#replaced one meal with a salad

[just-your-average-tangerine]

My local theater did a special showing of Velvet Goldmine so of fucking course I went. It was amazing getting to see it on a theater screen, I loved every second of it.

But god fucking damn did seeing Johnathan Rhys Meyers and Ewan McGregor shirtless on that big screen make me so fucking dysphoric

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You need perfection

TW: eating disorder, self-destructive thoughts, unhealthy thoughts about weight and size, self-harm through dance

There's a reason the ballerina body is thought to be unobtainable.

It's because it is.

Even to the dancers.

Perfect feet. Perfect legs. Perfect waist. Perfect stomach. Perfect face and hair.

You didn't have the perfect feet. Your arch wasn't quite perfect. It was close but with the right shoes it looked perfect.

Your legs weren't quite perfect either. You think one of your knees bulges weirdly and one leg is the tiniest bit more muscular than the other. But that can be hidden under your tights.

You don't like your waist or your tummy. You're different to your Mami but you're built a bit like her. She's built like a football player where she doesn't need to care about her waist or her stomach like you did.

You could fix your face with makeup and your hair with product but you couldn't fix your biology. You couldn't fix the way you've developed.

When you were younger and still at ballet school, the older girls passed down one line of wisdom to the younger girls.

If you weren't thin enough to fit between the space of the barre and where it's mounted on the mirror, then you're too fat.

You know now that that's too small of a gap for anyone to fit through without tucking in their tummy to the extreme. You know that now but it's still embedded within you. It still haunts your every step, a looming figure in the shadows that will one day catch up with you.

Some of the other dancers smoke or vape to keep their figures but you took the more classic route.

It was easy to cut breakfast out. A protein bar sufficed as your lunch, maybe a pre-packaged salad as well. You would eat dinner because that was a family meal and, while you were desperately trying to keep your figure, you knew that eating at least one meal a day was good.

It worked like a charm though and soon your stomach shrunk to the point that having one meal a day was all you could stomach.

"Why are you still asleep?" Jaume asks as he throws himself onto your bed," It's nearly dinner."

You groan, poking your head out from your blanket cave. "I was napping. I'm allowed to nap."

You've been napping a lot lately but you're used to that. Whenever you start cutting out meals, you feel the need to nap more to conserve your energy.

"Mami told me to come get you," Jaume replies," Dinner's almost ready."

You pull the covers off before freezing.

"Jaume," You say," Are you wearing your dirty football boots? In my bed?"

He grins. "Yeah."

"Get out!"

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke!"

You smack him in the face with a pillow. "I'm telling Mami!"

He scrambles after you, trying to stop you from making it down the stairs.

"She's lying!" He cries out, skidding to the dinner table just as you arrive.

"Jaume wore his dirty football boots in my bed!" You announce and Alexia sighs.

"Just one day," She says wistfully to Olga," That's all I ask. Just one day of no arguments."

She scolds Jaume lightly over the meal and you pick at your food.

Alexia watches you out of the corner of her eye. This meal is your favourite but you're pecking at it like you're a pigeon.

"How was dance?" She asks.

You shrug, grateful for the opportunity to talk as you push the food around your plate. "Good. I'm going back in after dinner. I'm going to practice my solo."

Olga frowns just like Alexia. "You've been doing that all week. Don't you think you need a break?"

"It won't be for that long," You lie," I want to get it perfect."

Perfection has always been a big part of your life. If you have perfection then you've proven your worth. If you have perfection then you cannot be replaced.

If you perfection in your dancing, in your body, then everything will be good and right in the world.

If you have perfection then you'll never be forgotten again.

Alexia watches you, eyes narrowed before she starts helping Olga clear the table.

"Jaume," You hiss," You want this?" You offer him your plate.

He glanced over to where Olga and Alexia have their backs turned.

"Give."

You scrape the rest of your food onto his plate before getting up quickly.

"I'm heading to the studio," You say.

"I'll drive you," Alexia says.

"I'll walk." You're actually planning to jog. "I want to grab a snack from the store on the way."

There's a reason Mami hasn't found out yet. You've gone back and forth on this for years. Cutting out meals before a performance only to introduce them again a few weeks after. You know exactly how to play her.

It's easy to slip away just like it's easy to dance and dance and dance until your feet ache.

There's something about pointe work that you love. It's a hard discipline. Nobody outright loves it like you do. You don't think they'd understand why you love it.

You love it for the wrong reasons.

You love it because it makes your feet hurt. You love it because it makes you look good even when you're falling apart. You love it because it makes you feel perfect even when you know you're not.

You love it because it's the quickest way to make you bleed.

Your chest rises and falls as you feel your toe pads grow wet with your own blood. Your vision is full of spots and you can barely see yourself in the mirror.

All you can focus on is your next move and the pain in your feet.

All you can do is dance and dance and-

You're on the floor the next time you blink, feeling groggy as your stomach rumbles. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror as you crawl your way over to your bag, shakily unwrapping an energy bar.

You pull off your pointe shoes and toe pads.

This is so normal to you now that you don't even think about the fact that you just blacked out.

You eat your snack, drain down your sports drink and wrap plasters around your bleeding toes as you dial Mami's number.

She picks up quickly, like always. You can imagine her just sitting at home, waiting for your call.

"Bambi?" She asks as soon as she answers," What's up?"

"Can you come and pick me up?" You ask," I'd like to come home now."

Alexia's already grabbing her keys. Her shoes are already on. She's already out the door.

Something's up with you. She knows this. She just doesn't know what it is. But she knows she'll always be ready to pick you up. Always want to bring you home herself.

You look pale and shaky as she pulls up and, like usual after practice, your bare feet are out of your shoes. They're covered in plasters.

"Did you get your snack?" Alexia asks," You look a little pale."

"I did," You reply," I was just dancing a lot."

"Hmm," Alexia says," You know you can talk to me, right? You know you can tell me anything."

"I know," You say.

"Good. Just...Good. You're a good girl, bambi, and I want you to come to me if you need to talk, alright?"

"I know, Mami," You say with an eye roll.

Alexia holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. "Good. Now, your brother wants a milkshake. Do you want anything at the drive through?"

Your tummy rumbles.

"A meal then," Alexia decides before you can protest," A burger I think. Greasy."

You wince. "Mami-"

"You gave half your dinner to Jaume," She says suddenly," I'll split the meal but it's non-negotiable."

It's fine, you think.

So long as you get to practice early tomorrow, you can work it all off.

[episims]

Toddler Bowls by Color Traits

One color trait mod more for the special day 🎁

This mod makes the high chair toddler bowls appear in the toddler's favorite color. If the toddler has multiple favorite colors, it's randomized between the first three in the inventory. If the toddler doesn't have a favorite color, the bowl appears in a random color.

I also replaced the bowl mesh with a new, smoother version.

Known feature: when a sim fetches a bowl from a fridge, the bowl will only update to the correct color when the sim closes the fridge.

Download (SFS) (alternate)

⚠️ Trait Globals by @picknmixsims are required.

Is compatible (and recommended to use) with the accessible toddler high chairs mod by @lamare-sims, but my mod must load after it. This mod also works with these custom toddler foods by @vegan-kaktus and @jellymeduza, just either delete the related 'deliver' mod or make sure that my mod loads last.

🚨 This mod is likely not compatible with existing toddler food default replacements as they usually include bowl-related resources. Because of that, I've included compatible edits of vegan-kaktus' default food and bienchen83's fruit salad default. Make sure that the default of your choice loads after this mod, and only use one of the defaults at a time.

Update (18.9.2024): Changed it so that if the toddler doesn't have a favorite color, the bowl color will be random (instead of yellow). The color trait bowls are now used too when the bowl is given to a toddler as part of a group meal serving.

The new bowl mesh is 456 polys and the textures are 256x128. I used graphic resources from Freepik, nothing AI-generated.

Happy 20th The Sims 2 Birthday to Us! 🎉

[saistappen]

Mariquita | CS55

In which Carlos' appendectomy triggers a huge emotional chaos in you and makes you realise just how big your feelings for the Spaniard actually are

or

In which your concern for Carlos clearly shows the Spaniard that you probably feel the same way about him as he does about you

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The last few days have been pure confusion. You could clearly feel this at Ferrari.

After Carlos' appendicitis was announced, on which he had to undergo surgery, the young Briton Olli Bearman was brought in to replace Carlos and chaos began to reign in the team.

Some things had to be changed, such as the adjustment of the seat, as well as various other things up to the well-known gift in the social media.

The hustle and bustle could be clearly felt throughout the team. But the excitement was not just for the young 18-year-old Brit, but also for the Spaniard. Because most of the time, the team's thoughts were on Carlos, who should soon have the operation behind him.

" Have you finished the Instagram post yet? " Lucy asked me as she sat down at the table opposite me.

" Uhm, what? " confused, I lifted my eyes from my mobile phone, which I kept glancing at hopefully to be the first to hear the news about Carlos' condition.

But so far there was still no news, which slowly started to make me more and more nervous.

"I wonder if you've already posted on Instagram that Carlos has come through the operation okay," Lucy continued in a gentle voice and put her hand on my arm.

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in and for me to really understand what she meant.

" W-really? " I stammered, while at the same time a huge stone fell from my heart and I began to feel the tightness in my chest, which had been there since yesterday, loosen.

" But I didn't read anything in the group. How do you know that? " I was sure I hadn't read anything, because for the last ten minutes I'd been checking the Ferrari chat on my mobile phone, hoping I hadn't missed anything.

" Fred just came up to me. He was talking to Carlos Senior. Everything went well and he's now recovering in hospital. " Lucy gave me a soft smile as her thumb gently stroked my arm.

Not only was she my best friend on the team, she was also the one who knew how close Carlos and I actually were.

When I joined the team about a year ago, Carlos was the first to welcome me with open arms and show me around.

During my first day at work, the Spaniard kept coming round to ask me how things were going.

When he invited me for a meal at the end of my first shift and listened attentively to what I had to say about my first successful day at work, a friendship developed within a few weeks.

"Thank God," I whispered quietly as a relieved smile crept onto my lips.

All your fears and worries that something could have gone wrong during the operation vanished within a few seconds.

"I'll post it straight away! " I almost shouted as I reached for my mobile phone and then opened the Ferrari Instagram account that I was partly responsible for.

One of my tasks in the team was to keep the fans up to date via Instagram and Twitter. I also had a say in the C2 Challenges on YouTube, where I always created fun content for the fans.

It wasn't long before I had chosen a photo of Carlos and typed up a short text about his condition and then posted it.

"Now I can get back to work feeling better," I mumbled as I reached for your fruit salad, which had been sitting untouched on the table in front of me, and started eating.

" I believe you. It's about time my favourite colleague was finally back at work with a smile on her face. "

Yesterday almost flew by, which was probably due to the good news that had lifted my spirits so much that I was completely back in the swing of things.

Olli had done well in the third free practice session and in qualifying, as had Charles, who would start today's race from second place.

This lifted my spirits even further, so I entered Ferrari Hospitality with a smile on my face and greeted a few of my colleagues who were already having breakfast.

"Morning sunshine," Charles greeted me with an amused smile as I stood next to him at the buffet and reached for a plate.

"Morning my favourite Monegasque," I replied brightly and then reached for a croissant.

" Do I want to know why you're shining like the non-existent sun today? " Charles asked as he reached for a bowl of muesli and then continued. " Well, actually, I know what it is..."

Charles winked and then began to waggle his eyebrow dramatically, which looked rather strange.

"Are you all right? " I asked him, while I also secured a bowl of muesli and placed it on my tray.

" I'm doing great. I'm ready for the race, but that's not the issue right now. Try not to get distracted," he almost admonished me and raised his index finger in the air in warning before continuing. "Could it be that your good mood is back thanks to Carlo's successful operation? Because since this was announced, you seem to have changed. "

" It's race day..." I tried to talk my way out of it, but I couldn't, as Charles hovered his index finger over my lips to indicate that I should be quiet.

