#the more people she uses it on 'actively' the worse her headache will be

[junebugtwin]

More Worm ocs that I've been spinning around in my head!

Meet Kinsley and Maggot! Just two hermit lesbians living off in the woods together #happy pride

(The top picture does not have Maggot in it so that people can look at the pretty background)

Kinsley is twenty seven and Maggot is twenty eight, and they've been together for five years. They met when Kinsley was on the run from a local parahuman gang that wanted her dead for allegedly funneling one of the Tinkers projects to other organizations for cash. (There was some suspicions that'd she was up to something for a while, but no one had ever acted on them because of her familial relations to two of the gangs members.)

Maggot wasn't running so much from the cops as she was from society as a whole- her powers gave her a form that was monstrous, and while she was capable of forcing herself back into her old body, it was not a very comfortable or long lasting solution.

The two ended up helping each other escape and survive, and eventually- (though not without a few slight bumps)- ended up in a loving relationship in a picturesque cabin where they wouldn't have to deal with other peoples nonsense (though Kinsley does like to visit various family members in other locations from time to time)

[schrodinger-swriter]

may i ask for F, J, O, and C with Charlie 🙏🙏

F, J, O, and C for Charlie

I think I may write this final request then take a break, I've been trying to get used to my new glasses and I've been getting headaches.. sigh.. I'm unsure if that's normal, I've only had the glasses for a day so far

CUDDLING:

Nearly every night when the two of you are sharing the same bed she initiates cuddling! Sometimes she will even do it when the two of you are sitting together in one of the common areas, though this is only if the two of you have already discussed things like PDA! She doesn't want you to feel forced or uncomfortable, she'd feel so bad if you felt the need to bury your discomfort for her.. I think she switches between big and small spoon!

Very warm, too.

FAMILY:

I enjoy the idea of her wanting to start her own family when she's a little older, maybe when she's more assured in her role in life and in her self. Not now, but definitely somewhere in the future. Given that she's hell born, you probably will be able to have kids if you're not a sinner. However, if you two need to adopt then you will! I can see her having a big family!

JEALOUSY:

She trusts you to not do anything that can jeopardize the relationship, so she doesn't feel much need to feel jealous. As long as you're not flirting with other people (which that in of itself is... bad.) she doesn't feel the need to 'keep you on a leash' or doubt you. Very trusting. On the off chance she does get jealous (and you're innocent), I think she would try to inject herself into activities and conversation with you and the other person. Will crack very early and explain why she's doing it.

ODDITY:

She sees the very best in people, and that can lead to her sometimes bringing the wrong kind of people around. Thankfully, as far as we've seen within the timeline of the show that hasn't really happened, with her trusting everyone within the main cast. However that doesn't mean that she hasn't invited horrible people into her life before. She's a people pleaser, too. Sometimes it leads to the previous issue becoming worse because she wants to accommodate everyone.

Hums and vocalizes a lot, she's a music lover after all! You can sometimes hear her humming segments of songs while working around the hotel... you may sometimes get a song stuck in your head... oops..

[polyhexian]

Okay, this one is stupid and ridiculous, but it's been in my head, so bear with me.

So like. Darius always assumes Jasper must've been pregnant, because Jasper has unfortunate phrasing and Darius knows Jasper would've been powerful enough to hide it. But other people may not come to that conclusion, because when it comes to Hunter's two presumed biological parents, one of them is an intensely physically active soldier, and the other one wears big flowy robes that obscure his figure and tends to sit around on a throne all day.

So imagine instead of grabbing Hunter and running, Jasper gets Darius involved, and after explaining the situation they take a day or two to come up with a plan. Hunter gets picked, two men and a baby disappear into the night, and now they're out of the way for the crack I'm about to unleash on the castle.

SOMEONE (political intern Kikimora?) overheard a bit of Jasper's explanation to Darius. Not all of it, but enough to get the idea that Jasper and Belos have had a child together. Then Jasper suddenly disappears, and there's no sign of the child either. Our eavesdropper realizes this is VERY RELEVANT INFORMATION, and thus sells it to the higher-up of their choice, AND THUS THE CASTLE GOSSIP MILL BEGINS TO CHURN.

Belos is nursing a headache because he just lost TWO Grimwalkers, god, when Lilith bursts into the throne room like MY LORD! WHEN JASPER BETRAYED US YOU DIDN'T MENTION HE STOLE YOUR SON AS WELL! is it a secret I can keep a secret I can be your confidant I swear--

Belos is just like. I'm sorry, what? He's not computing that Hunter = Jasper's son or that Hunter could = his own son, he doesn't see the Grimwalkers as people so it just doesn't click in his brain. He has no idea what she's talking about.

Lilith is like WE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW YOU WERE PREGNANT AND NOW WE'VE ALREADY LOST OUR PRINCE, THIS IS HORRIBLE, I didn't even know you were preparing an heir to the empire but it makes perfect sense, excellent idea sire.

Belos is just. What?

Meanwhile Hettie Cutburn is LIVID. The Emperor was PREGNANT?? And she DIDN'T KNOW?? The Emperor sometimes insisted on handling his own health affairs and she respected his privacy but THIS IS KIND OF A BIG DEAL. WHO was the healer who oversaw the Emperor's pregnancy and ARE THEY A POLITICAL RIVAL?? They're in her coven, aren't they? There's someone in her coven that the Emperor trusted more than her and when she FINDS that midwife she is going to DESTROY them. She's interrogating her coven officials left and right. Scalpels and accusations are flying. Someone points out maybe it was someone in the Emperor's Coven with healing abilities and Hettie starts thinking through the options and the other ways someone might manage a pregnancy, who else might have information, wait a second, pre-natal potions are very important, WAS IT YOU VITIMIR??

Vitimir is rightfully terrified and immediately throws Terra under the bus. HEY HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT HOW TERRA IS ALWAYS OFFERING THE EMPEROR VARIOUS TEAS?? MAYBE TERRA KNOWS SOMETHING PLEASE GET THAT SCALPEL AWAY FROM ME.

Terra and Hettie have a massive fight that ends with the entire healing wing covered in vines. Mason is yelling about structural damage (and also wondering why no one asked him to design a royal nursery).

Belos's headache is getting worse. The entire castle now 1) Knows that Jasper is gone, 2) Knows that Hunter exists and is also gone, 3) Thinks that Belos and Jasper were a thing (what), 4) Thinks that Belos was pregnant (WHAT), and 5) Thinks that Hunter is actually important to the empire and must be recovered at any cost instead of being, y'know, a useless waste of resources that was harvested too early and needs to be disposed of.

And he can't really come clean about none of this being true or about Hunter being a Grimwalker or anything, that's not something he can admit to, and like, it'd take a massive PR campaign to get his government officials to change their minds about this narrative, AND THE PR DEPARTMENT IS ALREADY DRAFTING UP PROPAGANDA ABOUT WILD WITCHES STEALING THEIR BABY PRINCE.

Belos doesn't understand why this is his life now. He's a good person. He's doing the Lord's will. He doesn't deserve this nonsense.

And if he thinks well, at least he can order a concentrated campaign to capture his wayward Grimwalkers…no, it won't work. Because he's spent decades building up a government that purposefully rewards backstabbing. It is easier to advance in the empire by tripping your enemies than it is by actually doing good work yourself. In Runaway, the only person who knows the full story is Will, everyone else is working off of various levels of need-to-know info about catching Jasper and Hunter. In this universe, every government official is aware of the situation, and every single one of them want to get the glory of rescuing their kidnapped prince while foiling their political rivals in doing the same. False intel is spread, scouts are bribed to fumble missions, Coven Heads get into arguments about whose underlings have jurisdiction where. The entire government just becomes useless because everyone is trying to one-up and backstab everyone else.

The whole kidnapped prince thing gets out to the general public and Odalia Blight is OUTRAGED that there WASN'T AN IMPERIAL BABY SHOWER FOR HER TO BE INVITED TO. What is the POINT of having a BABY if you aren't going to have a big baby shower to wine and dine at?? Also now she has to hurry and catch up on the plotting she didn't know she was behind on, there is apparently a PRINCE out there somewhere, and sure he's missing right now but eventually he won't be and do you know what princes need? ARRANGED MARRIAGES. And she has two adorable little prospects right here! She needs to figure out how to pitch this to the Emperor.

Belos is wondering if there's any way to make an eclipse happen sooner so he can just kill everyone already. Caleb Wittebane's hallucination ghost won't stop laughing at him like OH MY GOD ASSHOLE YOU MADE THE MOST INEFFICIENT GOVERNMENT SYSTEM EVER AND IT'S BITING YOU IN THE ASS.

Meanwhile Jasper and Darius are like. Hiding out at the Owl House watching this play out while eating popcorn and changing diapers. Eda thinks this is incredible and is happy to shelter them in exchange for all this free entertainment.

Raising Hunter is kinda tricky since everyone is trying to "rescue" him but every time Lilith shows up like SISTER I'M HERE TO RESCUE MY PRINCE AND MAKE YOU JOIN A COVEN you can bet at least one other Coven Head will also show up to sabotage her and Darius just sighs and tells Hunter "Looks like we can't play outside today" while Jasper takes potshots with his staff like "WOULD YOU PEOPLE GET OFF OUR LAWN?"

Maybe they stay with Eda forever, maybe they move into a cave like in eventually, idk. Darius and Jasper probably have concealment stones for bounty hunting, and they forage for potions ingredients that Eda sells for them, and Hunter grows up well aware that if anyone ever tells them they're trying to rescue him he needs to scram immediately.

When Luz finally shows up, she ends up spending a solid day and a half believing that her MAGICAL DESTINY is to restore Hunter to the throne so he can overthrow his evil father and bring balance to the Boiling Isles or something.

Like she slams the door open holding a propaganda poster she found in town and yells "HUNTER I THINK YOU'RE THE LOST PRINCE OF THE BOILING ISLES!"

And Hunter is just reading on Eda's couch like "That's a load of bullshit, Luz."

"No, LOOK!" she says, shoving the poster into his face. "It looks just like YOU! Could this be part of your mysterious backstory?!"

"My backstory is not mysterious."

"But you haven't told me anything about it!"

"You haven't asked."

"Because you're just a normal nerdy teenager! EXCEPT IT TURNS OUT YOU'RE A PRINCE!"

"Luz the entire Lost Prince narrative is the result of a stupid misunderstanding, I wasn't meant to be an heir and if I ever do get dragged back to the castle Belos will probably poison me within a week."

"Of course! He couldn't raise you as a dutiful brainwashed son, so now you're a rival! Raised by the lover who betrayed him…"

"Oh my Titan no, they weren't lovers, my dad grew me in a planter box like a carrot."

"Hunter, we need to reclaim your throne from your evil father!"

"If you ever call Belos my father again I will punch you."

Luz goes to Hexside and she's like "Hunter why don't YOU go to magic school??" and Hunter just gestures out the window where Hooty is trying to eat Adrian Vernworth and a dozen scouts like "This is why I'm homeschooled."

At some point when the Hexsquad come over Hunter meets Amity and she eyes him for a minute before she's like "Y'know one of my siblings has a marriage contract with you" and Hunter is like "ugh" and Darius yells from the kitchen "HE BETROTHED MY SON TO A BLIGHT???" and Luz is like "huh which one?" and Amity's like "the name isn't official, Mom and the emperor decided they could just wait and see which twin Prince Hunter prefers" and Hunter is just like "DON'T CALL ME THAT."

…It is entirely possible that Darius still calls Hunter "little prince" and in this AU it actually is a term of endearment even tho Hunter and Jasper give him tired deathglares every time.

Jruejdjfj little prince as a teasing little term of endearment, like when my dad would call me monkey butt...

THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNYYYYYY OH MY GOOOODDDDD

Hunter just chilling with hooty and the owl lady and his cool dads. And then there's Belos who's have the funniest problem imaginable. And jasper DOES still think that even if Belos is a child murdering fuck he probably also IS doing it all for the greater good of keeping the Titan from dying. So like. He's not going to actively attempt to overthrow him if he doesn't have to. And Belos probably knows that fighting jasper is probably not worth it if he isn't going to cause problems. Like if jasper is keeping all his insane secrets and terrible power to himself then it probably just ISNT worth it to make a huge effort to stop it-- especially when he already knows at some point in the future the owl lady will have a niece who will go into the past and meet him. And maybe that niece is Lilith's but shit, maybe it's Jasper's...? What if he has another kid? So he's a little hesitant to pull the big trigger. so they're just in this... Extremely stupid fucking stalemate.

The poor fucking twins oh my GOD

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I take some of our dogs to the pound, or make my mom buy them shock collars?

CW: Animal Abuse Mention, Suicide Mention

I (nb24) live in a house with my mom, dad, little brother and 4 yappy dogs. Living in this house takes a severe toll on my mental health, but I'm generally left to my own devices and it's a stable environment. I do not have the finances to move out, the economy is in shambles.

My mom had accumulated two small and very loud dogs over the years. This already was a strain. Neither of these dogs are trained. They are never taken outside, only use the pad about half of the time, and one actively attacks and bites visitors. (They are so small that this doesn't cause severe injury.) I am autistic and am easily overstimulated by loud noises. So was my format partner, and the dogs were one of the contributing factors as to why they moved out (though not the primary one.)

Things only got worse after that. About a year ago, my mom brought home two more dogs without anyone's consent. She had apparently discussed the prospect of bringing home one to my dad exclusively, but not two. She said that they were the last two at the breeder and she didn't want to separate them.

One of these dogs turned out to be very anxious and barks nearly constantly. I tried voicing my concerns, telling my mom that the dog would be a problem and she should give it away. She insisted that it would settle in, and if it didn't, she'd consider my words. The dog has only gotten worse, and she moved the goal posts, refusing to get rid of the dog because it's bonded now.

This has had debilitating consequences. There have been weeks where I would be having a full meltdown every day. My headaches have gotten worse and are definitely affecting my work. Everyone else in the family hates this dog, and my dad has often threatened to abuse or kill it. My mom has been offering unethical solutions like debarking, which I've refused, but still will not give any of the dogs away.

At this point, I've reached my limit. I cannot continue to live like this. The noise has been frequently driving me to thoughts of SH or suicide.

From what I see, I have three options.

1. I can either underhandedly steal the two most problematic dogs (the new one and the one that bites people) and take them to the pound, where they will... hopefully... be adopted eventually. My mom is going through a lot of severe unrelated stress rn, so I'm afraid of the wrath I might receive and the repercussions this will have on her mental health.

2. I finally cave to the immoral options. The one that seems the least bad would be remote-controlled shock collars. I've already tried the humane ones that vibrate and they do not work.

... or 3. I don't do anything to the detriment of my mental health. This is their home and their pets. Maybe I can find a place to stay during the day so I'm not trapped here.

So... WIBTA if I carry out option 1 or 2? If anyone has any advice I'd love to hear it. Please help.

What are these acronyms?

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Can I know more about the treatment Madrigals received from scientists?

Absolutely!

Warning: potentially sensitive topics below.

Julieta never went through much treatment - they would bring in injured/sick people and she would heal them. The scientists just swapped out what tools/equipment and ingredients she could have, to see if it changed anything. She got off the easiest - sometimes she would treat the injuries of the rest of the family.

Pepa was given a lot of hormonal enhancements to test the full capability of her gift. She was drugged so often, she usually ended up sick and would have to be healed by Julieta. They also put her through other forms of torture to elevate her emotions - at one point, she was impregnated and forced to carry the baby. The infant lived (they let her keep it, in the hopes it was powered) but the scientists forced Pepa to accidentally kill the baby in a severe hurricane a few months later.

Pepa, Isabela and Luisa were also made to test their gifts on each other - fighting against one another (one v. one). To see what would be the best in battle.

Bruno didn’t have much testing. He was just making visions - how far into the future could he see? How informative could his visions be? At worse, he might have gotten insomnia and some bad headaches, but it was never vital enough for him to see Julieta. As the years passed, he became more compliant with the staff and learnt some favouritism.

Beyond the above, Isabela didn’t have much testing either. She was expected to learn about nature and went through lessons, if you will. Her tests were more about the manipulation side of her gift. They would put her in difficult and/or deadly situations to see if she could use plant life to save herself. She also grew a greenhouse in the science lab to give them access to a wide range of drugs/poisons. She was sexually harassed and assaulted by some of the scientists.

Dolores was usually tormented by the staff, who would purposefully slam doors loudly or scream into her cell at night to startle her. Besides that, her tests were some of the more humane ones. They would make a variety of quiet and/or distant sounds and expect her to write down what she had heard. She always got the answer right. She was also sexually harassed but not to the extent of Isabela, due to favouritism.

She and Julieta would usually find themselves rewarded for their compliance by gaining a bathroom in their cell and full access to food/water. This would be extended to Bruno later on.

Luisa was heavily abused. They would massively beat her, have her fight against some of the strongest/most dangerous animals and weapons, and they forced her into manual labour. They just wanted to know how far her strength could go, how far they could push her before she snapped. They had a machine that restrained her and they would drop weights for her to hold - adding more and more, only stopping when her bones started breaking.

Camilo was also pushed to extreme levels of working out and other strenuous activity, to see how long he could hold a variety of forms. They tested to see if him having little energy or food would also make a difference, resulting in him being behind on growth as he wasn’t fed enough. He did briefly engage in the fights with Pepa, Isabela and Luisa, but stopped when the scientists realised he didn’t gain the actual strength when shifting into a more muscular form.

[masterqwertster]

Hurt/comfort spell prompts: 14 or 18. Ashton & Bells Hells. Please and thank you.

14 Detect Thoughts Went with a little bodyswap snippet since it was "Ashton & Bells Hells" for the prompt, and Imogen's Open Mind ability is free Detect Thoughts.

Ashton knows it’s a dumb idea, but they’re itching to try it, to know.

After all, he’s never going to have another shot at this. Bells Hells is determined to undo the magic that swapped his and Imogen’s minds or bodies or however you want to define it. And he’s so fucking curious about how the pain of hearing other people’s thoughts stacks up against his own broken body. What is it even like to hear (involuntarily, mostly) how other people view the world and navigate it?

They’ve done dumber shit. They’ve done much more dangerous dumb shit. All Imogen gets from not controlling her mindreading shit is headaches, and Ashton runs the uncontrolled risk of those daily, what with the giant fucking hole in their head.

Besides, Ashton is going to be smart about this. The plan is thus: pretend to be asleep and wait until everyone but whoever is on first watch to fall asleep, then quietly shuffle off Imogen’s circlet so there’s the least amount of active thoughts when he tries this. It’s probably not even going to be all that difficult to sneak the circlet off for a bit, seeing as Laudna is still clinging to Imogen the person, not Imogen the body. 

(Honestly, he’s a bit amazed, if unsurprised, that Imogen hasn’t snapped about all the touching Laudna is doing. She’s certainly not letting anyone else spark that pain)

So Ashton waits, and when they’re pretty sure everyone is asleep except Chetney, whittling away as he takes first watch, they make their move.

“What’re you doing?” Chetney asks, barely looking up from his project as Ashton’s Imogen hands slip from under their blanket towards the circlet.

They quietly curse that they don’t know how to fucking move right in Imogen’s body, can’t even use their sneaking magic because hers is all wrong for it, to sneak such a little act past the old gnome.

