#disordered eating implied . i guess. not really.

[mermen]

years and years of trying to train myself into recognizing hunger signals again without success has led my body to give up on that and invent a new hunger signal: sneezing fits

[arieswritez]

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

3.

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

thump.

thump.

CHAPTER 4

[patscorner]

FAMILY DINNER PART2

Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned

Tw: Swearing, physical altercation, mentions of blood, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed, lmk if I missed something

______________________________

The rest of the dinner was just as awkward as you'd thought it'd be. You can't really come back from your father implying you and your boyfriend just fucked in the bathroom of your childhood home, at the first family 'reunion' in 2 years.

So there you sat, eating your food in silence, waiting -no- begging, that someone cut the tension.

And finally someone does. And as they say, careful what you wish for.

"How many plates have you had, dear?" Your mom asked, looking up from her plate. You look back at her, before glancing at your plate and back to at her again.

"This is my second." You say, mouth full of food. You were thankful that people took your mother's talking as an invitation to also continue their conversations.

"Maybe we should slow down, you know? Save room for dessert, which you clearly don't need." She smiles, as if what she said was the best piece of advice she'd ever given anyone.

Her comments always bothered you, no matter how much you were told to ignore them. But when it came to your weight, it hurt the most. The comments were the worst in high school, as you were a little heavier than the average petite high schooler. But it was never as serious as your mom made it. So when you were a sophomore in high school, you developed an eating disorder, where you couldn't eat even if you tried, where you spent hours crying in front of the mirror, wishing you were skinnier to fit your mother's impossible expectations.

You fought that battle for years, 3 years to be exact. Your mom couldn't help because she saw nothing wrong with what you were doing. She would say, 'It's worth it.' And when you're young, you tend to believe everything your parents say because they'd 'never hurt you.' So after you moved out, Chris helped you get help, and you won your long and cruel battle. Obviously, you still have your days and your moments, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Not with your new family. People who actually cared.

"S'cuse me?" You say, your voice laced with agitation.

"Well, honey, you don't want to get fat again, do you?" She said, shoveling broccoli into her mouth.

You had stopped chewing completely, making sure you heard her correctly. You looked over at Chris, who was looking at your mom with his jaw clenched. You look back at your mom and out your hand on Chris's thigh as to tell him to relax.

You felt him put his hand over yours and squeeze, a symbol of reassurance.

You sit back in your seat, looking at your plate in defeat. Guess you were done for the night. But your dad wasn't. In fact, your dad was drunk.

"Oh, honey, leave her alone. She's not nearly as huge as she used to be." He slurred, taking another sip from his beer.

"Okay, this isn't neces-" you start, only to be cut off by your parents. Shocker.

"What do you mean? I mean, look at her, David. She's just as big as she was in high school." You mom says gesturing to you.

Your heart dropped, anger and embarrassment filling your veins. "What the fuck, mom?!" You cry out. "Not only is that something you shouldn't say about people, especially your fucking kid, but I'm also right in front of you. At least have some decency to shit-talk me in private." You remove your hand from your boyfriends lap.

Your mom looks at you in shock, and your dad squints at you. "Woah, woah, relax dear. It's not only your fault. You can't help it." She said, reaching for your hand.

You pull your hand away, a look of disgust covering your face. "I don't want to hear that, mom, why's my weight always been a big fucking obsession of yours?" You snap. You feel Chris's hand on your thigh, which you push off quickly. Usually, when you're angry, the last thing you wanted was to be touched.

"It's not my fault. You were huge. I was trying to help you. Nobody wants a pig as their bride, y/n." She spits. Her words feel like daggers, stabbing into your heart.

"You weren't trying to help. You were doing this for yourself. You never cared about it. You only did it because it made you look good to have skinny, petite children. I'm not you or any of them." You gesture to you siblings. The conversations had stopped by now, all of them watching as you and your parents bickered. Embarrassing. "You're a selfish bitch, who never cared about anybody else but herself a-"

"Hey! You watch how you speak to your mother!" Your dad stands up, and instinctively, so did you and your siblings. James and Peter were the first up, while Julia walked over and made sure Maya wasn't in the room.

Nick, Matt, and Chris all stood up too, but they weren't sure what to do, which you would've found funny, but considering the circumstances...

"Let's all relax, okay." Peter attempts to butt in. He's always been so soft-spoken, but if he needs to, he'll beat the shit outta someone. You knew what he was capable of. You'd seen it when your first boyfriend cheated on you.

Your dad directed his attention to Peter. "You shut the fuck up. You have no room to speak because you're a sorry excuse for a son." He drunkenly pointed at Peter.

"You're talking. You can't even see straight half the time, let alone be eligible to give advice." James, your younger brother spits.

Ah, you'd taught him well.

"You watch your mouth before I knock you the fuck out." Your dad spits, and that seems to shut James up. It breaks your heart knowing your father hadn't changed, and when you left, probably laid hands on your younger siblings. And it appears as though Peter's heart broke, too.

Peter stepped closer to your dad, with the same face of anger you'd seem many times before. "You hit them too, Dad? After what you promised!?" He said, his voice raised.

It was all too much. There are too many memories, too many flashbacks. There are too many similarities of past events.

"O-okay, Peter, relax." You attempt, knowing how fast this could escalate. You hold Chris's hand and squeeze tightly.

"Yeah, listen to the pig, Peter." Your father gritted his teeth.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm gonna need you to stop calling your daughter a pig." You hear an unexpected voice. Chris.

Your dad whips his head, staring at Chris with his eyebrows raised, unimpressed. Little did he know, Chris played hockey, and his brothers, who wouldn't hesitate to jump in, also played hockey.

"Chri-" You start.

"No, no, I'd like to hear what he has to say." Your father mocks.

"No! No, please let's just sto-" you get cut off again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, Y/N." Your dad yells, taking very quick steps to you.

Chris stood in front of you, Peter and James behind your father.

"Move." He growled at Chris.

Chris sucked his teeth, with fake disappointment on his face. "Sorry, can't do that one, sir."

Your dad huffed, allowing Chris to smell every sip of alcohol he'd drunk. "Move." He stated again.

Chris shook his head. "That's my daughter! Get the fuck out of the way, tough guy."

Chris cocked his head. "Really, because based off what I've seen, you sure don't talk to her like it." He spoke, his voice calm, but stern.

That was it. Your dad snapped. He swung his fist, hitting Chris in the nose. "Dad! What the fuck!" You say.

You watch as Chris doubles over, holding his nose, followed by yelling from everyone in the room. You can't understand anything, but you do know that your dad's got his hands around your collar and is holding you close to his face.

You feel the tears start to fall as the scent of alcohol burns your nose. "You're a little bitch, letting this puny excuse of a man speak to me like that."

"Let her go, dad!" James screamed, followed by Peter's yelling.

You look over and make eye contact with your mom. She stood there, arms crossed, not a single expression on her face. She just let it happen.

Your dad shook you. "LOOK AT ME." He shouted in your face. You closed your eyes, as tears began to fall.

"CHRIS NO!" Nick yells. That's all you hear before you dropped. You didn't realize he was choking you until he let go. You look up and see Chris on top of your dad, landing blows like he if were in a hockey game. Your dad got a few heavy punches in, too, as you expected.

Chris had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and crimson knuckles. Blood stained his big hands, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your father's.

Matt and Nick finally managed to push Chris out of the house, leaving you and your family. Your dad was still screaming drunk profanities, while James made sure you were okay. Peter and your mom held your dad back from chasing your boyfriend.

You had walked out of the dining room and went to sit on the stairs. Tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself slip into a familiar but unfamiliar trance. You were completely unaware of your surroundings at this point, so lost in your brain that the rest of your body was just frozen.

You don't know how long you are disassociating for, but you heard muffled shouting until you didn't. The yelling was replaced with ringing, something your brain did as a coping mechanism, mostly when you were young and hiding with your siblings in the bathroom while your dad trashed your home.

"-aby, can you take a deep breath from me?" You look up, but your vision is blurred, and you can't make out who's speaking - or anything for that matter.

You blink slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It usually took you a while to come back to reality during these moments.

"Can someone get her a cup of water?" You hear the voice again, and despite your yearning to speak, you can't get any words out. Your mouth opens, and you try to speak, but it comes out more of a choked whine.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart, it's okay." Chris wipes the tears coming for your cheeks. Your pupils were enlarged, and your eyes were open, but you couldn't see.

"Thank you." Chris muttered as Matt handed him a cup of ice water. "Here, baby." He put his hands in the icy water, shaking them, so his hands are damp. He took your hands, which had a death grip on your hoodie, and rubbed his cold fingers over your knuckles.

You focused on the feeling of his frigid fingers and you felt yourself coming back to reality.

You blink quickly as more tears fall. "Aw ma, don't cry, it's okay, sweetheart." Chris coos, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs on the bone.