"I'm neither stupid nor daft. I know for a fact that there's something going on between you and Carlos. It's certainly none of my business, but I can see that you're good for each other and I think that's great. Don't stop doing good for each other, okay? Okay, great! See you then! "

Before I could open my mouth to give Charles an answer, the Ferrari driver had already fled, almost running, with his tray.

Shaking my head, I looked after the Monegasques for a few seconds before I ran over to one of the free tables with my tray and began to eat my breakfast in peace.

And as I sat there eating my breakfast in comfort, my thoughts kept wandering back to Charles' words.

Were Carlos and I really on good terms? And if so, was Carlos and my behaviour really so obvious that others had probably noticed?

Once again, a tightness began to spread through my chest, so I pushed the breakfast on my tray to one side in disgust and began to sigh softly.

But before I could even begin to think about Carlos and me, Lucy appeared in front of me.

Her blonde hair lay dishevelled on her face, her cheeks shimmered red and she put her hands on her hips, out of breath.

" Lucy are you okay? " I asked cautiously and all I got in reply was a squeezed " Water. "

After I handed Lucy my water, which she drank within a few seconds and then just stood there for a few more seconds, I got nervous.

I could sense that something wasn't right and the fact that Lucy just wouldn't come out with it made me even more nervous.

" Lucy... " I almost urged as you began to shift restlessly on the chair.

" Carlos is here! " she almost shouted so loudly that one or two Ferrari employees turned to us both and looked at me in confusion.

"Sorry, I meant Carlos is here," she repeated more quietly as she dropped into the chair opposite me and rested her elbows on the table.

" What? Why is he here? He just had an operation yesterday! " I looked at the person opposite me with wide eyes as I almost jumped up.

" I have no idea! I saw a story on Instagram where he's walking through the paddock. Or should I say crawling? He can barely walk, he looks absolutely pale and like he's in pain! " she continued, making strange hand movements that I couldn't interpret at all.

" What?! " I repeated again, almost stunned, while my heart began to beat faster.

Why was he here and not resting? He couldn't be serious.

I immediately began to worry so much that I jumped up and ran off without waiting for an answer from Lucy.

" Thanks for breakfast! " she called after me, but I hardly noticed because I only had one thing on my mind. Carlos.

I kept dodging various members of other teams as I ran, keeping my eyes peeled for Carlos.

It wasn't long before I found him and a few other Ferrari employees in the pits, where he was greeted warmly with hugs and a few words.

I stayed in the background and watched Carlos from a distance. And indeed, he looked anything but well.

His posture was more hunched than upright and his face was rather pale, which occasionally even showed that he must clearly be in pain.

Why the hell wasn't he lying in bed and resting?

It took a few minutes for the Spaniard to catch sight of me. Within a few seconds, his face brightened and he literally crept over to me.

"Mariquita," he greeted me with a smile on his lips and pulled me into a warm hug shortly afterwards.

I carefully wrapped my arms around him, hoping not to cause him any more pain.

" Carlos, what are you doing here? " was the first thing I said to him.

" How about a "Oh, hello Carlos. I'm glad you're doing well and that you've come through everything okay?" " he asked as he let go of me and then leant against the wall next to me.

He seemed to find it difficult to even stand up straight. He was even still wearing his hospital bracelet. It was as if he'd literally fled from the hospital and gone straight to the track.

" Are you crazy? You had appendicitis, had to have an operation and haven't even rested for a day? You can barely walk, you look incredibly shitty and you still seem to be in pain! " I spoke in an angry voice and didn't care if anyone was listening. Because apparently I was the first person to say these words to him.

And probably the only one who was thinking straight.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure me, but he seemed to realise himself that this wasn't the case.

" No, you're not! " I looked at him seriously for a few seconds before turning on my heel and leaving.

Carlos' warm hand grabbed my arm and caused a slight electric shock to run through my body.

"I'm sorry, Mariquita. Let's talk in peace," his voice sounded soft and calm.

He carefully led me into a kind of storeroom that I had never been in before.

A few things were stored here, such as drinks and spare items for the mechanics, like a sofa that stood in the middle of the room.

Carlos slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, grimacing slightly, and then carefully pulled me next to him.

The sofa was so narrow that we sat there more or less pressed against each other and the touch of our knees and arms made my heart start beating faster again and I became slightly restless.

" You have every right to be angry with me and to worry. That's really sweet of you, but it was entirely my decision to come here. In hospital, the ceiling would have literally fallen on my head and I wanted everyone to know that I was okay."

"But you should take it easy, Carlos..." I almost mumbled and looked at the Spaniard, whose eyes were on me.

"I will, I promise," he assured me as he came a little closer to me and I felt his breath on my cheek.

Shortly afterwards, I felt his warm lips lightly on my cheek, which made the area start to tingle warmly and the heat shot up my cheek.

" I've heard from some people how worried you were about me. That was really incredibly sweet of you, Mariquita," Carlos began and gently stroked a strand of my hair behind my ear before continuing.

"We both know that there's more between us. And that's why I want to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me? " His brown eyes rested calmly on me while a soft smile formed on his lips.

His words caused chaos to awaken in my stomach, as all the butterflies that had just been lying there quietly for a long time began to awaken and turn my feelings completely upside down.

" Yes, but only if you take it easy. Otherwise you can forget the date," I replied with a partly serious and partly worried look.

It was important to me that Carlos recovered fully from the operation and regained his strength so that he would soon be fit again and able to get back into the car.

"I promise, Mariquita."

[bellyasks]

menu for a restaurant that specializes in overstuffing its customers (aka a silly prompt list)

Ask your server about dietary accommodations. Each meal is made to order, substitutions and alternative ingredients are available! All meats may be replaced with plant-based alternatives upon request. (And pick a meal to feed your favorite character--if they can finish it, they get one dessert on the house!)

Breakfast (all orders come with a side of home fries, fresh fruit, or your choice of meat)

Full Stack of Pancakes - Emphasis on "full." Lucky seven big fluffy pancakes, each with a different additive of your choice.

Big Ol' Bagel - A hefty bagel the size of your plate, toasted to order and topped with whatever you'd like.

Ostrich Egg Omelette - Okay, not really, but this omelette is made with two dozen eggs--the equivalent of one ostrich egg--and filled with your choice of meat and veggies.

Loaf of French Toast - A dozen thick slices of French toast topped with whipped cream and fresh berries.

Plus Size Pork Roll - A classic pork roll egg & cheese on our signature giant bagel.

Lunch (all orders come with a side of chips or fries)

Peanut Butter & Jelly Belly - The biggest PB&J you've ever seen, slathered generously on a buttery toasted baguette.

Quadruple Decker Club Sandwich - Your choice of meat with mayo, lettuce, tomato, and bacon, heaped on between four slices of bread.

Piece-A Pizza - This slice is equivalent in size to an entire large pizza and covered with your choice of toppings. Perfect for people who are lying to themselves when they say they'll just have one piece.

Double Footlong - Two feet of classic Italian hoagie on a fresh-baked roll.

Stomach Stretcher - They say eating a head of lettuce is a great way to stretch your stomach out, and that's exactly what this giant salad will do. We bring you the lettuce, you take it to the salad bar and add the rest.

Dinner (all orders come with a side of rice, fries, baked or mashed potato, or a fresh vegetable medley unless marked *)

Sushi Bloat Boat - A sushi boat big enough for a full table, pricey to share but free for any one person who manages to finish it alone.

Box of Pasta - A full 16oz box of pasta (your choice of spaghetti, penne, or linguine) tossed in Alfredo, marinara, or a white wine sauce. Add your choice of meat for an extra $2.

Full Size Fish & Chips* - An entire 10-20lb cod (ask your server about choosing a fish) cleaned, battered, fried, and served with steak fries.

The Whole Farm* - A barbecue variety platter. Pulled pork, brisket, ribs, and chicken breast slathered in our signature sauce, with an ear of corn, baked beans, and coleslaw on the side.

Raised Steak - A 48oz grilled ribeye. Also available as an equivalent weight of seasoned and grilled portobello mushrooms.

Dessert

Paint Can - A creamy and colorful milkshake served in a one gallon paint can. See the ice cream counter for today's available flavors.

Loaf of Bread Pudding - Warm bread pudding made with an entire loaf of bread, topped with an optional scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Root Beer Bloat - A classic float with your choice of ice cream. The twist is that this dessert holds two liters of root beer and a portion of ice cream to match.

Burp-day Cake - A seven-layer slice of chocolate cake guaranteed to be the size of your head or it's free, topped with a thick crust of fizzy Pop Rocks.

Gobbler Cobbler - A pie-sized dish of peach, blueberry, or apple cobbler, topped with three optional scoops of vanilla ice cream.

[ryanmarshallryan]

I've been having a lot more people reach out about the vore stories I write, so thought I'd throw it out there if anyone wants to donate to help me have more time to write stories, or likes my style and wants to commission something let me know over dm!

I usually write thinking from a prey perspective, but was feeling hungry after eating salads for a month and switched to pred for this story.

DIET BACKFIRED

I love my weight. I think my belly looks great on me. When I see those old statues of historical figures with dad bods I see myself and love it. But after gaining 25 pounds in a few months from stress, I decided to try out a diet for a bit, just to be cautious of my health. Man, it was hard. And this morning my hunger took control.

I was preparing a salad, heated up some chicken to mix in, sprinkled in some shredded cheese, spinach, lettuce, cucumber, tomato and such. All I could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have a full belly again. Not just feeling satisfied, but pigging out and shoving as much down my maw as possible. Feeling the gainer bug while also trying to diet was not going to work for me. I tore through my cabinet to find an old box of cookies. I opened the box, came to my senses and closed it, then decided I didn’t care and ate the remainder in one sitting. To try to slow myself down and tire out my palette, I tried to eat a bunch of lettuce, but then added a bunch of croutons and snacks without thinking. I still felt hungry, but just left the kitchen to stop myself.

Later, I hung out with my work-out buddy, Max, and vented about my hunger, “I’m still eating a lot! Just replacing chips with a lot of low fat snacks. So if the quantity of food I’m eating is the same, why am I always feeling sooooo hungry? Ugh.”

“Bro, sounds like you need a cheat day. But, hey, if you’re stressed about having too much high fat food, I can help you eat big while still holding back on the chips.”

“Well it can be helpful to sit with the feeling for a while. So if you start feeling hungry, write down exactly what you are craving and what that feels like. By the time you are done writing it out, if you’re still hungry for it… go for it. If the feeling passes, then move on,” Max continued.

“I’m sure we could try it, but I don’t see how much of a difference it’ll make.” I replied. I knew Max worked as some sort of private personal trainer or something on the side, so I felt inclined to believe him, but my stomach was doubtful.

After our workout, we visited a smoothie place and got large chocolate banana protein smoothies (after writing out what I was craving and waiting a moment before deciding to go through with it). I sucked mine down so fast I got a mild brain freeze.

“So how are you feeling? Hungry for another one?” Max asked, playfully placing a hand on my gut and giving it a quick rub.

“Ugh, I would totally go for a burger and fries right now… no, onion rings… actually both,” I replied, as Max handed me a notepad and pen. I wrote down the menu in my mind and thought about how it can be nice to feel so full without another care in the world.

“It’s been a few minutes… still hungry?” Max said with a sly smile.

“What do you think?” I asked him, lifting my gym shirt up to reveal my hairy belly, which gave a perfectly timed gurgle.

Max drove to my favorite burger joint and ordered a few meals and insisted on paying “This is my idea, don’t worry about it… for science!”

After downing two large burgers, a full bag of onion rings and a couple sides of fries, plus an apple that came with Max’s meal that he was too full to finish, I sat with my gut extended out in front of me.

Max leaned over to me, pulled my shirt up over my belly and patted it with his closed fist as if knocking at a door, “So how are you doing, hungry guy?” He put his ear to my side and listened intently to the stomach gurgles, occasionally making sounds of “Mmm,” “Yes, I see,” “Interesting.” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of Max speaking to my belly.