“Well? Speak up,” Chetney presses.

“...I …I wanted to see what it’s like. Her mind shit,” Ashton says, voice softer and higher because it’s not his. At least his voice isn’t forced into her accent (though it’s weird as fuck to hear his own voice speak like that).

“You could try just reading one mind, instead of trying to hear everyone’s thoughts,” Chetney points out, giving them a stern glare.

“I don’t know how to do that. ‘Sides, it’s just a headache if I fuck it up. And you’re the only one actively thinking anything right now. Everyone else is asleep, maybe dreaming,” Ashton explains his reasoning. “I’ll put the circlet back on in a minute.”

Chetney gives them a heavy, considering look. Obviously poking for any other potential disasters that would make interference with their plan a necessity.

“...Fine. But you be real careful about this, ya hear?” Chetney finally assents, waggling a chisel at them.

Ashton nods (ignores the lilac hair that swishes in and out of view with the motion).

He takes a breath, settles, focuses. Like when Ashton does that meditative reaching for the earth shit that he’s still trying to figure out.

Then Ashton takes off the circlet.

A quiet murmur comes to ears that aren’t, much the same as when Imogen and FCG press into their mind to speak. It’s a little prickly, a little staticy, in that way that the beginnings of a sensory overload can be. But it doesn’t get any worse than that. Pretty manageable if you ask them.

(Yes, Ashton knows it’s only a few minds, specifically at a time when they’re not thinking loud thoughts. But he’s also had some bad sensory days with little option but to push through and make it work. At least isolation would help with this, unlike the pain that lives in his body)

They let the prickly little thoughts wash over them, breathe, adjust. Once they feel settled and sure, they focus, try to actually comprehend the not-sounds they’re hearing.

It’s mostly little flashes of emotion, of colors, from the sleeping minds around him. Joy, sadness, a little fear, exhilaration. Greens, blues, reds, oranges, browns. Just brief glimpses of dreams in progress that scratch like sand on the wind. 

And a grumbling watchfulness from Chetney that insistently pokes at their brain.

Probably shouldn’t be letting them poke this. But he did think the risks through this time. And it’s definitely lower stakes. Still dumb. Sometimes you gotta let the kids get the dumb out. Hopefully in a minimally harmful way.

The gnome’s thoughts aren’t flattering, but Ashton didn’t expect them to be. Watching and wary, which makes sense given the enormous risk they once took without talking to the group. They’ve learned their lesson though.

Satisfied with trying out Imogen’s abilities, Ashton places the circlet back on his head. The psychic sound cuts out almost instantly, that bit of pain vanished with it.

“You okay?” Chetney asks.

“Yeah. It was… interesting,” Ashton replies, thoughtful.

“Good. Now go the fuck to sleep and no more fucking around with Imogen’s shit.”

Ashton flips the werewolf off even as they curl into their blankets, eyes drifting shut.

I actually rolled for this. Ashton failed their Slight of Hand check with an 11 (9+ Imogen's +2 modifier) vs Chet's Passive Perception of 16 (so Ashton would have failed even with their +7 modifier). And then for the Open Mind Wisdom Saving roll, which was a DC 14 (8+ 6 people in range) and he rolled a 20 (19+ 1 WIS).

[sulky-valkyrie]

Hawke twins- cryptophasia / twin speak (a language only they understand). Perhaps a bittersweet memory of the survivor

Happy Friday, Tea! I actually restarted this 2 or 3 times until And Idea hit me like a truck, and I'm kinda playing around with what cryptophasia could mean in a world with magic, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3 for @dadrunkwriting

Carver woke up from the worst dreams he’d had since the archdemon died, and with a terrible headache.  He sat up with a groan and pressed the heel of his hand against his temple.

“You look like you’ve been carousing with hurlocks all night,” Stroud said.

He snorted and grabbed his waterskin to splash a bit on his face.  “Give me some credit, at least I never kissed an ogre, drunk or sober.”  He rolled his shoulders to try to loosen the tension in his neck.  “You have any strange dreams last night?”

“Nothing outside of the ordinary.”  Stroud shugged.  “The song is louder, but that’s to be expected here.  You have been in the Deep Roads before, haven’t you?”

He started to snarl something back, but held his tongue.  The Commander had told him under no uncertain terms to play nice with the Orlesians, but Maker, it was hard some days.  “I was down here before and after the Thaw.  This dream wasn’t just the usual chittering, more like going through the Joining again.  It almost felt like -”  he bit his lip.  No, that would be impossible.  He’d hadn’t been pulled into Bethy’s dreams since he left Lothering over two years ago.

Stroud raised an eyebrow but didn’t press him.  “The Roads under the Vinmarks are particularly unsettling.  Hopefully you will be too tired to dream again tonight.”

Carver nodded and pushed himself to his feet.  “Couldn’t agree more.  Onwards then?”

He wasn’t too tired.  Or maybe he was so tired he couldn’t fight it.  Their father had taught them both about shielding their dreams from spirits the week after Bethany manifested, and while it had worked, it wasn’t the way he would have preferred.  Instead of closing her mind off to everyone, she’d hid in Carver’s dreams at night, or dragged him into hers.  They’d spent every night for nearly ten years fighting each other’s nightmares together.  Hers had always been more fearsome, with many tentacled creatures dragging her into a lake that was far too dark and viscous to be water, or suits of armor grabbing her by her hair and carrying her to impossibly tall towers with no doors.  His dreams had been about his teeth falling out, or getting chased by a bear through town without any trousers on. 

After Ostagar, though, he’d tried to do it properly.  Tried to shut her out so she never saw the memories of the battle that haunted his dreams.  As far as he knew, it had worked, or maybe she’d stopped trying.  Or maybe she was dead.

The dreams were even worse that night, full of red crystals and claustrophobia and talking rocks, all playing out like a shadow puppet play across torrents of blood and fire and darkspawn screams.  People were screaming Bethany’s name, and he heard Bethany screaming his.

“Carver!”  His eyes snapped open.  It was Stroud, shaking his shoulder.  “Pack of hurlocks near, we need to move.”

Normally, that would’ve sent him into a panicked flurry of activity, but this time, all he felt was relief.  It wasn’t Bethy, this is all my imagination, or maybe some new kind of Awakened.  He stuffed his gear into his pack as Stroud stamped out the fire, then they headed out, following the scent of death and the buzzing in the back of their heads.

Using torches or lanterns this close to darkspawn was never wise or safe, so their only light was the faint glow of their amulets.  The Commander gave them to all the recruits now; it was still a vial of darkspawn blood, of course, but now, they were enchanted to give off just enough light that a careful human could travel through the Deep Roads without tripping on everything.  It had been a hard-learned lesson from too many instances of running into walls or falling into holes, and Carver’s nose still throbbed with phantom pain when he thought about the number of times Morrigan had sneeringly reset it. 

The recruits were told it was 'just' a vial of darkspawn blood, but senior Wardens knew it was a little something more.  The loss of so many at Ostagar, then later at Vigil’s Keep, had made the Commander insistent on the development of contingency plans.

The discordant melody tugged at his heart as they crept onward, urging him to go faster, begging him to find them, find something, hurry, please, hurry.  It filled him with dread even as he obeyed, marching faster, then, when that wasn't enough, breaking into a jog.  Someone was down there, and they needed him.

"What are you doing?" Stroud hissed as he sped up a third time.

"Need to keep moving, need to find them," he muttered, before breaking into a reckless sprint.

Stroud tackled him from behind and rolled him over when he was still stunned. "The song has you," he said as he slapped him.  "Fight it!"

Carver caught his hand before a second blow connected.  "It's not the song!"  It was, but not in the same way.  "It's - can't you feel it?"

"You're bewitched, Hawke!"

Struggling would only waste time.  Time he didn't have.  He took a shuddering slow breath to calm himself down.  "I’m - shit.  You’re right,” he lied.  “We need to deal with whatever is causing it.  Some kind of emissary, or a demon."  It was neither; he was certain of that.  But Stroud would never believe him now.  Play along, or we'll never make it in time.

Stroud frowned, obviously wanting to argue, but knowing he couldn't.  The whole point of this trip had been to investigate the reports of strange activity under the Vinmarks, and an emissary changing the song definitely qualified.  "You will stay behind me," he ordered severely.  "And if you run again, I'll cut you down."

Hurry, please, hurry.  It wasn't a voice, so much as a feeling, a bright descant threading through the jangling darkspawn melody that thrummed in his mind.

Carver closed his eyes and nodded as much to Stroud as the plea.  I'm trying.

Stroud got up warily, and reached for his weapon as Carver stood.  When he didn't immediately bolt down the tunnel, he sighed in relief and let go of his sword hilt.  "Which way?"

They kept going.  Stroud didn't argue with Carver’s directions, and, in fact, seemed to anticipate them.  Whatever or whoever wanted Carver to come this way, it was very near the hurlocks they’d been hunting anyway.  The desperate pleading music faded away, but the darkspawn presence never wavered, only strengthened as they neared.

Carver didn't mention that it was gone.  Maybe I did imagine it.  Hopefully whatever - whoever - they found down there would be explanation enough.  Another Awakened, perhaps?  

When they heard the sound of fighting, it was Stroud who took off running first.  Bloody hypocrite.  Carver pulled out his sword and charged after him around the corner, only to almost skewer him as he clattered to a halt.  They were at an excavated section of the Deep Roads, one with real torches and magma troughs.  “Anders?” Stroud muttered incredulously.

What?  Can’t be - Karl said he died.    He peered over Stroud’s shoulder, blinking against the glare of torchlight.

A blond man kicked a screaming genlock off the ledge then spun his staff in a low circle, setting a glyph at his feet then dancing backwards as lightning surged up through it and arced into the two remaining.  “Be with you in a tic, little busy!”  

Maker preserve us, how?  That really was Anders Thekla; Carver would recognize his battle magic anywhere, even when it wasn’t being used on him directly.

As the last darkspawn disintegrated to ash, Anders turned around.  “Stroud.”  He frowned in recognition.  “Carver?”

What the void did I do?  Before he could ask, Anders ducked back into the side tunnel that must’ve been where he’d come from.

“Carver?!”  Someone shouted.  Someone who sounded like his damn brother.  

Stroud glanced back and arched an eyebrow.  “What did you do?”

He swallowed.  “Been a Warden for two years,” he mumbled.  

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah, it is.”  He put up his sword and walked out.  “Garrett?  What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Long story,” Anders sighed as he re-emerged, followed by a dwarf and Garrett.    

His brother stepped into the flickering light and, for once, he wasn’t smiling.  Even when he’d been in screaming matches with Mother, he’d smiled.  Even when they’d burned Father’s ashes, he’d smiled.  “Carver, I tried.”  He knelt on the ground and gently put the bundle down that he was carrying.  “I really fucking tried.  Should’ve been me.  Always should’ve been me.”  

The bundle was their sister.  Everything clicked into place.  He rushed over as he ripped his gauntlets off, then pulled her to his chest.  Her brow was sweaty, and the veins in her throat were black.  Blight sickness.  She coughed weakly as her eyes fluttered open.  “Carver?  Am I dead?”

“Not yet,” he whispered as he pulled her close.  “What are you doing down here?  What happened?” 

"Expedition," she wheezed, breath whistling like her chest was full of holes.  "Money to get back the estate."  She shuddered in his arms.  "One less mouth for her to feed, now, right?"

"No, no, no, this can't -" he stopped and glared at Garrett.  "Why did you bring her?"

Garrett's jaw clenched and he swallowed.  "I didn't fucking -"

"You did!  You were supposed to keep her safe!" Carver shouted.  "Now look at her. Look at what you did!"

Bethy’s finger pressed against his lips. "You sound like Mother.  I'm a grown woman, Carver.  This was my choice.  My screw up.  Not his."  She coughed again.  "Not yours either."

Maker, how did she always know what was the best and worst thing to say?  His fury vanished, leaving him hollow and aching.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't," she said.  "I - I didn't think it would work, after so long, but I called, and you're here.  I can at least say goodbye."  She offered a watery smile then fainted.He shook his head as he ripped the vial from his neck.  The Commander had told them all that this wasn't an option to be taken lightly, but dammit, this was Bethany.  "Stroud, get some of that blood, and the goblet.  We're doing the Joining."

[silky-slinky]

NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL !

SPARROW!BEN HARGREEVES X FEM!READER !

BEN HARGREEVES MASTERLIST !

From what you've noticed, Luther changed, for the better. Causing you to actually have fun spending time with him. Sure he had his worse moments but it was nothing like the last time you've seen each other. Therefore, putting you in a position where you agreed to accompany Luther on his morning jog.

“Good mornin'!” Luther greeted the hotel receptionist. His name is irrelevant to you, giving him a tight-lipped smile knowing how he is every day. Grumpy. Although you did notice him being a bit grumpier than usual.

The hotel receptionist kept his demeanor, replying with a “for some” to Luther. Not caring about what he had to say, you dragged your brother's large body out the door.

You and Luther end up having small talk on your way to the park. Sweat was now present on your face, while Luther barely breaking a sweat. Luther was delighted more than usual, probably something that happened yesterday that you weren't told about.

The hairs on the back of your head prickle up at a feeling you can't quite point your finger at. A great sense of danger was one that you'd consider one of your powers along with telekinesis. Your siblings could all agree on the fact that most of the time, you'd get them out of danger.

Stopping still in your tracks, looking around the park to observe your surroundings more clearly. Your eyes stopped right at one Raven on top of the light post, calling out to Luther with your newfound information. “Luther, didn't one of the Sparrows have birds for a power?”

More and more ravens arrived, causing both of you to ponder on the words you said. “I think it's more than birds for a power, Y/n.” Taking you to go behind him, ready for battle, as you looked out for his back.

A few seconds passed after having staring contests with the ravens, they started to fly toward the both of you.

“Shit.”

Your eyes fluttered open, a headache quickly forming. “Holy shit.” Recollecting your memories from earlier. You noticed how the ceiling wasn't a ceiling you were used to, the surface you were laying down on being a bit more uncomfortable than what you would like.

Sitting up, hearing a familiar voice humming something you didn't know. “Mom?” Seeing her frame you knew all too well from your timeline. You looked over to the side, seeing Luther passed out; just like you were earlier, laying on the same uncomfortable bed you had.

Grace didn't reply, but only having her attention on the medical supplies she had laid out in front of her. “Where am I?” Due to your headache, it was hard to use your powers.

“The academy, silly. Everybody's waiting for the both of you.” She paused for a moment before going back to her medical supplies. “Which academy? Who's everyone?” She ignored you once more.

Opting for a less time-consuming way, sliding your way off the bed, waking Luther up. “Y/n?” His eyes adjusted to the light, looking around the room to get a jist of what had happened.

“We're in the Sparrow academy. Those little shits kidnapped us.”

“Oh, we're here at Sloane's place?”

“That's not something to be happy about, Luther!” Rolling your eyes at him, scanning the room to take a weapon. Deciding on a mop, the only choice you had, throwing it to Luther who catches it. Putting his whole body in front of you to shield you from those who were behind the black curtain.

Luther swung the mop around after going through the curtain, revealing the Sparrow academy in all its smug glory. The man with the messed-up face speaks up first, announcing to the room that you've both woken up.

“Ah, there they are!” The pretty girl's head turned around to look at you and Luther.

“Please, join us.” The girl with the sunglasses on gestured for you and Luther to take a seat.

On the other hand, the thing you liked to call 'tingle' hasn't been activated. It made you sure to trust these people even though it wasn't what you had in mind when you and your siblings first met them. Not only that, your tingle hasn't been proven wrong in all your life you've used it. But that doesn't mean you'd let your guard down and won't play hard to get.

“It's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt any of you.” Ben speaks out. You hadn't thought that there was a day when you'd despise Ben, this day told you otherwise. The only difference was, that this wasn't your Ben.

Your eyes panned over to the pretty girl, you believed she was named Sloane from what you've heard from Luther. She offered a smoothie for you and Luther, a wide smile on her face.

“Oh.” Dropping the mop on the floor. “Yeah, thanks.” Taking the smoothie from her hands. You rolled your eyes at his antics, his evident heart eyes for the girl your other siblings consider as one of the enemies.

You slowly made your way towards the table, glaring at the Ben who took the face of your Ben. The girl with the sunglasses on watches your every move, just like the other people there. “You must be starving.” Eating something from her hand you didn't know.

“No, we probably shouldn't.” You say, squinting your eyes at the person he calls himself Ben. Him mimicking your actions.

By now, Luther was beside you, smoothie still in hand. “Is that cashew butter?” Rolling your eyes at Luther for the ninth time. Perhaps spending time with him was a big mistake.

“Cashew butter, almond butter, sunflower butter, tahini, Brazil nut.” Sloane listed off the different kinds of butter they had. Mildly impressed by their butter collection yet confused as to why would they have that much butter?

“Wow. You know what? Now that you mention it, I am feeling a little bit, uh, peckish, actually.” A disappointed look on your face as you saw him give in.

“Help yourself.” The guy with the disgusting face replies. Luther muttered a soft 'thank you' to them, before asking you to join him.

“Y/n/n? Wanna try some? I'll make one for you.” Your heart warmed slightly at that. Although he was quite dumb sometimes, he still cared for you as his younger sister.

Growing up, you hadn't had the best relationship with your siblings. Childhood was rough and had a mark on all of you, Luther included. Even though it did come off as him being your father's favorite. You were used quite a lot on missions, given your tingle and telekinesis.

You smiled softly at him, giving up on your act and actually enjoying breakfast, much to your dismay. Sitting down in front of Ben gives you a clear view of his smugness. As Luther liked to call it.

Luther was happily making yours and his breakfast before being interrupted by Ben. “So, we know you're Number One, but we haven't been formally introduced yet.” Referring to Luther.

“I'm Ben, Number Two.” Not like you didn't know that yet. Of course, everyone knew he was Ben.

Luther lets out a sigh of contentment, starting at his brother fondly. “It is so good to see you again, buddy.”

“Yeah, but I expected it to be less douchey.” Staring at Ben up and down. All he's ever shown you and your siblings is how mean he's been. It was obvious that Klaus was affected by his punch. You could see how hurt he was. Not by the punch, but by the betrayal of his supposed sibling.

Ben simply ignored you and went back to focus on Luther.

“Why does everyone keep looking at me like that?” Turning his head to his siblings.

Luther stopped putting his butter on the bread. “Because you've been dead for 15 years.”

“Dead? What do you mean, dead?” Being fed up with his overconfident self, you stepped in for Luther.

“Alright, Ben. Don't get your panties into a twist.” Ben gives you a look of disgust. “Since my siblings aren't that bright, here's what I think. We are not from this timeline? Which means that you're a different Ben.” Pausing to see his reaction.

“Our Ben is nice. You're not.” You've thought about this theory ever since you wound up in this place. Definitely a theory worth discussing with Five after you've made your way out of here.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Ben started before being interrupted by the girl with the sunglasses.

“Anyway, I'm Fei. Number Three.”

“Alphonso, cuatro.” The guy with a deformed face says.

“Sloane. Five. Hey.” Ignoring her blatantly obvious attempt at flirting with your brother. And of course, Luther only replies to her.

“I'm Jayme. Six.” A girl from the far end of the table says.

Ben points over to Christopher, the cube. “That's Christopher, of course. Number Seven.”

