recharge your social battery. You liked being around people, but you didn’t get energy from it like Indy did. 

As walk around, you hope to catch a glimpse of Dieter. While you didn’t see him, you did see Indy. She was in the pool leaning against the side, talking to Sam who was sitting on a nearby lounger. You gave her a wave and as discreet of a thumbs up as you could as you weaved your way through the crowd.

Exploring the backyard, you head down a path and find a little secluded spot with a perfect view of the ocean. You see a little bench right next to a small pond with some beautiful koi fish swimming along. Sitting down, you take out your phone and start snapping photos and taking some videos to post on your Instagram stories. You lost track of time and almost didn’t hear the rustling and footsteps behind you. Turning around, you see that Dieter is coming your way down the path.

He sees you and gives a lopsided grin, one of his dimples peeking through.

“Hey! I was looking for you,” he waves with his left hand, rubbing the back of his neck with his right as he approaches. “Mind if I join you?” he motions towards the bench.

Looking for me? Ok, breathe. Remember to breathe. Shit, he looks good. 

He was wearing light gray chino shorts, a plain, black t-shirt, and sneakers. You couldn’t help but linger over how tight the sleeves of his shirt were over his biceps. His hair was a bit more tamed than it was this morning, but it still had gorgeous curls and waves.

“Oh, h-hi Um, yea be my guest,” you bow towards the seat. Why are you bowing, that’s lame. “How long have you been at the party?”

“I, uh- I just got here, a little while ago. I had to take care of something and then Danny drove us over.”

“Danny?”

“Oh, uh, my PA. Good kid,” he smiles. “Um. Y-you look beautiful,” he whispered as he looked down at his hands.

Wait, he’s nervous too, right? Holy fucking shit, just remember to breathe. But also, girl, take advantage of this. 

“You look nice too. You put on a shirt for the occasion,” you winked at him.

He laughed, “Touché, but I can’t tell if you mean that’s a good or a bad thing.”

You bite your lip and look down. Ahhhhhh.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat. “Did you have a good day today?”

“Uh, yea. Yea, it was busy but fun,” you said turning towards him. “Did you?”

He seemed to be taken aback that you asked him such a simple question and seemed to care about the response. “Y-yea. I’d say it started off pretty well,” he winked.

“Ha, yea. Although it did take me a while to actually get a hot cup of coffee,” you laughed.

“Maybe we can make up for it tomorrow morning,” he said a bit lower.

You breathing hitches. 

“I- uh. I mean from each of our balconies. Not from the same one. Unless. Uh- shit, sorry” he starts to ramble shaking his head as he rubs the back of his neck.

You don’t understand how this man could ever be flustered, let alone around you, but you had to admit each time it happened it was really cute.

You laugh and then softly say, almost as a whisper so he doesn’t hear, “I actually would like that.”

His face softens, “You would?” You nod. “Yea, I would too,” he smiles.

“Only one problem though,” you replied.

He furrows his brows together, “and what’s that?”

“We only had that one package of cookies in our basket, and I need something sweet with my first coffee of the day.”

“Oh that is a dilemma then isn’t it,” he laughs. Leaning further into your space he whispers “I think we can figure something out,” with a wink. 

You let out a nervous laugh, biting your lip again. Holy fucking shit.

As if she knew you needed help, you suddenly hear your phone ring and look to see a call coming in from Indy. You usually kept your phone on silent, but in situations like tonight, you both kept your ringers on. It started when you used to go clubbing, that way in case one of you needed to help the other would be able to hear their phone.

“Oh, sorry, I have to get this. She would only call if it were an emergency.”

“Of course!” Dieter looks concerned, clearly hoping everything was ok with Indy.

You give him a small smile and answer, “Hey, Ind, are you ok?” furrowing your brows in concern.

“Y-yea, yea. Um, pineapples.” Over the years, you both developed a series of code words to help get each other out of bad or awkward situations. Luckily, this one was not a serious one, but she still needed your help.

You let out an exhale and smirked, “Ok, where are you?”

Dieter looks a bit confused, looking at your face to see what’s going on. “She’s ok,” you mouth to him and he nods.

“Second-floor bathroom, it’s to the left when you walk up.”

“Ok, be right there.” Hanging up the phone you turn back to him. “Sorry, I have to go find her. We’ve got a wardrobe malfunction,” you laugh.

“Oh shit, yea let’s go so you can take care of that.”

He gets up from the bench and lets you walk in front of him, lightly touching the small of your back as he leads you around the path. You’re thankful that your back is to him because you blush at his touch and also curse yourself for being so affected by something so small – a simple courteous gesture. 

He keeps his hand there until you reach the party again, bringing both hands into his pockets. “Do you know where to go?”

“Yea, she said she’s on the second floor. I, uh, I’ll see you around?”

He smiles, “Definitely.”

You hate to turn away and leave, but you’re also so curious as to what situation Indy has found herself in.

BELLE: Headed upstairs

INDY: THX 🙏

As you make it to the stairs, you see Sam hurriedly making his way down. He has a sheepish look as he sees you, trying to avoid your gaze.

“Hey Sam, do you know where Indy is?”

“Uh, y-yea, she’s the second door on the left,” he glances away trying to avoid eye contact.

Confused you keep heading up the stairs, You know nothing bad happened because she used pineapples but Sam’s demeanor was a far cry from the confident swagger he had earlier. He seemed embarrassed.

You made it to the door and gave your customary three knocks so Indy knew it was you. She opens the door slightly poking just her eyes out. Confirming it was you, she opens the door the rest of the way and pulls you in. Then you see her and let out a laugh.

“Hooooly shit Ind! What the fuck happened?” pointing to the huge hickey on the left side of her neck with one hand and covering your mouth in shock with the other.

“Can you fix it?” she asks nervously as she looks in the mirror, trying to tame her mussed-up hair.

“Well, I left my special effects make-up at home. Ow!” she punches you in the arm as you laugh. “But I do have a small kit with me so we can make it work. Here sit.” 

She gets up on the counter extending her head back, exposing more of her neck so you can see the full brunt of what you have to work with.

“Sooo…care to share with the class how this happened?”

She rolls her eyes, “I think you know how this happens, B.”

Pulling back and putting your arms up in surprise, “Hey! I’m the one helping you remember. I can walk out and leave you to work the room with that gigantic mark on your neck,” you tease. 

She lowers her chin looking at you with a smirk, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” She lifts her chin again as you start to mix some of the concealers. 

Knowing you weren’t going to drop it, she finally caved, “So, Sam and I came in here.”