“What’s so funny about listening to your gut? Intuitive eating is no joke,” Max said with a joking smile, “What is your stomach telling you?”

I thought for a moment, grabbed the notepad and wrote down ‘Though I should be full and done eating… Ice cream would hit the spot right now… Surely that would fill me up, and fill the void the low fat snacks have opened.’ I handed Max the written note.

Max looked from my belly to my eyes with a poker face, “I know just the place.”

In a few minutes we rolled up to Max’s apartment. Inside he pulled out some pints of cookies and cream ice cream and some mint chocolate chip. He handed me a spoon and opened the containers and sat across from me.

“Do you want me to get a bowl?” I asked.

“Nah. Try to intuitively eat. Just eat until your body feels done.”

“So… eat until there’s a nationwide ice cream shortage?”

Max threw his head back laughing, “If we get to that point, maybe we’ll pivot to a new tactic, but for now, feel free to eat as much as you want.” He looked endearingly into my eyes, and I felt my gut rumble, whether by digestion or hunger, or both, I couldn’t discern.

As I scooped down ice cream, we chatted about hunger, about scarcity mindset when it comes to food, and he told me some interesting facts about digestion and how to make room in one's stomach faster than normal by laying on the left side.

“Is this the stuff people need to know for your personal training work and such?” I asked.

“Personal training stuff?” Max gave a look of puzzlement then laughed, “I think I said that sarcastically a while back. A few guys pay me to help them gain weight and eat big. So sort of a personal trainer, but kind of the opposite effect that most would expect.”

“Ohhh, this tactic makes a bit more sense now,” I replied, continuing to eat the ice cream.

“Well, I thought if I encouraged you to experience the ability to eat as much as you want without restriction, you’ll realize that you don’t have to eat everything. It sounds like you are always hungry, because you are always denying that you want food.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” I went to scoop up more ice cream then realized I’d eaten all of it.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, rubbing the top of my belly.

I felt a grumble deep in my stomach.”I can definitely feel my belly full of food, but I also could definitely do the whole thing all over again.”

Max considered me for a moment, then started listing off some random digestion facts again. He put his head on my stomach again, lifted my shirt off my body, listened again, took his hands and gently opened my mouth wide and peered down my throat, until I started laughing and he couldn't hold my mouth open.

“What are you doing? You think my stomach is gonna speak back to you in English?” I joked.

“No… but I wonder if I could better understand your hunger if I could better see inside your gut. Hmmm, maybe even just peering down your esophagus…”

“Don’t you need a fancy scope for that or something?”

“Not if you’re willing to relax your throat for a moment…” Max said. I shrugged, and he straddled my lap and shoved his head into my mouth. I could feel his energetic breathing against my tongue and wondered how on earth he could see anything down my throat with his head blocking light from the outside.

I heard a muffled “I’d like to see a bit further…” and felt him push his whole body forward into me. His shoulders shoved their way into my maw and stretched my jaw wide like an opera singer. I choked a little bit feeling his scratchy hair make contact with my uvula and the bottom of my tongue. I reflexively closed my lips over his skin and swallowed as the hair and breath tickled my maw. I realized that my peristalsis must have taken a bit of control, because I was surprised to see that I was looking down at his lower back with his arms pinned to his sides. I felt his nipples and pectoral muscles sliding against my tongue and felt his head squeezed tightly through my lower esophagus. What was going on? Though the sensation was filling me with dopamine and adrenaline, I realized that somehow my body was getting ready to eat a whole human, so I mentally prepared myself to try and regurgitate him. But instead I felt him force himself deeper into my throat, as his feet pushed off against the floor, and his upper torso wriggled and squirmed to slide deeper into me. I felt a sloshing in my gut, and heard a muffled intake of air and the continuation of more digestion facts being spewed out of Max’s ever curious mind obsessed with digestion.

Since Max seemed so intent on getting inside my stomach, and I knew I would need to breathe soon, I decided to help him out. I lifted his legs up over my head and felt gravity pulling him down my throat. I pulled his gym shorts and such off him and felt the interesting texture of his little belly over his abs, mixed with gym sweat and belly hair, felt past his hard on and groin, and his thick thighs as they all passed over my tongue and against my soft palate. My stomach finally began to feel full, as it sloshed with its soupy contents of dinner encasing Max’s squirming upper body. I knew Max’s hands had been freed from the tight grip of my esophagus as my inner stomach felt a peculiar tickling sensation with Max rubbing it from the inside. I felt him poke around and heard his muffled casual observations about my stomach.

I felt Max’s muscles seize up as he put his legs together tightly and let them slide easily down my throat. I felt his cold feet tickle my tongue, uvula and esophagus until they finally plopped into my stomach and I felt my throat open enough for me to exhale and breathe in more oxygen finally.

I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and catch my breath, feeling Max move around and curl up into a ball inside my tight stomach. I looked down to see the bulge his head made toward the top of my belly, with other odd bumps sticking out that I assumed were his knees and feet pressing up against my stomach walls. I felt his clammy hands push up against my stomach as he surveyed his new situation.

“Max, I forgot to write this craving down first.” I said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry I already did!” I heard him shout back, hearing it almost come up through my own throat. I stared in confusion at the opened notepad next to me and flipped to the last written note that read ‘Ice cream and everything else isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe eating me will do the trick. - Max’

My belly gurgled in surprise, “You planned for me to eat you?”

“I did shove myself down your throat, didn’t I?”

“But why would you -”

“Hey you didn’t try and stop me, bud,” he replied. I felt a pat against my belly, and shivered a little bit.

“Yeah, but I thought you just wanted to glance inside, but you wriggled in deeper!”

“Are you mad that I did?” Max asked. I felt him shifting his weight inside my gut and resting into me.

I considered the events of the night. I had really craved a day to just eat all I wanted, and Max gave all that to me and more. Even though I definitely didn’t expect him to force his way onto the menu, my belly felt much more satiated than it had been. “... I’m not mad at you… just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into… but I do have a confession.”

“What is it?” Max asked, shifting around and pressing his head up against the place where my hand was resting on my belly.

“I could go for some orange sherbert right now… I think your diet tactic failed.” My stomach added a large grumble and groan in agreement.

“Failed for you, maybe. But I’m cozy!” Max tried to stretch out a bit and I watched my stomach bulges shift in a funny manner, and felt my belly tighten and knead Max in response. “Plus, I think I figured out why you’ve been so hungry lately.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“That you should have eaten me ages ago! Once I’m digested into belly fat you’ll have more energy stored in your cells for longer, so you won’t be as hungry all the time! It’s simple science,” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not sure that science is sound, but as long as you’re happy, I’m fat and happy.”

“If you don’t think the science is sound, maybe you ought to repeat the experiment. Have a cheat day every once in a while,” Max replied, as he curled into a tight ball again and let my stomach relax and get to work over him. “I know I’ve been seeing that cute guy at the gym drooling over your gut, you know, the one who always wears that green hat? I’m sure he’d love to be a part of your next cheat day once you’ve had enough of your salads and diet again.”

I enjoyed the peace of feeling Max getting comfortable deep in my gut. I took deep breaths and felt my diaphragm move Max around slightly as my chest expanded and contracted. “Maybe I’ll ask him. But I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to take it as far as you did tonight.” I rubbed my belly and stared, mesmerized at the lumpy spots on my belly indicating Max’s body relaxing against my stomach walls. I felt his heartbeat in polyrhythm against mine, with his breathing patterns tickling my stomach walls. I tasted the lasting flavors of his skin on my tongue, mixed with ice cream and other sustenance I had downed throughout the evening. Good thing we worked out first, to balance out this sharp intake in calories. So I suppose even if I had a cheat day from my diet, eating a whole human balances out to be healthy, right?

[metalhoops]

Everyone who’s touched grief knows it’s bigger than two hands can hold. The inexperienced try to string together the right words to lighten the load and those who grieve wear a momentary mask of comfort, feeling instead heavier. Those who’ve experienced grief know there are not enough words in the world to replace something as simple as a small action. 

You don’t remember the platitudes and false virtues strangers assign to the dead, but after a long day when you find your fridge full of precooked meals, you’ll remember who dropped off the potato salad. Max was sick of people who didn’t know her, telling her how kind her brother was. How funny he could be. How talented he was. 

No one, save the rare few, know what to do with complex grief. Max didn’t know how to unpick her thoughts, let alone put them into words and hold them up for someone else to see and understand. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to be understood.

She didn’t know how she could miss someone so deeply while being in some small part, glad they were dead. No one tells you what to do when your thoughts betray you. 

By the time Max and her mother moved into the trailer park, people had stopped telling her how much they missed Billy, which was a small blessing. They’d also stopped dropping off food or offering to do their laundry. Max and her mother had been too proud to take anyone up on that offer, but she missed the thought. 

Two months had passed, and it felt like everyone forgot Billy existed, that anything had happened. Lucas and the other boys had started asking her to hang out again. The unspoken grace period given to her and her mother for mourning had ended. Now it was back to business as usual. Her mother returned to work, and Max was left alone in an empty trailer full of boxes. 

That was when Steve arrived with a Tupperware container under one arm and a fancy untouched toolbox under the other. 

“Figured you’d need some help,” the boy muttered, kicking off his shoes, not waiting to be invited in. 

He knew better. If he’d asked, Max would’ve told him to piss off. She couldn’t understand why Steve of all people was able to read her moods so well. 

Steve hadn’t been much help rebuilding the furniture, but he’d supplied the Allen key and screwdriver so she couldn’t complain. He was good at unpacking boxes. With the two of them working, the task had taken a day, as opposed to the week it would’ve if she’d done it on her own. She was meant to be in school that day, but she couldn’t bring herself to go. She’d expected that to be the last she saw of the older boy but instead, he made a habit of checking in on her. 

Steve kept dropping off meals. After a week he started driving Max around on the days the mere mention of school threatened to topple her. Sometimes she’d hang around the back of the video store. On other days he’d drop her off at the arcade and she’d play Dig Dug until her eyes burnt and her fingers cramped. 

She didn’t know exactly when it’d happened but somewhere along the way, she found herself getting strangely attached to the guy. She’d lost one brother but gained another. 

That was why when Steve stopped driving home at night, she’d sent Eddie to get him. 

Max didn’t know much about Eddie Munson. His uncle and Max’s mother infrequently drank coffee together at the communal picnic tables. Nothing ever happened. Max knew her mother and how she acted around her boyfriends. This was different. They just sat together, mostly in silence, watching the sun go down. It kept her mother from drinking so much or so early. What Max did know about Eddie Munson was that he owed her. 

One night when her mother was out, the cops came poking around the trailer park, asking her if she’d seen anything suspicious. Max wasn’t dumb, quite the opposite. She knew Eddie sold drugs. She also knew the cops wanted to pin something on him. She wasn’t altogether sure why, maybe there was some pressure to put someone behind bars from the kinds of places that had neighbourhood watches. 

It was only when crime started to leak into the suburbs that people went searching for the culprits. Some rich kid spikes a girl’s drink in Loch Nora and the next thing you know, they’re looking for drug dealers in trailer parks. The guy will get a smack on the wrist, while Eddie? He’ll get thrown in jail and the people of Hawkins will sleep a little better at night, knowing all is right and just in the world. Until the same guy does it again. Then another trailer park kid is marched off to the stocks. 

Max had learnt how the world worked young. It’d been out of some strange sense of solidarity that she’d kept her mouth shut about Eddie. When the cops split, she’d given him the heads up to keep his nose clean while there was blood in the water. She hadn’t done it for a favour. But if nothing else, she was opportunistic. 

Steve wasn’t driving home most nights. Max knew because she’d take note when the Beamer shot past the trailer park. Some days it was in the dead of night, others, the early hour of the morning. He wasn’t staying over at girls’ places like she’d first thought. Even if he wasn’t the golden boy he’d once been if someone slept with Steve Harrington, the whole town knew within the week. 