Moments passed on, and the sparrows explained that they would like to know where their Number One is. To be frank, none of you knew where he was. None of you cared that much to abduct a man who had super strength. But of course, the sparrows didn't believe a words you said.

The banter between you and Ben continued. Even things so little, the glares, the small push every time you would pass by each other. Your siblings were glad, relieved, to see their old Ben back. Needless to say, you were relieved, just not glad.

The sparrows were currently gathered around both of you, their stares intimidating.

“You're both free to go.” The hairs on your nape instantly stand up at his words. Confusion both on your faces. He was letting you both off too easily, something was wrong.

“Why?”

“Gesture of goodwill.”

He now turns to you, “but I want you to pass along a very important message to your family.”

“I'm only picking you to send this message because you're clearly more intelligent than him. And we both know you're clearly the most valuable member of your team.” Your eyes widen in shock at what he said.

“Finally! Say that to my siblings, please.” Leaning your body back lightheartedly, you had to admit, that he's being less mean than he was earlier.

He took a step forward in front of you, a mere 3 feet was between the both of you, more or less. “Let Marcus go. And if any of you hurt one hair on him, we'll come for you.”

“All of you.” He took a step back to now look at Luther. “And I promise we won't be so hospitable next time.” There it is again, cocky Ben. You rolled your eyes at his attempt to scare you with his speech.

“Super don't like being threatened, Ben.” Luther replied from beside you. Fei was quick to jump on her feet and respond to your brother.

“You'll do what we say, or else...” Arching her back in a way a flock of ravens came out. Reminding you of their warnings earlier about how Fei's birds would eat you and your brother's brains if all doesn't go according to plan.

THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST !

- ★

[missyblogs]

I had a dream abt a YA boarding school series this afternoon in which the main character is a robot who learns to be human and I kinda love the story my subconscious came up with so here's an AU about it !

-Stephanie is a prototype that was thrown in the trash by her creator bc she didn't turn out the way he wanted

-Sportacus is the one who found her. He is retired here bc he realized that he can't be both a father and an on call hero so he fell back on his tech skills. He passes the time as the city's one weirdly athletic nutty inventor and all around dad bc he feels it's more important to give Stephanie a childhood and a quality education than it is for him to try and help the city on a grander scale.

-He made her a deal tho, she can borrow the crystal and do the hero work if she keeps her grades up, uses her powers for good and listens to her professors. Otherwise he removes it from her main frame and he goes back to doing his old job

-Enter her roomate Trixie >:)

-There is a villain and he is sooooooo much worse than Robbie. He's the one who made Stephanie and threw her in the trash.

He has killed people violently and is looking for world domination with an iron fist. Sportacus is next on his hit list because he actively stands in the way of that goal and he makes continuous attempts on his life that Stephanie repeatedly thwarts, sometimes at the cost of her own health. -Robbie may or may not be his son(?)

-Pixel is the student choreographer for the boarding school, he teaches Stephanie how to dance and he's where she learns her love for it. The teachers put him in charge of the PE dance unit probably because of his connection to modern art forms and pop culture references and knows how to keep his friends engaged and willing to participate

-Stephanie has migraines, despite being a robot. This is because she's been injured in high impact battles and worked on so many times that there is irreparable wear and tear to her circuitry. Sportacus keeps her up and running enough to function and recover but he can't build her a new main frame because he didn't make her and doesn't have her program so she has to live with the headaches. -Robbie may or may not have swiped the program when his dad tossed her to prevent it from being destroyed entirely. This may or may not be an important factoid at the story's climax

[gracethyomen]

"Complicated"

Now things are starting to get to where we want them. Some Mattalie drabbles in this one, including Matt being a major simp, and just a little creepy.

Summary: Nat gets chatty when the gin comes out, and Team Disaster continues to disaster-law. Matt is a bit of a creeper in this one but not too much, and he doesn't do it with bad intentions.

Warnings: Talk about death, mention of assault, mention of suicide, mention of corruption. Language, mutual pining, catholicism, Matt being a human disaster, Natalie also being a human disaster, but slightly better dressed (sorry Matt).

Nat pressed the stop button on the recording machine with a deep sigh as Karen tried in vain to stop Matt from making her stay. 

"We can protect ourselves, Ms. Page." Matt was insisting, standing with his hands on his narrow hips. Foggy followed, pushing his chair back to take Matt's side with a sympathetic look. 

"No, you can't!" Karen insisted, hands shaking. "Not from them." Matt and Karen went back and forth a few more times before Natalie sighed and stood as well. 

"She can stay with me." She said firmly, "Just for tonight." She added, raising a hand and adding an edge to her tone when she noticed Matt's mouth open to interject. "Until we can figure something out. She'll be safe there." 

Karen walked out of the adjoined bathroom in the kitchen, using one of Nat's green hand towels to wring out her hair. 

"Thanks again for letting me stay." She murmured, sitting down at one of the rickety chairs next to the card table she called a dining room table. 

"Don't mention it." Nat said offhandedly, peeling her blouse off and sighing loudly, pulling a bottle of liquor off the shelf. 

Clad just in a bra, stockings and a mini skirt, she plunked down at the chair opposite Karen with a soft groan. 

What she didn't know was that about twelve feet above her, there was a man perched on the fire escape above their heads. Wearing a black mask. 

"Karen," Nat started, and Matt could hear the soft tinkling of her fingers unscrewing the bottle cap. "Can I ask you one last question? I just can't stop thinking about... tonight." The rustle of her hair as she shook her head, pushing the scent of her vanilla and bourbon perfume into the air. 

"Yeah, sure," Karen breathed. "As long as you give me some of that." He assumed she was talking about the alcohol. He could just pick up the scent over the cozy smells of Natalie's apartment. Gin. English was his guess. There was the soft sound of Karen tipping the bottle back and her throat working the liquid down. Then Natalie started talking. 

"I just-" She sighed, and he could hear her soft sound of pain and the creak of her elbows on the table. She was rubbing her temples again. Headaches. "Here's what I don't understand. Say I'm the man in charge of the pension funds and I find out one of my secretaries has discovered my illicit activities." Silence, only their breathing. "To make matters worse she's now telling people about said activity. Which I obviously can't have. So I decide to take action. Why don't I kill you?" She asked softly, her tone so at odds with the nature of the question. 

"They tried." Karen said, matter-of-fact. 

"The second time." Natalie pointed out, and he tried not to think about the sound of her mouth as she took another sip of the gin. The shape her lips must have made. The swell of her breasts above the cups of her bra since she'd taken off her shirt. "In the jail. But the first time... The first time they let you live. Why? What were they trying to do? Frame you?" Nat shook her head again, lifting one hand to touch her temple once more. "Now, the second time. Maybe that's a change of plans. Something doesn't go their way... Something about the crime scene... Whatever. Then two lawyers show up out of the blue before they can get to you. So they figure maybe you hang yourself in your cell and this all goes away." 

"Okay...?" Karen leaned forward, probing for an answer. 

"Just think about it. That first time they weren't trying to kill you. Discredit you? Scare you? Obviously. But not kill you. They'd only keep you alive if you have something they want. The only thing I can think about is that Union Allied pension file." 

Karen's heart started beating faster. 

"Did you keep that file?" Natalie finally asked. Not accusatory or rude, simply curious. 

"No." 

Natalie nodded, fingers twisting around the neck of the bottle. “Okay. Thank you.” She stood, going to the linens closet to find some sheets for Karen to put on the couch.

“For what?” Karen asked tentatively, wrapping her arms around herself at the table.

“For being honest with me.” Natalie called, coming back with a bundle of dark green fabric. “Not many people do that these days.”

Karen nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, what?” Nat breezed, tucking the fitted shit around the arms of her thrifted sofa haphazardly.

“So what’s the deal with you and Matt?” Karen stood from the table, wandering to the adjacent living room and help Natalie with the sheets.

“What do you mean?” Nat tried to act indifferent, unfolding an old throw blanket from the pile of bedding she’d gathered.

“Its just…” Karen sighed. “It seems like he-“

“There’s nothing between me and Matt.” Natalie stopped fussing with the sheets and turned around, something vulnerable and guarded in her eyes. “Let’s leave it at that. Please.” Karen nodded sheepishly.

Matt waited for a change in her heartbeat. Natalie’s. But it was already beating so fast he couldn’t be sure of any changes based on what she had said.

As the silence fell while they got ready to sleep, Matt dropped his head, unsure of what to call the different emotions sitting on his chest.

Long after Nat had finished her nightly prayers… After a few minutes of listening to Natalie’s breathing even out, long after they’d gone to sleep, Matt stood and made his way off the roof of Natalie’s apartment building.

24 hours and a lot of headaches later, Natalie typed up the summary of the case on her laptop, making sure all action involving Karen's case was documented. Inside, she was still reeling. Less than 48 hours after finding the woman covered in blood in a Hell's Kitchen precinct she's working as a secretary for Nelson and Murdock. 

"Hey, I was wondering if you could email Hoffman and ask for a copy of Karen's arrest and release papers, please?" Matt asked, entering the office near-silently. 

Natalie nodded to herself, not looking up from the computer. "Yeah, sure thing." She assured, masking the confusion and maybe jealousy turning in her gut.

"You okay?" He asked without looking at her, stripping off his suit jacket and shoving the sleeves of his shirt haphazardly up his arms. 

"Yeah, just a headache. I'm fine." She shrugged, continuing her typing.

"You get a lot of headaches?"

Natalie sighed. "Yeah, no shit." She snapped, immediately regretting her words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Matt... I don't know where that came from." She dropped her head into her hands, sighing out loud. "I just-"

"Hey," A hand plunked onto her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don't stress. I get it, its been a long day. You've got a lot on your plate."

"I know, I just-" She sniffed. "I don't want to snap at you, I don't. Things have just been..." She pushed her tongue into her cheek, shaking her head lightly.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She pushed out a breathy, humorless laugh. "Matt, you don't want to hear about my family drama..."

"I do." He insisted, gently pulling her chair away from her desk so he could sit on it in front of her, blocking the view of the offending laptop. "Keeping all this to yourself isn't healthy, and it sure isn't helpful. I need you on your game, but more importantly, I want to make sure you're okay." His words were so sincere it brought tears to her eyes.

"I missed my niece's black belt ceremony yesterday." She whispered thickly, trying to swallow the knot in her throat. "She wanted me to be there and I missed it. She cried about it after, I just found out today." Matt didn't say anything, didn't condemn her and console her... Just listened. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand quickly, trying to pull herself together. "My sister-in-law. She was supposed to text me the date and time. She, uh, she never did." She choked on a sob. "My niece texted me this morning asking if she did something wrong. To upset me." She gestured to herself incredulously. "She's thirteen."

"It's not your fault," Matt murmured softly, head tilted down towards the floor. "What your sister-in-law does, you can't control that."

"I know that." She agreed, "Deep down, I know that. It's just-" She swallowed. "She lost her dad in 2012, and her mom works too much. She tries to provide for her. She only has so many people she can count on, and she thought I was one of them."

"You still are."

“I just…” She closed her eyes, “She’s all I have left of Derek.” Her hands dug into each other, fingers twisting. “I never got to fix… what was between us. I don’t know why but I always thought I could make up for it with her.” She looked up at Matt again, fighting new tears when she caught the sympathetic expression on his face.

“You…” Matt stood from her desk, opening his arms to offer a hug. “Are one of the most selfless, kind, and caring people I’ve ever met.” Fighting against her more logical thoughts she stood and stepped into his arms, wrapping hers around him. “This wasn’t your fault. Your niece is lucky to have you.”

For a moment she just stood there, letting him hug her until the ache in her chest became too much to bear, and she stepped back.

“Thank you, Matt.” She whispered, clearing her throat and looking away. “You’re a good friend.”

“I try to be.” He shrugged, picking up his cane from the table and tossing his jacket over his arm. “Get home safe, okay?”

She sniffed. “Yeah, yeah, I will.” She stuttered, watching him leave. The minute the door closed she tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling. “You’re pathetic.” She whispered to herself, dropping her head and pulling her laptop closer again. Opening a window to email Hoffman.

a/n: little short one for now while I work on when things start to get interesting. Thanks to everybody who liked the masterlist! I hope you guys enjoy this story.

As per usual this series is dedicated to @abucketofweird their comments are the reason this is posted lol. You’re a sweetheart.

If you liked this installment it’d mean a lot if you thought about leaving a note or even following for more of these two. Have a good day/night whatever time it is.

- Sybil :)

[naivemlnd]

Maybe it's You

Another BHM/FFA romance story I posted on dimensions magazine that I also wanted to post here :)

Summary: Catherine feels alone in the big city, until she meets a man who changes everything.  Content warning: This story contains a character who suffers from health-related anxiety.

There’s something wrong with me.

There has to be.

I have these thoughts sometimes, and they’re not like what everyone else around me is thinking or feeling. They’re… different. Taboo even.

I can’t quite put my finger down on when they started. Maybe for as long as I remember. But it took a while for me to understand that other people didn’t feel the same.

In kindergarten, I’d grab the pudgiest boy in class by the arm, squeezing his upper arm fat like it was a stress ball. He would laugh, seemingly happy to have found a friend at all, even if she was odd and didn’t respect personal boundaries.

But it became weird in first and second grade. You couldn’t just grab someone’s fat and squeeze it. And other kids liked to poke fun at the fat kids, they would taunt them. 

Eventually I would just join in. It was easier that way. Less conspicuous. But I’d never grown out of wanting to touch, to feel that supple flesh under my hands.

During puberty was when I really noticed it.

People would talk about going to second base, how hot abs were, how sexy an hourglass figure was on a girl. But I was only ever aroused when I imagined someone eating, rubbing their fat belly, getting full, moaning, but still stuffing food in…

So, it turned out most people didn’t share this interest. 

And I never said it out loud, never admitted to anyone besides myself, that I was attracted, with a level of exclusivity that scared me, to fat people. More specifically, fat people actively getting fatter.  

My first boyfriend was thin. I was 15 and I wanted. I kissed him. I really tried to get into it. 

But I couldn’t.

My college boyfriend was big, but not in the ways I wanted. He was physically imposing, well over 6 feet, broad shouldered. Handsome, sweet, funny. That helped. I nearly convinced myself that I was attracted to him. See, brain? He’s big. He makes me feel dainty and happy and nice.

It didn’t work.

I never wanted to have sex with him because I couldn’t get aroused around him. 

My excuses of taking it slow, then of ‘headaches’ or of not being in the mood only went so far. So we went our separate ways after a year together, never going farther than kissing and fondling.

It was depressing and sad that I’d only ever gotten myself off when watching some fat person on youtube stuff their faces. And after getting off, I always feel worse.

It’s in these moments of self doubt, late at night, when my heart aches for some kind of intimacy, some kind of belonging, that I think about these things. 

But maybe it’s not my interest in fat men that is the problem. Surely, if that were the case, I’d just find a fat guy to date.

So maybe it’s me that’s the problem.

*

“Cath!” 

I whipped my head around, spotting Layla as she waved a hand to get my attention. She was standing with a couple of other people, none of whom I recognized as I approached.

I cleared my throat, “Hi.”

Layla reached out to hug me, but I leaned away and she dropped her arms. Her smile was pinched around the edges, making me feel even more like shit. 

Layla knew not to do things like that, but she was always…pushing. 

Layla recovered quickly.

“I’ve got to introduce you! Okay, this is John,” she gestured to a tall man with thin wire glasses, “and Isaac,” a broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair nodded towards me, an easy smile on his lips. I attempted to mirror the expression, but it felt forced.

“They work in marketing,” Layla prattled. “And this is Vienna, she’s a data specialist like us, but in a different department.” 

Vienna, a short woman with very big hair greeted me.

“Everyone, this is Catherine!” Layla said, hovering over my shoulder. 

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, still feeling off balance from the almost-hug and Layla’s watchful gaze. 

“You as well,” big-shoulder guy, Isaac, said. 

The thing about being an adult, with an adult job, is that you always feel about an inch from unraveling. 

I hesitated around the edges of the end-of-quarter banquet, near the hand sanitizer dispenser. 

It was annoying that every employee had to attend these. So many people crammed into a banquet hall, all for some mediocre mostaccioli and baked chicken to ‘celebrate’ the employees and boost morale. 

And although Layla’s attention to me was misguided, I did appreciate that there was someone here who was interested in socializing with me.

“You should ask John out,” Layla said, appearing at my side. She was eating the olive out of her martini. 

“No no,” I started to protest.

“Come on! You’ve got to get out sometime!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. 

“Which one was that again?” I asked.

“Glasses.” 

Thin and tall, I added mentally. I shrugged. I knew it would only end one way: disappointment. But as usual, I was hoping for a miracle, a miraculous change to occur in me. For me to feel something for someone else, even just for a moment.

*

The date could be worse. But it felt more like a friendly meetup. I glanced at John’s slim figure, his slender arms, his sharp jaw, and knew with a sinking feeling in my gut that I wouldn’t even want to kiss him.

“How do you like the city? Layla mentioned you’re from the south,” John asked after a sip of water.

“It’s good, busy. I miss Georgia sometimes, of course, but I am grateful to be away from the humidity,” I said, pleased when he laughed with me.

“Oh, I'm sure! I’m a native New Yorker, so it’s interesting to hear about other people’s hometowns. Back when I lived in Queens…”

At the end of the night, John walked me home. He leaned down, maybe to hug me, maybe to kiss me, but I pulled away. 

There was a small frown tugging at his lips, but politeness seemed to keep him from saying anything.

“I had a great time, thank you for dinner,” I said, and went inside my building. 

*

“And so, this Layla person, the only friend you’ve made from your work, is now dating the guy she set you up with?” my sister’s voice, thick with the sound of home, crackled through my phone speakers.

“Yup,” I said, trying not to get polish everywhere as I painted my toes. 

“Wow. What happened to girl code?”

I sighed. “I didn’t like the guy. So I honestly couldn’t care less.”

My sister made a thoughtful noise. 

“It’s been over a month since I went out with him. Once. One date. It’s not like I had some kind of claim on him.”

My sister Ciara, like most of my friends and family, thought I was too picky with men. If only they knew the half of it. 

“When are you visiting again, Cath?”

“Not until Christmas,” I replied. 

Ciara audibly sighed.

“You could visit me here, you know.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn't need to. It was expensive and she had the kids to worry about. 

“How are the rugrats?” I asked when the silence had stretched a moment too long, and she went into depth about how Connor was doing with potty training and how Rachel was able to keep her head up on her own.

It seemed like everyone, even the kiddos, were doing more, were improving, changing. Bettering themselves. Everyone except me.

I recognized that this thought was unfair, but it didn’t stop me from having it.

*

Exactly three months after the last, there was another end-of-quarter banquet. 

I dressed myself presentably, in a comfortable yet stylish sweater with black dress pants. 

Layla waved me over to a table, where she and John were sitting side by side. Vienna, who I remembered from the last banquet, was there too, sitting by John. Next to her was a couple I didn't recognize but who Layla quickly introduced. Layla, an insufferable extrovert, was always making new friends. Or networking. I could never quite tell with her.

I took one of the two empty seats, sitting at Layla’s right. 

They were talking about holiday plans, and so I chimed in that I was going to visit family in Georgia.