“No! I’m shocked!” you say sarcastically as she gives you another stern look. “Ok, ok I’m sorry!”

“We were fooling around and next thing I know I glance in the mirror and see this,” motioning to her neck, “and I freaked out. It's too big to cover up with just my hair. So, that’s when I called you. Sam was still here, he felt really bad. He stayed the whole time, but left when you texted.”

“The guy could barely look at me when I came up the stairs,” you chuckled, applying the makeup to the area. It wasn’t going to be a perfect cover-up job, but between Indy's long hair and your rushed handiwork, you both could leave without anyone being the wiser of her romp in the bathroom.

“So, how long have you guys been hooking up?”

“Um, it’s been … a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?! And you didn’t tell me!”

“I was going to, I swear. I just … I don’t know. He's younger, you know. I really, really like him, but I wanted you to meet him first.”

“Well, he's not that much younger," you wink. "And seems lovely and he’s clearly dicked you down well enough that you didn’t even notice him doing this on you. Seriously, Indy this is like the biggest one you’ve ever had!”

You both giggle, Indy noticeably relaxing now that she’s clued you into how involved she’s become with Sam.

As you were finishing up, she asked how you had been enjoying the party. You tell her about some of the two truths and a lie the other stylists shared.

“Oh, did Dieter ever find you?”

“Huh?”

“He was looking for you. When he got here I could see him looking around and when he saw me, he made a beeline over. He was trying to play it cool, asked where my ‘sidekick’ was,” she gave air quotes. “I saw you walk down toward the path, so I sent him that way. Did he find you? Wait, were you with him when I called?”

You nodded.

“Shiiit, I’m sorry!” she smacks her the palm of her hand to her forehead. “I feel like a jackass. You were getting some alone time and here I am messing it up!”

“It’s really fine, Ind. You actually called at a perfect time because I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going.”

“Oooo go on ….” she waggles her eyebrows. 

“We were kind of starting to talk about repeating our coffee and cookie thing tomorrow morning…I think.”

Indy hops down from the counter and grabs your shoulders.

“Holy shit! So, are we talking like from his place? Or ours? If it’s ours please let me know so I can put in earplugs.”

“Indy!! Not like that,” you shake your head and look down. “Me on my balcony and he would be on his.”

Arching her eyebrow and tilting her chin down she gives you a lopsided grin. “Ok, Belle, ok. But I’m sure he was thinking it.”

“Oh stop it,” you laugh and then start to yawn. The jet lag and excitement all starting to catch up with you.

“Oh shit, you’re probably tired, huh? I keep forgetting you came from the East Coast. Wanna head back? It’s getting late anyway and we want to make sure you are well-rested for your coffee date!”

“It’s not a date, he probably won’t even show up.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs your hand as you both head out of the bathroom. You make it downstairs and see a group starting to make their way to the shuttle so you shuffle in step with them and head back. 

The shuttle ride was uneventful and you made it up to your room. Indy unlocks the door and you both file in. You start to head over to your bedroom, but stop when you see a giant box sitting on the kitchen island. You both look at each other confused as to who left something in your room. You figured it was either Rhys sending you both a surprise or maybe even Sam as an apology. 

Indy skips over to the box, snatching the note to read it. She stops and looks up at you with a smile and doesn’t say anything, she just extends the note to you to read.

Turns out they have a bunch of flavors. Pick a few for tomorrow! - D

“Holy fucking shit, Belle, this is the cutest thing ever!”

Getting a gift from a man was a pretty foreign concept to you. The only gifts you had received in recent years either came from your dad, Rhys, or Indy's brother. Ryan had forgotten your last several birthdays and anniversaries. 

You step around Indy to see exactly what was in the box. The company that made the cookies from this morning apparently makes several other flavors. It looks like there are about 12 different varieties in this box, but you notice a few boxes of the macadamia nut flavor, which makes you blush.

“He had to have done that earlier today! I saw him talking with Danny, his PA, and then they grabbed some car keys and left.”

You started pulling out the boxes, unsure what to even say or think.

“Umm. Earth to Belle? Dieter surprised you with a cute gift. He wants to see you tomorrow morning. Honestly, babe, if I were you I would just knock on his door and invite yourself in right now.”

“You know I’m not doing that. Besides, we don’t even know if he’s back yet.”

“I know, but could you imagine? He would absolutely flip.”

You wanted to smile, but something stopped you. You felt like there had to be a catch. There’s no way this was happening to you. 

“I can’t meet him tomorrow,” shaking your head at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. 

“What?! Why?” Indy mumbled as she stuffed a cookie in her face.

“Because this is probably some big elaborate joke or something.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of bullshit you’re telling yourself. Don’t build that wall up. Stop it.”

She knew you better than anyone and knew exactly how your head was spiraling. You felt like you didn’t deserve to have someone, especially a man, do nice, sweet things for you. And if someone did, it was with a catch or out of obligation. 

“I am setting my alarm and dragging your ass out of bed myself.”

“Please don’t do that. Besides we both know you will sleep through that alarm,” you smirk.

“Fine. But please promise me you’ll go outside and have coffee with him. This,” she gestures to the sampler box of cookies, “is too fucking cute. Rhys said he hasn’t heard of Dieter dating or even being interested in someone in years, so he’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

Is that true? I mean, now that I think of it I haven't read about him being linked to someone in years. Also, why are Rhys and Indy talking about Dieter's dating life?

Taking a deep breath you straighten up and look over at Indy who has opened up another box to try. “Ok, I’ll try.”

“Ooo you should text him thank you!” You give her a look. “Before you say ‘I can’t do that I don’t have his number’ yes you do!” She grabs her phone from her purse and starts to go through the contacts. “Here, I’m texting you his number.”

Her text comes through and you stare at your phone. I mean, he did get you a gift, the proper thing to do would be to acknowledge it.

Indy comes around next to you as you both lean over the kitchen island, looking at your phone. It brought you back to when you both used to sit in front of the computer, trying to compose the perfect AIM message to your crushes. You keep staring and Indy grabs the phone, “Ok I’ll just do it. ‘Dear Dieter, let’s skip the coffee and I’ll give you my cookie instead’ winky face.”

You snatch the phone from her, realizing she didn’t actually type any of that and she was fucking with you. “Oh my gosh, Indy! First of all, no. Second, the cookie pun, really? I am just going to say ‘Hey it’s Belle, thanks for the cookies, that’s sweet’. Simple and I still get a pun in,” you chuckle.

“Come onnnn. The guy got something for you, you made plans to see him tomorrow morning. Be a little flirty! Let’s speed this shit up!”