She’d followed him one afternoon, riding her skateboard at a safe distance. He’d drive around, past their houses, as though on his own neighbourhood watch. He’d finish his patrol and pull up at any number of odd locations, the train tracks, the junkyard, the woods. At first, she’d worried he, like Billy, was possessed. After long days of silent observation, she realised the kind of ghosts that possessed Steve were of his own making. 

Max didn’t know what to do until she saw the light on in the Munson’s trailer past midnight. She stalked across the way, pounded her fists on the fly screen, and called in a favour. She asked Eddie to check on Steve. He’d looked at her like she’d grown a third head but agreed. 

Eddie Munson didn’t do favours but Red was a good kid, so he’d made an exception. He began his quest by driving past the Harrington’s manor, hoping for his own sake to find the BMW parked in the drive but Max had been right, Steve wasn’t home, nobody was. 

Eddie was tempted to check all the usual spots he’d go if he were a meathead jock with ample time and money. There was skull rock, the notorious Harrington make-out spot and a has-been jock party was going on in the next suburb over from Loch Nora, but Red’s instructions had been clear. If Steve wasn’t at home, she’d rattled off a list of places he might be, each one growing stranger. 

That was how Eddie Munson ended up in the junkyard. The place was surprisingly well-lit, despite the late hour. He worked his way through an overgrown thicket, cursing himself for wearing his white Reeboks. He’d be scrubbing out grass stains with a toothbrush for the next week. 

Mounds of trash and scrap metal shot out of the dried grass like rocks rising from the ocean. Amongst it all, burning bright as a lighthouse was a rusting yellow school bus. It stood in stark contrast against the blue, black night. A dull glow bled out of the vehicle’s shattered windows. 

Eddie found himself drawn to the little island of light as a moth flocks to a flame. His feet moved swiftly, eager as a young child at the prospect of adventure. He slipped in through the half-open door of the bus and was greeted by another body slamming into his. 

Eddie’s head cracked against the metal bus frame, making him groan. It wasn’t until he tried to move that he realised there was something sharp pressed against his neck. Against all his better judgment Eddie swallowed, feeling a broken bottle nip at his skin. 

Eddie’s eyes flickered to the wielder of the weapon. A once mighty king had fallen like his surrounding kingdom, into a state of disrepair. Steve Harrington. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

“Harrington,” Eddie spoke, keeping his voice soft and even, as though speaking to a wild animal that could startle. 

There was a manic look in Steve’s eyes Eddie knew well. He’d never thought he’d see the ghost of himself dance across such a pretty and foreign face. The days before Eddie moved in with Wayne were better left alone. He knew the wide-eyed vigilance of people who’d grown used to fending for their lives. It was a look he’d never imagine Steve Harrington capable of. 

A glint of recognition shifted over Steve’s face and the eyes of years long past were gone as though a trick of the light. The bottle disappeared from his neck, shattering as it dropped against the floor of the bus. 

“Shit, Munson. Sorry,” Steve uttered, moving out of Eddie’s space. 

Eddie was surprised Steve remembered his name. Across the six-odd years the two had gone to school together, Harrington had spoken to him a grand total of three times. The first, to ask for a pencil in Spanish. The second had been a disgruntled ‘hey, man’ as Eddie sidestepped his lunch tray on one of his biweekly jaunts across the jock table and the third, which Eddie only now recalled, had surprised him. 

He’d gotten a D in history. It’d been the final nail in the coffin, solidifying the fact that he’d once again have to repeat his senior year. Eddie spent the rest of the class carving his name into the underside of his desk with his thumbnail until it was bloody and covered in splinters. 

He’d almost lasted until the end of class before he had to excuse himself with little plan of where he was going or what he was doing. He knew he wanted to get away, that he needed to be anywhere but there. He wasn’t sure what’d tipped Harrington off but as he shuffled past the former king’s desk, his eyes downcast, a hand shot out to snag Eddie’s forearm. 

“Hey, Munson? There’s always next year,” Steve muttered under his breath.

From anyone else, it would’ve sounded condescending, but Steve genuinely meant it. Eddie hadn’t known what to say. He’d felt a sudden lump rise in his throat. He took off, thinking it’d be the last time he’d see Steve Harrington. He’d wished he’d been so lucky. 

“So, Harrington, what’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” Eddie asked when his heart rate returned to a regular rhythm. He heard a snort escape Steve’s throat as he leaned back against the opposite wall of the bus. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

Eddie wanted to know when Steve had started to sound so world-wearied. Nineteen-year-olds shouldn’t sound so worn thin. The closer he looked at Steve, the more he saw. His eyes were chaliced with the kind of purple, blue bruises that came from weeks of sleeplessness. There was a pale pink scar, slicing a line from his bottom lip to his jaw. In time, it’d fade into obscurity, but for now, in the cold of the night, it stood out like a crack in fine china. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, sliding down the wall to a seated position, as though once again settling in for the night. Eddie heard glass tinkle and grind under Steve’s body. 

Had his parents kicked him out? Was he hiding from someone? Eddie knew fuck all about Steve Harrington and he’d liked it that way. Screw not doing favours. Red owed him one after all this was said and done. 

“Finding a new place to pedal goods. New chief of police has been riding my ass,” Eddie lied. It wasn’t as though he was going to tell Steve he was sent on a fetch quest by a fourteen-year-old. 

A flicker of pain shifted across Steve’s face before disappearing. It was a moon sinking below the horizon line, leaving no trace of the momentary night as a false smile painted his face the colour of a sunrise. 

“Can’t say I’d recommend this old rust bucket. Isn’t drug dealing in a junkyard a little cliche?” Eddie rolled his eyes and sank to the floor of the bus, nudging Steve’s foot with his. 

“Keep giving me lip and you’ll have to pay double.” 

Harrington never brought from him. The freckled asshat, he used to hang around with would buy weed once in a blue moon, but never Steve. 

“You got anything on you?” He asked to Eddie’s surprise. He hadn’t exactly come prepared. He searched the depths of his pockets, finding two small ziplock bags and half a pack of rolling paper. He threw them Steve’s way. 

“On the house. Looks like you need it,” He mused and watched as Steve’s fingers worked, quick and methodical. Hagan had obviously shared his stash with Harrington.  

“Got a light?” 

Eddie fetched his Zippo from his back pocket and leaned over to light Steve’s joint. The guy looked surprised. He should’ve handed the lighter over. Too late now. 

Steve’s lips were poised so close to Eddie’s fingers. His face illuminated by flame, caused Eddie to shift closer. He lifted a hand to Steve’s cheek, acting under the guise of trying to shield the flame from the breeze filtering in through the broken windows and half-open door. 

“You got anything stronger?” Steve spoke, breathing a plume of smoke into the night air. Eddie wasn’t sure it was wise, but he’d never counted wisdom as his strong suit. 

“Back at my place.” Steve snorted, smoke billowing from his half-pursed lips, his eyes beginning to haze over. 

“People’ll talk.” 

People always talked when it came to Steve, but surely not in the way the boy was implying. Ramrod straight, Steve Harrington couldn’t make a gay quip, not about himself. Maybe he was embarrassed about what being seen with Eddie could do to his dwindling reputation. 

“I’m pretty good at keeping a low profile,” Eddie supplied, and Steve nodded stoically. 

“Stealthy, like a ninja,” Steve replied. 

It was Eddie’s turn to choke out a laugh. Goofy had never been a quality he’d assigned to Steve Harrington. He supposed the trait had its charm. It worked on Eddie. 

“Like a ninja,” Eddie echoed. 

When he’d said yes to Red, he’d assumed he’d drag Steve’s likely-intoxicated, ex-jock ass home and call it a night, but looking at the boy across from him with the joint tucked between his lips and the thousand-yard-stare, Eddie had to admit there was a change of plans. 

“Have you heard about the world’s best ninja?” Eddie asked, his once pristine shoes nudged themselves beneath Steve’s Born in the USA style blue jeans. 

Steve shook his head, a flicker of curiosity dancing over his face, his stupid floppy hair, falling in his eyes. 

“That’s why he’s the best,” Eddie insisted and felt his insides grow warm when Steve cackled. He was pretty when he laughed. He looked more like the guy he’d been back in high school, more carefree. 

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to sitting with people and talking them down on their worst nights, but a relative stranger was new. 

Eddie stood and extended a hand to Steve. The boy clasped onto his ringed fingers and pulled himself up. 

“My van’s parked half a mile up the way, you coming?” Steve shrugged and followed close at Eddie’s side.

The two walked in relative silence, standing so close their hips played the role of balls in a Newton’s cradle, knocking against one another in a rhythmic pattern. 

Back in the familiar landscape of his van, Eddie was once again hit with the strangeness of the situation as he watched Steve slide into his passenger seat, snubbing out the remains of the joint in the ashtray. He thought of their spit mingling in the little petri dish and pushed that thought aside. He’d always been good at holding back those kinds of thoughts. It came with the territory. 

“Why do you need something strong?” Eddie asked as he turned the ignition. 

If he’d learnt anything from his uncle, it was that hard conversations were best had behind the wheel. That way no one could storm out. He’d admitted to his uncle he’d failed his first senior year as the two sat at the juncture between Maple and Main. He’d come out to Wayne along Lakeside Dr. 

“Why did you really come to the junkyard?” Steve countered. He was smarter than he looked, or at least, smarted than Eddie had assumed. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Eddie quipped after a second, watching as a bemused smirk twitched onto Steve’s face. 

“It’s been a hard year, man. Hard couple of years,” Steve confessed. Eddie wasn’t going to let him get off that easy. 

“Is this to do with you getting unceremoniously shunted off the top of the Hawkins’ High totem pole?” Eddie asked.

He had a feeling whatever it was ran far deeper than just popularity, but this was Steve Harrington. Steve was pretty and popular. He wasn’t allowed to have real problems. That’s not how the rich and stuck-up operated. 

“Honestly? No. Think that might’ve been a good thing.” Steve drummed his fingers against the passenger door. 

“Then was it the thing with Wheeler?” Eddie asked, watching Steve cringe. Maybe he should leave it alone. 

“Part of it. I don’t know.” What followed was a loaded silence. 

Eddie kept casting glimpses from Steve to the road, watching as his face screwed in concentration as he searched for words. 

“I feel like it’s my job to protect everybody,” He admitted, his voice barely raising above a whisper. 

“And I don’t know how. I feel like I’m supposed to have all the answers but I just... I feel like a kid, who’s in way over his head.” Steve pulled his knees up to his chest, and settled his chin on them, not daring to look in Eddie’s direction.

He was a year older than Steve and he felt like a lost kid most of the time, as though he was an imposter masquerading as someone who knew what the hell he was doing. He wondered if that feeling ever went away. 

“Red sent me to check up on you. The kid’s worried,” Eddie confessed watching as Steve’s head snapped to look in his direction. 

“She’s got enough on her plate without worrying about me.” 

Steve didn’t need to say what Max was dealing with. Eddie knew. Hawkins was a small town, and Billy Hargreaves was infamous. Eddie had a bad feeling about the guy from day one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel sorry for him, dying in a mall fire. Hell of a way to go.  He’d heard rumours Max had been there when it happened. Then again, he’d also heard talk of Steve slinging ice cream at the mall. Eddie could see a picture beginning to form. He didn’t like it. 

The two didn’t speak for the rest of the drive back to Eddie’s trailer. There was nothing left to say. Steve continued to tap his fingers absentmindedly, so Eddie leaned over, turning on the radio. The tape deck played the thrashing guitar and pounding beats of the latest Slayer album. Eddie liked it well enough, but he cringed, preparing for Steve to chew it up and spit it out. He didn’t. He shut his eyes, rested his head against the passenger window and promptly fell asleep. Eddie would be damned.

Unsure of what to do with the sleeping boy and the blaring music, Eddie drove in circles around all the familiar back roads of Hawkins, steering clear of the potholes and dirt tracks. It wasn’t until Eddie’s eyes started to droop that he called it a night, pulling up outside his trailer, flicking his floodlights twice in the direction of the Mayfield’s, letting Max know he’d gotten Steve home safe. Well, he’d gotten Steve to his home safely. 