“How fun!” Vienna said.

“Probably won’t be a white Christmas,” John said with humor.

“I’m not built for snow anyhow. I hate the cold,” I said, gesturing to my tiny body. 

A few people at the table laughed, but my attention was pulled away as the empty chair next to mine was pulled out. 

I glanced up. Broad-shoulder guy, er, Isaac? Yes, Isaac, with the curly hair. But he looked… different. 

He sat down heavily. I’d noticed at the last banquet that he was a large person to begin with, tall and wide. It had been difficult to tell in a suit, but he’d seemed stocky. Like someone who was quite muscular, but not cut or lean by any means.

But now…he had a belly. A real, honest-to-god, belly. It balanced out those crazy wide shoulders, pushing out from his suit jacket, and balling up in his lap as he pulled the chair up closer to the table. 

I felt myself blushing and pinched my thigh.

Now is not the time. 

“Snow is overrated if you ask me. It’s glorified cold, icy rain. Bleh,” Isaac said.

John made an indignant noise.

Isaac grinned at him.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Vienna started singing when John and Isaac began debating the pros and cons of snow. 

“Isaac,” somebody said from behind. Isaac turned in his chair, smiling that easy smile. “You been hitting the eggnog a little hard, pal?”

My eyes widened, and I deliberately looked into the candle flickering on the table’s centerpiece so that my eyes wouldn’t wander towards his midsection. Why would this guy say that? Wasn’t that… rude?

But Isaac only laughed. I heard something, a light patting that might’ve been Isaac tapping his belly for emphasis.

“Yeah, it’s my winter coat.”

I crossed my legs under the table.

Get a grip, Catherine. 

We were served dinner, chicken in mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes, which I picked at, paying much more attention to the plate next to mine, which was cleared before anyone else's. It was all but licked clean. 

*

That night, I couldn’t get Isaac out of my mind. As Isaac was someone who had only spoken about three words to me in my entire life, I had become quite easily infatuated. 

Isaac was fatter now. And based on the way he had eaten tonight, it seemed likely that he would continue to do so. 

Check and check.

I couldn’t help searching him up online. 

I went through Layla’s friends list, and scrolled to the ‘I’s.

“Found him,” I muttered to myself, clicking his profile. 

Isaac Friedmann

I scrolled through his profile photos, but the newest was over a year old, before he’d gained weight. Still, he looked nice, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. I scrolled back, seeing younger versions of him. One photo from six years ago showed Isaac in a hockey jersey, fresh off the ice, stick in hand, grinning with some of his teammates.

“College hockey player? That’s impressive,” I murmured to myself. I ignored the twinge in my gut reminding me of the ‘ex-athlete who gets fat’ trope in weight gain fiction.

Isaac’s ‘about’ info was private, so I couldn’t check his relationship status. But really, what were the chances that he would even be interested in me anyway? 

I didn’t request to be his friend, even though I sort of wanted to.

*

I spent the holidays back home. I had to dodge lots of questions about my love life, which was of course, nonexistent. Instead, I steered conversation back to safer topics, like my job.

“I basically crunch numbers for the company. It’s a little boring, but the pay is nice and it’s low stress. Good hours, and benefits.” 

This explanation generally had my aunts cooing and congratulating me on my success.

I flew back to New York on the 29th, as I wanted to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. I’d done it the past two years since I’d lived in the city. It was crowded and cold, but somehow, my inner child lived for it. 

I had plans to meet up with my friend Chris, also known ‘Moxie’ when he was in drag, and his partner Sid. Chris lived in my apartment building and we’d bonded over being the only tenants who do laundry at 5:00 am. For Chris, he usually hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I had typically just woken up. Between our incompatible sleep schedules, we barely saw each other outside of these strange twilight hours or weekend nights. We exchanged texts semi-regularly throughout the weekdays, which was about all I could look for in a friend anyway. It’s not like I needed 24/7 companionship.

I’d been tempted to tell Chris about my, um, tastes. He was very kink positive and not at all judgmental. But every time I considered it, I practically broke out in hives. It stressed me out so much that I eventually gave up on the idea. Chris was probably under the impression that I was ace, and I had never done much to dissuade him from this idea. Hell, maybe I was on the ace spectrum. 

That might explain why the only thing that could get me going was fat bellies.

This is not the time to think about this. 

I met up with Chris and Sid in the lobby and we walked to Times Square together. 

I was freezing cold in a matter of seconds.

“Aw, poor Peach,” Sid said, rubbing my arm as we walked, which didn’t do much to quell my shivering. Peach was Sid’s nickname for me, one which I thought was endearing in a slightly annoying way.

“I have extra gloves if you want to double up,” Chris chimed in.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m wearing lots of layers,” I said. The wind chose that moment to blast frozen air directly onto my exposed face. “Fudging fudge!” I exclaimed.

Sid cackled while Chris groaned.

“Please just say fuck. Please,” he begged. 

I wrinkled my nose. “Hmmm,” I pretended to consider it. “No.”

We argued over which swear words I was likely to say, and what disastrous scenarios might prompt me to break my ‘no-swearing’ streak, which I’d had for as long as I could remember. 

Eventually, we nudged our way into the NYE crowd and found an area to stand. We weren’t near any of the stages, but that was alright. The main attraction was the ball, which could be seen from anywhere. None of us had much interest in the musical guests.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Sid said, gesturing to the pub down the block that was selling drinks in disposable cups. “Anyone want anything?”

“I’m alright,” I said.

“A beer?” Chris asked. Sid nodded, gave his partner a quick kiss, and headed off.

I had become acclimated to the harsh cold and so I wasn’t shivering too badly anymore. That, or my face had become completely numb.

“Your nose is so red,” Chris commented, booping me on the nose with a gloved finger. 

“It’s charming,” I replied easily, earning a crooked smile from him. Chris had a way of soothing my mind. I couldn’t think of a single other person who I could joke with quite so easily.

As he readied to say something else, I was bumped into from behind. Chris caught me by the elbows so I wouldn’t fall.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, shit,” a deep voice mumbled.

I turned, don’t worry about it, already on my lips but…

I saw shoulders, broad and thick. An open winter jacket, a sweater-covered belly filling the opening. Curly brown hair. Chubby red cheeks. It was Isaac!

I blinked.

Isaac blinked back.

“Oh, hey, um Catherine right?” 

I felt myself blushing, but hoped that the general redness of my wind-numb face would cover it.

“Yeah, hi, um Isaac.” 

Chris nudged me. “Oh, and this is my friend Chris,” I added. 

“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said. His eyes darted between Chris and I. I felt keenly aware that Chris still had one hand on my arm.

I pulled away and gave Isaac what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Um, great to see you somewhere that isn't work-mandated.”

Wow, I am horrible at flirting, I thought to myself. But he laughed.

“Yeah, you too!” He glanced around. “I’d better get back to my friends, but it was great running into you.”

“You too!” 

There was another awkward smile exchange, and then he was slipping through the crowd and out of sight. 

“Um, who the hell was that?” Chris wheeled on me. His face was all-too knowing. 

“Work acquaintance,” I said.

Sid slid back up then, took a quick look between Chris and I before saying, “What’d I miss?”

“Catherine just attempted to flirt. With another human being.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. 

I pulled my hat down so it covered my ears better, not acknowledging that. 

“Attempted? Was she successful?” Sid asked.

Chris eyed me and I felt horribly transparent. 

“The guy seemed into it. He was all smiley.”

I frowned. Had he been? I couldn’t hardly remember the encounter except my own horrible embarrassment. 

“Well, who wouldn’t be? That’s the power of the Peach right there.”

I laughed and felt a tad lighter. 

When the ball dropped, I bit my lip and sighed, yearning for something unnamed, unknowable. For something. 

*

“Great work, Catherine.” 

I couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise. My boss wasn’t harsh, but he also wasn’t overly friendly. He meant what he said, and he rarely gave compliments.

I let the high from that interaction carry me through the rest of the day. Petty work drama couldn’t touch me, not when I had done such ‘great work’ on my report. 

“There’s cake in the lounge if you want. It’s for, em, Eric,” Shelby, one of the interns from NYU, attempting to remember, “… Eric from accounting,” she said as I walked past.

‘Eric from accounting’ rang absolutely zero bells in my brain, but I figured I’d grab a slice.

My workplace was a big office suite located inside of a high rise. The data specialists had a corner of cubicles to themselves which budded up against the accounting cubicles. The marketing and supply-chain people had offices to themselves with glass walls and great views of the skyline. Of course, executives had a whole floor to themselves. 

It wasn’t like us numbers-folk were in some dark hovel or anything, but it nagged at me when I crossed into the marketing offices and noted the differences between our office areas. 

The lounge had a few people mingling around. I grabbed a slice of cake; it was chocolate. Not as good as vanilla, but it would do. 

“Cath, oh, tell them about that funny saying your mee-maw always says. Mee-maw, isn’t that such a cute way to say grandma?” Layla, always in the center of all social gatherings, asked as I went towards the beverage station. She was standing in a loose circle with John and Vienna.

I filled a paper cup with some burnt coffee and made my way over to her.

“Good ol’ mee-maw,” I said, playing up my accent. “She says lots of things. But, the one that always gets Layla is well, that just dills my pickle!”

Layla laughed, batting at my arm as she doubled over. I stepped out of the way to avoid the contact.

“Ah, such southern charm,” she said, giggling.

It was hard to tell with Layla whether she was laughing at you or with you.

Just then, Isaac waltzed through the lounge doorway.

“Heard there was cake,” he said, and instantly made his way over to the cake and cut himself a large slice.

It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen him on New Year’s Eve. In that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit plumper. His dress shirt was tight across the push of his belly. The buttons were pulling a bit on either side, puckered. I tracked his movements as he forked up a big bite of cake and stuffed it in his mouth.

Isaac made an appreciative noise before stabbing another piece with his fork.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck.  

I sensed rather than saw Isaac’s eyes flick over towards me. I instinctively glanced down at my own plate, not wanting to be caught staring.

“We still on for the gym tomorrow?” John asked. I looked up. John was staring with concern towards Isaac’s middle. 

“Course,” Isaac said through a mouthful of cake.

“Are you going to do cardio with me this time?” John asked in a lighter tone.

Isaac scoffed. “You know I gave up cardio for lent.”

Layla tilted her head. “Lent doesn’t start until the end of February,” she pointed out.

“Eh, I’m not particularly religious,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything.

Vienna laughed.

I couldn't suppress my own smile. I felt Isaac glance at me, but he quickly looked away before I could catch his eye. 

“Well, that was delicious. Have a good weekend everybody,” Isaac said, throwing his empty plate into the trash. He waved and left the room. 

There was a lull in the conversation, seemingly until Layla had declared Isaac as far enough away from the room to be able to talk about him without risk of being overheard.

“He got a bit chubby, didn’t he?” Layla said, her voice laced with concern. I bit my lip and said nothing. 

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, he carries it well,” Vienna chimed in.

I nodded subtly. I itched to come to Isaac’s defense, but the urge to stay silent was stronger.

“I’m not trying to nag him, but he’s been eating loads. It is a little concerning, but I guess… He’s an adult,” John fragmentally explained.

“Of course! I only just noticed,” Layla said placatingly.

“Excuse me,” I said before hastily leaving the lounge. God, why was this messing with my head so much? 

Maybe it was because Isaac was practically the human incarnation of my every fantasy. He’s been eating loads John had said… Oh God, now I was picturing Isaac sitting around, gorging on takeout, eating his way out of that tight dress shirt, buttons popping and flying off as he continued stuffing his fat face…

What the hell?? Stop thinking about this at work.

I knew I was flushing profusely, so I made haste towards the women's restroom.

Once inside I checked my face in the mirror. My mascara was flaking a bit after the long day, but other than that, I looked alright. I took a few deep breaths, counting to 10 in my head. 

I felt much better as I was leaving the bathroom.

Well, I thought I would, except when I swung the door open, it opened directly into someone.

“Fiddlesticks, I’m so sor-,” I began, pausing when I glanced up and saw who I’d hit.

“No, don’t worry about it, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Isaac laughed a bit. “Payback for New Years.”

That knocked a surprised giggle from my chest.

“Oh, you know I was meaning to apologize for running into you the other day. Well, not for running into you, but for like actually physically bumping you,” Isaac said, an embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to like being touched.”

I laughed again, slightly nervously. He noticed that? Oh, now he probably thinks I’m neurotic. Which… probably wasn’t so far off. 

“No, it wasn’t a big deal. The square was super packed, it happens.” I was pleased at how nonchalant I sounded.

Isaac nodded. “And sorry for you know, interrupting you when you were on a date or whatever–”

“What?” I blurted, entirely lost. 

Isaac glanced at me.

“You were with that um guy? He had his arms on you? I thought…”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I doubled over, cackling.

“No, no.” I sobered when I saw his embarrassed expression. “That, that was my friend Chris.” I said. Then after a beat, “Chris is gay.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and then he was laughing too. He looked relieved in some way, but I wasn’t sure.

“Ah, well. I’m an idiot, sorry about that. I just assumed.”

“No biggie,” I said, still smiling.  

Isaac stared at his feet, kicking at the carpet with his heels.

“So since you’re not dating your gay friend, what are you doing Saturday?” I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. He misinterpreted my expression. “I mean, tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings. But I would like to take you out sometime. You know, to see you on purpose instead of randomly bumping into each other.” He smiled lopsidedly.

For some reason, I heard Chris’ voice in my head, urging me to say yes, you idiot!

“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

It wasn’t until much later that night that I freaked out about it. 

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

*

This date was lightyears away from my awkward date with John. For one, I had butterflies. Actual butterflies, not the nervous sour awful kind, but the good kind, the kind that made your stomach feel like pop rocks.

For two, Isaac was sitting across from me in the tiny booth of a Jewish deli, which made him look somehow even bigger. Apparently this was his favorite spot, but I’d never been.

I closed my menu. “What should I get?”

Isaac eyed me, tilted his head, as though trying to read what I might like off of my face alone.

“Hot pastrami,” he decided. 

“Okay,” I agreed easily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a few things for us to share too. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily eat your leftovers.”

My head swam with dirty thoughts at that, but luckily the waiter stopped by just then and saved me from having to reply.

“All decided?” 

“Yeah, she’ll have the hot pastrami, and I’ll have the stuffed cabbage, a hushpuppy, and fried kreplach.” 

Isaac gave a stunning smile and handed over our menus. I realized Isaac was someone who was self-assured, content. It was inspiring to me though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also envious of these attributes.

Still, I couldn’t help but catch some of his infectious good mood and smile back. 

“What in the world is a hushpuppy doing on the menu of a Jewish deli?” I asked.

“Right! I almost forgot you’re a southerner. Oh boy, you’re gonna love this, it’s a kosher hot dog, wrapped in mashed potatoes and baked until it gets all golden brown.” He leaned back and made a sound somewhere between a moan of please and ‘yum’. 

“Oh my God,” I laughed. His stomach was looking quite plump from this angle.

I took a fortifying sip of iced water. 

There was a tiny bit of awkward silence; my lack of experience on dates was making my arms itch.

“I’m wondering how to ask ‘tell me about yourself?’ without actually asking that,” Isaac said in faux seriousness. His eyes were alight with humor.

“Hmmm, that is a tricky one. You could always go with the classics. What do you do in your free time? Favorite color? Dog or cat person?” I trailed off, unable to think of any others. Isaac was laughing in earnest now though, so I suppose I’d done enough.

“Well, I like reading, watching movies, being with family, you know. All that wholesome stuff.” Isaac leaned forward and I was again taken aback by how stunning his smile was. “Favorite color… that’s tough. Maybe red? I maintain the right to change that answer anytime though,” he said, pointing at me. 

“I’ll allow it,” I replied.

“And I’m a dog person. Now you go.”

I looked up, thinking. “I like reading, movies are good too. When I’m bored, I like going outside, walking, that sort of thing. Um, my favorite color’s got to be magenta. And I like cats and dogs equally.”

“Ah, now we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?” Isaac teased. 

“Oh, definitely.”

Isaac glanced past me, and I turned to see our waiter heading our way.

“Oh, finally. I’m starving,” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.

My meal was placed in front of me, and I was shocked at how much food was here.

An open-faced sandwich, pilled high and surrounded by french fries. 

But Isaac’s was even more full, plus the extras he’d ordered on top of his meal. Our table was crammed with plates of food.

*

We chatted a bit while we ate, but less so. Mostly because Isaac’s mouth was constantly filled. 

I tapped out after eating about half of my food, but Isaac insisted I try a bit of stuffed cabbage, the weird potato hotdog, and the kreplach (which was actually very delicious). 

I was rambling about the leaky sink in my apartment, which my landlord was resolutely ignoring, when Isaac finished the last of his food.

“You want mine?” I asked, pushing my plate towards him. 

Isaac groaned, but nodded. He looked like he wanted to lay down, but he sat forward and stuffed bite after bite of my sandwich into his mouth until it was gone. 

I pinched my thigh so hard it was likely to bruise, but it didn’t help.

I wanted to peel off the tight sweater, unbutton those slacks, feel that big bloated belly under my fingertips. 

But, well. That was weird. Even if your date glutted himself out in front of you, you didn't have any right to feel them up. Right?

The waiter came by and picked up our empty plates, and Isaac ordered a coffee. He was probably very full, I thought to myself. Maybe he needed to digest a bit before he got up.

“Ahhh,” Isaac sighed into his coffee.  “You know, I used to be a college athlete. Now I feel like I just ran a mile when all I did was stuff my face.”

He was probably going for self-depricating.

But, God, if that didn’t do something to me.

I felt my face go hot. I crossed my legs, but that made it worse. 

“Oh, what’d you play?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know from my cyberstalking.

“Hockey,” he said. “Did you ever play any sports?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t very interested in extracurriculars,” I said.

Isaac drained the last of his coffee and twisted his wrist to check his watch. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said, startled. 

“It’s no problem. I’m glad to be here,” I said. He met my eyes and smiled. I melted a little.

Isaac paid the bill even though I offered to split it.

“You can get it next time,” he’d promised, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

We walked back towards my building. It was chilly, and so my hands were in my coat pockets. That was probably safer. If my hands were free I’d probably try to do something stupid like touch him.

All too soon, we were approaching the front steps. 

“Thank you for dinner! I had a really great time,” I said. It was my usual line, but this time I meant it very sincerely.

“Catherine, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to see you again.”

My breath caught.

“I’d like that too,” I agreed.

Isaac took a deliberate step closer to me. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” I squeaked, voice too breathy, too quiet in the air between us.

He squinted at me. Licked his lips.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

I nodded, shivering.

Isaac seemed to steel himself. His hands reached out to cup my face, not touching, but hovering just a bit away from my jaw. “Can I touch you?”

I leaned towards his hands. “Yes,” I whispered. 

Isaac’s hand cupped my face, reeling me in. His other hand made its way to the small of my back, a comforting weight. The places where his hands were touching me felt electric. I slowly wound my arms around his neck. 

He leaned in so incredibly slowly that I was nearly vibrating with want by the time our lips collided. 

It was soft, hesitant, at first. Then I gave into it, letting myself lean against him. His belly pushed into my abdomen, and it was more satisfying than my fantasies had ever led me to believe. His head tilted, and our mouths slid together more securely. 