Rolling your eyes you look back at your phone and start to type with a smirk. When you were done you hand her back the phone, “This ok?”

“Do it!”

Dieter wasn’t one for parties anymore, although this one sounded like it would be pretty tame and safe. He knew he would have to make an appearance, but it definitely made it more appealing to see you and hopefully get a chance to talk.

He was relieved when he finally saw you, his breath catching. Wow, she’s beautiful. He thought that this morning when he saw you with no makeup, a messy bun, and glasses. Now, your hair was down and he could see your eyes better. He was nervous to talk to you, but excited, trying to turn on some charm to see how you’d react. Every time you bit your lip, he could feel his shorts get a little tighter. All he wanted to do was reach over and kiss you. 

When Indy called he was concerned, but then a bit frustrated. He felt you were maybe starting to reciprocate some of his advances. 

Knowing that you would be occupied with Indy, he decided to head out and drive himself back to the resort. On his way, he called the front desk agent to let them know to proceed with the plan. After he hung up a wave of nerves washed over him.

That was probably too much, right? Like who the fuck buys someone cookies? But, it gives me an excuse to see her again. You’re going to see her on set every day though. I wonder if she’s back yet. No, she and Indy are probably still having fun. Am I coming on too strong? I always come on too strong.

He makes it back upstairs and starts pacing around his room, his insecurity and anxiety starting to spike. He sits on the couch and does some breathing exercises. In … two … three … out … two … three .. four … five. 

After doing this for several minutes, he feels himself calming down, deciding to go lay down on his bed. Shrugging off his shorts and grabbing a pair of basketball shorts, he pulls off his shirt and slides under the covers, and grabs the remote. He’s honestly not sure what’s on the TV, he finds the noise comforting as he zones out.

Then, he hears his phone ding.

“Ok, sent. Shit!” you bury your face in your hands.

“It’s a pretty innocent text.”

You both stare at the phone screen waiting. After a couple of minutes, you see that the message has been read. Shit. He’s not typing. Wait, yes he is. Ugh, then he stopped. 

“Aww, it seems like he’s nervous too,” Indy teases bumping your shoulder with hers.

Dieter sees a text come in from a random number. Normally, he would just ignore it, but the timing was coincidental so he unlocked his phone.

I’ll bring the cookies, you bring the coffee?

He exhales and smiles. Although the text is from a random number he knows who it’s from and goes to immediately save the number. 

His stomach does a flip as he decides how he wanted to play this. Ok, breathe. 

Indy shrieks when the phone dings again.

DIETER: Oh, I think that can be arranged sweetheart.

DIETER: What time? I want to make sure the coffee is hot for you…

“Ohhh shit!” Indy grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “See, I fucking told you!”

“Shit, what do I say?”

Ugh. Was that too much? That second bit was too much, right? 

Ding. Dieter unlocks his phone.

🍪 ☕ BELLE: Hmm. Like 6? Is that too early?

🍪 ☕ BELLE: Also, any requests?

Ding. 

“Oh, this is so fun!” Indy giggles.

DIETER: 6 is perfect.

DIETER: Macadamia nut please. 😉

Indy gets up and starts running around the kitchen island giggling. You couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly you weren’t tired anymore, this interaction giving you a little burst of adrenaline. 

🍪 ☕ BELLE: I think that can be arranged.

🍪 ☕ BELLE: Good night. And thank you, by the way. 🙂

“Was the smiley too much?”

“He sent you a goddamn winky face, so no I don’t think a smiley is too much.”

Ding.

DIETER: Sweet dreams, Belle.

“Fuck, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: Eeek! I hope you liked the last bit alternating between them receiving texts from each other. Our poor, flustered babies! They’ll get it together, I promise. I'm honestly a little intimidated of writing the smut, but these two need it dammit, so I'll get over myself :)

If you’re still here, thank you so much for reading. For those who have commented, reblogged, or liked any or all of the chapters so far THANK YOU. It really makes my day whenever I hear your thoughts or encouragement. 

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or if I inadvertently left you off or added you by mistake. :)

Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap

[quinloki]

Sabo - Control / Obedience (+ Ace)

Reader style - she/they, afab (No pronouns were used in the final result) Time slot - Business Hours Client Name - (⌐■_■) Anonymous! CW: Clothed Massages

Seated in a private room with two young hosts, you were in the midst of a very relaxing situation. Ace’s hands were working the knots out of your shoulders - even through your blouse his warm hands and the skill he had learned was doing wonders. The couch you were seated on had a lower than usual back, but the cushions were firm, and it was easy to lean into it while he worked.

Knelt on the floor at your feet, one of them in his hands, Sabo was carefully massaging your foot.

“Doing alright down there?” Ace questions, grinning down at Sabo.

“Quite.” Sabo’s answer is a little curt, but there’s a bright smile on his face.

“I can get you a cushion.”

Sabo’s bright smile twitches, warm fingers pushing into the sole of your foot a little more roughly than he probably meant, but not nearly enough to be discomforting. “I haven’t the need, thank you.”

“Not too uncomfortable for someone as delicate as you?”

“Sabo are you uncomfortable?” You question, an amused note in your voice.

“I’m hardly delicate.” He huffs. “And I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t understand why you let that brute grind your shoulders into dust with his technique.”

You can feel Ace’s fingers twitch, the heat in his palms getting warmer for a second before he calms down. “Second guessing the client’s requests isn’t very gentlemanly, Sab.”

“I’m not second guessing, I’m asking for clarification.”

You know the bickering between them is part of their deal. You’ve seen the two of them outside of the club a few times, where they lived and where you lived was close enough, but somehow they managed to shift into things so naturally you could easily believe it all.

Enjoying the banter was part of why you set up appointments with both of them so often. Plus it was really hard to just pick one or the other. They were both almost frustratingly hot.

“Clarification huh,” you muse, reveling in your position and control, flexing your foot a little and grinning down at Sabo. “Alright.”

You leaned back against the couch a little further, truly looking down at Sabo, practically leering. You could see that gentlemanly facade of his crack a little, but he didn’t complain about your position, or pause for that matter.

“You’re always such a prim and proper gentleman, Sabo, the idea of having you on your knees beneath me like this was too good to pass up.” You admit, a little bit of haughtiness in your tone.

You wiggle your toes teasingly when Sabo stops, and he clears his throat, resuming his work on your foot. He's silent for just a few more seconds, a rare moment where you're certain he's measuring his reply before committing to it.

“Perhaps you’d like to come visit us after hours, some day.” He muses, setting your foot down.

“Oh?” You hum, delighted to get an official invitation.