Eddie was contemplating the logistics of getting Steve out of the car when the boy began to stir. His eyes fluttered open for a second to meet Eddie’s before he groaned and turned to bury his face into the car seat. Damn it all. Eddie had managed to go for years without developing a crush on Steve, it wasn’t goddamn fair he was about to do it now. 

“Good morning, Starshine,” Eddie teased, walking around to open the passenger door for Steve. 

“Welcome to my humble abode. I have drugs or you know... a comfortable bed. Pick your poison,” Eddie spoke as the two made their way to his trailer. 

As they stepped into the main room, Eddie watched as Steve’s eyes scanned the place, lingering on Wayne’s collection of mugs and novelty hats, a ghost of a smile on his face. Eddie grabbed onto Steve’s wrist and led him down the hall. 

“The drugs and the bed are in my room,” Eddie explained as they went. 

Eddie nudged the door to his room open with a flourish of his hands. 

“This is where the magic happens,” Eddie explained and watched as Steve quirked a brow. 

“Mind out of the gutter, Harrington. I was talking about literal magic.” Eddie smirked gesturing to his stack of Dungeons and Dragons’ manuals, handbooks, and campaign notes. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Steve grumbled flopping onto Eddie’s bed. 

Maybe it was the high that’d made him seem looser, but Eddie liked a Steve who took charge. He crawled under the covers, making himself at home in Eddie’s bed. 

“Demogorgons suck ass,” Steve uttered after a moment, his face muffled by Eddie’s pillow. He wondered if he’d fallen asleep on the ride home and driven them into a ditch, because there was no way Steve was in his bed, talking about D&D. Eddie liked demogorgons, something he elegantly articulated by muttering,

“You suck ass.” As he flopped beside Steve in bed. Steve snorted.

“That’s one thing I haven’t tried,” he confessed. Yes, he was high. Eddie couldn’t imagine a sober Steve making that confession openly. 

Eddie settled on top of the covers, hyperaware a sober Steve might not be as receptive to waking up beside Eddie. He was in over his head. 

“Are you okay with this?” Eddie questioned as he rolled over to lay on his side, propping his head up to get a better look at Steve, half smothered in his sheets. As much as people talked about Steve’s love life, they also talked less favourably about Eddie’s, or his lack thereof. 

“You’re not going to punch me in the face in the morning?” Eddie concluded, voicing his concerns. His heart was tugging him closer to Steve, but he wasn’t willing to do anything they’d both regret. 

He’d been shockingly open to letting the boy into his innermost sanctum. Maybe he had a saviour complex, but he wanted to know how much of a commitment the two would have, how long was the piece of rope that tied them together? Was it a momentary truce or the start of something? 

“No,” Steve breathed after a beat, seeming equal parts understanding and offended Eddie had asked. 

The two lapsed into silence. Eddie was left wondering if Steve had fallen asleep again, but the rise and fall of the boy’s chest was too shallow. Steve eventually let out a groan and rolled to face Eddie. Whatever momentary reprieve had allowed him to sleep in the car had passed. 

Eddie’s gaze was once again drawn to the growing blue beneath Steve’s eyes. He had stuff that could help Steve sleep, but he knew from experience, drugs could only do so much. They were numbing jell on a knife wound, a momentary relief from pain without fixing the real problem. 

“Can’t sleep?” Eddie spoke, trying to get inside Steve’s head, to unpick what was going on with him. Steve nodded miserably. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Eddie wondered. 

There were no guidelines for the strange turn the night had taken. Steve opened and shut his mouth, gaping like a fish on dry land. He had some thoughts, it appeared, but none he was willing to voice right away. Eddie felt strangely endeared to the boy in his bed. He’d give him anything he asked, even if he didn’t think it was smart. 

“Is it true, what people say about you?” Steve asked after a long pause. 

That wasn’t what Eddie had expected. He blanched and watched as Steve’s eyes swelled, his panic rolling off him in waves, crashing head-on into Steve. 

“Never mind, don’t answer that. Christ, that was invasive. Sorry,” Steve fumbled, sinking further beneath Eddie’s sheets to hide his face. It appeared it was a night for confessions.

“Were you asking about the satanic shit or the gay thing?” Eddie spoke candidly, his fingers knotting in the covers. 

You didn’t come out to just anyone. You sure as hell didn’t come out to someone like Steve unless you had a death wish, though Eddie was quickly learning the Steve Harrington that existed in his head and the one lying in his bed were two different creatures. 

“Forget I asked,” Steve repeated, rolling over to turn away from Eddie, a faint flush dusting his cheeks. 

“I don’t worship the devil and I’m not gay,” Eddie found himself confiding.

He watched as Steve’s body went still. Eddie couldn’t see his face, but he could tell his mind had kicked into overdrive. 

“Oh, cool,” Steve spoke sounding suddenly distant, as though that hadn’t been the answer he was looking for. Eddie didn’t know Steve Harrington at all. 

“But I’d be lyin’ if I said you were the first guy I’ve had in here, Steve,” Eddie continued, giving away more than he’d intended. 

Steve peered over his shoulder and quirked a brow. He didn’t look shocked or disgusted as Eddie had anticipated. He looked relieved. 

“Like Bowie?” He wondered aloud. Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, like Bowie- I mean, I have a preference. Guys suit me better, I guess. But sometimes a girl’ll surprise me.” 

The conversation felt intimate, surprisingly more so than when he’d admitted it to the guys in Corroded Coffin. With them, there hadn’t been follow-up questions. The guys had been supportive, but they hadn’t known what to say. It’d been another fact about Eddie they’d taken in their stride without much acknowledgement. He hadn’t felt the need to explain himself. He didn’t know why, but when it came to Steve, he felt like he needed to explain the whole thing in intimate detail. 

“Me too,” Steve muttered, sounding entirely unlike himself. He was quiet and unsure; two traits Eddie had never assigned to the Steve that lived in his head. 

“I mean... for me, girls are easy. Guys are... new?” Once more, Steve sounded unsure. 

“Maybe not new because it’s always been there but I just left it alone.” Eddie wondered what’d spurred on the change, whether it was a near-death experience or something else entirely. Eddie was good at reading between the lines. 

“Steve, I’m going to ask you again, okay? What do you want me to do?” 

Steve sucked air in through his teeth, gripped the sheets and finally let his shoulders sag. 

“Can you just... hold me, for a bit?” Steve asked at last, sounding as though Eddie had placed a loaded gun to his head. Of all the things Eddie had been expecting, that wasn’t it. 

Eddie moved closer, lining up his hips and Steve’s back, throwing an arm around the boy’s waist. It was different. Eddie was used to closeted guys wanting to have sex with him, but they didn’t hang around long after. 

He thought back to Steve’s words. The guy wanted to protect everybody, from god knows what, but who was looking out for him? He hooked his chin on Steve’s shoulder. He smelled faintly of cologne and something chemical, hairspray. 

“This okay?” Eddie clarified. Steve’s body felt stiff and unresponsive in his arms. 

Steve hummed. It took him a moment to relax but when he did, he practically melted into Eddie. The boy pushed back, fitting their knees together. Eddie was thankful they’d decided to keep their jeans on, fearful of what any more skin-to-skin contact would do. Steve cradled Eddie’s palm to his heart and dropped his chin to his chest, so Eddie could feel the ghost of the boy’s breath dance across his fingertips. Steve was a renowned good lay, but the Harrington charm went deeper than that. The guy was good at cuddling, something Eddie hadn’t thought was possible until he had every inch of Steve pressed and curled against him. 

“This okay for you?” Steve asked after a moment, his breath tickled against Eddie’s knuckles. 

“Great for me,” Eddie confirmed sounding as breathless as he felt. 

Steve’s heart beneath his hand thundered, letting Eddie know the boy wasn’t as cool and collected as he was pretending to be. He didn’t point it out. He did two things very out of character for Eddie Munson. He remained still and silent. Steve’s breath grew deep and even. Eddie leaned closer, pressing his face into the nape of Steve’s neck as the boy began to whimper in his sleep. 

“I got you,” He assured. 

“You’re safe. M’not going to let anything happen to you.” Eddie promised. 

It took time, but Steve settled and at last, Eddie let the long night swallow him whole. 

Max decided Eddie Munson was useless. She’d watched him pull up outside his trailer around three and she hadn’t heard from him since. She’d thought the idiot would at least give her a heads up on how things had gone with Steve, but it appeared she had to do everything for herself. 

At 10 a.m. when there was still no sign of life from the Munson’s trailer, save for Eddie’s uncle pulling in around six, Max stalked over and wrapped her knuckles against Eddie’s bedroom window. After a moment a mop of curly brown hair popped into view. 

“Wha?” The boy grumbled, still half asleep. 

“How did things go last night?” Max asked, taking the tone of a scolding mother, talking to a very small, very dumb child. 

“Good,” Eddie confided a goofy grin crossing his face. It confirmed Max’s suspicions. Everyone else, save her, was useless. 

“Well, where the hell was he? Did you talk to him? Did he seem weird? Is he okay?” Max rattled off a list of rapid-fire questions only to be hushed by Eddie. 

“He’s sleeping, Red. Keep the volume down.” 

Max opened her mouth to ask what the hell Eddie was talking about when she caught a familiar glimpse of styled, sandy hair peeking out from beneath the sheets. Max, unlike most people, wasn’t an idiot. She’d grown up in California, she knew the way the world worked. She didn’t need anyone to spell it out for her. 

“Gross,” She grumbled. Not because Steve and Eddie were both men but because Steve was like her older brother and Eddie was- she didn’t want to think about it. 

Max let out an elongated sigh, squared her shoulders and spoke. 

“You like scary movies, right Munson?” He seemed like the type. 

Eddie nodded. 

“Michael Myers hasn’t got a thing on Max Mayfield. You do anything stupid with Steve and I’ll show you how I got the nickname Mad Max.” 

Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded. It was all for show, but someone had to say it. Someone should always be in Steve’s corner. Max had the feeling Steve wasn’t used to people looking out for him. She knew the feeling.

“Sir yes sir,” He breathed, faking a salute. Max rolled her eyes. 

She had a feeling she was going to regret bringing Steve and Eddie together but when hours later, Steve showed up at her house with a Tupperware container full of spaghetti and a secret smile on his lips, she had to admit, for once she might be wrong. 

[coyotelip]

starchaser (+ onesided moonwater) microfic: salt, hypnotized || MCD || @into-the-jeggyverse @taylorswiftmicrofic || wc: 687

Every Saturday, the same man comes to the restaurant. 

They are a fairly prestigious restaurant, so regular customers are not uncommon, but this man is particularly eye-catching. He is always dressed in a perfectly tailored suit over a black shirt. In fact, all of his clothes are black, which suits his pale skin and black hair. He books a table for the same time, arrives exactly 5 minutes earlier, orders the same dish with the same wine. 

He is always alone.

This sets him apart from others, because such prestigious places are used for dates or meetings with partners to impress. However, it seems that the man has no one to impress. He is sitting at a far table under a painting of a forest landscape, eating his meal slowly and with manners and watching the candles on the table. 

He seems to be hypnotized, sometimes he can take a sip of wine and roll it around in his mouth, watching the flame at the end of a long candle for a couple of minutes. 

Remus is equally hypnotized by these moments, but it's not the candle, it's this man, his slow and graceful movements. And although he is dressed in black, he acts on Remus like a flame on a moth. He wants to get closer, wants to hear his voice and smell his cologne. 

However, the man's table is not assigned to him, and Remus does not even get the opportunity to ask if he needs some water or the bill, or to say bon appetit or good evening. 

So he stays in the corner, hypnotized by the unattainable flame, running through hundreds of questions in his head and wondering why. 