His attempts to ground you are successful, as your eyes finally focus on his eyes. "Hey, hey, you coming back to me, baby?" Chris asks, his voice soothingly attempting to comfort you.

You nod absent-mindedly, relief flooding your body as you come back to reality.

You take in your surroundings for the first time in what felt like forever. You're sat on the stairs, your hands shaking from the adrenaline flowing through your veins.

You finally make eye contact with Chris, his eyes full of love and worry. He's got a bruise on the side of his face, a busted lip, and blood falling from his nose, smeared on his upper lip.

"Chris..." you say, cupping his face, rubbing his cheeks down to his lip, frowning when he winced. "Baby..."

He pulls away, chuckling lightly. "It's fine, baby, I'm okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." He squeezed your hips in reassurance.

"I'm okay." You say. But then your mind screams at you. "Fuck, where's Maya... an-and, James. Oh, fuck, what about Julia and Pet-" your cut off by Chris's lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, your hands trailing down his neck.

He pulls away and smiles sadly. "Thank you." You whisper, looking down. "Anytime, baby. I'm so sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry." He said, leaning his forehead on yours.

You shake your head. "It's okay, he's a fucking asshole." Chris kisses your cheek. "Let's get outta here? I made a little bit of a mess."

You raise your eyebrows. "A little?" Chris kisses his teeth and scoffs.

You smile and kiss his cheek. "Anybody would've done it, Chris. It's okay, really." You speak softly.

Chris smiles and helps you up. "Let's go home." He leads you down the stairs and reaches for the door.

But it opens before he can open it.

"Oh my god."

______________________________

(Man, I wonder who that is)

Taglist: @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @sturniolosmind @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir

@annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @orangelala @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @blackhorses-posts @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @@Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @Larnieboox88 @Preppy234

[justacosplayerlol]

Wanna guess the ending?(if it ever does)

>Bob & Void Fanfic

> CW: suicidal ideation, self-harm (non-graphic), internalized self-hatred, dissociation, isolation, disordered eating (implied)

>Word count: 1.4k

>Author’s note: Haii:3 this is my first fanfic posted to tumblr ! this fanfic was originally posted to ao3 here. if you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, don’t be afraid to reach out. help is available and you don’t need to struggle alone. call or text the national suicide prevention hotline

the room is dim. not dark. not light. just that grey space in between where shadows don’t stretch, and sunlight doesn’t bother trying to reach. the kind of quiet that buzzes in the ears after the world has gone still, not peaceful silence, but the kind that feels like it’s pressing down on your chest. oppressive. heavy. too much and not enough, all at once.

bob sits on the floor. legs crossed, back against the cold wall, one hand loosely holding onto the hem of his shirt like it might anchor him if he starts to float too far from himself. his eyes are fixed on a crack in the floorboards. or maybe he’s not looking at anything. maybe he’s just… gone again. somewhere deep. somewhere hollow.

his hair’s a mess. stubble growing in patches. dark circles under his eyes like bruises, like he’s been fighting something in his sleep and losing. it’s been— what? a day? two? maybe more. it all blurs together when the fog sets in like this.

the clocks tick but the minutes don’t move. he hasn’t eaten. the last thing he remembers is standing in the kitchen with the fridge door open, staring into the white light like it might offer answers. it didn’t.

his chest rises. falls. slow. almost mechanical. it’s the only thing reminding him he’s still here. still in his body. still alive.

and then—

“pathetic.”

the word slices through the stillness like a blade to skin. bob doesn’t flinch. doesn’t look up. he just blinks, once, like he was expecting it.

“look at you. a goddamn wreck. you think this is recovery? this—this rot? you’re wasting time. wasting breath. wasting space.”

his fingers twitch. he closes his eyes. tries to breathe slower, like maybe he can outpace it. drown it out.

he whispers,

“don’t.”

“don’t what? tell you the truth? come on, bob. you need me. i’m the only one who says what you won’t.”

the voice isn't coming from anywhere. not really. it’s not the walls. not the ceiling. it’s inside him. deep. coiled around his spine like a parasite that’s been there since he was old enough to understand shame.

“you think you’re some tragic little survivor story? no one wants to hear it. they’re tired of your sob story. tired of waiting for you to stop being like this.”

his hands press to his temples. rub hard like he could scrub the voice out, or crack his skull open and let it out like smoke. but it’s no use. it never is. void doesn’t leave. it just waits. watches. digs its claws in deeper when he’s vulnerable.

“they’d be better off without you. admit it. you’ve thought about it. just walking away. vanishing. no notes. no goodbyes. not like anyone would chase you. not really.”

and that’s the worst part.

he has thought about it. more times than he can count. not death, exactly — not the finality of it. but the idea of just... disappearing. ceasing to be a problem. letting the world breathe a little easier without him taking up space in it.

he curls in tighter. forehead to knees. every breath feels heavier now. like it takes effort just to keep his lungs moving. he’s exhausted, not from doing anything, but from existing. from thinking. from feeling this way for so long without a break.

“remember when you used to fight back? now you just let it happen. let me in. maybe you’re starting to see the truth, huh? maybe you’re finally getting honest with yourself.”

his voice is a rasp, raw from disuse.

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t. you hate you. i’m just the echo. you created me. i’m your shadow. i don’t say anything you haven’t already thought.”

he chokes on air. maybe a sob. maybe just the weight of those words settling on his chest. he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard enough to see stars. he wants it to stop. just for a second. he wants quiet. real quiet. not this twisted, venom-dripping version that lives inside his skull.

but the room offers no mercy. it never does.

he stays like that—folded in on himself, stuck somewhere between now and never—for what could be minutes or hours. it’s hard to tell. the voice quiets, eventually. not out of kindness. just boredom. like it knows it’s already won today.*

and bob?

he’s still here. still breathing. still trying, in the smallest, slowest way possible. and maybe that counts for something. maybe not.

but for now, it’s all he’s got.

the room hasn’t changed. still dim. still silent. still suffocating. the kind of silence that isn't empty — it's crowded; full of echoes, thoughts that crawl up the walls, cling to the ceiling like mold.

bob hasn't moved much. maybe shifted once. stretched his legs. pulled them back in. his body aches, not from action, but from stillness. from existing. it’s starting to feel like punishment.

he hasn't said anything since the last time. the words got stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat and never quite made it out. they’re still there. like stones in his mouth.

but void…

“you’re still here?”

“damn. persistent little thing, aren’t you?”

“fine. let’s really talk, then.”

it’s colder now. he’s not sure if the temperature’s dropped or if it’s just him, slipping further into that place where nothing feels real. he wraps his arms around himself like a shield, but it doesn’t help. the voice isn’t on the outside.

”you remember what it felt like? before all this? when you still believed people could save you? what a joke. you were never built for happiness, bob. not with this mind. not with that thing in your chest pretending to be a heart.”

he digs his nails into his arms. sharp. deliberate. just enough to remind himself he’s still here. still tethered. the sting cuts through the numbness like lightning through fog. but it fades too quickly.

his voice is hoarse when it finally comes out, quiet and broken:

“please… stop.”

”no. i’m all you have. you don’t get to shut me out now. not when i’ve been the only one who’s stayed. everyone else leaves. i don’t.”

there’s a weight to the words now. heavier than before. like void is no longer just mocking him — it’s laying claim to him. staking territory in his mind like a parasite that’s grown too large to ignore.

“let’s face it: you’re not gonna get better. you’ve tried, haven’t you? therapy. meds. fake smiles. long showers. long walks. journaling. screaming into pillows. telling yourself you’re okay when you’re not. you’re still here. and i’m still louder than everything else.”

bob swallows hard. the truth hurts more than the voice itself. he has tried. god, he’s tried. but some nights—like this one—it all feels useless. like he’s bailing water from a sinking ship with his bare hands.

“no one’s coming. no cavalry. no rescue. you could disappear right now and no one would know until you started to rot.”

bob presses his palms to the floor, grounding himself. the hardwood is cold. real. but even that’s not enough. he’s unraveling. thought by thought. breath by breath.

and then— the voice lowers. not loud now. not cruel. worse.

soft. sweet. like a razor blade wrapped in silk.

“you could end it, you know. quiet. clean. no more weight. no more pretending. just peace. imagine it. the silence… but real this time.”

his heart skips. not in fear—in recognition. like something in him has been waiting to hear it said aloud.

he bites down on his bottom lip so hard it splits. the copper taste of blood rushes across his tongue. he focuses on that. anything but that voice.

but it doesn’t stop.

“you don’t have to suffer. not anymore. you’ve done enough. hurt enough. been hurt enough. you don’t even have to leave a note. just… fade.”

his body is trembling now. knees pulled back in tight, his nails digging half-moons into his skin. he whispers something, again and again, like a mantra. like a prayer.