Sabo stands up, taking your offered hand in his, kissing the back of it as he is want to do more often than not, and flashes you a smile that promises far more depravity than his words.

“Indeed, I would love to show you just how skilled I am on my knees, seeing how much you enjoy it.”

One Piece Host Club AU drabble event runs through December 2023

[emry-stars-art]

This royal au is making me insane. If you wouldn’t mind I’m wondering how Abram got the scars in this au?

Of course! Please come join my club of being totally rational and normal about royal aus

Since he was only “on the run” for about what. Two minutes between taking out his partner and Day bringing him in, all of the scars and injury Abram starts this storyline with are from 1) the other knights/fighters/trainees at Evermore or 2) from Grand Prince Riko and Nathan themselves. I’ll get into some vague but nasty details below, please take care.

The system at Evermore Castle I think was a lot less organized than the canon Nest, mostly by necessity - it takes a lot more people to run a kingdom than an exy team - and so while the Wesnisnkis are a favored family they aren’t always given special treatment. Abram received special training and Nathan assured his son wouldn’t fall behind a single one of the competition. After and between that, Abram/Nathaniel was set out to practice and train against the rest, and the rest were allowed and even encouraged to try and take Abram out and take his place as favored by the Moriyama family. Most of Abram’s knowledge of how to take a life quickly and quietly (because we all know that wasn’t the way he was taught formally) I think came from when any of his superiors made him kill a failed attacker, one that Abram had caught or incapacitated before they got to him. This was when he’d ‘learn from his own mistakes’ the quickest.

The ones from Riko were, of course, mostly for amusement. He probably thought it was incredibly entertaining to be able to hold one of the single most dangerous men in the kingdom still with just a few words. He liked that Nathaniel couldn’t touch him, physically or metaphorically, no matter what he did. Nathaniel never met Kevin Day because Day had no desire to even see the things the Wesninskis did, much less torment one of them. But I think he had Riko’s face memorized.

Nathan’s were “to teach”, he said. The second best way to make sure Nathaniel didn’t repeat a mistake twice. If he didn’t perform well enough, or if he refused to do something demanded of him, or if Nathan needed to make sure Nathaniel would remember a technique or a lesson. He subscribed to the idea that experience is the best teacher; and yes, Abram knows now exactly how much force you can use before a finger breaks.

So I guess at the beginning there could be technically less scars in number and variety, because Abram had less genuine accidents at Evermore than Neil would have on the run in canon. It’s just that all the ones he has here are deliberate and essentially inescapable.

I still haven’t decided what might happen exactly if/when the Moriyamas catch up to him. But if they can get Abram back to Evermore, they’re going to be pretty determined to break him until he’s subdued and obedient, as intended, by any means possible.

[ticklee-vee]

Overwhelmed

Lee!Sapnap | ler!Dream & George

Sapnap is overwhelmed with everything that’s been happening recently, dream and George decide they are going to help.

Tw : i don’t think there’s any, feet tickles?

—————

Sapnap sighed heavily, roughly running his hands through his hair pulling it slightly as he leaned back in his chair. “Ugh, why can’t i get this right?!” Whisper yelling as he scowled at the screen. “I do this for a living and i can’t even edit correctly” he had been editing his new video, one of his editors was sick and this video had to be up by tonight, so he took it upon himself to edit it. Failing, but he’s trying. A little to hard.

After a moment of composing himself, he sat back up and started editing again. Sighing every time he couldn’t master the new editing technique on the first try, his body screaming at him to take a break but refusing to do so.

George was laying on the bed in dreams room, whilst dream was in his computer practicing for an upcoming event. “I haven’t seen sapnap in a while, he usually comes in here and relaxes with us or helps me annoy you” dream rolled his eyes at the fond memories of those two annoying him. “Yeah, why don’t you go look for him- leave me alone for a bit?”

George looked up at dream unimpressed, “you’re just trying to get rid of me aren’t you?”

Dream smirked, “maybe, maybe not” going back to his practicing.

George rolled his eyes, getting up and poking dreams side on the way out. “When I find him we’re gonna annoy you!” Yelling the last word as he left dreams room so he could hear.

Dream blushed, shaking his head and once again going back to practicing this time with no interruptions.

George was walking around the house, passing certain things on the way that he’s never seen before. He really needs to explore this house some more.

Sapnap was crying, anger bubbling in his chest as he just accidentally deleted all of this progress he had done in the past 20 minutes. Small hiccups coming from as he struggled to breath, pushing himself back in his chair to ground himself.

George made it to sapnaps room, walking up to the door and gently knocking on it. He listened closely hearing tiny hiccups coming from the younger boys room. He called sapnaps name out, concerned for him.

“Sapnap, are you in there? Is everything okay?” He gently turned the door handle, waiting for any signs he’s not welcome inside. Hearing none so he walked in, seeing a heartbreaking scene. Sapnap was curled up in his chair, hands roughly tugging at his hair as tears and hiccups fell from his mouth.

Sapnap was mumbling something, to quiet for him to make out a whole sentence but with what he could hear he pieced what happened together. Sapnap had been editing and by looking at the screen with not a lot to show, something must’ve happened either his computer shut down or he forgot to save.

“Hey sappy, it’s okay sweetie. Can I come closer?” George made his voice soft, crouching down.

Sapnap looked over, his eyes filled with tears making everything blurry. “G-George- yeah.. m’s-sorry.” His voiced hushed and crunchy due to crying.

George smiled softly and came over to sapnap, taking one of his hands in his own and gently stroking his thumb over sapnaps knuckles. “It’s okay, can you tell me whah happened dear?” George wasn’t the best at helping with emotions but he was definitely going to try, one of his best friends was upset and needed it.

Sapnap nodded, giving a brief explanation of what happened having to take a few breaks due to crying to much.

George softened his voice, hushing sapnap quietly hugging him rubbing his back in a comforting manner. “Come on, it’s okay. Wanna go to dreams room?” He felt sapnap nod in the crook of his neck.

He pulled sapnap up wrapping an arm around his waist as they walked to dreams room. “Dream?” George whispered his name unable to open the door as he was supporting a very upset sapnap who had his head on his shoulder and leaning his weight on George.

Dream looked concerned and walked over. “Hey sappy, are you okay? What happened buddy?” Taking him in his arms, lifting him up and walking over to the bed with him.

Sapnap shoved his face in his neck, small hiccups still coming from him as he tried to calm down. “I.. I was editing a-and I accidentally” bursting out into another round of angry tears before he could finish his sentence.