◇◇◇

Every Saturday, Regulus comes to their place. He comes to their restaurant, at their time, sits at their table, orders their favorite dish, and spends exactly the same amount of time as it took James on their first date to charm Regulus completely. Thirty-three minutes.

He recalls how the wine tasted the sweetest on those evenings together, how everything around them disappeared for him, and they existed in their own bubble, sharing events in their lives, discussing colleagues and friends. They met their anniversaries, birthdays, and celebrated promotions at work here.

James proposed to him here. At this table, with a bottle of this wine, five years ago. He hid the ring in the salt and made Regulus laugh with this incredible performance.

“Oh, I think the salad is under-salted today... Mm, something is wrong with this saltine, could you please take a look, dear?”

“Oh my god, it's probably just empty, call the waiter and they'll replace it”

“I don't want to bother them with something so stupid, but look, for me?” James' big eyes does wonders on Regulus, so he couldn't refuse and took the salt in his hands, unscrewing the lid.

Only to find a silver engagement ring with an emerald inside instead of salt.

Four years ago, they got married.

Three years ago, they bought a house on the outskirts of town because James wanted Regulus to have a studio at home.

Two years ago, their house burned down with everything inside. With James inside.

And the most painful thing was that Regulus was left with nothing, not a single thing, because the house had everything. He didn't care about the documents or his studio, all of which could be repaired with money. However, he did care about the things they had earned together, about their photos and books with notes, about gifts from his husband, about his things. He cared about James's body, which remained there, right in front of the door, because he hadn't managed to get out before he lost consciousness.

Regulus was left with only memories, and he decided to drown himself in them, finding no other way out.

And every Saturday he came to their restaurant, sat down at their table and ordered their meal, hypnotized by the candle in front of him, begging for the little flame to swallow him up and take him away with it, just as it had once taken James away from him.

[allfryam]

feeder for president 3: Mike’s story part 2

Mike and Hayden had decided to do their all-day dining hall excursion every Friday. Neither of them had classes and it was really the only time they got to talk to each other. Mike was really liking that part in particular. Spending all that time with Hayden had made Mike realize he started developing a little crush. Hayden had come out as gay in junior year of high school, but Mike had never told anyone he was into guys. He would catch himself staring at attractive guys in his class, and always get really nervous around them.

Mike’s weight was continually increasing by the time he arrived home for thanksgiving. He had gained almost 20 pounds since he turned 18, and most of it was in his gut. His abs were completely gone, replaced by a protruding round belly. In tighter shirts, you could even see his deepening belly button crater.

a few years ago, if a kid had come home from college having gained weight, he would be teased by his family and friends and be told to lay off the snacks or something. But with the new law, all that changed. Not a word was said to Mike about his growing belly. He wasn’t even the only one that had shown up rounder than last year. His cousin Chad was a few months older than him and he had already passed the 25 pound threshold. His tight button up looked like it was about to burst at the seems trying to hold back his gut. Mike’s dad had always had a bit of the ex-jock look, but now, his gut was huge and round. He had gone from former athlete to southern truck driver that eats at greasy diners for every meal.

Mike’s family had prepared a massive spread of food for thanksgiving, and Mike was ecstatic. He loaded his plate high with turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, Mac and cheese, potato salad, and ham. He and the rest of his family dug in, tearing through the feast. Mike excused himself to loosen his belt after he had finished his first plate. Chad was on his second plate when a loud “POP!” Came from his side of the table. The straining buttons on his shirt had finally given up and released Chad's bloated stomach. He hardly seemed to care as he continued to gorge himself. After his third plate, Mike had to tap out. He leaned back in his chair and his shirt rode up a bit to reveal Mike’s swollen belly. Mike had worn a stretchy polo shirt so he wouldn’t suffer the same fate as Chad. As the rest of his family finished up, rubbing their bellies to help with the pain of being full, Mike’s dad called, “who wants dessert?” After a few groans, the family eventually made their way back into the kitchen to load up their plates once more. Pies, cakes, cookies, lemon bars, brownies, ice cream. They dug in and enjoyed every last bite. The crumbs and small pieces that had been falling off of Chad’s fork had been landing on the crest of his round belly throughout dinner. “Saving some for later Chad?” Mike chuckled. Chad looked down and seemed surprised, as if he had no idea he was dropping food onto himself. He swiftly grabbed his fork and scooped it back into his mouth.

Mike arrived back on campus bigger than ever. He stood in his underwear admiring his new gut in the mirror. He grabbed it with both hands and shook it gently. It jiggled and grumbled with hunger. Mike’s appetite had been increasing rapidly over the last few months. He had always been able to eat a decent amount of food, but now his appetite seemed limitless. He could spend the entire day stuffing his face and never feel full. Apparently Hayden was having the same problem. He had come back from Thanksgiving break looking huge. His round gut was the first thing to enter a room, stating its presence with each step Hayden took. Even his biggest hoodies started to look tight. Mike blushed just thinking about him.

one day, after coming back from a long day of classes, Hayden ran into the dorm looking worried. “What’s wrong dude?” Mike asked. “I’ve been stressed with exams all day and I’ve hardly eaten anything!” Hayden cried. The boys rushed down to the dining hall and brought a bunch of food back to their room. Hayden sat down on the bed and ripped off his tight shirt and unbuttoned his pants. “Okay, start feeding me. It’ll be faster that way.” Hayden said. Mike blushed but quickly agreed and began stuffing Hayden’s mouth full of pizza. He just leaned back with his mouth wide open, waiting for more food. Hayden kept groaning as his mouth was constantly chewing the mountain of food. Mike didn’t hesitate to keep shoving more food in. He knew Hayden could handle it. After the feeding, Hayden fell backwards on to his bed and let out a huge burp. “Thanks dude. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” Hayden said between breaths. Mike’s eyes grew wide. He hesitated for a second but then he quickly moved in and kissed Hayden passionately. Hayden was shocked at first but didn’t pull away. The two boys continued to kiss and Hayden started taking off mikes clothes. The boys fucked passionately and their full bellies jiggled with each thrust.

the boys began dating and have been stuffing each other for months now. Mike has made it his personal mission to catch up to Hayden. It’s been slow but he’s starting to plump up way faster than him. When the end of freshman year arrived, Hayden had gained 45 pounds in his first year under the new law. The $2000 check he got in the mail made him want to gain even more next year. Mikes birthday was only a week away and he was determined to beat Hayden. He was up 36 pounds since he turned 18. 9 pounds in 7 days shouldn’t be that hard. Right?

Mike awoke like any other day, rolling groggily out of bed, slowly trudging into the kitchen still in his underwear. He pulled out a box of fruit loops and a large mixing bowl. He grabbed the gallon of milk from the fridge and his mom’s big ladle. He ate the entire box of cereal for breakfast. But he wasn’t finished yet. While he was scooping mouthfuls of sugary cereal into his mouth, his dad was making pancakes. After finishing the cereal and chugging the leftover milk in the bowl, Mike made a plate of his dad’s pancakes. He stacked them high and smothered them with syrup. They looked like something strait out of a cartoon. He practically inhaled the pancakes before he could even taste them. On his way to work, he grabbed a dozen donuts to finish off his breakfast. He ate them in his car before walking into work. Boston cream, chocolate sprinkled, strawberry, glazed, blueberry, jelly filled. He couldn’t get enough. At work, he knew he would get hungry again before lunch, so he packed himself some brunch. A triple decker pb and j and a family sized bag of Doritos should do the trick. For lunch, Mike met up with Hayden at their favorite diner down the street: patsy’s. Mike ordered the triple smashburger, two slices of pepperoni pizza, a plate of chicken tenders, nachos, and a slice of each of their famous pies. He also grabbed a couple extra slices of pie in case he got hungry again before dinner. He did. For dinner, he opted for the all you can eat buffet downtown. He spent a few hours eating like it was his last day on earth, shoving food down his throat as frantically as possible, then leaning back and burping to make room for more. Just before he went to bed, he chugged one of his homemade weight gain shakes. He heard eating a lot of calories before bedtime was the best way to store extra weight, so he always tried to drink his weight gain shake when he started feeling tired. This cycle continued throughout the week until it was time for the weigh in. Mike chugged one of his shakes and nervously stepped onto the scale. Mike’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the number. He was up 52 pounds. He gained 16 pounds in 7 days. He immediately called Hayden to brag.

final body update:

Mike turned 18 felling great. He was a lean 157 pounds, and it was all muscle. His sharp jawline only made hotter by his defined abs and tight ass. His clothes are loose on his small frame, and he has to wear a belt to hold up his pants. But on his 19th birthday, Mike had weighed in at a hearty 209 pounds. His perfect abs were a thing of the past, replaced by his ever expanding belly. It was round and firm, just like his father’s. His tight ass had ballooned into two pudgy balls that jiggled with each step. His sharp jawline grew into a nice double chin, filling out his cheeks and his neck. His once loose clothes have become tight, especially in the stomach area. All shirts with buttons have either been ripped open or the buttons look like they could fly off and his someone. He didn’t need to wear a belt for a while due to his expanding waistline, but as he continued to grow, most pants with buttons had become impossible to put on.

the end.

I won’t continue this story right now, but if there’s enough interest, maybe we can check up on these two boys in the future. Leave theories on the future of their relationship in the comments!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

I'm Happy Just to Have You

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, protective dad, some self-deprecating talk

Just like every summer was spent running around Chelsea’s pre-season training, every night before the first match of the season was spent having dinner with the team. Your mother loved hosting the team in your backyard, with big bowls of pasta and salad on the tables put together to make one long table, and you always loved getting to sit among them. As a child, you’d draw pictures that you handed out to bemused players; as a teenager, you’d steal sips of beer and bat your eyes at the rookie athletes. Now, as an adult, you’d sit far too close to Roy Kent and monopolize his attention all night with jokes and sly attempts at flirting.

This year would be more of the same. After all, who were you to break tradition?

Of course, this year your dad raised an eyebrow at the little summer dress you wore, which you did your best to ignore as you helped your mother set the table, having skipped training to help her prepare the outrageously big meal. As the players started to arrive and help themselves to drinks, you chatted happily with them, pushing yourself to be even more friendly than usual, in hopes of throwing your dad off by making it seem like you were being extra affable with everyone, not just Roy Kent.

When the sound of two quick rings wafted outside from the front door, you had to stop yourself from sprinting inside. “I’ve got it!” you hollered to your mum before she could move towards the house. Surely, anybody could be at the door, right? It wasn’t as if Roy Kent had arranged some sort of doorbell 'signal' to ensure a few moments alone with you, right?

“Hey,” he hummed, leaning in the doorway, cool as ever. He glanced over his shoulder before pulling you in for a brief, heated kiss. You probably could’ve stayed there for hours, in his arms, his lips pressed to yours, if you weren’t in the doorway. His cool expression was replaced with a dopey grin when he let you go. “Brought you something.”

Curiosity crossed your face. “A gift? For me?” you teased.

With an eyeroll, he handed you a book. “Since we keep telling your dad we’re exchanging books,” he explained, “we should make sure we’re, y’know, exchanging books.”

You smiled and held the book close to your chest. “Clever, Kent.” After making sure you were still alone, you leaned close. “Kinda missed you today,” you admitted in a whisper.

“Missed you too, princess.” A quick kiss found your forehead. “Let’s go out tonight. After dinner. Grab a drink or something.”

Fuck, that sounded great. “I think my dad’ll think something’s up if I take the car so late,” you grumbled, sticking out your lower lip.

Roy chuckled softly at your bratty pout, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Sneak out, then.” When he saw your sour expression, he narrowed his eyes at you tauntingly. “Come on, Miss ‘I used to used to climb this tree all the time’. Put your money where your pretty mouth is.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Maybe I will.” You smirked at him. “But you’re going to be pretty damn embarrassed seeing me climb that thing with ease after you could barely clamber up it.”

He let out a small, surprised laugh and looked ready to say something, some sassy retort no doubt, when his eyes flickered somewhere behind you. “Coach,” he greeted, straightening up.