“no. no. no. no. no…

and void—

“you will. maybe not tonight. but soon. and i’ll be there. i always am.”

then silence.

real silence.

the kind that leaves him alone with the damage.

and bob?

he doesn’t move. doesn’t cry. just breathes. shaky. shallow. but still breathing. because there’s a part of him—somewhere, small and buried—that still wants to fight. not tonight. maybe not tomorrow. but soon.

he just has to survive this hour.

this voice.

this night.

[youremyonepiece]

anxious mornings

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), sanji's pov

anxiety has a tendency to spread, as sanji discovers unexpectedly early one morning.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of anxiety and related symptoms; unhealthy eating habits; small implied mention of disordered eating; slight angst, comfort, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 3k

sanji runs a hand through his damp hair as he steps out of the washroom, unsuccessful in warding off a large yawn. though the early waking hour is by no means unusual for him, he is but human, he thinks to himself with a slight chuckle; some mornings are just going to be easier than others.

shaking his head slightly as though attempting to scatter his thoughts around him like the water droplets that fly from his hair, sanji starts to make his way towards the kitchen. he needs to start prepping for the many meals of the day if he hopes to stand a chance at keeping up with luffy's incessant hunger. his fingers itch for a cigarette, anything to help stave off the remaining sleepiness in his system, but he resists the urge. while he knows he has little to no hopes of quitting, nor does he really want to, smoking this early in the morning feels like crossing a line-- not before breakfast.

it's as he's walking across the planks of the deck in the 4 AM darkness that he hears a sound he would recognize anywhere: the sound of a stomach growling.

sanji's eyebrows furrow as his thoughts about the day's menu are entirely forgotten. his head snaps towards the cluster of barrels from where the sound came-- a stowaway? he wonders briefly, but they've been out at sea for days now. there's no way someone could have gone unnoticed for that long. the growl is followed by a vaguely familiar soft sigh, causing sanji’s brows to furrow further.

he's at the barrels in a few long strides and can't stop his eyebrows from shooting upwards when he peers over their tops to find-- you. you're sitting on the deck with your back leaning against the barrel in front of him, eyes unfocused as they gaze across the distant horizon.

your name escapes his lips in confusion before he has completely processed your presence. you jolt slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting to have any company, before tilting your head upwards to peer at him.

"sanji?" you ask in your voice that he never fails to swoon at. a pause, and then, "is it that time already?"

sanji can't help but smile at your question. you truly are so sweet, so adorable-- he relishes the sight of your wide eyes, your slightly parted plush lips, your mussed hair. you're still in your pajamas, which isn't unusual in and of itself (you tended to get ready for the day after eating breakfast with the rest of the crew) but something about seeing you like this, alone in the early hour, feels more intimate than the two of you had been before. which, granted, was not at all, but that's only all the more reason he feels grateful to be here with you now.

he makes his way around the barrels languidly before leaning against the merry's railing, facing you with a warm expression. "indeed it is, sweetness. good morning."

he watches as a small smile forms on your lips. “good morning," you say, and sanji struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling into bliss.

“you’re up early,” he comments casually with a friendly smirk, though a concerned quirk of his eyebrow gives him away. “to what do i owe the fine pleasure of your enchanting presence, my dear?”

the corners of your mouth turn upwards at his question, but he notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "just couldn't sleep, i guess," you respond with a shrug, breaking eye contact to stare back out at the dim horizon.

it’s clear you aren't being completely honest, but sanji doesn’t want to push you to share if you don't want to. after all, it isn't like you guys are particularly close or anything. actually, he isn't sure if you could be considered "close" to anyone in the crew, with the exception of maybe luffy.

it isn’t that you didn’t trust them, not exactly-- despite the brevity of your time with the straw hats thus far, you’ve been through enough harrowing experiences together to know that you’ve got each other’s backs. but trusting someone with your life is one thing, especially when it’s already been proven in battle, and trusting them with your feelings is entirely another. it just hasn't been long enough yet; you’re still getting to know them.

at least, that's what he hopes it is, anyway. with the way his eyes seem to cling to you like flies to fruit, he isn't sure what he'll do if the truth is actually that you disliked him.

"anything i can help with?" he offers, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. he wants to help, but he also doesn't want to impose if you don't want him around.

to his relief, you meet his eyes again and smile. "that's kind of you, but no." you don’t say anything for a moment, holding his gaze with unreadable eyes and suddenly sanji feels as though he is gazing upon anubis instead, his heart being weighed on your scale to determine his worth. after a couple of seconds that span eternity, you say, “honestly, i’m just feeling a bit... not great.”

“not great?”

you break eye contact with him to look down at your stomach, silent for a moment again. “just anxious,” you finally sigh, your hands moving to rest at a spot right below your rib cage. “i feel it right here. it feels like... like pressure is building up, but if i press down on it then it's like i can get it to release," you demonstrate, causing a growl to emanate from your torso as though you had simply pushed air out of a bag. you exhale with slight relief again, hands still firm against yourself, before looking back up at him with an abashed smile. "i think my anxiety gave me gas," you half-joke.

sanji forces himself to ignore his ecstasy-- you’re opening up to him! he had just been thinking about it, too! you trust him!-- and to focus on your words instead. it gets easier as you continue, his frown deepening at the sound of your stomach growling again as he remembers what drew him to you a few minutes earlier.

he pulls out a cigarette with the slightest tremble in his hands-- breakfast be damned. you had just unwittingly reminded him of the fact that he’s only human for the second time this day already; some things are harder to deal with than others.

he takes a long inhale of his cigarette, letting the smoke permeate through his system and dull his nerves before slowly exhaling it in a thin wisp. "sweetness," he starts when he finally feels grounded again, eyes full of concern as they meet yours, "i don't think that's anxiety."

you seemingly can't stop yourself from releasing a short, incredulous laugh, lips curved in a smile but eyebrows furrowed and eyes guarded. "what?"

"at least, i don't think that it’s only anxiety." he holds your gaze steadily despite your spike of wariness. when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to say you didn't know what you were feeling. it's just--" he pulls away from the railing to crouch in front of you, faces now at the same level. the cigarette between his fingers creates a soft haze in the air between you. "when was the last time you ate?"

sanji feels the guilt spread through him again and attempts to fight it off by taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns away from you to puff out the smoke, lost in thought.

now that he's thinking about it, you didn't show up to dinner yesterday. or lunch. your absence hadn't been odd; in the not-quite-two weeks you had been aboard, you had eaten with the rest of the crew a whopping total of four times. instead, sanji had noticed you opted to grab your dish and eat in the open air of the deck, taking shelter under nami’s tangerine trees if the weather wasn't accommodating. but he can't even remember you stopping by to make a plate for yourself yesterday. and thanks to luffy, he hadn't noticed any discrepancies in leftover food (that is to say, there was none as usual).

you had been there at breakfast, but he can't recall you grabbing anything except a mug of coffee. how could he have failed to notice? when was the last time he had seen you eat in front of him? it's been maybe two days since, he thinks, hating that he isn't certain. this had happened under his watch. and that too, with you. the person he’s trying to get closer to, to befriend and become a trusted confidant of at the very least, and at the very best... well, he finds you very attractive. but he would never cross that line unless he was wholly certain you wanted to, too.

you're silent as well, seemingly thinking back to find the answer to his question. he watches color creep up your cheeks as something dawns on you, realization and embarrassment fighting for dominance over your features. "i ate last night. at like, ten," you finally respond in a meek voice, looking everywhere but his face.

he can’t stop himself from glancing towards the kitchen. “what'd you eat?” he wonders.

you remain quiet for a moment before sighing again. "you're right. i'm hungry. i... i hadn't realized."

he narrows his eyes at you without malice, seeing through your attempts to escape answering him. “what did you eat?" he asks again, his voice’s volume softening to match yours.

you wring your hands, still refusing to look his way. "a couple of almonds," you say eventually, sounding chastised.

"and?" he prompts.

you don't respond.

"okay," sanji says, feeling his hands tremble again as he takes in your words. "okay," he repeats, "what about before that?"

"um, i think right after you cleaned up for lunch? i stole a slice of cheese, the one with the peppers in it." he can see you’re struggling to keep your expression neutral, but he isn't sure which emotions you’re fighting off.

he does know which ones he’s struggling with, though. sanji feels his stomach turn with guilt and trauma at your words. "and before that?" he asks, his voice low.

"coffee, at breakfast." your hands still but they and your eyes remain on your lap.

he exhales your name softly.

"it had milk and sugar in it," you say defensively at his meager response, voice somehow even softer.

sanji lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle before taking your hands in his. he doesn't say anything, waiting, until finally you look up to meet his eyes. "why?" he asks when you do.

you look confused. "what do you mean?"

he raises one of his hands to tentatively cup your cheek, eyes full of tenderness and concern. "are you... unhappy with the way you look?" he asks carefully, trying not to word it in a way that could be misconstrued. when your eyebrows furrow deeper, he hurries to add, "because you’re-"

"no," you cut him off before he can undoubtedly shower you in praise, "no, it's not that." and then you add, cheeks flushing, "um. thank you, though."

sanji offers you a brief smile, his hand falling from your cheek and rejoining the other with yours, before frowning again. "is it my cooking, then? sweetness, if there's ever anything you don't like-"

"no, not at all," you cut him off again, this time with more certainty as you shake your head. "i love your cooking."