Dream was sat on the edge of the bed with him, gently rocking him back and forth. “Come on, you can do it sweetie, what happened Hm?” Gently scratching at his hair. George was sat next to them gently rubbing at sapnaps thighs in a comforting manner.

After a while they eventually got it out of sapnap and why he was so upset. “Good job, it’s never easy editing huh. Wanna lay down?” Dream asked, placing a small kiss on the top of his head as they rocked.

Sapnap nodded in the crook of his neck sniffling as he did, wiping his nose on dreams neck without thinking. “Did you just wipe your little nose on me? You’re so gross” standing up and bouncing him a little, squeezing his sides a few times. George laughed at sapnap offering playful teades too “Gross little one.” Sapnap giggled slightly, shifting closer to dream.

Dream laid in bed, shuffling sapnap up as he placed his head on his stomach, listening and following dreams breathing to calm down. George came back in the room with some tea, “here you go sappy, do you want it now?” Sapnap opened his eyes not realising he had left the room. “Didn’t realise you left..” taking a breath in between his words. “M’ okay , have it later when it cooled down.” George smiled, placing his drink on the bed side table and running his hands through his hair.

“Okay baby” laying down next to the two on the left side, “you feel better?” Rubbing his back as he laid his head on dreams shoulder.

Sapnap shrugged, sniffling once again. “Hmmm, do you need cheering up?” A small smirk appearing on his face as he looked at dream.

“Will it work?” Looking up at George with hopeful eyes. “Oh I think so, is it okay if dream helps?” Dream placed his hands on his side’s gently stroking up and down, occasionally using his nails to really tickle along his sides.

“Ohono nohono” sapnap giggled shoving his head in dreams stomachs as he shook his head.

“Oh no? Are you not exited for the tickles?” Dream asked swiping his fingers up and down his sides. George smirked, going to sit at the end of the bed. “Are you alright with this sapnap?”

“Uhuhm yehehahahah” he giggled, still hiding his head in dreams stomach.

“Awh, come out sappy. We wanna see you pretty face and hear your little cute giggles” taking his finger and gently pushing at sapnap as face so he had access to scratch gently under his chin, enough for it to tickle.

“Eheheh gyahaha, stahahap” scrunching his nose as he laughed, squirming but not enough to get out of dreams tickly hold.

“Turn over then pretty boy~!” George teased, gently stroking at his calves and ankles as he knew light tickles there were bad for him.

“Fahahaha okay! Okahahay” he turned over, a light blush to his face as he stared at the other two. “Hihihi”

“Awh hiii~ sweet boy” George cooed, teasing as he came up to gently pinch at his cheeks squishing them.

Sapnap blushed trying to squirm out of his hold, giggling. “Stahahap you weheirdo” hands landing on George wrist but not even attempting to push them away.

“Sapnap, are you okay with us doing this? Do you remember what you have to say if you want it to stop or you need a break?” Gently taking his wrists and holding them up, rubbing his thumbs over the thin skin were it connects to his palms.

Sapnap blushed at the gently contact. “Yes, red if I want it to stop and break if I need a brehake” as nervous giggles came out at the last word as he felt George straddle his ankles.

“Okay, we’re going to tickle you now” George said as he began to gently run his fingers up and down sapnaps socked feet, occasionally switching patterns to keep sapnap on edge.

Dream began to trail his fingers down all the way down from sapnaps wrists to his armpits, gently swirling in the hollows of them.

“Eheheh nahahaha” scrunching his nose as he giggled, eyes closing and opening to help with they ticklish sensations he was feeling.

George was now poking all over his foot, leaving one alone. He began scribbling his fingers over his right foot, smirking as he watched his toes curl and uncurl to try and stop the tickles. “Ooh sapnap~! Your little feet are so tickly honey, even one little swipe and you’re a giggling squirming mess.” Taking two fingers on each hand running them up and down his foot in different directions. He tickled his toes, gently scratching at each of them sometimes taking them one by one and wiggling them to tease him.

Dream was swirling one finger of each hand in both armpits, sometimes scratching at the sides with his nails. He tickled just under his armpits at his back, close to the back bone scratching and spidering all along the ticklish bones sometimes dipping down to the very bottom of back to feel him arch his back and coming round to the front to tickle his stomach, vibrating his fingers along his mid section circling his belly button teasing him as he threatened to dip it in, he did, gently scratching at the bottom of it.

Through all of this sapnap was a laughing squirming mess, trying to curl up but pushed back down my dream, he especially listened when dream threatened to tie him up if he kept curling up.

“EHAHAHha NOHOHOoh OH NOHOHO IT- ihihiIt TIHIHIhivklehessSAHAHA!!” His arms almost coming down, dreams threat ringing in his mind as he raised them back up still laughing just as hard, if not harder. He knew dream would and he knew that both of them would jump at the chance to torture him together. They’ve done it before and they would definitely do it again.

George started pulling his socks off, he knew as he felt tickly fingers all around his arches and balls of feet.

“EEEH NAHAHAH OHHOHO GEHOHREGE” arms coming down to protect himself.

“Ooh sapnap~” he whisper in his ear. “Your arms came down sweetie, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Sapnap blushed at his tone, immediately raising his arms up again, this time instead of going right back to tickling him dream just took them, gently stretching them up some more and placing his arms to rest on sapnaps. “Yes! I do, I’m sorry dream! It tickled so bad. I did the best I could!! I swear, please!”

“Hmmm” dream pretend to think about it, taking his finger and swiping it up sapnaps chin, watching him as he scrunched his nose.

“I think that you took them very well, so we shall not torture you today. But maybe another time~ Would you like that sugar?” He spidered down sapnaps arm until he reached his arms pits, sapnap squealed, laughing but never putting his arms down he didn’t want to risk it.

“Eee! Yehehes” he smiled, as dream pulled him up laying him on his sides. Gently stroking at his back. “Good job, you took them so well!”

George came and laid next to the two, rubbing at sapnaps back as dream switched to caress his hair.

“Thahank youhu for this..” completely forgetting about his editing problem.

———————

This is so bad, I’m falling asleep but I’ve put it of for so long. I know I mentioned something about tea but I can’t remember and I’m to tired to look back at it 💀

Enjoy !! I have another in drafts, hopefully out soon.

😁🤗

[spicymiilk]

Work up today feeling Blegh so instead of actually writing or drawing or painting I will be teasing Crop Circles with a list of Modern Au Nocorro HC’s enjoy

- this one has been in my head forever. Spider has a septum piercing, 100%. He does all his piercings by himself in someone’s basement with the most unhygienic needles known to man and it’s a miracle and a testament to his rock hard immune system that his ears haven’t fallen off. He and Neteyam begin to bond when Neteyam (who has to try to break out of perfect first son mold) asks him to pierce his nose

- projecting here, but Neteyam is a pottery guy. He’s on the debate team and quite frankly he’s insufferable and stupid smart, but in his downtime he goes to the local ceramics studio and goes on the wheel and makes things.