“Kent.” Your dad’s gaze bounced between the two of you. “We’re all outside if you care to join us.” Despite his polite words, you knew this wasn’t a suggestion for the midfielder; it was a warning.

“Right, right.” Roy cleared his throat and turned back to you. “Like I said, no rush getting it back to me.” He gestured to the book in your hands. “But let me know what you think. I liked it.” With a curt nod to your dad, he briskly walked through the house, making his way to the backyard.

Once the sound of the closing backdoor reached you, your dad turned his attention to you, eyebrows raised. “Another book club meeting?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, he told me about this one the other day, said I might like it.”

Your dad gently took the book from your hands, scanning the cover carefully. His brows furrowed. “Didn’t you already read this?”

Lots of girls would kill to have such an attentive dad. Normally, it made you feel pretty damn loved. Today, however, it was a freaking curse. “I don’t think so,” you said. Lied, actually. “If I did, I guess it wasn’t memorable.”

“Hmmph.” He smoothed down your hair, the way he used to when you were a little girl. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Once you stepped into your backyard, your dad was distracted by a couple of the guys who called him over to them. You busied yourself with setting things on the table, willing yourself to not to look at Roy, no matter how badly you wanted to lose yourself in those brown eyes and little smirks, because that would only tempt you to grab him and-

“Need some help, gorgeous?”

It was like your entire body melted as you sensed him behind you, his hand ghosting over your back for a fraction of a second. You wanted nothing more than to grab him and drag him up to your bedroom. Hell, that cologne he was wearing tempted you to turn and kiss him right then and there. Fucking Roy, he was going to get you in so much trouble. And dammit, he was so worth it.

After steeling yourself, you turned to glance up at him, offering what you hoped was just a friendly smile. “Sure, Kent.” You handed him a handful of forks, shivering when his fingertips slyly brushed against yours.

Roy offered you a small wink and turned to his task. Your eyes kept meeting over the table, eyes full of affection and teasing and about a million other things. Eyes that, if anyone noticed, would easily give away the heat between the two of you. You did your best to remind yourself over and over that your parents were here, that your dad’s hawklike gaze was definitely going to be working overtime. But still, you couldn’t resist taking the spot next to Roy as everyone settled in for dinner.

Normally, you set a respectable distance between yourself and the dreamy midfielder. Close enough that you could flirt, far enough that you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself. Tonight, however, you couldn’t resist scooching your chair a smidge closer, just close enough to be able to knock your knee against his and leave it there. You could see his ears tint red at the contact as his eyes zeroed in on the bowl of pasta in front of him, trying- and not quite succeeding- to hide his smile.

Deciding that Roy needed something of a break from you, you turned to your right to chat with Jules, a striker you liked very much. He was about Roy’s age, incredibly friendly and affable, and was the only young player your dad didn’t seem to mind you chatting with; probably because he thought of Jules as “safe” compared to the other players. Jules had married his childhood sweetheart, a lovely girl named Katie, who worked at a publisher and you considered a friend. She sometimes sat near you at matches, or even drove with you to away games a few times. They were an adorable couple, always smiling at each other and whispering what you assumed were sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Hopefully, chatting with the very taken striker would placate your dad into ignoring you for the rest of the night, so you could flirt with his star midfielder in peace.

Sure enough, at the other end of the table your dad engaged in spirited conversation with the other coaches, your mother was cooing over the baby photos an older goalkeeper was showing off, and your brother seemed very content listening to some of the guys recount a recent wild night out that had definitely made its way into the paper.

As you laughed at some story Jules shared about Katie’s mother’s recent visit, you felt fingers gently brush against your thigh; the familiar touch felt warm and affectionate. Out of the corner of your eye, you allowed yourself to glance at Roy, who was fighting a smile while debating a teammate about some recent action movie they apparently felt quite strongly about. He looked good like this; relaxed. Roy Kent almost never looked relaxed. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine if this was what he’d be like at one of those family dinners, smiling and rolling his eyes in between bites. When he wanted to be, he could be so charming. You wondered if he’d ever feel strongly enough about you to be charming with your mum and dad. And if they’d love you enough to give him a real chance.

“Alright there?”

The sound of Jules speaking had you snapping out of your daydream. “Hmm? Yeah, all good.” You offered him your most casual smile.

His gaze flickered between you and Roy for a moment. “How’s school?” he asked simply as he picked up his drink. “Any fellas hanging around? You know they’ve got to go through us first,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, pretending your face wasn’t on fire. “No fellas,” you insisted, doing your best ignore Roy’s fingers again flittering across your thigh.

“Hmm.” Jules narrowed his eyes. “Interesting.”

Late into the night, after everyone’d gone home, you retreated to your room with a wave to your parents. Once you heard their bedroom door shut with finality, you slipped on a sweatshirt and called Roy.

“You ready?” was his simple answer when he picked up.

“Yeah.”

In a flash, Roy appeared below your window, smirking up at you expectantly. Once you made sure your door was locked and turned off your lights, you opened the window, unable to hide the joy on your face as you took in the sight of Roy and his black leather jacket in the moonlight.

“Careful,” he hissed up, loud enough for only you to hear.

You simply rolled your eyes and shimmied out of the window. It was old hat, climbing down that big tree. Your hands and feet remembered exactly where to go, as if you were still sixteen and wild. When you glanced down, you saw Roy, arms open, as if he were ready to catch you at any moment, eyes wide and almost… worried. Fuck, it melted your heart.

When your feet firmly hit the ground, Roy raised his eyebrows at you, admiration all over his face. “Fuck,” he whispered. He took your hand. “Are you part squirrel or some shit, princess?”

A giggle slipped past your lips as you kissed his cheek. “You going to spend all night talking about climbing trees, or are you buying me a drink?”

Hand in hand, the two of you stepped lightly until you’d slipped through the garden gate. Once out of sight of your house, the two of you jogged down the street to his car, shy chuckles escaping every time you looked at each other. Once you reached his vehicle, Roy pressed your back against the car and gave you a proper kiss, allowing you to taste the chocolate cake everyone had eaten after dinner. Some part of you wanted to just stay like this, leaning on his car and tangling your tongue with his.

But there was no way you were going to give up the opportunity to let Roy Kent buy you a drink.

The bar he took you to was not the kind of place one might expect a Premier League star to hang out. It was small, dark, dingy, a little dirty. Roy eyed you carefully as he placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you to a booth, where he left you with a kiss to the top of your head. He returned with a pair of pints and his mouth in a straight line.

“This alright?” he asked as he slid in next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I know it’s not that nice-”

“We won’t get caught here.” You took a sip of your beer. “Right?”

Roy nodded emphatically. “Exactly.” He kissed your temple. “Brilliant thing,” he teased.

Without thinking, you let out a little scoff. “Brilliant,” you repeated. “Tell that to my professors, yeah?”

A frown immediately covered Roy’s perfect face. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shit. This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your time with Roy Kent. So far, your romance with him was something of a fantasy, one filled with longing glances exchanged on the pitch, stolen kisses, late nights in his bed. Sure, the two of you had shared childhood stories, and chatted nonchalantly about his job, but you’d been careful not to delve too much into your life. Sharing like that felt too real, too intimate, too much like something you’d do with a boyfriend, someone who’d stick around for a while, who’d still be there once the summer ended.

And that couldn’t be Roy- could it?

But fuck, he was leaning forward on his elbow and looking you in the eye with that intense gaze, the gaze that made you want to tell him every single one of your secrets, dreams, all the silly little details of your silly little life.

“I wrote a story last term,” you mumbled, slouching into his embrace. “I thought it wasn’t half bad. Couple of my mates read it, had lovely things to say. Turned it in, and my professor ripped it to shreds. Talked about it in front of the whole class, too.” You took a long drink of your beer, your cheeks burning at the memory. “Normally, I wouldn’t care too much, it was one professor’s opinion, but…” You shrugged. “I actually really fucking liked that story. Came across it earlier today, guess it's still on my mind.”

Roy studied you for a moment, his face hard, as if he were staring down an opponent on the pitch. “Fuck ’em,” he finally grunted.

Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth tugged upwards. “Very Roy Kent answer,” you teased.

He shook his head earnestly, not ready to joke yet. “No, for real,” he insisted. “You liked your story, right?”

“Well, yeah-”

“And you said your mates liked it too, right? Said nice shit about it?”

You looked at your drink, unable to stay focused for too long on his fiery gaze. “I guess,” you mumbled.

He tightened his grip on your shoulder, tugging you closer until his nose brushed against yours. “Then who gives a flying fuck what one professor thinks? Do you and I like every book we read?” You shook your head. “But that doesn’t mean someone out there doesn’t like it, right?” He pressed a kiss to your lips, tender and gentle, just like his words. “Not every story is for every person. But that doesn’t mean it’s automatically shit. Alright?”

Whether it was his words or his kiss, something about Roy had you melting into his embrace. “Alright,” you whispered.

Satisfied that you were no longer playing self-deprecating, Roy leaned back, although he kept you close. “However,” he continued, a teasing lilt to his voice now, “I’ve never actually read your writing. So, for all I know, you actually are shit.” He waggled his eyebrows at you. “Guess you’ll have to let me read your work sometime. Or else I’ll assume you write as well as you play football.”

“Maybe I’ll let you read something,” you said, biting back a grin. “Or maybe you’ll let me write about you sometime, Kent.”

Something resembling a blush settled on his face as he reached out and held your chin gently. His eyes flickered to your mouth briefly before settling back on your eyes. “Only if you promise to write a happy ending, princess.”

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@itswhateveripromise@slaymybreathaway@darkmagazineblaze@larascorneroftheworld@infinetlyforgotten@caught-the-feels@rae4725@sisinever@cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782@dd122004dd@veryprairieberry@spacecluster @dark-academia-slut

[beyondspaceandstars]

Date Night

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: slight frustration but mainly fluff Summary: Nothing seemed to go right with your date night plans... A/N: This is an older one shot (from 2020, omg) that I published on ao3 but never on here! (At least, I hope I didn't! I can't find it if I did, haha) so I edited it a bit and decided to release it into the wild here. it's really short and simple but I think it's sweet :)

You wanted one nice night in with your fiancé. Just one. A simple dinner with a fresh, home-cooked meal, couple glasses of wine, some shitty romantic comedy, all follow by bedtime at 10 p.m. It was all you wanted. It should've been so simple.

But your dream was crumbling to pieces as the minutes, the seconds, went on. 

It started with Bucky calling to say he was running a bit late and wouldn’t be home until later than expected. You wanted to scream and remind him that you’d had this date night planned for weeks but you, luckily, kept your cool and just asked him to come home safely. This was just one little fluke, you could manage that.

So, you started the meal later than you had originally planned. You just really wanted everything to be ready and on the table for when Bucky got home. He deserved that and it should be manageable, right? You could still have a nice dinner together but the movie might have to be skipped.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until you got to cooking the main entree: steak. You hadn’t always been the best at cooking much above pasta but hours of watching cooking shows and a couple of YouTube videos gave you just a little bit of confidence... But confidence doesn't always equal skill and next thing you knew, the steaks were burnt. Completely charred and horrendously burnt. Smoke filled the kitchen and the smell was overwhelming. Both pieces of meat were well past saving and it made you wanna rip out your hair. You didn’t even know how it got to this point. The mashed potatoes needed your attention for one second and it all went to hell. 

The only thing you could successfully salvage were the side dishes which consisted of a salad and mashed potatoes. But even those had turned out slightly wrong. Your salad was somehow bitter and the mashed potatoes were runny. Although, yes, they were both edible… But it just wasn’t right. 

Nothing was right.

You groaned as you tried fanning out the smoke from the kitchen, praying the smoke alarm wouldn’t go off. It was literally the last thing you needed on top of how everything else was going tonight. 

You threw the burnt steaks into the trash and filled the greasy, darkened pan with hot water for it to soak in the sink. Scrubbing that was just gonna be the perfect ending, you thought as you ran your hands down your face in frustration. 