“then?" he prompts lightly when you don't say anything else.

one of your feet begins to flicker back and forth like a light switch against the deck, giving away your restlessness. you’re back to looking everywhere but at sanji, at his eyes. "i'm just... not hungry."

as if on cue, your stomach lets out another low growl, causing your blush to deepen in embarrassment. sanji wants to smirk at you, poke fun at how cute you look flustered like this, but the noise reignites his guilt. reminds him how you’d gotten to this state without him even noticing.

"your stomach says differently," he simply states. sanji pulls his hands away from yours before standing up and offering one back to you. you don't hesitate to take it, and he effortlessly helps you rise to your feet. "c'mon. let's get some food in you."

your wince at his words doesn't go unnoticed by him. he gives your hand, still in his as you both make your way towards the kitchen, a short squeeze before murmuring softly, "wanna tell me about it? you don't have to if you don't want to."

to be honest, he's surprised you've been so receptive to him thus far. he doesn't want to push his luck, your grace, because if he did-- if he made you feel uncomfortable, if you began to avoid him because of it-- well, it would feel crushing, that’s for sure.

the nervousness in sanji’s chest continues to blossom as you say nothing for a few steps. however, it’s swiftly replaced with concern when you do respond, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "like i mentioned before, it's because of my anxiety." you sigh once again, weighed down by your words. "sometimes it just gets... bad. i don't know why. i'm not even really sure if there is a reason, to be honest. it just happens every now and then."

the two of you have reached the kitchen by now. he silently holds the door open for you before leading you to a barstool at the kitchen island and walking around it to the sink to wash his hands. he holds his cigarette between his lips as he begins to gather ingredients from various shelves and cabinets and places them on the island between you.

“the anxiety makes me feel... full, i guess?” you continue. “i don't feel hungry, and i definitely don't feel like eating. and i feel so nauseated because of it, too. thinking about eating makes it worse. so does seeing or smelling food." you sigh. "i know i have to eat. i guess... i just didn't notice that i hadn't really eaten recently.”

sanji turns away from you, taking a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and tossing it away. “you didn’t notice?”

“...i guess i didn't want to notice." you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time and sanji feels his heart twist. “noticing means admitting something’s not... okay.”

sanji hums once you trail off, signaling to you that he heard you and understood.

you start up again after a few moments of silence, restlessness shining through once more. “it’s not really that big of a deal, though. you don’t have to worry-- don’t worry about it. it’ll pass. it always does, eventually.”

sanji doesn’t respond, instead staring at the amalgamation of ingredients he had gathered specifically for you. his eyebrows draw together as he mentally rifles through countless recipes, determined to find the right one for you at this moment. something light, since you hadn't eaten properly in a little bit. no strong scents, either, except maybe ginger since that’s good with nausea. a variety of flavors and textures, to keep it fun. it’s early, so breakfast foods-- that means the bananas, yogurt--

"are you mad at me?” you ask timidly.

he freezes, mouth slightly parting in surprise before standing straight, his attention now entirely on you. "of course not, sweetness.”

"you seem upset.”

sanji takes a beat to process your words. he thought he'd been hiding his reaction well, but apparently not. "i suppose... i’m upset at myself,” he finally admits to you.

you frown. “why?”

he offers you a consoling smile, “you haven't been eating well and i hadn't noticed." he realizes you’ve reminded him for the third time that day that he’s only human-- as much as he wants to keep it to himself, to not burden you with his thoughts, he knows he stands no chance at resisting you. who could?

“but i didn't even notice," you insist.

he feels his adoration of you helplessly grow at your rebuttal. “true, but it isn’t your job to make sure all of our crewmates are well fed and healthy. it is mine."

“fine, but we're pirates,” you shoot back almost immediately. “we should all be taking care of ourselves-- i should be taking care of myself."

he chuckles at your fervency, the warm sound filling the room. “i get the feeling you’re not going to let me win this one."

"i didn't realize there was anything to win,” you grumble, making sanji laugh harder. when he glances over at you, he sees you're smiling, causing his own to widen.

sanji works in a comfortable silence for a few moments, his smile remaining on his face as he feels your eyes on him. he takes a step back when he’s done, admiring his handiwork before proudly presenting you with a small bowl and steaming mug. “made especially for you: peanut butter yogurt topped with diced bananas and granola, served with a cup of ginger herbal tea.”

simple, but he knows that’s always best when feeling nauseous. the cold yogurt should help settle your stomach, and the peanut butter provides extra protein which he had heard could help with nausea, similar to the ginger and bananas. and the granola ties it all together with its crunch.

you give him a genuine smile as your eyes glaze over the meal he had prepared before looking back up at him. “thanks, sanji.” you pause for a moment before adding, “are you okay?”

“what?” he asks, taken aback, then chuckles slightly. “aren’t i supposed to be asking you that?”

only you, he thinks to himself affectionately. only you would share something you’d been struggling with and then ask him if he was feeling okay. ever thoughtful, ever sweet.

his question seems to embarrass you and sanji can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest as your ears turn red. “maybe not... one hundred percent, but better.” you meet his eyes again, your smile returning. “definitely better.”

his own smile grows uncontrollably wide as he leans over the island to place his hand on yours. “then, sweetness, i’m okay, too.”

[panomiels-box]

『more project eden's garden ramblings ≫ spoilers! ⚠︎』

my thoughts on the potential meanings of the newly released imitation drawings (jett and ulysses + kai) by nifast greentail

⚠︎ TW for sensitive topics

jett

≫ let's begin with jett's. this is clearly a reference to his drag racing accident that left him with burn scars. the word 'confess' is engraved on the trophy he's holding, and a threatening shadowy face is also reflected on it. there's a small skull with a hat just behind it too, almost blending in with the flames on jett's head. just from these details alone, my take away is that the real jett dawson actually died from that accident, and someone has been pretending to be him since.

i think that "someone" is probably his twin, and i'm just kind of rolling with that because jett is a gemini and i also just like the idea lol. perhaps he had a twin so jealous of his talent, or so stricken with grief from his death that they started pretending to be him, either to a point they actually think they are jett, or are aware that he is dead and pretends to be him to not worry his family, friends, and fans. which means that the real reason why they won't show their face despite being jett's twin and therefore pretty identical in appearance, is because they don't have any major scars or burns, so showing their perfectly unharmed face would give away that they are in fact, not jett.

ulysses

≫ let's move on to ulysses's. in it, we can see him sitting behind a greek (?) statue that's covered in mushrooms with its head broken off. ulysses is writing in his notebook, and we can peek inside that he is writing himself reminders of basic essential needs (to eat, breathe, feel, shower...) as well as others that aren't fully visible but can be guessed: sle[ep], brush [teeth], and reme[mber]. my thoughts on this is that ulysses was neglected growing up. i believe we can also infer that from some of the things he says in chapter 1, so this illustration really reinforces it for me.

ulysses eventually found refuge in studying history, and his whole world proceeded to evolve around it. i believe the neglect he went through causes him to very regularly forget to take care of himself and his basic needs. combine that with his immense interest for history, he becomes even more likely to forget these things due to how engrossed he can get. he's highly likely suffering from memory loss due to the trauma. he might've even changed his name due to this - ulysses isn't a super common name after all, and i also don't see neglectful parents choosing a name like that for their kid.

in fact, i wonder if the word ulysses is writing starting with "reme" is supposed to be just the word "remember", as in to imply "remember this important part of yourself that you've forgotten" or simply another reminder similar to eat, sleep, etc... but considering those don't have the word "remember" written before them, i believe in the former more. or, it's not at all the word remember, but maybe "remedy", or any other word starting in "reme". what that could mean however, i don't know...

kai

≫ now let's talk about the last one, kai's. he is seen in a bathroom, completely hunched over an open toilet with his phone beside him, surrounded by pink butterflies. his expression is hidden by his natural black hair, although his reflection in the mirrors behind him show his pink hair and the black sweatshirt he usually wears.

my immediate take away is that kai used to suffer from an eating disorder. that's just how the illustration speaks to me. i think it's not too much of a shot in the dark considering he's the ultimate influencer, and before receiving the title he was already an online personality. therefore kai, from a super young age, has been constantly scrutinised by strangers, and being online all the time routinely exposed him to the insane standards that's put online. plus knowing how kai is, which is clearly very sensitive on what people think of him, i wouldn't be too surprised if he ended up developing an ed from stress and other factors. we don't really know about his home life either after all, apart that he lives alone (?) from his ftes.

as for the black hair and pink butterflies (and the person (who's also kai) standing in front of him, reflected in the mirror on the left), i think it's supposed to represent this was how kai used to be, and not how he is now. considering butterflies can symbolise things like rebirth, change, self-discovery etc, i think kai was able to find a way to heal. i did put down social medias as the potential cause for his ed, but maybe it's also what helped him make a recovery. the people he met through it, and his fans in general, provided him with support and love he probably really needed. combine that with therapy, and i can see kai blossoming into who he is now.

end note

alright, that's all i have to say i think! what amazing illustrations. i'm somehow even more hyped for what's to come with this game!! so so cool. go support nifast and check out his other imitation drawings! i'll probably do a few more posts analysing the other ones ♡

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Mirror in the Sky

I expanded on this.