- spider’s a foster kid, which inherently comes with so much trauma and problems but one of his biggest unseen ones is he’s always living life with one foot out the door

- Neteyam’s damage is absolutely his insane, balls off the wall self-management and the expectations he has for himself. He’s incredibly uptight but not in a good way, he’s just incapable of relaxing. A chronic fixer, always looking for solutions to every single persons problem

- in this AU, Neytiri is gods gift to mankind. She met Jake before he become paralyzed, and stuck through with him and practically got a second degree in nursing (her first was geophysics, our educated queen) while learning how to help

- the Sully’s begin fostering when Lo’ak and Kiri turn seven (yes, they are twins again. You can pry twins Lo’ak and Kiri out of my cold dead hands) and stop for a while after Tuk is born. They see many different sorts of children and Neytiri, who works from home, becomes AMAZING at reading kids

- Jake is the Dad ever. He’s so good. There’s something inherently soothing about his presence, and he’s a tiny bit gruff sometimes, but only on bad pain days. Otherwise, he’s instrumental to showing a bunch of kids that fathers and men could be good people. He plays with little kids and teenager fosters alike, and he religiously talks with Neytiri to find out what each kid needs

- once neteyam hits 15, he starts helping out with the younger fosters as well, as a big brother figure. Tuk teaches him a lot, so he’s able to tune in to the soft and mushy gushy part of himself to hang out with children

- he tries to employ some of these techniques with Spider, since he forgets to turn that part of himself off, and Spider thinks he’s literally insane

- Like Neteyam will slip into like baby-talk while Spider’s in the room and they make horrible, split second eye contact

- They know each other from school, and Spider used to be a grade above until he failed a year and had to repeat a year. He n Neteyam are seniors at the local high school, but run in drastically different circles

- spider is a massive loner, with like a diehard bestie who’s probably a bit of an addict or a fellow foster kid and Neteyam’s got fake friends galore, in the most stereotypical high school way. They had one project together in some English class way back when and it’s Neteyam’s only memory of Spider, but they were like 12 and Spider is drastically different now, and Neteyam can’t really reconcile with that

- go read @be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie ‘s fast food AU HC list a BUNCH of shit will pop up in this modern au

[granulesofsand]

Hello

We have been wondering, how does one look into RAMCOA and programming safely? We hear a lot about making sure you are careful when doing this, and having safety nets in place, but we are not quite sure what that looks like. Would you be willing to give some examples of how that would play out, with one having or putting safety measures in place? Or what kinds of things would be considered a safety net? I hope this makes sense

Safety Nets

I’m sorry if this is aggressive, it has nothing to do with you or your questions, just my general attitude.

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, programs, sui/sh

One of the strongest indicators of whether a event will be (re)traumatizing is connection. It has to do with feeling recognized and being able to process what happened. Dissociated memories intrude because they haven’t been processed.

Having supportive people means getting the attunement we need to avoid shame and confront the overwhelm.

Supportive people can be therapists, counselors, or consenting friends. You need to build trust before disclosure feels okay, but you will have to disclose some things. One person can’t handle everything, a network with people can.

Survivors of RAMCOA are likely to be destabilized be consuming information. Programmed survivors may deal with suicide and self-harm, reporting back to abusers, or the emergence of unknown alters. All of this is backed by trauma, and moving through it requires either processing or putting away.

When you need someone to keep your knives away from you, or prevent you from driving back to your hometown, or sit with you through some flashbacks and big emotions, you have to be able to communicate what’s happening and how to help.

Other non-people tools are comfort items or grounding exercises. Brains reallocate resources when they sense danger, so thinking logically becomes harder. Having bins of safe objects or a notebook with safe contacts and worksheets is easier than having to figure that out in the moment.

You might have techniques you know are helpful, but sometimes even trying those is too much. Practice makes for better recall once you’re in survival mode. In systems, every member might have to go through that process of finding useful information and doing it enough to make it automatic.

Other things might be more practical, like money saved up for bad times or easy meals when you can’t get out of bed.

Our Example

When we had our first undeniable memories, we had a therapist who would listen. They acknowledged that they didn’t know how to tend to us, so they referred us to another therapist who specialized in what we needed.

We had a school counselor who was not great, but kept us from having to us up therapy time for academic concerns. At our next meeting for accommodations, we added some things to let us turn in work later and walk out of class when we had to. Those transferred easier when we started college.

We had been hospitalized before for suicide attempts, so we already had a set locked place for dangerous materials.

It still hit hard. Hits hard, you’re only done once you’ve healed everything. We have a meal plan with our dorm, so on days we can go out we bring food back and refrigerate it. We have a friend who we talk to regularly, and we’re learning how to make more.

When you have supports together, the devastation is less final. You can get back up, make some progress with old trauma, keep going with daily life. Sometimes you have to make some lifestyle changes.

Decisions

It’s a can of worms hardly anyone is ready to open. You look into it because you need resources, and you only find out if there are consequences after the fact. Having preparation keeps you alive. I don’t know if anything keeps you stable.

It’s a matter of risk vs reward, because if you do have that history it doesn’t disappear by burying it. You have the opportunity to decide how to pad that landing, but you’re still flying blind.

Idk how to make this softer. It does get better, apparently. There are people who did this before we were ever hurt, and some of them healed with next to nothing. It’s possible, you just have to do your best to keep moving once you’ve begun.

Good luck if you choose this. Prepare anyway, you might not have the choice.

[yuck-pfaugh]

Insomniac thoughts about consistency of characterisation pre- and post-Resurrection, surfacing mid-morning because I couldn’t cope with the post editor in the iOS app at a quarter to three… *ahem*

My impression is that Jod and most of his OG duplicitous sluts were in their thirties, up to fortyish, at the time it was all going down. Old enough for some of them to have multiple tertiary degrees and be leaders in their fields; not quite older adults yet. In HtN Augustine tells us Pyrrha (the “stone-cold fox”) was ten years his senior, so probably in her late forties or fiftyish. In NtN:

I didn't have to worry about the public or the media — we had a pet cop, P—. She'd made detective by that point; was going on to big things in the MoD. Knew G— from way back, and G– and I were both hometown boys, so P– kept the heat down for us.

Later on Jod reiterates that he and G— grew up on the same street.