I made a needy noise in the back of my throat and he held me tighter. 

For once in my life, my mind and body were attuned as one, reacting the same. This passion, this longing, it was mirrored in the way Isaac held onto me, as though I was something precious. As though he didn’t want to let me go.  

*

Sometimes I have these thoughts that make no sense. I know they’re not logical, that they’re well… crazy. But I still have them.

I remember one time I spiraled really bad. My brain convinced me that no one even knew me. No one had ever known me, really. That no one cared about my existence. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. That I was invisible and unwanted and I had to text my sister Ciara to make it stop.

ME: You care about me right?

She’d texted back after a few minutes.

CIARA: Of course

And I didn’t believe her. But I put on a youtube video and after a few hours of mindless  media consumption I remembered that my family loved me. 

*

I was trying really hard to keep Isaac from seeing me spiral. 

Usually when I had those weird trains of thought it took time to dig myself out. For rational thought to finally wrestle its way back into my mind. 

But I’d been spending a lot of time with Isaac. And that meant the chances of revealing my fully unhinged self to him increased. 

I know about probabilities okay, I’m a data specialist. 

But, after our fantastic first date, Isaac and I started seeing each other with regularity. We would eat lunch together, sometimes in the staff lounge, but sometimes if we had time, we’d walk to a bodega and get a sub or something. 

And a few times a week we would make plans to see each other after work. We texted in between dates, or during the work day. I spied my contact in his phone and noticed there was a heart emoji next to my name. 

It was quickly becoming ‘dating’ rather than ‘seeing each other’. I wanted to ask about being in an exclusive relationship, but I’d yet to get the nerve. 

But being with Isaac was just great. It really was. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him.

I really liked him.

And I noticed, because I spent so much time with him now, that Isaac seemed to be intentionally getting fat. 

There were a few signs which led me to this conclusion:

Isaac would push himself to eat as much as he could at every meal even if he was full, groaning and subtly rubbing the sides of his gut, he’d still eat more.

Isaac bought a whole new set of clothes, which was only practical. BUT! But he bought them… big. That’s right, they were baggy on him. Which… why would someone do that if they weren’t expecting to keep getting bigger?

Isaac was probably onto me and my weird fetishes and he almost seemed to be leaning into it. Because he would say things, provocatively, but still subtle enough that it wasn’t super obvious, about his weight gain. 

I remember one time we’d gotten ice cream and were walking around central park. Isaac had eaten a huge meatball sub for lunch and I could tell he was pretty stuffed. But he still suggested ice cream with a glint in his eye. And he tracked my reaction closely, I could feel the heat on my cheeks, I’m sure my pupils were dilating a little. And then he’d pushed his stomach out further, ‘stretching his back’ and a sliver of his belly peaked out from beneath his shirt. 

“Oh, I guess I probably didn’t need that ice cream,” he said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing a hand over his rounded belly. It was a ball, defying gravity and sticking straight out. The rest of him was starting to fill out a bit more as well, but his belly was by far the most obvious feature. 

I stammered, mind going blank until I eventually mumbled something about ice cream being delicious.

Isaac smiled knowingly and took my hand. He put it on his side, where his puffy love handle met his back in a roll. It wasn’t inherently weird, couples touched each other’s sides casually. But.

But Isaac watched me so closely and I let my hand do what it wanted, to sink into that flabby flesh.

And Isaac sort of, smirked? Not condescendingly. More… secretly pleased.

And after that it became normal for Isaac to initiate touching around his midsection. 

Because of who I am as a person, I wasn’t ever the one initiating these touches, because I was too nervous. But Isaac seemed to like it when my hands were on him. And I liked it to.

And so it became normal for Isaac to put my hands on his gut after a big meal and I’d lightly run my hands along his bloated belly, taught after a binge. 

But what we didn’t do was talk about it. 

*

Until I walked into what seemed like a fairly tense conversation.

“Why am I always the bad guy when I’m trying to look out for you?” John hissed, a whisper that was scathing in its intensity.

I stopped short of coming into the doorway of Isaac’s office, shocked.

“You’re not the bad guy, I’m just sick of your nagging. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” Isaac’s reply was calmer, but still intense. 

“Jesus christ.” John sounded like he’d begun pacing, letting out exasperated sounds as he did so.

“You’re my oldest friend. You should support me, fat or thin,” Isaac said quietly, and his voice sounded so… sad. 

I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but it felt too dangerous to try and back away now that they’d gotten so quiet. 

John let out a wounded noise. “It’s not that I’m upset you’re fat. I love you, no matter what you look like. But you’re not letting me help you get this weight under control. And that hurts.” It sounded like a tired argument, like John had been trying it for some time now to no avail. 

“I’m gonna be late for Catherine,” Isaac said coldly, a clear dismissal. 

I panicked, and slowly inched backwards, trying to act like I’d just rounded the corner.

Isaac walked out of his office right as I approached, and I forced a casual smile onto my face. 

“Hey! So, I was thinking we could try this Indian place? I read they have really good deals on Thursdays,” Isaac said, perfectly normal. As though nothing happened. 

“Sounds great,” I said. 

Later, after Isaac had eaten his fill of butter chicken and naan, we went back to my apartment.

It wasn’t like that. We hadn’t been doing anything more than kissing. And Isaac seemed good with that. He hadn’t asked, let alone pressured me like I’d expected he would after a few dates. I wondered if I should feel mad that he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive?

But, sometimes when we hugged, I could, ah, feel  how attracted he was to me. So that probably wasn’t it. 

I put on an action movie and we snuggled close. He carefully draped my arm across his belly, where it puffed out under his chest. I squeezed in closer and he laughed softly over my head. 

The movie was terrible, but in a really awesome way. The protagonist had just strutted away from a collapsing building as it blew up behind him when Isaac spoke. 

“Would you judge me if I said I was hungry again?”

I wet my lips, feeling overwhelmed.

“No,” I said. That seemed like a safe answer. Then I realized I was being a bad host. “Would you like something? I have some girl scout cookies, or if you want something more I have frozen pizza rolls?”

I could hear my mee-maw’s voice in my head tutting at me for not having anything freshly baked to offer my guest. 

“I could go for both, if that’s okay.”

I squeezed Isaac tighter and then let go to get his cookies and pizza rolls. My face and neck were probably visibly red from arousal and embarrassment. I felt like a kid who’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. But I wasn’t. I was just putting pizza rolls into my air fryer and getting cookies out of my cupboard. 

I grabbed a can of sprite out of my fridge, because he probably wanted something to drink. And well. Soda had bubbles. It’d make Isaac a little more bloated… I need professional help. 

“Samoas! My favorite! I’ll totally buy you a new box, don’t worry.” Isaac quickly opened the box and shoved a cookie into his mouth. 

I smiled, didn’t trust my voice to say anything, and turned back towards the movie. I snuggled in close, but didn’t wrap myself around Isaac like I’d been doing earlier so his hands were free to eat. 

It was strange that I loved touching Isaac when normally contact with other human beings made me feel gross. I’d yet to fully understand that.

But anyways, Isaac stuffed his face with cookies, pausing to drink his soda and letting out little burps as he did so. He’d always mutter, “Excuse me,” when he did. I shifted, feeling something stir inside me. I wanted so much it was making me antsy. 

Then the pizza rolls were done, so I put them on a plate and came back. 

I saw the empty cookie box and smiled to myself. 

Isaac was looking very bloated. His big ol’ gut was puffed out, and it drooped a little into his lap. He still had those crazy big shoulders, but they looked proportional. His arms had softened up, a little flabby. I rested my head on one and sighed. I could hear, feel, and see Isaac steadily eating his way through the pizza rolls. He was groaning a little. Clearly full, but desperate for a little more. 

When he finished, he tried to reach over and put the plate down on the coffee table, but he couldn’t quite get there with his big bloated belly so stuffed and tender, so he gave up and set it down next to him on the couch. 

“God, thanks. No wonder I’m getting so fat. Been eating like a damn fiend lately.”

My face was most definitely beet red, so I just nuzzled under his arm and put myself back into my old position. Isaac let himself be maneuvered until I was comfortable.  

“I’m…” Isaac started but then trailed off. The movie was ending, the protagonist kissing some sexy twenty-something as a pop rock song came on.

“Mmm what?” I asked drowsily. He was so warm and soft. His tummy was gurgling, trying to digest. 

“I’m not reading into things am I?” Isaac paused and I waited for him to continue. “You like this too?” He patted the side of his belly.

I leaned away from him to look at his face. It was pink, but he held my gaze unflinchingly.

I took a breath. “No, you’re not reading into things.”

Isaac broke out into his signature grin.

“Thank fuck,” he said vehemently. I smiled back, feeling relief and simultaneously immense panic.

“So, you- you are gaining weight on purpose?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Er, yeah.” Isaac scratched at his neck. “It’s like. Well. We should probably just be honest, huh?”

He looked nervous, I realized. I’d never seen him like that.

“Yeah. Honest.”

He nodded. “So, I’ve always wanted to get fat. I mean, I was a little chubby as a kid, but then I got into sports so I kind of had to stay in shape. But now that I can afford to, you know, buy tons of food and new clothes…” He laughed sheepishly. “I figured why not? So I started like, doing stuffings and. Yeah. I like it.” Isaac’s face was a little pink but he was beaming.

I didn’t quite know what to say. 

Isaac nudged me. “What about you? Is that why you didn’t go on a second date with John? Because he’s a toothpick?”

His words had some humor to them but I could sense genuine curiosity underneath.

“Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t, um, attracted to him. Or, really. Anybody. Until you.”

It felt like a huge admission. Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better. 

“So, I guess we should discuss, like what things we’re into? And what we aren’t.”

That seemed very sensible so I nodded. 

“For me,” Isaac said. “I want to keep gaining. I don’t have a goal weight or anything right now, but I know I’m not fat enough yet.” He smacked his belly for emphasis. I tracked the movement, felt my face heat. He watched me, and it was like some invisible wall was down and I knew that he knew I was hot all over at the sight. “But I’m into stuffing, obviously. I would definitely be down for you to stuff me, if that’s something you’d be into.”

“I-I would definitely be into that,” my mouth said without my consent. But Isaac thought my reaction was funny, or cute. He was smiling at me indulgently. 

“Alright. So you like watching me eat, you’d be interested in helping me eat… What else?”

I took a second to think. 

“I think maybe like, trying on old clothes? Keeping rough track of your weight. Like, maybe occasionally taking measurements, but mainly just having you weigh yourself sometimes to see your progress…” I realized as I started speaking that these desires had been brimming under the surface for such a long time. I’d never been able to imagine I’d ever get to do any of them though. 

“Alright, that’s very doable. Any hard limits?” Isaac asked. 

“I don’t want to be, you know, mean to you. I know some people are into degradation but, um. No, I won’t do that.” 

Isaac nodded. “Not a problem. I think it’s the same for me. I want to be carefree, let my gluttony run wild.”

“You seem to be doing well at that so far,” I said and patted the biggest part of his belly. 

He laughed and hugged me close to him. 

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you like me like this,” he whispered, a little serious. 

I melted into his embrace. “Me too.” 

*

CHIRS: how’s it going with ur boytoy ;)

ME: good! 

ME: I think we’re very compatible. 

CHRIS: when do i get to properly meet this man

ME: Idk i'll plan something soon and let you know

*

We planned to have a big stuffing day on the weekend. Isaac said he wanted to test his capacity at eating all day. And I suggested we keep track of the calories so we’d know how much to aim for next time.

I was freakishly excited about it. 

I got a ton of calorie-rich groceries delivered – store made cakes, frozen pizzas, premade dumplings, and tons of snack foods. And we planned to order takeout periodically depending on Isaac’s cravings.

I had a journal ready where I was going to jot down everything Isaac would be able to eat that day. Maybe it was a little Type A of me, but hey, for once my neurotic brain was working with me. 

 Isaac picked up a dozen donuts on his way to my apartment that morning, and by the time he arrived on my doorstep, he’d already eaten two. 

“Sorry,” he’d said but I shushed him.

“You’re a growing boy.” I watched Isaac’s eyes glaze over a little. I quickly ushered him to the couch where he’d spend the majority of the day. 

Now, the real fun could begin!

*

The day was off to a wonderful start. I was, possibly for the first time, truly letting myself look at Isaac the way I wanted to. 

Lustily, adoringly. 

He’d always had an imposing figure, with his height and abnormally wide shoulders. He was naturally big. And of course his new weight was extenuating these features quite nicely. His belly was the most obviously pudgey area, but I noticed that his jaw was softening and his arms, while still looking well-muscled where they poked out of his t-shirt, were looking softer as well. Likewise his chest had lost definition, but not mass. I wanted to straddle his lap and let my hands sink into those soft mounds above his belly, really feel how fluffy they were getting.

I felt surprised at my own reaction, how bad my body wanted. God, Isaac made me lose my head a little. 

Isaac got comfortable and proceeded to eat half of the dozen donuts, sipping on some whole milk to wash them down, before he took a short break.

We were watching some legal drama on TV and I rubbed his belly a little, which was jigglier than usual. Probably because it was the morning and he hadn’t eaten enough for it to be taut and full. My hand looked comically small in comparison to his big tummy. 

After a while Isaac went back to the donuts and somehow finished another three in quick succession. The last three were more of a chore. He was pretty full and the donuts were dense. 

“Just a little more,” I said, and pushed bites past his lips. 

Isaac groaned, but dutifully ate bite after bite until they were all gone. 

We kissed for a while after that, and he tasted like donuts. His hands were latched around my waist. It made me feel unreasonably hot when I realized how big his hands were on my sides; his fingertips were nearly touching where they curved around my ribs.

But after about a half an hour Isaac said he was no longer completely full and so I got him some chips and salsa.

“Hmm, this is really good,” Isaac said between bites.

“Let me try one,” I said. It was pretty good. Salty chips and sweet salsa that had a slight kick once you swallowed.

I got up and grabbed my notebook.

12 donuts

Half a bag of tortilla chips & salsa 

“It feels a bit like you’re studying me for science when you write like that.” 

I glanced up, blushing.

“Sorry,” I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“I don’t mind being a science project. At least, not when you’re doing it,” Isaac said with a shrug.

I felt warm and fuzzy inside. 

By now his belly was filling up, not really a true bloat just yet, but getting there. I put a frozen pizza in the oven. 

“Seemed like this would be easier,” Isaac said, leaning as far back as he could. His belly was pushed out and he rubbed the sides of it consolingly. “I feel like I eat a ton normally, but having so much so early in the day is making me feel like a total blimp.”

I hummed and made my way behind the couch, put my hands on his shoulders and started gently massaging them.

He sighed in contentment. 

The oven dinged and I hopped up to get the pizza out.

“You don’t have to eat it all now,” I said, handing Isaac a big plate filled with pizza.

Isaac groaned but started eating dutifully. 

“Yeah I do,” he said between bites. “Won’t taste as good reheated.”

I laughed.

I watched, transfixed, as Isaac shoved slice after slice into his mouth. His belly bloated bigger and bigger. 

Isaac paused to drink some water. “Salty,” he muttered.

“Let me,” I said as I reached to unbutton his jeans. He looked relieved as I pulled the zipper down and his belly was able to spill forward a little. It wasn’t big enough to really hang down, but Isaac spread his legs anyway. Gave himself a bit more room.

Isaac rubbed the red line where his jeans had been cutting into his belly a little, and then went back to eating.

He couldn’t possibly be hungry at all. In fact, he’d looked like he was getting to a point of overfullness where he looked a little queasy. 

“Fuck me,” Isaac groaned when he picked up the final slice.

I ran a soothing hand over the dome of his belly. 

He finished the slice.

Isaac fell asleep when I went to wash some of the dishes. He looked so cute with his shirt pulled up to his belly button, jeans open, and head tilted back against the couch.

I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest and I knew I was in trouble.

I made myself a sandwich and cleaned up a bit, trying not to be a creep and just watch Isaac sleep. But I did glance over often. He was just so cute. 

Isaac woke up around 3 and I put out some snacks, trail mix and pretzels, which Isaac grazed on a little.

For dinner, I ordered chinese. 

Isaac got crab rangoons, kung pao chicken, and lo mein. I got garlic chicken. 

“God, I’m still stuffed. Haven’t been hungry since 9 this morning,” Isaac groaned. Still, he loaded up his plate and sat back. 

“You’re doing so well,” I said supportively. “Eating a lot at once probably takes some practice. You know? Just like anything else.”

Isaac eyed me. “You’re saying we should do this more often? For training, of course?”

I blushed but nodded at him.

“Good with me,” Isaac said. 

He slowed down by the time his first entree was gone. He’d eaten about half of the crab rangoons. 

I was finished with my portion, had put the rest in the fridge for my lunch tomorrow. 

I let myself do what I wanted to do all day and swung my leg over him, got onto his lap.

Isaac seemed surprised but not at all bothered to have me in his lap.

“Let me,” I said, taking the plate from him. I filled the fork and lifted it to his lips.

“Mmm,” he mumbled into the bite. He relaxed further, let me keep putting food into his mouth until he groaned for a break. I put the plate aside, felt his bloated belly. It was thick with all of the food he’d eaten. Puffed out and stiff under my fingers. I was gentle as I ran my hands along his stomach.

He burped into his fist a few times, which I think gave him a bit more room.

“I can take more now,” he said. 

I fed him bite after bite until it was gone, until he’d eaten everything. I got up to put the dishes in the sink. When I came back, Isaac was huffing and groaning.

“Oh god,” he moaned, holding onto his belly like his hands were the only things keeping it from splitting open.

I bit my lip, felt my insides heat at the sight.

“I’m never getting up again,” he whined. “I think I’m going to live on your sofa forever. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t mind,” I said, voice like honey. He looked up at me, blushing beet red. 

Eventually Isaac wanted to get vertical, and I helped him up and into my bathroom so he could take a shower.

I used that time to update my notes.

12 donuts, 290 cal each = 3,480 total calories

Half bag of tortilla chips = 980 calories

Two cups of salsa = 134 calories

Frozen pizza = 2,269 calories

About a cup of pretzels = ~300 calories

About two cups of trail mix = 1,386 calories 

Crab rangoons = 732 calories

Kung pao chicken = 781 calories

Lo mein = 897 calories

Total =10,959

“Holy cannoli,” I murmured to myself. 

Isaac walked in shortly after, his hair was wet and he’d put on some comfy sweatpants. 

“You ate almost 11,000 calories today,” I said without preamble.

Isaac sighed, rubbed his big belly.

“Yeah, feels like it. Do you mind if I stay over?”

I’d offered when we had planned this. But it was still nice to be asked, to double check that it was alright.

“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Just, just for sleeping,” I clarified. I was suddenly very embarrassed.

But all Isaac said was, “Good with me.”

That night, when Isaac was completely passed out in a food coma in my bed, I laid wide awake. Once Isaac had fallen asleep, it was like I was alone. Even though he was a few inches from me, I felt totally alone. 

I had been so happy and present in my body while we’d been doing it, when I’d been watching Isaac eat and feeding him myself. But.

But now I felt like a black hole had opened up inside my chest. 