18+ MINORS DNI for smutty thoughts and very slight smut

Tw: Child abuse, neglect, possible eating disorders, implied homophobia, Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie have shitty parents

Eddie's body was pressed fully against her, her back laid flat against the bottom of the boat. The tarp was covering their heads. Chrissy was trying not to enjoy the feeling of Eddie's full weight on top of her. Everything else was uncomfortable, however. She shifted her hips, accidentally pushing them further into Eddie's.

"Stop it," he hissed.

"Sorry."

That's when she felt it between her legs, so close to her entrance. Eddie cursed. There was no way for him to turn so she wouldn't feel his erection. God, she wanted to move her hips against it but it was a really bad time to tease him.

"Fuck, sorry," he whispered.

"Heat of the moment, I guess," Chrissy whispered back.

Eddie buried his face into Chrissy's neck so he could laugh.

"Fucking Asia," Eddie smiled.

She could feel his smile against her neck, and she placed a hand on the back of his neck. Any other movements would rock the boat, she realized. The door to the boathouse was pushed open, and people came in. She could hear them whispering, but she didn't know what they were saying. Her hearing was impaired by Eddie's hair. She recognized Steve Harrington's voice, though, and she grinned. She could feel Eddie tense up, and she couldn't blame him. The whole town already hated him, and she knew that they would blame him for that boy dying in his trailer park. Whatever killed him, they both knew that it was coming for Chrissy. Their only option had been to run. Suddenly, their voices grew closer, and Eddie reacted quickly. He jumped out of the boat. She heard the sound of a beer bottle breaking, and she scrambled out of the boat to find Eddie slamming Steve against the wall.

"EDDIE!" Chrissy screamed with the boy beside her.

This must be Dustin, she realized. The boy who had become like a brother to Steve.

"Eddie! It's me, Dustin! We're not going to hurt you! We're here to help you!" Dustin yelled.

Chrissy knew Steve. She had hooked up with him after Nancy broke up with him when they were both questioning their sexualities. She knew the faces he'd make when he tried to hold back, and she knew he liked being manhandled. As serious as the situation was, she couldn't help but think about what would happen if the three of them were alone. Eddie's knee was in between Steve's leg, the beer bottle pressed against Steve’s skin. Steve had dropped the oar, and his face looked stressed. If Chrissy was anyone else, she'd think he was scared, but Steve was more than capable of pushing Eddie away. Steve was struggling, though, to not show what he was feeling in front of the others. Steve caught Chrissy's eyes. She smirked, and his hazel eyes flashed with annoyance. The others were trying to talk Eddie down, who was still frightened, and he didn't seem to want to let Steve go. The bottle relaxed in Eddie's hand as he continued to look at Steve, and he seemed to suddenly become aware of their position. Chrissy didn't realize how loud or heavy she was breathing until Eddie spoke, and he was looking at her.

"Are you okay, Chrissy?" Eddie asked.

"Uh," Chrissy said, looking down and closing her eyes. "Just give me a minute. . .I think I'd feel better if you let Steve go."

If she squeezed her legs together, she'd give it away. . .or maybe they would just think she had to pee. Chrissy was just thankful she wasn't a guy. It would have been a lot more noticeable. Eddie collapsed on a box after releasing Steve, turning his legs away from them while Steve bent over and faced the wall. He was massaging this throat. Chrissy smirked and bit her lip. It was the worst time in the world to feel these things, but their emotions were all over the place, and maybe it was the fact that they could die at any moment that fanned the flames any further. Chrissy reached Steve at the same time that Robin did.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

Chrissy smiled. She knew that Robin was Steve’s best friend. When she was with Jason, she only had a couple of moments where she could catch up with Steve without making him jealous. Chrissy didn't have to worry about him anymore since she broke up with him after the deal with Eddie in the woods.

"I'm fine, Robin," Steve said.

"I'm sure you are," Chrissy said.

"Shut up, Chris," Steve snorted.

"Wait, Chris, as in - I thought it was a guy!" Robin hissed.

"Not a guy," Steve smirked.

"You told me that you and Chris were figuring things out and - wait, how did she do that to you?!" Robin asked.

Chrissy put a hand to her mouth, giggling quietly. Her mind flashed back to that incident when Steve broke up with Nancy, and she had just gotten into a fight with her mother. Chrissy had felt like she was losing herself in her mother's expectations, and she was drowning. She went to the person who always made her feel safe, someone who understood because his parents were like hers. Chrissy had been caught by her mother with one of her fellow cheerleaders, and she had been struggling to figure if she also liked men. Meanwhile, Nancy had been the only girl Steve had been with before he had been gay and he had only slept with men. He needed to know that it had all been real. Falling into bed had been the next logical, safe step for them. She remembered dressing like a man, the smell of the aftershave she had put on, and bending Steve over to eat him out like he was a girl. She remembered the way he looked in her pearls and her makeup. Chrissy could feel her face heating up at the thought.

"This is why I didn't use pronouns," Steve whispered to Robin.

"Okay, I don't know what's happening here," Dustin said. "The bigger issue is what happened at the trailer park."

The severity of the situation sobered them all up pretty quickly.

"Right," Chrissy said, sharing a look with Eddie.

Eddie and Chrissy told them about the man levitating in the middle of the trailer park. They told them how he died, how he was crushed as if it was from the inside out.

"Before, it was like. . .it was someone - ," Eddie sighed.

"It was like someone was in his head," Chrissy said.

Another neighbor had pointed their finger at Eddie, and he had grabbed Chrissy's hand, running to his van immediately. They had found their way here where they remained hidden. They had spent the night talking, curled up in each other's arms, and sometimes, they just went quiet. Chrissy had realized that then that the man who was haunting her dreams was after her next and that he might just be real. While she was saying that now to the group, she felt Eddie reach for her hand and squeeze it tightly. At the same time, Steve had reached for her other hand and held tightly in his. The fear that had been brought to the surface suddenly was starting to ebb away, but it was still there, lurking in the corner.

"I don't know, do you think that someone should be with the kids?" Chrissy frowned.

"We'll back. We're just checking things out," Nancy reassured her.

Things had gone by quickly after that, or it seemed to, but it had been a couple of days. Nancy's friend, Fred, died. The entire town now thought Eddie had killed them both along with Patrick and that he had kidnapped Chrissy. That was all thanks to Jason, who thought he was saving her, but he was only getting in the way. Lucas had joined them, just when they had all discovered that Max was next. Chrissy was determined not to let that happen because she happened to like her, and she knew that Eddie liked living across from her as well despite the fact that Max had been weary of him. It wasn't her fault, Eddie had told Chrissy, Billy had given her the wrong impression of people like him. Although, sometimes, people grouped them together, but Billy and Eddie had nothing in common. That girl needed a win. They all did.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Robin asked Steve.

He had stood up and began taking off his shoes.

"Going down there," Steve said. "Someone needs to check things out."

"And it has to be you?" Robin asked.

"Uh, unless anyone else was on the swim team or did a summer as a lifeguard? No? Okay, then," Steve said.

He slipped off his sweater and tossed it at Eddie. Chrissy giggled at the look on his face, and she could have sworn that he smelled the sweater a bit. Eddie looked at Steve, gazing at him. Chrissy noticed the way his eyes couldn't look away from Steve's shirtless form. He admired his chest hair, and she knew from experience herself that he was probably wondering how far the moles went down.

"He looks good, doesn't he?" Chrissy asked, lowering her voice for Eddie.

"I like cheerleaders!" Eddie blurted out.

"Yeah, who doesn't?" Steve scoffed. "That was random."

"Cheerleaders are great," Chrissy whispered to Eddie. "I like them, too. I also like jocks and oblivious metalheads."

Eddie blushed and focused on wrapping a plastic bag around a flashlight.

"Hey, Steve," Eddie said and handed him the flashlight. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Steve said smiling at him.

Chrissy blew him a kiss. Steve laughed and held it close to his chest like he always did before sending one back to her. She caught it and stuck it in her bra. Steve giggled before jumping into the water. An eerie silence fell over them as they waited for Steve to resurface. Chrissy's hand slid into Eddie's, and she interlaced their fingers together. Suddenly, Steve’s head popped up, and he clung to the edge of the boat.

"Yeah, there's definitely a gate down there. Not a mama sized gate, more like a snack sized gate," Steve said.

Chrissy sighed and shared a look with Eddie before turning to Steve.