We also hear that P— “adored being a cop”.

This is of course off-putting for a lot of readers. But I understand that the New Zealand police, while by no means a squad of saints, are not abusive and murderous on the same level as the American kind we may be more familiar with (e.g. they don’t normally carry guns). So I’m fairly sure what we’ve got here is a character who might actually have been a good cop, in a country in which that concept is not implausible beyond belief — who then, crucially, turns her back on the law (and on her own successful career) to protect the kids from her neighbourhood. Because that was what it was about for her all along.

I don’t think the Dad Pyrrha we love to see is separable from Cop Pyrrha. I think in each life she lives her priority is to look after and protect her people, and she does that in specifically masculine-coded, paternal-coded ways. The Pyrrha we get in NtN is — as with the other Lyctors we know, charming Augustine becoming a man of plex, reproductive justice advocate Mercymorn stealing semen, dutiful Gideon obeying even the command to launch multiple violent murder attempts against a tiny traumatised teenager — someone whose best qualities have been worn out and warped by too many centuries of Jod’s unliving, undying empire. But, perhaps because Pyrrha was awake and aware for less time than the rest, that kind of love does palpably linger on in her.

Pyrrha practically stumbled away — she dropped to her knees before the chair and Palamedes — she reached out and took Palamedes's hand, and then Camilla's. Her face and hands showed only dumb despair. "I've loved you two," she said. "Not well. Not even wholesomely. I don't have it in me. But I've loved you — in a better world I'd be able to say, 'Like you were my own,' but I don't know what that would even mean anymore. You've been my agents ... you've been stand-ins for something I haven't had for longer than either of you can understand."

You can feel it every time she bribes Nona into eating, or carries her when her legs fail, or buys a birthday present and hides it away under the sink for the big day. (And when she looks at her lover's daughter with that mute hunger to have been a parent to her, too.) It’s a feature of the system Jod designed, that Lyctors don’t get much of a chance to love anyone but him. His hands, his gestures… raised by him, bound to him, renamed by him… God must be able to touch all of creation... He’s the epitome of the kind of parent who can’t imagine or allow their child to have an existence apart from their own, who’d rather stunt them than let them grow. He claimed Kiriona as his child, but he also made her his construct. And we know what he did to Alecto. But six months with Pyrrha (and the Sixth, likewise good at modeling love) and Nona just blossoms. The betrayed soul of a murdered planet has learnt anger management techniques — and now she’s learning to dance.

It seems as though at every step of Pyrrha’s story (and, just to confirm, I shall be going on a bloody rampage if we don't get the missing pieces in AtN) she knows she can’t save everyone and get everything right. Sometimes she can't save anyone at all. She has often been a casualty of her devotion. But she keeps on and on still trying, also like the Sixth, to make the best and kindest and truest choices she can in this myriadic shit sandwich. And she never stops loving the people she loves. Wouldn't know how to.

In conclusion… since I should probably conclude something… let's see. Whatever she thinks of herself, Pyrrha’s a good dad. Her accidental agents are lucky to have had those six months with her. It's not ‘playing’ house if the love there is real. And you can’t take ‘loved’ away.

[game-on-comics]

For the beginners and champions of each sport (most specifically, Cole and Lucía, but it's open to all of them):

How well do you get along? Champions, have you given any advice to the beginners?

Cole: Me and Lucia? Oh yeah, we get along very well actually! Even though I’m not that good, she helps me practice a lot!

Lucia: Indeed! Practice is key, and I try to make him return harder shots by trying out different hitting techniques! Improvement is slow but… I’m sure he’ll get better while I do the Return Challenge with him!

(also gonna do for the others because it's a real interesting question XD also cool extra lore, coughs... all are under the cut since the post is kinda long ig)

Ryan: You’d be surprised that both me and Matt are on really good terms. Friends even, despite me sucking at both of his best sports.

Matt: I taught Ryan the rules for both Boxing and Swordplay, and let him practice with me in friendly matches. I trust him to be a really good referee, and in the meantime I get to teach him some of the best strategies for him to try. And most importantly: determination!

---

Miguel: Tommy? We don’t speak much, but I’m a big fan! I’m afraid I won’t be at his level in this sport, but perhaps while watching him and his team play our team might learn a trick or two…

Tommy: I guess I haven’t really approached Miguel much because I’m so focused on talking to Eva and Tyrone… However, if he needs advice, I’d say to not just work on the shooting, but the dribbling as well. Learn how to get close enough to the basket before the opponent snatches the ball, and you might get some easy hoops!

---

Naomi: Oh yeah, even though I’m not good in Cycling, I’m still good friends with Anna! We usually talk it out at lunch or something, she may be intimidating at first but she’s actually really nice!

Anna: Definitely! And my advice would simply be to go with the flow! I tend to like going on a nice bike ride with friends, so Naomi gets to join along when she can!

---

Hiroshi: In all honesty… none of us really want to interact much with Elisa and Sarah. I-I mean… look at them!

Shouta: We’re all a bit terrified of them, that’s for sure!

Sarah: I’ve told the players time and time again! Keep playing tennis and keep trying, that way you’ll get more confident! Ah… Elisa, any other advice you’d like to make?

Elisa: …………… keep practicing.

---

Elisa: Sakura? ………… she’s fine I guess…

Sakura: Oooh yes yes, I talked to Elisa a lot! I try to teach her different throws, batting skills, and running… Oh! But the best advice for her studious mind is to diversify her shots! But of course, all due in time, she needs to get the key components first! :3

[olderthannetfic]

Hi friend, I wonder if you or one of your followers would have any advice to offer on a writing issue. I’ve always been interested in writing but internalised young that it was something to be ashamed of, so I haven’t done much. I got back into writing fanfic a few years ago and have written a few things since then, but the longest was only about 14,000 words.

I’ve also been thinking about an original fiction story during this time, and I come back to it periodically. I’ve got a few chapters, scraps of scenes, a verrrrry basic outline of the plot, and pages of notes and half-ideas and questions etc etc. Every time I go back to it, it feels really big and hard and intimidating and I run away pretty quickly. And of course there’s the perpetual ‘you think you can write a book?’ self-criticism.

I don’t think I’m being too naively optimistic in the ‘oh, I could totally write a book’ kind of way. I know that it’s hard for most people and it’s a skill and you develop the same way you do in any other job. I guess I’m just. Hoping for some guidance that will stop me feeling quite so much like I’m drowning whenever I think about it. Something to help me keep going to the point that I’ve written the damn thing, even if it’s terrible and gets put in a deep dark hole on completion and never sees daylight again. Even practical advice on the step by step process. I’ve tried using scrivener, for example, but i’m on an iPad and it feels really unintuitive to me (and I’m worried I’m misplacing work).