I found myself questioning this whole thing. Is this ethical? Feeding someone? Making them fatter? Even if they want it, there was probably more to it. Was it objectively bad? It didn’t feel like it should be bad but…

I scrolled through my phone, which ended up being a horrible idea. Because I came across some stupid click-bait article about how some young healthy guy had dropped dead after sitting still for too long. A blood clot went to his lungs after a 3 day bender of playing video games and not moving.

And that was the end of that. I threw my phone onto my side table and sat up. I paced.

 Didn’t want to wake Isaac.

But I also really wanted to wake up Isaac. Because what if he had a blood clot? What if him sitting on my couch all day, and then laying down on my bed all night, was going to kill him?

I knew I was being crazy, but I was actually about two seconds from losing it, and so I woke Isaac up. 

I shook his shoulder. 

“Mm?” Isaac mumbled, stirring a bit.

When his eyes opened I was entirely mortified. 

What was I supposed to say? I’ve been having this irrational fear that if you don't stand up and walk around for a bit you’re going to die.

No. No, I couldn’t. But now he was looking at me with concern, his brows pulling together in concern. 

“I,” I began but nothing else was forthcoming. 

“What’s wrong? Catherine?”

My ears were buzzing.

“Um,” I said. And promptly started tearing up. 

“Shit, c’mere,” Isaac said, pulling me into his arms. 

I allowed this for a moment, because being against his soft body felt nice, but the anxieties were still there, brimming under my skin.

“No,” I said, pulling away. “C-can you, yeah come,” I said, disjointedly, but Isaac allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by me. 

“Okay, what are we doing?” Isaac asked. I intertwined our arms and started dragging Isaac towards the bedroom door. He was being a remarkably good sport about all this, I noticed. If someone had woken me out of a dead sleep, started crying on me, and then 30 seconds later was tugging me around their apartment, I would probably be livid. 

“Walk with me,” I said instead of actually answering. I led him around the perimeter of the living room, like it was a track. 

“So, is there a reason I’m walking laps instead of sleeping right now?” Isaac asked. There was a lightness to his tone, but it couldn’t completely disguise his worry. 

Seeing him, up and about, acting fine, made me absolutely mortified at my overreaction. But it was also so relieving. See, brain? He’s fine. 

“I, well. I get like this sometimes,” I started. My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my pajama pants. “Like, I have stupid thoughts and I don’t know how to shut them up. So, um, we’re walking so I can prove to myself that my brain is actually wrong and you’re fine.” 

It was more than I meant to say, but Isaac hummed, kept walking with me. He seemed to be letting my words marinate. 

“Did your brain convince you that I was in fact, not fine?” Isaac asked after a moment.

I shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”

I saw Isaac nod in my periphery. “And what made your brain think that?”

It was a fair question. Isaac was taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, if he dumped me after this, I would understand. But for now, he was still walking with me. Still had my arm in his. 

“It’s, you were sitting all day. And, well. I don’t want you to get a blood clot.” I mumbled, getting quieter towards the end of my sentence. 

“I see,” Isaac said. “So next time I should get up and walk a bit when we’re doing stuffings. Do you think that’ll help ease your worries?”

I stopped walking and Isaac did too. I looked up at him. I was sure my face was red but I didn't really care.  

“You still want to do this again?” I whispered.

Isaac smiled. “Course. But I would like to make sure you don’t get so worried next time.” He ran his hands down the sides of my arms reverently.

I felt my eyes water, with exhaustion or emotion, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just leaned in to hug him. 

“Okay. Do you feel better? Think you can get some sleep now?” Isaac asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded into his chest.

He ushered me back into bed, pulled the covers over me, pulled me into his arms. 

“You still like me, even though I’m sort of crazy?” I asked in the dark. It was easier when I wasn’t able to see his face.

Isaac exhaled a soft laugh.

“You’re not crazy.” I huffed in disbelief and he amended, “Not actually crazy. An understandable sort of crazy. And why would that make not like you? Have you seen you?” Isaac tsked and I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Isaac was attracted to me, but it still left me a little breathless to hear him mention it.

“I guess that’s understandable,” I huffed.

I felt Isaac kiss my forehead.

“Go to sleep.”

So I did. 

*

Isaac had told me in college he’d been about 170 lbs. He’d gotten a little fluffier over the years, putting his best estimate at being around 190 when he’d been first introduced to me. But since then, he’d started gaining on purpose, putting on almost 40 pounds from October to December. I recalled how noticeable that gain was, how it seemed like so much difference in such a small amount of time. It had been evident in his big belly, how it rounded out in front of him. But still, at 6’3, 227 lbs wasn’t all that much. He’d just looked beefy. A sort of imposing figure softened with a pudgy middle. 

But that wasn’t the case any longer. Isaac had graduated from dad bod firmly into chubby territory. By March, Isaac was sitting at a solid 269. And boy did it show. 

Ever since my mortifying spiral, Isaac had been so insanely accommodating of my illogical worries, it made me feel simultaneously like crap and also feel so amazingly warm. And he’d talked me down from a few freakouts since then. Mostly it had to do with me thinking that Isaac was going to get sick and die (he did neither). And Isaac reassured me by getting a checkup (he had a clean bill of health) and eating lots of vegetables (because I remembered scurvy existed). 

We still hadn’t had sex. 

But at this point, I was waiting for Isaac to bring it up. It felt like I’d let it go too long without saying anything and now it would be awkward to bring it up… 

Still, I had never even thought that I could find someone who would like me once they got to know me. Or more accurately, that I would be able to feel attraction for someone who felt the same about me. And so really, sex with Isaac was as terrifying as it was exciting to think about. I would be alright if we held off a little longer.

*

“And then Isaac made me watch this movie with him, oh gosh, it’s so funny, I can’t even remember the name of it, but you’d love it. I’ll ask him later and text you the title.” I was rambling about Isaac. Had been for the last 10 minutes, I knew, but as I was folding my laundry before 6 in the morning, I was too tired to care.

“So I take it you and Isaac are doing pretty well?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” I hummed rather dreamily. “We’re exclusive now, did I tell you that?”

“Um, no you certainly did not!” Chris gave me his best disappointed dad look.

I laughed. “Well, we are. An item that is. I should be like, carving our initials into a tree at this point.” 

Chris barked a laugh. “You really like him don’t you?” Chris teased, but his gaze was far too knowing for comfort. I don’t know what my face did, but it only spurred Chris on. “Oh my god, you’re falling in loveeee.” He sang, clutching boxer briefs to his chest dramatically. At least they were fresh out of the dryer.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but I couldn't keep a grin off my face. 

“I need to meet this guy. Like, meet him as your partner. Because, I know I met him. But. Really, it’s gone on long enough, I need to give him the shovel talk. You should take him out this weekend, I have a gig at Celia’s.”

It was tempting, if only because Chris, or Moxie, as was his stage name, was a really good performer. And I sort of did want Isaac to meet my friends. Who all happened to be gay in some way. Huh, I wonder if that factored into my ability to connect with other people somehow. I was weird as heck, a girl whose sexuality was basically ‘bellies’. But well, the LGBT+ community had always been a kind of haven for whomever society deemed to be outcasts or weirdos…

“Yeah, I’ll ask him today,” I said, and Chris squealed in delight. He was way too chipper for 5:47 am if you asked me. But, he also hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“Ask him,” Chris said, giving me a warning finger pointed my way. He stuffed all his clothes into his basket without folding them. Ugh, such a guy. 

*

After almost 3 months of dating, Isaac and I attended our first work banquet together. You know, as a couple. 

“Does this tie make me look like an asshole?” Isaac asked. 

I watched as Isaac fiddled with his collar in my bathroom mirror. It was a bit tight where his neck was getting thicker, a double chin imminent. I focused my attention on the tie. It had four leaf clovers on it. 

“I think it’s fun,” I said. I was straightening my hair, trying to get my hair to lay flat, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. I probably needed an actual silk press, but who had time for that?

“Well, if Catherine thinks it’s fun, it must be,” Isaac said.  

I shoved Isaac’s chest playfully. My hand sunk a little bit into his plushy flesh and I bit my lip. 

“Almost ready?” he asked. Isaac’s eyes were dark, and his arm wound around my waist. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We arrived at the banquet on time. 

The banquet was a lot more fun with Isaac at my side. I never realized how isolated I had made myself at these events. I thought it was because I didn't want to make small talk, but I don’t think that was true. I just didn’t feel comfortable. But with Isaac there, it was easy. He knew everybody. Everyone seemed to like him. And by proxy, they liked me because I’m Isaac’s girlfriend. As the night went on, I talked more, opening up and chatting with new people. I hardly talked to Layla at all, and I honestly didn't miss it. 

Dinner was another mediocre affair, roasted potatoes and a small filet of salmon. But Isaac had hit the appetizer tables pretty hard before, so I figured it would do.

“God, this belt is killing me,” Isaac whispered to me once his plate was clear. I glanced at his belt, and sure enough, it looked tight. Tighter than it had earlier this evening.

“Can’t you loosen it?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “It’s on its last notch.” Isaac’s face was a little proud.

“Oh,” I muttered. My face was probably pink, so I took a sip of water. Isaac laughed a little and placed a big hand on my back. 

I was relieved when we left, though I noticed Isaac had been avoiding John all night. I didn’t want to pry, but they were close friends. I wondered if they’d fought again. But Isaac didn’t tell me those sorts of things. The only reason I suspected it was because of my accidental eavesdropping. Maybe Isaac thought knowing he and his friend were arguing over his weight would make me worry unnecessarily. 

“How far is Celia’s from here?” Isaac asked once we’d started walking. The March air was brisk, but it felt sort of nice. 

“Five blocks,” I said. “Did you eat too much?” It hadn't seemed like it.

Isaac shook his head. “Hardly. It’s this fucking belt. Feel like it’s cutting me in half.”

I pulled us to the side of the walk way. 

“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked when I reached for his pants. I said nothing but smiled in a way I hoped was attractive. 

Though it wasn’t easy, eventually I was able to unhook the belt and pull it off.

Isaac laughed. “What, I’m supposed to carry that all night now?”

I shook my head. “It won’t fit ever again, right?” I asked. His eyes glazed over a bit, and he shook his head. “Right,” I said, and tossed the belt into a trash bin. 

“Ready to go?” I asked innocently. Isaac kissed me hard.

The bar called Celia’s was disgusting. But also very very cool. The floor probably contained diseases unknown to modern medicine, but the atmosphere was so fun and energetic, it hardly even mattered.

“PEACH!!!” I had hardly made it through the threshold, but somehow Sid had already spotted us. I gave Isaac a sympathetic glance and tugged him towards the bar where Sid and our friends were standing.

I could hardly hear over the music, but somehow Sid’s voice still boomed.

“Oh my god, Peach I’ve missed you! You get a boyfriend and all the sudden you’re not free every weekend to hang out. It’s so sad! Oh, and you’re the boyfriend,” Sid shouted, looking from me to Isaac. He wasn’t slurring but he was most definitely drunk.

“That would be me,” Isaac said. He was taller than mostly everyone, and he just seemed to take up so much space in the crowded bar. It was hot, I had to admit.

“Awww, he’s so cute! Guys, look how cute Peach and her boyfriend are,” Sid cooed.

Amy, Ty, and Jinx all mumbled their agreement in their various stages of intoxication. 

“How long until Moxie comes on?” I asked Sid.

Sid checked the time on his phone. “Like, two minutes ago!”

We both cackled. These gigs never stayed on schedule. 

“Do you want a drink?” Isaac whispered in my ear. His hand hovered protectively over my hip, and I leaned into him.

“Just a coke?” I said.

Sid scoffed. “Our Peach is so responsible. I always try to get her drunk at a bar but she refuses.”

Isaac glanced down at me, amused. I huffed, indignant. 

“Who wants to waste $9 on some fancy shot when I could make my own for a fraction of the price. And I could drink it at home where I know I won’t get knapped!”

Sid full on cackled at me. 

“You’re the best Peach, oh wow. I love you!” Sid breathed, pulling me in for a sticky hug.

Isaac returned a few minutes later with my coke and a beer for himself. 

Jinx leaned over to me and drunk-whispered (meaning everyone in a ten mile radius could probably hear them), “You’re dating like, the hottest bear I’ve ever seen.” The way they said it suggested they were well versed on the subject. 

I felt my cheeks turn bright red. 

“Shut up, you’re the worst!” They just laughed at me.

“Ohmyygod, everyone stop, here she comes!” Sid said, grabbing anyone he could reach. This happened to include Isaac’s arm. 

I shrugged in apology, but Isaac seemed only charmed by it.

The lights on the small stage came on and Moxie was there in all her glory. 

She had on a leotard and fishnets, seven inch heels, and a wig big enough to be seen from outer space.

Then a Brittany Spears song came on and Moxie started dancing and lip syncing. She was strutting around the stage like she owned it, and whipping her wig all around. It was so fun to watch. The crowd screamed anytime she looked their way. Sid was the loudest, yelling, “THAT’S MY BABY!” so loud it made me wince.

Moxie ended up doing five songs before introducing the next queen and exiting. 

“What’d you think?” I shouted to Isaac. He had to bend over to hear me over the music.

“She slayed,” Isaac said stone-faced. 

There was something absolutely hilarious about someone as heterosexual and male as Isaac saying ‘slay’ that it made me absolutely weak in the knees. I nearly fell over laughing.

Moxie came out from backstage to mingle with us after a little while. It was fun seeing Isaac have to look up at Moxie, since her heels gave her a height advantage over someone as tall as Isaac. 

“You’re an incredible performer. Um, you have a lot of stage presence,” Isaac was saying.

Moxie absolutely ate it up. 

 She turned to me, pleadingly. 

“Cath, please keep this one? Pretty please?? I like him so much.”

Isaac gave me a smug look, like yes I charmed your friends, of course they love me. 

“Wasn’t planning on getting rid of him,” I said, snuggling up under his arm. 

A chorus of, “Ahh, look at them, they’re so cute! Babies!!!” followed. 

*

“Your friends are way cooler than mine,” Isaac said on the way home. We were huddled in close as we walked to Isaac’s apartment.

I giggled and leaned into his side. 

The air was charged when we reached Isaac’s building. 

I felt a pull from the pit of my stomach. Isaac seemed to feel it too in the way he was avoiding looking at me. His cheeks were pink but I didn't think it was from the cold. 

“Um, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked once I’d gotten my shoes off. Isaac was unbuttoning his collar and it was unreasonably attractive. He nodded and I watched his chin double with the movement. 

“You’re gonna swim in it but here,” Isaac said, handing me a t-shirt. I peeled off my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh. 

“Thanks.”

A loaded silence followed. 

“You tired?” Isaac asked. It was after 2 a.m. 

“No.”

Time seemed to be moving very fast, but it also felt a bit like it was moving slow. Like pouring molasses in January, and also like watching a YouTube video at 1.75 speed. 

Isaac pulled me flush against him, and his belly pressed against my small torso. He cupped my head in his big hands and tilted his face down towards mine. Our lips touched, like they had many times before. 

Nothing about this kiss felt like those though. 

Isaac’s tongue invaded my mouth and I couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper. 

“Cath…”

I pushed my face against his chest, breathing hard. My face felt like it was on fire. 

“Do you…?” Isaac asked. 

Now or never, I thought. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I said. Isaac pulled me to his room so fast we almost fell over.

*

Sex was different than I’d imagined it. I don’t know what I thought it’d be like. Maybe some kind of childish delusion was coloring my expectations. ‘True love or stars colliding. But the real version was better. It was flesh on flesh, sweaty and hot. It was laughing when your bodies made a weird squelching noise. It was seeing pores and moles and other imperfections. 

It made me appreciate that I was physically here. That I was with Isaac carnally and he still wanted me. He wanted me so much we went at it twice before dawn. 

We ate leftover Chinese food as the sun came up and it was so perfect. So absolutely astoundingly perfect.

I had the most awful, terrifying thought as I watched the sun shine onto Isaac’s curls. I love him. 

It was horrible and gross and awe-inspiring and amazing and disturbing and great. I felt like my chest was full to bursting. 

After that, Isaac and I grew closer in a lot of ways. For one, we started having sex a lot. Like four or five times a week. Sometimes more. 

For two, Isaac and I got closer emotionally. I learned lots about him as we lay together at night, cuddling naked in the dark.

Isaac’s mom is Catholic and his dad is Jewish. Isaac’s grandma makes the best lemon bars. Isaac doesn't have siblings but his cousin Tyler is basically like a brother to him. 

And Isaac learned about me as well. That my sister Ciara is sort of a mess even though she pretends she’s not. That my dad left when I was 7. That my mom is the nicest person in the world and she deserves everything. 

That I love Isaac.

His face was awe-struck. 

“I love you too, Catherine,” Isaac said. And I had already sort of known that. But it still lit me up inside. 

Isaac hit 300 lbs in June.

It was a huge milestone, and he’d worked hard for it, eating loads to try and put on weight faster. 

“I think I finally got my metabolism to slow down a bit,” Isaac confessed to me. And it was true that he was gaining faster as of late. He’d had to get new clothes. His build was decidedly top-heavy, with his belly easily being the largest feature. It stuck out in front of him, wide and thick and when he sat, it rested on his thighs. His sides started to acquire rolls where his love handles melted into his sides. His face was puffier, with the most kissable cheeks.

It was endlessly attractive to me.

It seemed like everything was going really well for me. At work, I got a promotion that came with a nice raise. I was happier than I’d ever remembered being. 

Maybe I should have figured that it couldn’t last. 

*

“Cath, hey! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately!” 

I knew that voice even though I didn’t look up from the bathroom sink where I was washing my hands.

“Hey Layla. Yeah, it’s been a busy few months,” I said, plastering on a smile. When I glanced up, I saw her in the mirror a few sinks down. 

“Oh sure, sure!” Layla dried her hands on a paper towel. “I was meaning to ask you, how are things with Isaac?”

I paused, hands still wet. “Good, we’re. We’re good.”

Layla smiled easily. “That’s great. Really, I am happy for you. You know, it was strange when John and I started seeing one another, but I’m so glad you found someone. And John’s best friend no less! Why haven’t we done a double date?”

I felt something twist in my stomach. “I-I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask John and Isaac.”

Layla nodded sagely. “Between us, I don’t think they’ve been getting on very well lately.”

I knew this, on some level. Isaac hasn’t been going to the gym with John like he used to. He hadn’t even brought John up in weeks. 

“Oh?” I asked because with Layla, playing dumb usually meant getting the scoop. 

“Yes, it’s quite sad really. Apparently John was worried about Isaac’s weight. Well, you know, he has gotten rather uh portly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that,” Layla said with a knowing smile. I shot a strained one back at her so she’d continue. “And I know John maybe went about it the wrong way, but he does have a point. It can’t be healthy, gaining so much weight so fast.”

My eyes burned.

“It’s not really John’s business.”

Layla seemed surprised by the surliness of my tone. 

“Of course not.” Her tone was placating. I left the bathroom without a goodbye. 

All throughout the rest of the work day, I tried putting Layla’s comments out of my mind. She was just saying that to justify John’s judgmental comments. 

But there was probably some kind of truth to what she was saying. Isaac was gaining loads of weight in a short amount of time. It was over 100 lbs at this point in about a year. But Isaac was keeping his strength up with weights. He was building muscle too. He was a big guy to begin with, and his frame could carry the extra weight without issue. 