"Okay, get your ass back into the boat, Harri - STEVE!" Chrissy screamed.

Suddenly, Steve was yanked back down into the water. Chrissy moved to the edge of the boat, prepared to jump in. Eddie grabbed her hand.

"Chrissy!" Eddie yelled.

"It's Steve," Chrissy said.

Eddie stared at her before standing up with her and squeezing her hand tightly. He jumped into the lake with her. It was a blur after that. They saved Steve together, Chrissy and Eddie standing over him with oars in their hands. It helped Steve save himself and rip a bat in half with his feet. Chrissy looked over at Eddie, staring at Steved in awe. She wasn't the only one who thought it was hot. Unable to get back through the gate, Chrissy and Eddie helped a wounded Steve to shelter under Skull Rock. They leaned him down against the rock wall and knelt down in front of him. Tears came to Chrissy's eyes as she looked at his gruesome bites and the road wash on his arms. She hated seeing Steve like this.

"I got this if you don't want to do it," Eddie said softly.

"No, I'm good. I hate seeing Steve in pain. I always have," Chrissy said and looked Steve in the eyes.

"Just think about something else," Steve said, knowing it was pointless to stop her.

Chrissy slipped off her jacket, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that she was still in her uniform. Her hair was down in a mess of waves, having lost her scrunchie a long time ago. Eddie quickly ripped a strip off the bottom of his shirt, turning it into a crop top. Chrissy stared at his midriff at the same time that Steve did. She snapped out of it, and together, they wrapped Steve in their clothing. Chrissy smirked.

"I'm suddenly thinking about the last time I was on my knees in front of you," Chrissy said.

"I just want to point out that it was your idea," Steve said. "And I'm just thankful that you didn't use me like one of your pen caps."

"I'm not apologizing for enjoying how I use my mouth or that I like putting good things in it," Chrissy said.

"And you shouldn't," Steve said.

"Okay, I get it. You two used to fuck," Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

"There's no need to be jealous, Eddie," Chrissy said, giggling.

"There really isn't," Steve smirked.

"He doesn't know," Chrissy said to Steve.

"Yeah, I figured," Steve said.

"Know what?" Eddie asked, and they shook their heads. "Know what?!"

"We should talk about when this all over with," Chrissy said.

"And if we all die before that happens?" Eddie asked.

"We're not going to let that happen," Chrissy said.

"Some things are out of your control, Cunningham," Eddie said. "I guess I can wait. Keep your secrets."

They helped Steve up, and as they were leaving the shelter, the ground began to shake. Eddie and Chrissy fell into Steve’s arms, arms that quickly wrapped around their stomachs. Chrissy looked down and could see Steve’s large hand now splayed across Eddie exposed stomach. Chrissy could hear Eddie's breathing get heavier. Was it a mixture of fear or awareness of Steve’s skin against his own? Even though Steve was injured, he held onto them both rather tightly. It was nice, Chrissy thought, the both of them being in his arms, and Eddie clearly thought so, too. Eventually, the ground stopped shaking, and they got up. Chrissy started flirting with Steve again, and she giggled when Eddie threw his vest at Steve.

"For your modesty," Eddie had claimed.

"Yeah, Steve, cover up those tits. Heaven forbid you offend anyone around here," Chrissy giggled and Eddie playfully glared at her.

"I just - he shouldn't be such a distraction," Eddie huffed.

"And who am I distracting?" Steve asked in amusement.

"I don't know! The bats?!" Eddie exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

"Right," Steve and Chrissy said together.

It was fun teasing Eddie, but they were also hoping that it came off as encouraging, too. It's alright. They were safe with this. Eddie couldn't figure out why Steve and Chrissy were giggling, though, when Eddie tried to push Steve towards Nancy.

"In another life, maybe," Steve said to him. "The love will always be there, but I've got my eye on someone else."

Steve shared a look with Chrissy and Eddie groaned. Chrissy wondered if he knew which one he was jealous of or if he was jealous of both of them. Everything was a blur again once they made it out of the Upside Down. Although they didn't get away without Nancy getting cursed and getting a glimpse of Vecna's plan. After that, it was figuring out what they were going to do. Chrissy wasn't sure how they were going to do it, but she agreed with Nancy. They had to try.

Chrissy walked into the RV. Her new earphones pressed firmly over her head. Her other Walkman had gotten ruined during the trip into Lover's Lake. Landslide by Fleetwood Mac was playing in her ears. It was her all-time favorite song, and it was helping her keep Vecna out of her head. Steve and Eddie were talking on the couch, so close their knees were touching. She couldn't hear anything over the sound of the music, but it was alright. She was content just to watch them. The way they smiled, the way their eyes twinkled. . .it was all so beautiful. They both were and watching them fall for each other had been the highlight for her during this tragedy. Her heart leaped in her throat, or rather, it felt like it when she realized what had been missing for her and Steve. They hadn't known it at the time, but the missing piece of the puzzle had been Eddie.

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Chrissy slid the headphones down and placed them on her neck as she approached the men.

"Hello, boys," Chrissy greeted.

They both beamed at her. She always loved Steve’s hazel eyes and the way they looked at her. He had always seen her, and she had always seen him even when he wasn't at his best. Getting to know Eddie was a new adventure for both of them. Eddie's wide brown eyes were looking at her in much the same way that Steve was looking at her. Robin was right to describe them as doe eyes. Steve held out his arms and looked at her questioningly.

"Only if it's okay," Chrissy said.

"You're making that face again like you need a cuddle, and I know that I need a cuddle, so yeah, more than okay," Steve said.

Like she had done many times before, she slid comfortably into Steve's lap. It felt a lot like coming home, and she realized how long it had been since they had done this. Steve wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek against her chest while she wrapped an arm around his neck. Chrissy grinned mischieviously at Eddie and stretched her legs out in his lap.

"How long have you guys known each other?" Eddie asked.

"Childhood friends," Chrissy replied.

"We grew up in the same foxhole," Steve replied.

"We practically had the same parents who planned out our entire lives for us," Chrissy said.

"What we wore," Steve said. "Although, I had a lot more freedom with that than Chrissy did."

"Who are friends are," Chrissy sighed. "Although, I got lucky with Steve."

"Yeah, we did," Steve smirked.

"And they've tried to tell us who we should date," Chrissy said, and she giggled. "But we rebeled against that pretty hard."

"But because of that, they cracked down pretty hard on other things," Steve said.

"Like what we ate," Chrissy pouted.

"What you ate?!" Eddie asked.

"My dad started insisting that I eat more," Steve said.

"And my mom insisted that I'd eat less," Chrissy frowned.

"Both of them were good at finding your weakness and just - ," Steve sighed.

"Manipulating into doing what they wanted," she said. "I'm grateful we had each other. . .although sometimes, life got in the way of our relationship."

"We always found our way back to each other," Steve said.

Chrissy smiled and gave his lips a gentle, quick kiss. Eddie huffed, and she looked at him questioningly.

"I'm still stuck on the whole thing about your parents controlling what you eat," Eddie said. "I mean, there were times when my dad would leave me home by myself, not fucking giving a damn, and I'd just practically starve so I can't comprehend people using food as a way to control people. I'm not saying I don't believe you but my own father was manipulative piece of shit who left me to clean up his own fucking mess. . .I didn't think that - ,"

Eddie's voice came to a stop. His eyes were full of guilt. He might not have judged others in the way that people have judged him, but still, he did it. It wasn't what people liked that was the problem. It was how people perceived it, and their perceptions got skewed along the way. People just wanted to make people see things the way they saw them, and sometimes they wanted them to see it whether they wanted to or not. In a lot of ways, it's done good doing that, but in a lot of ways, it's not so good. And if Chrissy has learned anything, it's that you can't force your views onto other people. You can only share them. Chrissy was glad that Eddie had changed his perception of them both, as they did with him, and she was glad they had come to the conclusion themselves. She just wished that all this didn't have to happen for them to see that.

"It's not easy living in the bubble," Chrissy said. "We may appear perfect on the outside but it's utter chaos, honestly, and not in a good way."

"Money doesn't make everything easier," Steve said. "We still struggle with everything they've done to us."

"Yeah, same here," Eddie said, frowning.

"I think what makes everything better is having heart, having compassion, and understanding for the people who you care about," Chrissy said.

"You have a lot of heart, Chrissy Cunningham," Eddie said.

"So do you," she replied. "And you, Steve. . .have a lot of hair."

"And a lot of ass," Eddie laughed.

"Nice, guys, I'm more than just a piece of meat," Steve said, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling slightly.

"We're just kidding, baby," Chrissy said. "You have the biggest heart of all us."

Eddie was gazing at Steve, who was smiling bashfully now. His head was tilted back, exposing the bruise around his neck. Chrissy could tell that things were really starting to come together for Eddie, and she wondered if it was time to have that talk now. Eddie's eyebrows furrowed.