Thanks in advance <3

--

First, read more Kindle Unlimited erotica, and not the well-reviewed stuff. Those will quickly disabuse anyone of the idea that all published authors know how to run spellcheck, never mind know how to write.

Second, I think Scrivener is extremely useful, but mostly in the computer version for fancy export settings. It's a program with a massive learning curve, and most of its really great features are things you use after the first full draft is written or even after revisions.

Third, writing is mostly about managing emotions and time in order to have stamina.

Gosh... this one is hard to lick. I had the same problems, and I'm still figuring out how to put into words all the techniques I learned for my Patreon blog.

Set timers and work in chunks without worrying about word count, then look at your word count later to convince your brain you've made progress. Convincing your brain you're succeeding and that it's therefore worth continuing is a lot of it.

For me, having a very detailed and complete outline of the whole thing before I start writing helps me be efficient and know how far through I am.

[puellamagi101]

Hello! I’ve been interested in becoming a Magi for a few months now.. I’ve met Kyubey before already, but I haven’t tried to contact him in quite a while. I’ve been trying to learn how to astral project or lucid dream so I can meet him and make my contract, but I haven’t been able to do either of those at all. I’ve tried to learn for years, actually, but I just can’t seem to do it.

Can I still become a Magi? I’ve seen you talk about focusing on visualization, but what exactly do I do..? And you mentioned making your contract through ritual- how do you go about that?

Additionally, I’ve been visited by who I believe is “Madokami”. It’s been going on for a few years, before I even knew you could become a Magi. She doesn’t really say anything, she just shows up and gives me comfort.. I was thinking about setting up an altar to her. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on this?

Apologies for all the questions, but I would be delighted if I could get your advice!💕

I think in witchcraft/new age spirituality in general there's a big onus on astral projection and lucid dreaming. The thing is though, it's not at all required. You don't need to learn to do it, I'm in the same boat. Can't lucid dream or do any dream work.

So yeah, you can absolutely still be a Magi, you just have to use different methods.

I would recommend getting some books on visualisation techniques, reading up on the concept of the witches eye. Another thing I'd recommend for starting out and training that muscle, is guided meditation videos. They're a great way to get an idea of how to do it.

I can't really give you an in depth walkthrough of my process and what I do, because I'm practiced in it and it doesn't take much for me to do it, whereas for someone still learning it would look quite different.

It's not the same as true astral projection, but once you've developed the skill and have the ability to connect with the labyrinths you encounter, you can enter them in that space.

As for summoning Kyubey directly, I have a post on the backburner about the ritual process that I will upload as soon as it's finished.

And finally, about the altar! I think that's a wonderful idea!

A Madokami figure would be perfect, but they are expensive and often hard to get a hold of, so I would recommend a candle. A pink one, or a gold one in one of those glass 7-day jars. Just inscribe her name upon it, put a picture onto the glass and maybe get a few small bowls for offerings. If you go the candle route, definitely learn a bit about candle reading so if she wants to communicate more with you, there's an open channel. That's a pretty simple altar, but you can add whatever you'd like from there.

[brothersonahotelbed]

how did u learn guitar? do u have any tips? i know a few chords and a handful of songs but i haven’t touched my guitar for months and now i’m scared to pick it up again ;-; anyway. ilysssm mwah mwah mwah

when i was about 11-12 i started out using this instrument lessons app called Yousician that was really helpful for learning strumming technique & the transitioning from chord to chord while playing! eventually i got really mad at it because you only got 30 min of free lessons every day until you had to pay so i gave it up. but it's definitely worth a try i think :] most if not all of the resources i used to teach myself guitar came from youtube, ultimate-guitar.com, and lesson books! i have this one and i think it's been the most helpful thus far.

so, tips!! what works for me might not necessarily work for you so take this with a grain of salt.

keep your guitar in a place where you can see it and access it easily. it's an object permanence thing i think, but you're more inclined to practice when it's in a place you frequent like your bedroom. mine's next to my bed so i can pick it up easily :)

pick a song (or more than one) that you would like to learn and look up a youtube tutorial for it, or listen to the song & play it by ear. most of the fingering techniques that i use now, i learned by playing other people's songs. i started off by playing all the angels by mcr which got me some really good practice in both rhythm & fingerstyle, and i've mastered it now that i could probably play it with my eyes closed. for me, i learn by ear best instead of watching videos but do not be afraid to search up youtube tutorials. seriously!!

because i taught myself through messing around on the fretboard and stuff, i don't have a lot of good advice for good technique (i'm like 70% sure the way i play barre chords is not technically correct but it's whatever). but for anyone learning guitar i would recommend working on these things: strumming (strumming patterns & rhythm), how to hold a pick (in a way that's most comfortable for you; dudes on youtube will tell you there's only one correct way to hold a pick and let me tell you they are liars. do what feels most comfortable), and the CAGED system. i am horrible at explaining what the CAGED system is but i watched this video and it has, i would say, been the most helpful thing on my guitar journey as of late.

practice both standing up AND sitting down if you have a guitar strap. i mean it. the fretboard and the strings look veeeeery different when you're standing up than when you're sitting down.

DO NOT BE AFRAID OF YOUR GUITAR. YOUR GUITAR LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND MISSES YOU WHEN YOU DON'T PLAY IT, AND EVEN IF YOU'RE JUST MESSING AROUND AND NOT ACTUALLY PLAYING ANYTHING "SERIOUS," YOUR GUITAR WILL FEEL LOVED AND CHERISHED AND YOU WILL ALSO BE MORE INCLINED TO CONTINUE PLAYING.

to summarize i guess i would just say: play in a way that's comfortable for you and produces sound. the dudes on youtube with 10958 gibson les pauls hanging on their wall in the background always talk about rules and precision "you have to do xyz to actually be good" and everything and they completely miss the point that playing guitar's supposed to be FUN. like, i don't know the names of the notes on the fretboard!! until recently i didn't know the difference between lead guitar & rhythm guitar!! who cares!! you're supposed to have fun & mess around and be really shitty and then while you're playing shitty you'll do something that sounded Really Good and so you keep doing it and building off of it and before you know it you've taught yourself something new. there aren't as many rules in guitar playing as you think. but repetition is key!! play the same thing over and over again and eventually it'll stick.

okay that was really long um. i love you & i wish you good luck on your guitar journey <3 i'm sorry if none of this was coherent i am sleepy eepy but if you need clarification or advice just lmk. mwah!!