I tried to think rationally about it, but my brain, as usual, wanted to sabotage these efforts. 

Later, Isaac and I went back to my place. We picked up middle eastern food and I watched Isaac eat two entrees and an impressive amount of pita bread. 

I tried not to let it bother me, but I guess it was showing on my face because Isaac asked, “What’s wrong?”

I pushed a piece of shish tawook around my plate. 

“Uh, well. Layla said something to me earlier and it’s just… you know how I get,” I said with a self-deprecating smile. 

Isaac frowned. 

“What did she say? Exactly?” Isaac’s voice was hard. Not angry exactly, but close. 

I shrugged a little. “Just, you know. That you’d gained a lot and that it couldn’t be, er healthy.” I glanced down at my lap where my hands were picking at my pants nervously.

“Catherine. Come ‘ere.”

I looked up and Isaac was pushing his seat back from the table and gesturing to his open lap. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and let him pull me onto his lap.

“You know I’m healthy. I got a clean bill of health at my checkup.”

I nodded because I did know that. I just needed reminding.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

 Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better almost immediately. I was like a cat; if I could purr, I probably would be right then.

“So it doesn't matter what Layla says. Because you know that I’m healthy. And we both like how I look now.” 

I felt a wash of self-hatred at that moment. I was constantly needing Isaac’s reassurances. He was the one gaining weight. He was the one who’d have to deal with the judgment of others. Not me. And yet her I was, needy and sad after one comment. It was horribly pathetic. 

“I’m sorry,” I said into his neck. Isaac sighed.

“Don’t apologize. I sort of like that you care so much about it,” Isaac said, a little lighter.

I smiled despite myself. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You actually give a damn about my health. Some people would probably get off on me eating like a fatass and then run for the hills if I got a health scare. So, yes. I’m glad you’re like this.”

I felt myself grin and I swatted his arm lightly.

“Shut up.”

Isaac’s laugh made his belly shake a little against me and god it felt so nice. 

*

Everything fell apart one weekend in July. 

“Come on, it’ll still be here on Monday,” Isaac said from the chair beside me. Our office was empty but for us and the custodian. 

“The report’s supposed to be in before 8:00 am on Monday,” I whined. I rubbed my eyes freely since I hadn’t even put on makeup. It was horrendous that I’d received the data sheets so late, but some of the higher ups were always putting off their work until the last minute. Meaning I usually ended up staying after hours to get things done. Vienna had offered to help, but since she had plans with her family this weekend, I waved her off. I was sort of regretting it now, though.

Isaac stood slowly. He’d gained another 15 pounds and it showed. His belly jiggled more, his face was rounder, and his arms were feeling flabbier than ever. He put his chunky hands on my shoulders and rubbed a little to ease their tenseness. 

“How much more do you think? It’s almost 7.”

I glanced at the report, which was about 80% done, and back at the clock. 

“Maybe another hour?” I said. “You don’t have to stay, obviously.” 

Isaac smiled like what I’d said was funny. “Okay, how’s this? I’m going to run across the street to that Italian place we like. I’ll get a mountain of takeaway. And by the time I get back, if you’re done with the report, I’ll let you feed it to me.”

I felt my cheeks heat. 

“You’re bribing me with feeding sessions now?”

Isaac laughed, a deep, unself-conscious sound. “No, I’m incentivizing you. Do we have a deal or what?”

I glanced at his belly, imagining how swollen it’d look after three huge entree portions. 

“Deal.”

Once Isaac had kissed the top of my head and left, I got to work. 

I took a deep breath and focused on my report. I tried not to rush myself, because that might cause me to make mistakes, and fixing mistakes would take longer than doing it correctly from the start. 

I worked, hyper focused, more intently tuned in on my report than I had been able to be all day, for the next forty minutes. 

The custodian told me he was leaving and then asked me to set the alarm on my way out, and then I was alone. I finished the document, attached it to an email and was cc-ing my boss when Isaac walked in. He was carrying three heaping bags full of steaming-hot food, which he put down on a nearby desk with a heavy thunk.

“Done?” he asked with an excited eyebrow raise. I finished typing out the address, looked over the email one last time, and hit send. 

Yep!” I leaned back in the office chair, pushing away from my desk and getting enough momentum to send my chain spinning in a lazy circle. I smiled at the ceiling in relief. My body felt boneless, as if the stress was the only thing that had been keeping me together all day. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Isaac said suggestively. I caught myself with a hand on my desk to keep my chair in place so I could meet Isaac’s eyes.

“What’d you get?”

Isaac tore the first bag open and started pulling out styrofoam containers. 

“Cheese ravioli for Catherine,” he said with a wink. “Mushroom risotto, piselli e guanciale,” Isaac said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation. I laughed at him but he ignored me. “Aaaaaand, veal parmesan.” 

I glanced at the last bag, which was unopened. “What’s that?”

“Garlic bread and antipasto salad,” Isaac said. “Where should we start?”

I squirmed in my seat. I was actually quite hungry, since it was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I figured I should eat my food before I got carried away with feeding Isaac. And salad was a bit hard to feed another person. I didn’t want to get lettuce and cheese and salami all over the place. 

“Eat the antipasto first while I eat my ravioli,” I said. 

Isaac smirked. “Aye aye, captain.”

It was a little weird to be sitting in an empty office building on a Friday night. It was one of those places where nothing seemed real. Most of the lights were off, just the blue glow of the computer homescreens and the security lights near the door gave the room an odd aura of timelessness. 

While we got started on eating, it was quiet to the point of awkwardness with TV playing in the background like we’d normally have on at one of our apartments, and so I put some music on my phone for some ambience. I inhaled my ravioli with single-minded focus, and ate a piece of garlic bread to sop up the sauce leftover. Isaac seemed as hungry as me, as he’d nearly finished his entire salad by the time I ate my food.

“What do you want next?” I asked, standing up and stretching a bit. My back was sore from hunching over in my desk chair all day. 

“Hmm,” Isaac considered, glancing at the spread of containers littered all over the available desk space in my cubicle. “Risotto. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”

I nodded and got it opened. Isaac was scooping the last of the antipasto into his mouth and I waited until he’d finished before taking the empty container and tossing it in the trash.

Then I started to climb into Isaac’s lap. It was a tight fit, since his love handles were brushing the armrests of the chair, but I shoved my knees in and settled myself over him.

“This feels scandalous,” Isaac said with a playful smile. I shrugged. Our office security cameras were only faced towards the doors, and rarely did they even get checked. 

“It’s sorta hot though, right? Me feeding you at work?”

Isaac nodded and opened his mouth when I held up a forkful of risotto. His hands were on my hips, not doing anything suggestive, just resting there, but for some reason the feeling of being caged in by his hands had me blushing. 

He ate the risotto quickly, and I patted his tummy, which was getting a bit bloated, as he finished off the last of it. 

“How old is this shirt?” I asked, teasing at the buttons which looked a bit strained. Not indecent, but they were pulled tight enough across his gut that the fabric between was puckered. 

“Uh, about two months?”

Isaac was blushing now. 

“I like it,” I said. “Veal next?”

Isaac nodded and so I stood to grab the next container. Thankfully the meat was cut. It would have been hard to slice with plastic cutlery. 

“Getting full?” I asked when this entree was about halfway done. 

Isaac hummed, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I still have room though, don’t worry.”

He did have room. He ate the rest of the veal and then had a break where he ate some bread and drank water. Then he decided he was ready for the pasta. 

The peas and the pancetta in the piselli e guanciale were a little cold, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. I forked up heaping mouthfuls and Isaac ate them dutifully. 

He was really getting stuffed by the end, but he still had a solid ¼ of the meal left. He was making those adorable little grunts and moans that indicated his stuffed state. I put the container down to rub his sore belly.

“That feels amazing, Catherine,” Isaac murmured. I kissed the top shelf of his belly over his shirt. It was bloated and thick-looking. He’d indulged a lot in the last hour. 

“More?”

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded. 

I fed him a little more, but then he begged for a break. 

“Fuck, I’m… shit I’m so full,” Isaac grunted. His belly was looking huge, and god I loved it.

“Just a little more. Come on, you can do it,” I said. Isaac opened his mouth. “That’s it, eat a little more. You know you want it,” I teased, knowing Isaac did want it. He loved to push past his limits. I was getting turned on, which was loosening my tongue a bit. “Yeah, eat more. I know you can. I know you want it. Just two more bites.”

“So full,” Isaac moaned.

I pushed another forkful into his mouth.

“Good, you’re doing so good. One more and then you’ll be done.” 

Isaac opened his mouth again for me, and as I was putting the fork past his lips, I heard a smacking sound that nearly had me falling off of his lap in surprise. 

Standing in the doorway was Layla. 

I had no idea how long she’d been standing there. My music was still playing, and I’d been so focused on feeding Isaac and talking him through his fullness that I hadn’t heard her come in. 

I was mortified.

It was so obvious what we’d been doing. I was sitting in Isaac’s lap, where he looked absolutely stuffed. We were surrounded by empty food containers. If she’d heard what I’d just been saying….

“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I wanted to sink through the floor. 

“Layla, wha-what are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His chubby cheeks were bright red, and he was still out of breath from fullness. Belatedly I realized I should be getting up off his lap. This was unprofessional enough as it was. 

“I left my planner here earlier, I just stopped by to grab it,” I saw the planner at her feet which she must have dropped, which explained the smack sound I’d heard, “but Cath, what the–what were you… I thought he was on a diet.” Layla said, her nasally voice accusatory. I felt sick just hearing her tone. “Isaac, you’re letting her do—-whatever this is—to you?”

Isaac took my hand in his. “I wanted her to.” His voice left little room for disagreement.

Layla sputtered. “Catherine, you are enabling his binge eating disorder! Don’t you realize that! I thought you of all people would care about his health.”

I instantly felt nauseous as her words took root. 

This was what normal people thought of what we’d been doing. I’d let Isaac lull me into thinking this was normal when it clearly wasn’t. It wasn’t just strange, it was disordered. Layla had just said it was. And how hadn’t I seen it sooner? Isaac wanted to eat as much as he could in one sitting because it scratched some type of itch inside of him? Because he felt compelled to binge? 

And I had been enabling it.

“Catherine, don’t listen to her,” Isaac was saying, but blood was rushing in my ears. I was going to throw up. This was all of my worst fears. Being caught, being outed as a freak, putting someone I loved in danger because of my weird fetish. I wasn’t putting his health first like I’d been trying to do. I was getting off on his messed up eating habits. 

I pushed off of Isaac’s lap. He tried to hold onto me, but I didn’t let him. He was too full to get up after me anyway, and that made me feel even more sick.

I grabbed my purse and booked it past Layla, who was talking to me, but I tuned her out. I got on the elevator, shaking and numb all over. 

I made it to my apartment like a zombie, and I collapsed on my bed in my clothes. Only then did I let myself cry. 

*

CHRIS: have u talked to isaac yet??

I glanced at my phone from my spot on my bed, burrowed into the blankets like a burrito, before locking my phone and putting my comforter over my head like a dramatic 12 year old. 

I had called Christ last night after I’d cried out my embarrassment, my panic. And it’d been, well… an awkward conversation to say the least. 

Chris had been worried (obviously) as I’d called him crying, so I started trying and failing to explain what Layla had interrupted without mentioning the feeding situation. 

But well. It made no sense. We weren’t having sex in the office, or anything like that. Really, there was no reason for it to have been a big deal. So what I got caught sitting on my boyfriend’s lap? It was awkward, sure, but there was no reason for my reaction if I didn’t explain the–the food stuff. The health stuff. My anxiety stuff.

And so with my censoring, Chris was totally lost. 

But this was, well, Chris. My best friend, the most accepting non-judgmental person I knew. If I couldn’t tell Chris about my preferences, I couldn’t tell anyone. 

So after a few minutes of his voice in my ear calming me down, I had to bite the bullet and explain, yeah so remember how I never used to like anyone? It’s because I only like fat people. Fat guys, actually. Which Isaac is one. In case you hadn’t realized. Um. Oh and that awkward encounter Layla walked in on? I was actually just sitting on his lap feeding him Italian food. Because I’m a freak. And my insane brain was already on the cusp of breaking down at any given moment over the fact that Isaac could possibly be sick, or hurt, or… or something. And so when Layla insinuated that I was enabling an eating disorder I.. well. I believed her.

Chris had been quiet while brokenly explained that Isaac liked eating and getting fatter and I liked watching it happen. 

Chris was silent for a moment but he accepted the information without any fuss, which I appreciated.

That was last night. His reassurances no longer had much effect. 

And so now, those dark thoughts had time to grow and festered over the course of a day. 

I was even more reluctant to reach out to Isaac today seeing as he hadn’t even attempted to call me. Obviously it wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d ran off and left him there. And the guilt was eating at me a bit, to be honest. But still. I was used to Isaac constantly wanting to comfort me. Coddle me. And now that he… wasn’t, I found myself unable to cope.

So I continued to ignore Chris’ message and wallowed in self-pity some more until I heard a knock on my apartment door in the early evening. 

I had migrated to the couch with a cup of tea by then, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blotchy from crying, and I hadn’t showered. My pajamas were oversized and worn in. Surely my hair was a mess as well, but. 

I stood up and looked out my peephole anyway. Part of me had expected Chris to come do a wellness check before he left for the club that night, but a secret, smaller part thought maybe Isaac would be there. 

But when I looked out into the hallway, it was neither of them.

John stood outside my door, awkwardly shifting his weight and fiddling with his wrist watch.

I yanked the door open.

“John?”

John looked startled.

“Catherine. Hi, um, I was hoping I could speak with you,” John said. I kept my body in front of my partially-open door.

I frowned. “Why?” I asked.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Look, I… I talked to Isaac. And Layla, and I just. I know this situation is fucked and I know you might not be wanting company right now but,” John left the sentence unfinished, but turned a more pleading expression at me.

I swallowed heavily. John fidgeted under my stare for a moment.

“Um. Okay, come in,” I said, sliding out of the way so he could come inside. Luckily my neat-freak tendencies had kept my apartment from looking too rough. Aside from the pile of blankets on the couch, my place looked the same as it normally would.

I was the only thing that looked like a mess.

I sat down in my blanket nest and John took a seat in the chair.

“So.” I kicked my leg absent-mindedly. “Why are you…?”

“Here?” John guessed. I guested in confirmation, only feeling a little rude to be asking. He took a deep breath. “Catherine, I came here because I needed to say, well. I know we went on a date. And you weren’t into it.” His smile was self-deprecating. I started to protest but he didn’t let me. Which was fine, it’s fine. But surely I ignored some red flags when Layla asked me out directly after setting me up with you, her supposed friend. I mean, at the time I didn’t know she was like…” John searched for a word. “Like that.”

I nodded because I did know that Layla was in fact ‘like that’.

“And when Isaac asked me how I would feel if he started pursuing you, I was honestly skeptical. I thought.. I thought you’d go out with him once and never again. Like you had with me.” John smiled wistfully. “But when you kept seeing each other, I was happy for him. Truly.”

I felt myself blushing for some reason. 

“Are you and Layla, um, broken up?” I asked tentatively.

John nodded, scratched at his thighs nervously. “I broke it off with her after I spoke with Isaac, but it. It was a long time coming,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said dumbly.

“But, Catherine, I’m not here to talk about my breakup. I,” he scrubbed his face with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you because I think you need to hear this from someone who isn’t Isaac.”

His words made my eyes snap to his. He was stiff, serious, but clearly sincere. 

John took a breath. “Isaac told me a while ago that he wanted to, erm, to gain weight,” John said. 

I instantly regretted having this conversation. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“And I didn’t understand. Still don’t really. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s his life, it’s his choice how he wants to live it. And that misunderstanding, my lack of acceptance, put a wedge between us. I hardly saw Issac this past year. And you’ve got to know, Catherine. I love Isaac. He’s one of my closest friends. To not have him in my life was. It was awful,” John said. “And so when Isaac called me last night, I.” John paused. I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. His voice was raw, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. But I continued listening. “He called me and told me what happened. And then I heard the same story from Layla. And you want to know something, Catherine?”

I reluctantly met his gaze.

“Isaac told me that he’d screwed things up with you. Because he wanted to protect you from getting hurt. And he thought he’d failed at that. He was beating himself up about it.” John scoffed. “Isaac is one of a kind, isn’t he? You want to know what he didn’t tell me, but Layla did?”

I didn’t really, but I figured John wouldn’t have come all the way to my apartment for no reason, so I nodded anyway.

“She said that after you left, Isaac kept eating, shoving all the remaining food in his mouth like it was some act of defiance,” John said. He smiled fondly. “Isaac wanted her to know that it wasn’t you forcing him to do anything. Because you weren’t. You might already know that, but in case you need reminding, Isaac wanted to get fat with or without you. And I honestly don’t understand it. But it makes him happy, so,” John shrugged. “Isaac thinks he f**ked this up between you two, but Catherine… It’s no one’s fault. Maybe Layla’s for opening her big mouth but.”

I swallowed heavily.

“Thank you for, for saying all that,” I said.

John nodded. It was odd, how one conversation, one honest conversation with John, could make me understand why he and Isaac were friends. John was considered, reserved, but ultimately he cared about things. Cared enough to come all the way to my place just to make sure I wasn’t going to spiral so hard that I’d hurt Isaac forreal.

That was a good friend.

*

Isaac opened the door slowly. His t-shirt was ill-fitting, clinging to his tubby belly in a way that made me want to reach out and feel that supple flesh between my fingers. His brown curls were a mess, like he’d been running his hands through them, or maybe he’d just recently lost a pillow fight.

His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the hallway.

“Catherine?” he mumbled, surprised.

“Hi. Can I come in?” I asked. After John had left I showered and put on some real clothes, still comfortable ones, but an outfit that was suitable for outdoor wear. 

Isaac stepped aside so I could walk in. His apartment was a mess, but I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t as neat as me anyway. 

We stood there in the foyer staring at each other for a few seconds. Isaac bit his lip, so I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry. For running away,” I said.

Isaac frowned. “No, no it’s, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac said. I smiled but shook my head slowly.

“It is. I’ve realized just how much you’ve done to-to help me. With my issues. You’re, god, you’re freakishly accommodating,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “It’s like, you’re perfect. For me, at least.” 

Isaac’s eyes were very wide. 

“Do you know why I don’t like when people touch me?” I asked.

Isaac shook his head.

“I avoid being touched because I’m scared of being a real person. I’m always so scared that if someone touches me with-with any kind of tenderness, then I’ll simply fall apart. I-I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I always knew that if I ever let anyone in, that I would crumble. I’m not, I’m not good at this, Isaac. I’m,” I put the heel of my hands into my eyes. “I’m terrible at being in a relationship because I never let myself be vulnerable with anyone before. Not my family, not my friends, not. Not anyone. Until you.”

I pulled my hands away to glance up at Isaac. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Catherine, can I…?” Isaac’s hands were hovering, like they wanted to pull me in for a hug, but he waited until I nodded before he did.

Being hugged by him was. It was. 

I felt so safe.

“You’re not bad at being in a relationship,” Isaac mumbled into my hair. “Whoever told you that is stupid. You’re, god, you’re everything to me,” Isaac said. 