"Damn, those bats really got you good," Eddie said and pressed a thumb to a cut on his neck.

"Actually," Steve said nervously. "That was from the beer bottle."

Steve had been holding a hand to his neck at the time, so Chrissy hadn't seen the cut and apparently neither had Eddie.

"Shit, Steve, I'm so sorry," Eddie said softly.

"You were scared, I'm not mad at you," Steve said. "In fact, if you hadn't had the beer bottle, if everything hadn't gone so horribly wrong, and we were alone. . .I wouldn't have minded so much that you pressed me up against the wall."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asked with a smirk.

"If you really wanted to make it up to me, you could give it a kiss," Steve said, looking rather hopeful.

Eddie leaned forward and pressed gentle kisses to the area around the cut. Chrissy watched as Eddie worked his way up Steve's neck. Steve's eyes fluttered close as Eddie kissed the wound, making sure the kisses were even more gentle. . .almost featherlight. Chrissy's heavy breathing had returned, and Steve's face looked so beautiful. She really couldn't help herself. Chrissy pressed her lips to Steve's, and he groaned but returned the kiss rather eagerly. She moved her lips with Steve, nibbling and sucking just the way they both liked it. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip when she felt Eddie move closer. She broke the kiss, letting Eddie take her place. Steve kissed him back just as eagerly as he kissed Chrissy. Eddie was more enthusiastic, finally accepting a part of himself that he had been denying. One of Eddie's hands gripped her leg gently. He wanted this, too. He pulled away, gasping for breath like Steve was.

"I know, I fucking get it now," Eddie said.

Chrissy grabbed him by the chin and placed a gentle kiss before pulling away. She leaned her forehead against Eddie's, Steve’s hand rubbing her back soothingly.

"The three of us should fuck after this is over," Chrissy said.

She enjoyed they way they choked on their saliva and the way their cheeks turned red as the image immediately popped into their minds.

"Hell yeah," Eddie said.

"Yeah, no, definitely," Steve swallowed with a grin.

"You're a lot more foward than I thought you'd be," Eddie said.

"Well, I have been very oppressed," Chrissy said. "And life is too short to deny ourselves to deny ourselves what we truly want."

Eddie's hand was rubbing her leg, and Steve's hand was still continuing to stroke her back. It wasn't hard to imagine the things they could do to her or afterward, when she knew they'd take care of her and she'd do the same for them. She could see herself in between them, being held so lovingly, their hands a comforting presence like they were now. The light in the RV changed. The sun would soon set, and the fight would begin. She just hoped they could forgive her for what happened next. She just couldn't let Max be Vecna's bait. She grabbed their hands and dragged them outside so they could enjoy the remaining light of the sun. Hope was on the horizon.

[ochrearia]

Treat's On Me

[Scheduling this for midnight Christmas Day] Happy Secret Santa @cosmogify! Got you on the randomizer. I don't really know if this is anything but I've never written Mic before so I tried. Considered writing for Berry but I had an idea with Mic so that's this. Also I kind of made a little shit up so apologize if that's wrong, I couldn't ask about it without giving away what I was doing lol. Hope you like it Lunar <3

Slight TW for mild talk about eating disorders, I think. It's not really mentioned by name but it's very clearly implied. Heed the warning

BFs in this one-shot: fightin!BF (Mic, Lunar's), Yourself (YS)

“Looks like you and I are now both rocking the big puffy pieces of clothing, huh little man?”

YS didn’t get to hang out with some of the other selves he’d gone to meet as much as, say, the original four he reached out to. But then you could argue that he spent the most time with the first eight as an extension. And honestly after the number ten he’d very quickly lost count of how many there actually fucking were. But that was fine. The more there were, the more likely that he could go pester someone instead of having to be alone. He had to work on that eventually, being calm enough to be on his own, but for now he definitely wasn’t.

Today he had the rarer pleasure to sit around and waste time with Mic. Mikey? YS wasn’t sure, he was probably going to just call him Mic. Or little man, because he had a habit of doing that for all of them. Since so many of them were so much shorter than him. Heh, could use them as armrests. Even when he was sitting.

Okay, maybe that was mean.

“Mine was a gift!” Mic responded happily, tail wagging back and forth to stress the point of his excitement. “Look! Look look look, look it’s got angel wings on the coattails, and rockin’ spikes on the shoulders, and it’s really cool!”

“Yeah, it sure is.” YS agreed, amused. “The wing motif makes sense with how big this thing is on you. They’d drag on the floor if you were any shorter.” Hah, if I still had my wings, and in the hypothetical of you having them, they absolutely would drag on the floor behind you.

“Mean.” Mic pouted, laying himself over the back of the couch where YS was relaxing. “You’re just jealous that mine is cool and flowy and yours isn’t!”

“Literally two different types of clothes we’re talking about here.” YS shook his head, amusement never faltering. “Yours is a jacket. It’s meant to cover, but more loosely obviously. Mine’s a hoodie. When has anyone worn a hoodie that didn’t have the purpose of turning themselves into a snug sack of shit trying to simulate a permanent hug?”

“Is that why you wear it all the time? You want to go all day wearing a hug?” Mic prodded teasingly.

“Ah… well…” Shit, guess he walked right into that one. “Maybe. I dunno. Shit’s dumb. But a bunch of the others pooled together to buy this for me. I think it was a custom commission? I’m not really sure where they got it, none of them ever told me. They just showed up with a gift on any old day and gave it to me, as if I’d done anything to earn it. I don’t really think I did by that point but they insisted. And I didn’t want to be rude and reject it, so, yeah. And now I guess I never take it off. Well, lying, I have to wash it. But that’s besides the point…”

YS paused, catching sight of Mic, who seemed to be completely zoning out with the thousand-yard stare the other was giving him while he talked.

“Shit, I’m rambling on a bit. Sorry, I do that sometimes, just talking because I can. I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

Mic blinked, before shaking his head, his normal energy returning to him. “Nah! That’s nice! Mine was a gift too! Wait, I already said that… but it’s true! Dee and Stacie got it for me! It’s gonna be a team jacket I think!”

YS regarded him curiously. “You think? You don’t actually know? Well, I suppose it’s not surprising that we’re all a bunch of stupid shit airheads…”

“Yeah!”

YS snorted a laugh at how enthusiastic the smaller man was being. Even with when he was arguably being insulting, going head-first into whatever he said. Mic was always full of energy like that, though, from what the taller could tell. Suppose he had to be considering what his own life was like. He didn’t know much yet, but it seemed like he was an avid fighter? Though what kind of fighter he wasn’t really sure of.

“Suppose we also share the whole thing of having big puffy clothes that hide how thin we are.” YS dared to venture after a moment. Was this a good idea? Who knows. But it was something they had in common, and YS would otherwise be grasping at straws trying to find something to talk about.

Mic’s energy visibly lessened, but not by too much that YS would have to fear that he went too far. “Yeah… I have to be like this though. Need to be able to move quickly, have fast reflexes and stuff. And with all of the exercise I get I don’t really get to keep much if that makes sense. Always working off any extra weight!”

That’s not the full truth and we both know it, little man. YS shrugged, knowing it might not be the best to go into full depth about it when he and Mic hadn’t had a lot of time together yet. But it was rarer to meet another self that had no issues than meet another self that had almost the exact same issue he did.

“I don’t really… retain that much either.” YS was dancing around the real word. Of which would be that he didn’t really eat much either. It was harder to tell how skinny YS stayed when his hoodie was always on. Despite it being snug, it made him look more filled out than he actually was. “You kind of just can’t see it all that much with the hoodie. The others are always doing their best to try and get me to eat more, and I know I should, I just… usually never have the energy.”

YS frowned, pausing to keep a watch on how Mic would react. He seemed content to just listen, for now, like he had nothing to say. Or maybe he did have something to say, a lot to say. But he didn’t want to, or didn’t know how. Oh well. Baby steps that could be worked towards later.

“It ends up being a never-ending cycle, though. I’m too tired to bother to eat because I’m depressed and shit, and then I don’t eat enough, and then I really never will have the energy. Tired down to the bones and nothing ever fixes it because I don’t do what I need to when it comes to, well, living. At least, that’s how it was at the start.”

Mic cocked his head to the side, curious. “At the start?”

“Yeah.” YS met his gaze again, trying to convey a bit of a hopeful attitude. “When I was alone. Before I met any of you, dealing with the loss of my girlfriend with no one left. Quite honestly, I don’t really know how I even made it out alive in that period. I don’t even really remember much I did during that, but I know I didn’t take care of myself.”

YS was leaving out the whole… tearing his wings off thing. Mic didn’t really need to know that. No one needed to know that but YS was shit at keeping his mouth shut. Some of them knew. A handful more knew he was an angel. Mic might already know that too, but maybe not.