You scourged through your pantry, praying you had something to replace the meal as quick as possible when you heard the front door open and shut. You stood at the pantry, staring angrily at your dry goods. You felt a presence creep up behind you and your eyes began to water. You didn’t want to turn around.

"Doll?" Bucky muttered, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Hi, honey," You replied, trying to fight back any tears. "How was the mission?"

"Um, fine." He said. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You sighed and closed the pantry door. You turned to face him, folding your arms around yourself in the process, trying to find some comfort. You couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed. A night you had been looking forward to seemed completely ridiculous now. You bit your lip, still trying to fight back the tears as best as you could but it was turning out to be useless.

Bucky’s eyes filled with concern when he saw the state you were in. He reached out and caressed your cheek. The metal of his hand contrasted pleasantly with your warmth. It was a familiar comfort you leaned into. He fully welcomed you in and wrapped his arms firmly around your shoulders. You buried your face into his chest as you wept.

Bucky was silent as you let your emotions finally run through you. He learned that was the best way for you to eventually calm down so he never seemed to mind just holding you when you were upset — so long as it made you feel better.

When you seemed to be slightly settling down, he broke the silence. "Can you tell me what’s wrong?"

You pulled yourself out of his grasp and let your eyes meet his. "I ruined date night."

Your fiancé’s expression morphed into shock. Without saying anything, you knew he completely forgot about the date night. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset.

"Date night… Oh, crap, I..."

"Don’t even worry about it," You sighed and walked over to sit at the kitchen island. The area still reeked of burnt meat which just made you wish you were in bed and finished with the day. 

"No, honey, I didn’t mean to I just got caught up-," Bucky fumbled over his words as he raced to follow you. 

"Seriously, can we forget about it?" You pleaded as tears threatened to come back. "I ruined it all anyways."

Bucky sighed. "What do you mean?"

You sniffled as you averted your eyes to the counter top. You traced the marble pattern as you spoke, "I burnt the steaks. Like completely black, charcoal, killed-the-cow-again burnt. Then the mashed potatoes were too creamy and the salad turned out bitter, however the hell that can happen-,"

"Doll…" Bucky cut you off when he saw you begin to ramble. You looked up at him, actually thankful that he cut you off this one time. You could take a breath.

"I just wanted to make a nice meal for you. Like a real meal. Meat, potatoes, the whole nine-yards," you explained. "But I couldn’t do it. I couldn't do something so simple. Are you sure you wanna marry me?"

He let out a low laugh at your question. "Honey, I’d still wanna marry you even if the only thing you could make was cereal."

You sniffled but managed a smile, feeling a bit better at his stance on the situation. He didn't appear to be upset and you were so grateful for that.

"Look," Bucky began, "how about we reschedule date night? I’ll mark it on every calendar and we’ll cook together, okay? Does that sound better? It'll be a real date."

Your heart warmed at the suggestion. You reached out and took his hands in yours. He gladly accepted the gesture as his eyes wandered over you, looking for some sign of approval. 

"That sounds perfect," you replied, your voice getting caught in your throat. Tears were making a comeback but this time, it was happy crying. Your whole body warmed with love for your fiancé and you couldn’t get enough.

[migotte]

Have you ever tried the korean cucumber salad? A few days ago I've made it for the first time and I'm currently OBSESSED with it ^^ Today I wanted to at least try to make a proper meal out of it and personally I think it came out great! Here's the recipe:

100g of konjac noodles - 9kcal

127g of cucumber - 18kcal

0.5tsp of soy sauce - 2kcal

1tsp of Gochujang paste - 20kcal

2 cloves of garlic (minced) - 15kcal

0.5tsp of chili pepper powder - 0kcal

0.5tsp of vinegar - 0kcal

(TOTAL: 64 calories!!)

Cut up your cucumber, place it into a bowl, rub it with salt and put in the fridge for 30-60minutes. Then get the cucumber out of the fridge and rince it with water at least 3 times. In a seperate bowl, mix your soy sauce, garlic, chili, Gochujang, vinegar and a little bit of water(the original recipe asked for chili/sesame oil but I replaced it with water) in order to make the sauce. Prepare the noodles according to the package and add it to the cucumber, then pour in your sauce and mix well. Enjoy!!

(Just a reminder that you DO deserve to eat, you NEED to eat to survive and function properly, you are beautiful just the way you are and you don't need to change anything about you and your body <3 I know how dangerous eating disorders are and how they can ruin your body. I know how hard recovery can be, so please don't force yourself and take it one step at a time. Eating disorders are NOTHING to brag about and I'm not romantizing them in any way. I'm just posting simple recipes while learning how to cook. Please stay safe <333)

[gothhabiba]

As the waves of Jewish immigration intensified and the desire (overt or covert) to become a replacement to the Arab-Palestinian people increased, the Zionist leadership advocated a policy of separation on all social, political and economic fronts. One of the most visible manifestations of this separation was the Zionist campaign for the purchasing of Jewish only goods, known in Hebrew as Totzeret Ha’aretz—literally “the produce of the land.” This resulted in a clear differentiation between the permeation of Arab-Palestinian culture into Jewish life and the barriers placed on social, economic and political integration and interaction. In the words of Zerubavel, “politically, the Zionists ignored the Arabs, but culturally, they romanticized and tried to imitate them.”

For example, Dafna Hirsch, in her biographic study of hummus, describes how it was initially considered part of the local Arab-Palestinian food culture and repertoire in the 1930s, worthy of adoption due to its nutritious value. However, in the 1950s, through the process of industrialisation, mass production and marketing, it was appropriated and nationalised, and its Arab origins were supressed. The Arab-Palestinian origins of the product were omitted and marginalized and its connection to Jewish and Jewish-Israeli traditions, especially to the Mizrahi-Jewish Diaspora, emphasized. For Jewish-Israelis, hummus became a national dish, the eating of which was part-and-parcel of daily life, either purchased from Jewish-Israeli food companies, such as Telma, or consumed at home or at Mizrahi-Jewish restaurants.

The hummus example in this regard is not unique; I will demonstrate these processes by deconstructing one of Israel’s most well known dishes, the Israeli salad. There might not be a more popular dish in Israel than the Israeli salad, sometimes also referred to as Salad Katsuts (chopped salad). The salad is based on chopped vegetables (normally tomatoes, cucumbers and onions) and fresh herbs (mostly parsley but sometimes also mint) and dressed with olive oil and lemon juice. A recent book, Fresh Flavours from Israel, by Jewish-Israelii food writer Janna Gur, states that “Israelis must have their salad at least once a day.” It is an accompaniment to every meal, whether eaten at home or outside. In fact, you would be hard pressed to have a meal anywhere in Israel without it. No Israeli cookbook from the 1960s onwards is truly complete without providing a recipe for it. This is true with regards to those written for Jewish-Israeli and foreign audiences. To the unsuspecting viewer, the Israeli salad is the epitome of Israeli food culture: it is fresh, simple, healthy and [symbolizes] the strong relationship the nation has with its agricultural produce. The salad, therefore, serves as both an internal and an external banal symbol of Jewish-Israeli identity.

What are the origins of the Israeli salad? Reading through literary accounts of growing up in Israel, the salad became a staple food product in the Kibbutzim canteens, from there it moved to the Israeli army’s mess halls and to Israeli homes. The fact that the salad is mentioned mostly as a chopped vegetable salad by Israeli authors describing living in Israel in the 1930s and 1940s demonstrates that it did not arrive with the wave of Jewish immigrants from North Africa and the Arab world after the state was established in 1948. It was also not prevalent in the diet of Central and Eastern European Jewish communities, from where most immigrants came. On the other hand, there are a number of accounts, mostly by travel writers, such as Masterman and Grant in the early-1900s and that of the Mary Eliza Rogers as far back as 1865, that describe the preparation and consumption of a chopped vegetable salad in Palestine. Rogers describes the salad as accompanying most meals served by the upper and governing classes in Palestine, at the time part of the Ottoman Empire. In other words, it is either that early Zionist immigrants to Palestine independently invented the salad, or, as I argue hereafter, they imitated, adopted and later appropriated and nationalised an existing local custom.

– Ronald Ranta, “Re-Arabizing Israeli Food Culture.” Food, Culture & Society 18(4):611-627 (December 2015). DOI: 10.1080/15528014.2015.1088192

[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.

[murielsbottombitch]

guys !! guys !!

my mom paid me to clean in preparation for the 4th of july and now I have enough money to get a rollator!! it's happening !!!!!

my mom originally gave me $50 to clean the first story but right before I was done, she told me to give her the money back. I didn't question her and did, then she handed me $100 🥺😭

I think she either went to the bank while she was getting ice, thought I did a good job, or just noticed how much I was struggling and it was like a consolidation prize. or all of the above

I wouldn't have been struggling all that much but my day started pretty bad and the heat was legit killing me. had to put both my leg braces on, take consistent pauses to lean on the counter and I almost passed out at one point but I'm a trooper dammit !! you're paying me to do something and I'm doin it right!

cw: restrictive food intake, food, near vomiting, caps

also I asked her for meal replacement shakes while she was out so I'll at least be getting protein and vitamins while my appetite bullies me so I'm happy about that too

I may have cried a few hours before because I almost threw up while eating potato salad :(

it was GOOD potato salad. I LIKE potato salad. my body is a BULLY! A HIGHSCHOOL BULLY!

[daisy-mooon]

Kpop girl group "FIFTY FIFTY", known for the song "Cupid" (yes THAT Cupid), is making a comeback with three new members. Here is what you need to know:

Last image by me, other infographics by @/FightForFifi on Twitter.

Former Fifty Fifty Members' health issues:

Unofficial Translation of a Post the Former Members Made About Their Health Under the Company (via @/updatesfifi on Twitter)

Translated Doctors Notes

ATTRAKTS Lies In the Media:

ATTRAKT's Lies in the Media About Sacrifices For Fifty Fifty:

ATTRAKT Staff's Questionable Followings On Social Media:

ATTRAKT's Lying In Investor Meetings:

ATTRAKT's Financial Issues:

ATTRAKT's Lack of Professionalism In Statements:

ATTRAKT's Contradictory Statements:

ATTRAKT's impersonation of Fifty Fifty in Social Media posts:

Original Members Criminal Complaint against the CEO:

I do not have infographics for these notes, but here are other details about this horrific company (I have already talked about these on another blog)

For 12 out of 33 months, the company gave FIFTY FIFTY zero money to pay for food. For the months that ATTRAKT did provide FIFTY FIFTY with meals, they spent $41 a month.

It took Nutrionists and Health Experts to complain before ATTRAKT allowed Fifty Fifty to eat at a nearby salad shop, but they were only allowed to spend $8.21 a day.

ATTRAKT claims they spent around $750 a month on meals, but this includes the meals of multiple other trainees as well as photographers.

In training, the dorm had 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. One of these rooms were occupied by a manger. Up to TWELVE PEOPLE shared TWO rooms. There were only two bunk beds in each room and the other trainees had to sleep in the hallway or living room. The CEO lied about giving FIFTY FIFTY a dorm in an expensive part of Seoul.

There was CCTV all around the dorms and this CCTV was personally viewable in the CEO's office.

The diet prepared by the agency only consisted of chicken and butter coffee.

When the members parents brought them food, the food was thrown out and the members were insulted.

Translated quote from a health trainer in 2021: "Lack of protein and vegetables. Please provide breakfast. Insufficient supply of nutrients, essential nutrients must be consumed. Konjac jelly should be used as a snack, not as a meal replacement."

FIFTY FIFTY WERE NOT PAID FOR ANY OF THEIR WORK, AND WERE FORCED TO PAY ATTRAKT $2.2 MILLION INSTEAD.

In conclusion: BOYCOTT FIFTY FIFTY. Yes, this includes Cupid. Yes, this includes songs with the new members that ATTRAKT are trying to replace the old with. Their company is treating them like shit.

BOYCOTT FIFTY FIFTY.