I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

“I think I should go to therapy,” I whispered. It was a thought that I’d avoided for years. I was scared of anyone ever getting close enough to know me. I didn’t like thinking about myself, my childhood. I actively pretended that I was normal, that I was fine when I clearly was not. 

“Whatever you want,” Isaac said. 

Epilogue: Three months later

“Mom, you’ll see me for Thanksgiving….Yes, I’m bringing Isaac….I know….I love you too…. Oka, bye.”

I hung up and sighed. 

“How’re things back home?” Isaac asked from the kitchen. He was making a bowl of cereal even though he’d had lunch only an hour ago. His appetite was impressive, and as of yesterday, he was tipping the scales at 356 lbs. 

“Fine. My family is just. They’re a little too excited to meet you,” I said exasperatedly.

“Well I’m excited to meet them too. Especially the famous mee-maw,” Isaac teased. I rolled my eyes. 

Isaac and I were planning to move in together after Isaac’s lease ended, but he practically lived here already. 

I watched Isaac devour his cereal and pour himself a second bowl. 

“You’re gonna spoil dinner,” I complained, knowing that it was not possible. We were going to a new restaurant tonight with John and his new girlfriend Grace. Isaac was bound to be ravenous by then even if he ate the whole box.

A few months ago I might’ve worried about the amount of sugar Isaac was eating, but after starting therapy and being prescribed antidepressants, my cycle of worrying was less intense. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen. But well. It was more manageable. It helped that Isaac was willing to get checkups frequently, and he’d resumed going to the gym to keep up his health while he gained. 

 I stared at Isaac as he ate. He really was so handsome. With those shiny brown curls, those dimples when he smiled, his chubby cheeks and double chin… 

“See something you like?” Isaac asked when he noticed my staring.

“Maybe,” I said with a grin. 

The end

[catra-writes]

Dancing Free

When Elina was a kid she loved to dance. She always wanted to be moving about and active like people she saw around her. Dancing was so fun. But she got tired quicker than most kids, she could remember demanding one of her parents pick her up after playing because she'd gotten ticketed out and felt sore. 

Growing up that only got worse. She started feeling worse and worse, her limbs aching, her exhaustion being constant, and worst of all the throbbing headaches that followed after the striking pain in her back. 

It started with too much movement on her body, then gradually became every time she woke up and when to be to persisting throughout the day.

Her energy became far too low to keep up dancing when she felt like it. She stopped feeling the joy that she used to express through dance, the bubbly sensation that dancing gave her causing her to genuinely smile.

It didn't seem like anyone noticed. How she feel into sorrow as her mobility lessened, how the pain made her want to rest and eventually even stopped eating. She hated it, she was alone and isolated and she couldn't feel anything other than numb or the debilitating pain in her body and she hated it.

Music was her escape. She found songs that she related to, song that reminded her of the feeling of free movement, songs that helped her feel at all. Music was almost all she had to pull her through the storm life had tossed her into.

Elina felt like life had punished her simply just for existing ever since she was a kid. The world around her blamed her for how her body was failing her. 

"You're so lazy, just get up and move" "it can't be that bad" "you're fine, it's all in your head" "guess that's your fault for not exercising." "You can do it stop making up excuses" "have you even tried?" "Have you tried just doing it"

Berating, nagging, useless suggestions, blaming...so many repeated and rephrased words nailing home the idea that it was her fault, that she was never going to amount to anything more, that she was a burden, not trying hard enough. 

She'd push herself far past her limits, her body screaming warning after warning until she would collapse and break down almost every night, sometimes even in the morning. 

It hurt. Her body, no one there to tell her it was okay, even her own parents having times of not believing her and telling her to keep pushing herself. It all hurt. She hated it so much, nothing felt worth it, not even relationships. Why would it be worth the effort if they were just going to tell her the same thing she'd always heard?

Maybe they were right. Could they be? She'd always tried so hard, and when she finally gave herself breaks she'd fall behind. Maybe she was the problem, or maybe she just was meant for this world.

Dancing was the farthest thing from her mind for a long time...until it wasn't.

With the right song, the right motivation, she'd push herself back onto her feet. Even if it was just for her, her alone in her room with a single song playing again and again, she took a step.

One step led to another, and very quickly she found her rhythm again, dancing in time with the song. Dancing away the stress and the worries and the voices. Each step more liberating than the last, she found the feeling she'd been missing.

She didn't care if her legs were going to give out on her after the song, she didn't care if people were going to scoff at her for being tired again, she didn't care. Not right now.

Right now, Elina was dancing. Dancing joyfully, dancing energetically, a dancing queen all in her own right, dancing free.

[boombambaby]

Drabble; Squeaken Squeak squeaker.

Question #1: ‘Squeak squeaken squeak squeaker.’ Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me. Squirrel Language Class? Seriously– – What’s the point?! Kuzco groans and tips forward to lean his forehead against the desk, eyes slipping closed in an effort to prevent his slowly budding headache from getting any worse with his mounting frustration.

According to the Royal Record keeper, Squirrel Language Class is a required course that he will need to graduate and become Emperor–  despite how completely ridiculous and unnecessary it actually is. What good will it ever do HIM to know how to say ‘Squeaky squeaker squeaken. . . squeak?’ Don’t they know he has a royal translator for that sort of thing? Not that he’s ever going to need the translator to negotiate a deal with the Squirrel Kingdom, or whatever. Hah. Squirrel Kingdom. He’s hilarious. It’s also highly unlikely that he’s ever going to need to converse with the stupid, flea riddled little tree rats for any reason and he sure isn’t going to save an actual person's life by knowing how to say ‘where did I bury my acorn?’. “This is ridiculous.” He grumbles, the words coming out muffled against the table top. Back when he was a child and just after he’d lost his parents, the Royal Council suggested Kuzco take part in activities with children his own age, to become acclimated with other people and to potentially learn something that could better shape him as the future Emperor. One of the suggestions was to join a group, and Junior Chipmunks was at the top of the list. Junior Chipmunks is a ‘scout’ group, one that’s famous for their ability to converse with all of the woodland creatures– which there were a ton of, since they lived in the middle of a jungle. Obviously. They also taught other basic skills, like cooking, archery, sewing, navigation and survival.

Yzma wouldn't allow it, outright refusing and insisting the council had lost their minds. What use could he, the future Emperor POSSIBLY have for conversing with peasant children and learning how to sew!? In reality it was more than likely that she preferred him sheltered so that she could mold him into the figurehead she wanted him to become so that she could take over in the future, but her indignance on the matter prevented the council from being successful– and Kuzco was never forced to join such a pointless cause.

Idly, his mind wanders back to the furry little rat he met in the jungle just after he’d been turned into a llama. If he remembers correctly, he’d tried to give him an acorn? And was highly offended when it was chucked back at its stupid little head. What was its ‘name’ again? Something with a B. It probably would’ve been helpful for him to have known this back then, maybe he could’ve prevented the little rat from siccing those jaguars on him and almost having him KILLED. He still has the occasional nightmare from being chased through the jungle by those bloodthirsty beasts, thanks for nothing tree rat. Kuzco lifts his head with a huff, planting an elbow against the table and leaning his chin against it while he glares down at the paper as if it had personally offended him. Which in all honesty, it had. Maybe he should try to find Kronk– he’s a ‘Junior Chipmunk’ scout leader. . . thing. He’ll probably know all the answers. Or Malina! She’s a smart hottie, he wouldn’t be surprised in the least to find out she was fluent in it.

After several moments of just staring at the blank page before him, Kuzco shrugs and starts to fill it in to the best of his ability. The only ‘phrase’ he vaguely remembers from class is ‘Where did I bury my acorn?’ Hah. How lame. But, it’s better than nothing. Maybe he’ll get lucky and Moleguaco will see all the writing and assume they’re different answers. He’s very much looking forward to the day when he graduates, and no longer has to worry about any of this stupid homework or school stuff anymore.

Squeaken, squeaker– puh-lease.

If he never sees another squirrel again, it’ll be too soon.

[cream-and-tea]

how do werewolves work in lmd (plus anything else like that)

OK SO.

(this got very very long)

(just as a warning)

(also i’m going to tag @transmasc-wizard bc i remember you asked about this a while ago and a lot of this response comes from what i had typed up to respond to YOU lol)

(okay here we go)

there are (putting it very very basically) two main kinds of magic in the Ghost Story Universe: mortem (Death Juice) and vita (Life Juice). they draw from the same source (God Juice) (which is also the source of the apocalypse but that’s another post entirely) and are kind of different aspects of one thing, but still act as opposing forces. equals and opposites, can’t have one without the other, etc etc. the point is that even though they’re two different types of magic they share the same set of rules and operate under the same basic facts. one of the most basic being that magic is physically taxing to use. no magic comes without a cost

so this is pretty straightforward. and generally it isn’t anything too debilitating, but the more powerful the magic and the more magic used, the more damaging the physical effects become (for example: early on agnes’s chitchats with the ghosts she sees don’t really wear on her because it’s a very passive form of her power, but as the plot progresses and she actively draws on it more and more she starts to develop chronic headaches). the more active magic bullshit you do in succession —> the worse you’ll be feeling the next morning. people would usually need to rest for upwards of a few days after performing a major act of magic and the reason The Library focuses so much on endurance and repetition is to prevent that from happening. it’s to the point that some majorly powerful stuff is possible but the benefit of it is almost completely outweighed by the potential damage it would cause.

rambly worbuilding aside, this is really just a preface so it makes sense when i say: vampires and werewolves are what happen when people push their magic to far.

they’re basically the most extreme end of the spectrum for either kind of magic. vamps are a result of overusing vita (blood life stuff), and wolfs are a result of overusing mortem (spooky death stuff). this happens to people when they’re drawing on so much magic that their body literally cannot support it anymore and starts canabilizing itself in order to support the magic and prevent the person from just. coming apart at the seams. a Regular Person body is just incapable of handling that amount of power, so in turn they have to draw their sustenance from a different non-human source. the comparatively small piece-of-magic-apocalypse-juice in them mutates and co-opts the functions of their body in order to save that body from collapse. both vamps and wolves have to feed CONSTANTLY or they risk their bodies giving in and all their organs straight-up failing. it’s a slow transformation process and sort of representative of how much Whatever Caused The Apocalypse has become so deeply ingrained in every part of the new world. again: it presents differently but it’s all the same stuff in the end.

the world is full of monsters and weirdness and general spooky bullshit but vampires and werewolves especially have an ENORMOUS amount of stigma surrounding them because of the fact that most people still see regular magic users as recognizably human, and view the transformation as a transition from Human Person With Emotions Who I Should View As Such Despite This One Weird Thing to Inhuman Monster. most magical creatures aren’t seen as sentient in nature and many of them are actively dangerous to humans, so if someone pushes their abilities to far and ends up undergoing the transformation then it’s seen as a shift from being one of Us (normal people just trying to survive this crazy broken down to world) to being one of Them (unnatural monsters that came about as a result of the evil forest and apocalypse and want to destroy humanity), except that obviously the people who are turned are the same people they were before, just with an extra set of challenges and probably more bloodlust (which i can see being a bit of concern but c’mon. are u really going to let a little killer instinct get in the way of a lasting and meaningful relationship. weak).

They’re also used as an excuse when it comes to hatred of people born with magic at all. bc sure it SEEMS harmless when you kid is learning from their dead grandma or healing a little bit faster than normal, but with ONE WRONG MOVE they could become A VISCOUS BEAST or a BLOODSUCKING MONSTER and do you really want to take that risk?? wouldn’t it be better to stamp that out now before someone gets hurt??? even in places like The Library, which usually serves as a safe-haven for people born w magic, vamps and wolfs are seen as somehow Lesser. The Library toutes them as cautionary tales and failures of magic, basically a warning of what not to do to their students.

to get into the more specific abilities and effects and What Being A Vampire Or Werewolf Means i’ve made some handy little lists (ft. calliope and luca macnamara, a book 2-3 character that nobody knows about lol) (please click tumblr absolutely wrecked the quality):

so. yeah.

[headstrongblake]

a kiss shared between enemies during combat . / lol enemies, grant & o / @thewholecrew

"i didn't..." her head shakes, eyes wide with horror at her own hands. "i didn't mean to do that..." grant has to believe her, right? fear flashes across her green eyes as she looks at him, only seeing what she perceives as alarm as another agent moves toward her with the high-tech cuffs that encase her hands. a preventative measure she'd been assured once. this is the moment she's proven herself too dangerous to be contained. it's the fork in the road where they'll decide she's not worth the headache that comes along with her inability to control herself, or perhaps worse, they decide it's better to lock her up. contain her the only way they know how. & like hell is she going to willingly let that happen.

"i don't want to hurt anyone...you don't have to do this." she said, eyeing the restraints. even if grant could believe she had meant no harm to an innocent person, she was sure he had his orders. that's the way this world works right? there's a thin line between the normal and the inhuman. mutants that have always lived among humans are now forced into the light, and most don't appreciate what they see. octavia let out a slow, calculated breath as eyes flickered between the two, weighing her options. "okay, okay," she lifted her hands defensively, "i'll go, no fuss but you have to let him do it." she promised with her own stipulation, brow lifting as she nudged toward grant.

perhaps begrudgingly, octavia watched the device exchange as grant instead moved toward her with the same high tech equipment used on all sorts of people like her. her teeth clenched unintentionally. hatred for what's done to people with abilities like hers, and for herself and what she accidentally does when her emotions run rampant growing in the pit of her stomach. instead of holding her hands out defensively, she lowered them, putting her wrists closer together to show compliance. "you believe me, right? that i don't want to hurt people." she posed the question to grant, studying him carefully. it's the one thing octavia never intended.

for some reason, it matters to her that he believes her but not more than her desire to survive. with her promise to comply, octavia doesn't flinch as the equipment is activated, just watches grant with a sad hope slipping away. once he stood close enough to her, she murmured, "i'm sorry," before hating herself a little more as she quickly leaned up into grant, capturing his lips in a kiss. there's been a handful of times when octavia's wondered what it might be like to kiss someone but doing it to weaken grant? to give her a second advantage to survive and escape...had never crossed her list.

a deep ache cracks in her chest, emotions welling in her eyes as she heard the restraints fall from his grasp with the shock of her abilities. at that exact second, she separated from him because the goal was to hinder him, never hurt him, as she quickly made a dash to rush away, leaving the other agent moving to check on grant.

[coexistentialism]

Thank you for sharing! (From the anon who asked about what led you to get assessed for DID.)

I've been thinking for a while now about signs many therapists (and other people of course) often overlook for DID because of expecting some United States of Tara style dramatic switching with super obvious alters and all that. And also a lot of us having amnesia for our amnesia.

Like I remember sharing with a previous therapist that I felt like I didn't even know how to be myself because "I'll feel like I am being myself, but then I look back and I'm like, why did I say that, that's not what I actually think" and "I don't even know what being myself would look like, because every time I think I understand something about myself, it seems to change"... but if she ever considered the possibility of me having a CDD, she never told me so.

But I'm also someone whose DID presents in some less common ways, and I feel like if things hadn't lined up for me exactly how they did that led to me getting diagnosed, I might still not know to this day. And that's troubling to me, because for me/us personally, understanding our condition and thus becoming able to work together has allowed us to do so much healing.

So I've been thinking about things like chronic identity confusion (beyond what's typical for a person's age/developmental stage), frequent headaches or migraines, and chronic dissociation that maybe therapists should take as like... things that should put the possibility on their radar. (Obviously those can also be caused by other things, but that's why I say possibility.) Because I feel like so many therapists just never even consider the possibility of a client having a CDD, which can then lead to us not getting the right support.

I had a whole thing typed out but Tumblr fuckin' ate it lmfao

The gist for me is: yeah, I definitely don't know if I would have ever gotten diagnosed.

The first psych I saw for a diagnosis, and this was One (1) appointment for like 20 minutes barely. She said "split personality is what it really is" ....... She told me about her therapist friend with DID ???

I decided to go back and read my old messages about that appointment since I don't remember a whole lot (lol I wonder why 🤪) and God. It's always so much worse than I remember.

Apparently I waited far longer than I thought. The timestamps of these messages. Waiting for well over 30 minutes. God.

(Red part is a specific alter's name)

Bro I don't remember half of the things I described here lmfao

But uh. The next therapist I tried to see was someone who worked for, or worked with or was associated with? The ISST-D. Generally a trustworthy organization that is well-educated, right?

This guy invalidated me a lot and during my time with him as a therapist, it was just. All sorts of bad.

I don't really remember a whole lot, just that he worked with IFS, and he is now the reason why I want nothing to do with IFS stuff. This is why, when people try to recommend helpful IFS stuff, I have to politely decline, because I just. Want nothing to do with it, not after this therapist.

He tried to do some shitty IFS grounding thing that didn't help or work and just actively made me uncomfortable (because he called me the name Ethan and I didn't like that at the time, and well gee I wonder why I didn't like being called Ethan).

He tried to say that it seemed more like I had DPDR and not DID, which I then said "I don't know, because I just don't really experience the common dissociative episodes like 'feeling like you aren't real/the world around you isn't real/etc.' not really." which is so funny. Going to a therapist for a diagnosis of a CDD and saying "idk I don't really experience the dissociative symptoms really" which can either be even more of a sign of dissociation or just means the person really just doesn't dissociate much, but for me it was just the dissociation making me think I don't get that. Even still, I don't, but I know I do dissociate in plenty of other ways, just. Not the common DPDR episodic descriptions.

There was a time where I was staring off into space, dissociating, and he asked me "what's the last thing you remember?" which told me that I'm pretty sure he was expecting the Hollywood-esque kind of DID switching and alters, which pissed me off so much. And not just that, but if you have a patient who is coming to you to figure out if they have DID, asking them such a question like that would be incredibly stressful??? At least for me, if somebody asked me that, I would be put off guard so badly. And I was! I was shocked he said that and just like wtf. And obviously I told him yeah I know what you've told me and what we're talking about rn because that's not how (my) amnesia fucking works.

I then went to check that guy's website and he ???? There was a lot of stuff of referring to mental health as madness??

He was also a trans guy, so he said that he was going to be out for a while because he was getting top surgery. And he said he was going to have a different therapist fill in for him? Which like. I wouldn't have been necessarily opposed to, but there are so many issues with that?? Like first off, I had never met the person he said was going to fill in for me. They don't know me, my history, and certainly SHOULDN'T know those things, if we're assuming that he didn't tell them anything. If you're going to have a patient that sees two different therapists at different times, there has to be a better way of going about that, not just telling me "okay, so this other therapist will fill in for the time being while I'm out." No warning, nothing. It was sprung on randomly and suddenly, and I didn't end up meeting that person because that was when I just stopped seeing him and didn't care anymore because he had invalidated me so much and caused me an increase in dissociative symptoms and whatnot that I just had enough.

I think many, many, many people with a DID presentation that is more like mine (or yours, I assume) go undiagnosed for years. I think that millions of people in the past have gone undiagnosed and never knew their alters, their system, their DID/OSDD. DID was only ever seen as "multiple personalities" a small number of distinct 'people' in one body/brain, and that means that people like me would have NEVER gotten even the smallest chance at getting diagnosed. Even when DID was starting to get more understood as more covert. Even STILL, we are missed and undiagnosed and never realized and recognized as having DID. EVEN PEOPLE WHO DO have more "overt" switches STILL go undiagnosed and misdiagnosed.