“But then I started. Meeting my other selves, yknow? And they… care a lot about me, which I don’t know why they would, but they do. And they’ve noticed my bad habits. Started making their own habits to try and balance them out. Some of them are entirely blunt with it, outright stating they’re going to kick my ass if I don’t eat something. Some are indirect. Leaving me with extra leftovers they suddenly don’t want anymore, or showing up with stuff because they ‘bought too much’ and thought I might want it.”

This probably wouldn’t do much. He was rambling too much about shit that Mic probably didn’t even want to talk about to be honest. Stuff like this sometimes could hit a nerve that no one wanted to be irritated. Knowing that what you were doing was bad, and doing it anyway, because you felt like you had to or just couldn’t break the habit once you were in it.

“You know what?” YS strayed off suddenly, deciding that this approach might not do anything substantial. “What do you say you and I go out and get some of the most ridiculous fast food we can find? Don’t worry about not knowing the city here, I know it enough. We could go around to whatever we can find and see if they have anything disgusting enough to buy. It’ll be on me. How’s that sound?”

Both of them could use a meal, to be honest. Might not end up being at all healthy, but sometimes food was food. Anything to fill an empty stomach was better than nothing. And it could be made into a game. YS just hoped Mic would play along. 

Mic’s energy sprouted back to life. “Exploring out in your world? Ooo, sounds fun, sounds fun! Let’s go do that! I want to see how different everything is compared to mine!”

Well, at least he managed to turn it around. That was good. YS just hoped that when the time came he could convince the smaller to sit down with him and pig out on whatever the fuck they could find. Maybe if YS showed that he could eat, then Mic would decide he could also eat.

YS grinned at him, placing a hand on his head and ruffling, making sure to avoid the halo. “Alright, little man, try not to implode with excitement. Let’s go fuck around and shit. But we can’t stay out in the open for too long while it’s this cold or I’ll turn into a giant freaky popsicle.”

“Can’t take the cold huh? Your fault for being so tall, you have more surface area that can get cold, unlike me! Hah! A benefit to being small!” Mic teased, practically bouncing off the walls while YS got up from his lounging.

“Ha ha, very funny. Even if I use my shapeshifting to get smaller I still can’t take the cold all that well. Another reason I’m always wearing this stupid hoodie.”

You’re certainly not helping yourself with the cold by leaving yourself so thin either, YS. How painfully self-aware are you going to get before you start doing something about it, huh?

YS sighed, stopping right before the front door. Mic almost ran into him from behind, not expecting the sudden pause. The smaller peered at him curiously.

“This year’s almost over, you know?” YS mumbled, rubbing his thumb against his hand. “Not too much left in it to do much of a change at all. The whole New Year’s tradition of making a goal is corny as fuck, but, yknow, maybe there’s something to it if you make a real promise.”

Mic tilted his head again. Curiosity was a big trait of this self, it seemed. “But it’s not New Year’s yet. Isn’t it bad to share your resolution before it’s here?”

“I think you’re mixing that up with birthday wishes.” YS grinned, rolling his eyes fondly. “But you have a point. It’s not New Year’s yet. I still think it would be nice to maybe come up with something while we’re out. And then we can maybe make promises to each other to try and hold to what we want to do next year. Does that sound fun?”

“Oooh, yeah, yeah! And then whoever fails on their resolution first has to do a forfeit!” Mic replied, grinning mischievously.

“A forfeit within reason, sure.” YS agreed after a moment. “Guess we have a lot to discuss then. Come on, let’s go before the sun gets any lower.”

[gara-les]

i thought about Rainer again (shocking, i know /sarcasm), and.

i think if you really read into it, you could read Rainer as being, canonically, within the universe of Petscop, disabled.

the long story short as to why i think this: Toneth and Roneth. (Rainer put a lot of more personal stuff in Toneth's description than other Pets', Roneth is kinda implied to be a stand-in of sorts for Mike (baby half brother, connection to cars/roads), which would Then make Toneth a stand-in for Rainer, "Because he's younger, he gets to learn from all of Toneth's mistakes. That's why he always looks both ways" implies that Rainer might've gotten hit by a car when he was younger, Rainer specifically calls out that Toneth, who seems to represent him to some extent, has a broken leg, etc etc you get my point.)

so...i guess have my headcanon about how exactly i envision Rainer's whole thing:

Rainer, by some miracle, didn't break-break his legs (as in the bones didn't like. snap), but there were some fractures in there from. getting hit by a car. some were smaller/less major, but a few of them were...pretty bad. especially in his left leg and some areas of his hips.

as i've mentioned a few times before, Rainer can't unbend his left leg all the way anymore, though he can get pretty close. this is at least partially why he uses the crutches; kinda hard to walk very well when you legitimately can't unbend one of your legs to walk with it.

Rainer deals with a lot of chronic pain, especially in his hips. there are a few positions he can't sit in for long without shit starting to hurt. some days he feels mostly fine, just aching, and other days getting out of bed feels like a challenge, and like he doesn't want to do much besides maybe code.

he struggles a lot with balance, and he can't walk without his crutches for long because his legs and feet start hurting and it makes focusing on balance harder. he can get around his house pretty easy without his crutches. which y'know. Makes Sense; He's Lived There Most Of His Life And Knows What Furniture Is Good For Balancing Himself.

even with crutches, Rainer can't do much walking. using them takes pressure off of his legs a little, and they help him get around, but his legs eventually get tired and hurt. the longest that Rainer can walk around/be on his feet for is around...an hour and a half to two hours, depending on how he's feeling.

Rainer, among his other medications (for stuff like depression and schizophrenia), also takes prescription painkillers. got prescribed them in 1994 because, despite the fact he should've, technically, healed from his injury as much as he could've by then, he still had "lingering pain" that wasn't going away. see the chronic pain i mentioned earlier.

yeah...sometimes i just think about like. the specifics, y'know?

anyway: Rainer is disabled to me, and i feel like it can easily be read as a Canon Thing, given implications from Toneth and Roneth's descriptions.

hope you're doing well, and having a great day/night, by the way!!

HELLO i love disabled rainer headcanon he is litetally Me if you think about it. even if the toneth lines didnt allude to him specifically i think its the best evidence for the theory that he’s schizophrenic as, while he does speak/type in a strange and convoluted manner, that particular text i think points the most towards some sort of thought disorder you see in schizophrenia. either way i think its points to him being disabled.

also. i am doing well! ^_^ depressive but not bad, the oven just got done preheating im gonna eat up these fries…. school and home and finding a job haven’t given me much time but i always try to respond when i can !

[thesakuragarnet]

PHOENIX: A Pro Hero Toya Todoroki AU (Chapter One)

THIS FIC IS 18+ ONLY!!!!!

Summary: For most of his life, Toya Todoroki was a loner. He was a scrawny, broody kid only known for getting in an explosive fight that led to him being held back. That is...until he met Keigo Takami. Navigating love, his own demons, and the road to becoming a Pro Hero, will Toya Todoroki be able to prove his father wrong?

TL;DR: What if Rei Todoroki saved her eldest child from his accident at Sekoto Peak and he got the Hero Arc he deserved?

Tags for the full fic (which is heavily tagged in the author's notes per chapter on AO3): DabiHawks, Pro Hero Dabi, alternate universe, child ab*se, implied sexual content (including implied consensual sexual content between teenagers), underage drinking, implied/referenced r word, explicit sexual content (between of-age consenting parties), graphic depictions of violence, anxiety disorder and panic attacks, s*ic!dal thoughts, eventual happy ending, fluff, smut, angst, implied/referenced s3lf harm, hurt/comfort, Vigilante League of Villains, Geten is not a Himura, POV TOYA TODOROKI

Word Count: Chapter One, which is posted below, is 3,245 words. The full fic (which will be completed on 11/21/2023) is roughly 270,000 words.

AO3 link to the full fic

Chapter One: MONTAGE (Year: Early 2117)

It’s the first day of my repeated year, and not a single person even looks in my direction. The reputation I built for myself isn’t exactly helping; I’d nearly incinerated another student who was talking shit about my sister last semester. He deserved it; it’s a shame he wasn’t in the ICU after what he said. Nevertheless, every single person in the Private Hero Training Academy avoided me like the plague. I skipped orientation this year, thinking it wasn’t worth it. I’d just be paired with yet another loser who would always find an excuse to not be my roommate and switch out; I didn’t care to make friends anymore. 

I sit quietly at the smallest table in the corner of the cafeteria, my hair falling over my eyes as I stare emptily into the bowl of noodles. I shove it to the side; I’m not in the mood to eat anything right now. Tears prick my eyes as I think about what happened when I was home last week. 

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU WEREN’T SO DAMN WEAK HE WOULD BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT!” My father bellowed at our mother as Natsuo, Fuyumi, and I struggled to keep Shoto sheltered from the noise of the violent slaps that echoed through the house. 

“HE KNOWS NO DISCIPLINE!” 

SMACK!

“HE KNOWS NO MANNERS!”

SMACK!

“HE IS A FAILED EXPERIMENT!”

SMACK!

I suddenly break down and put my head on the table, resting my forehead on my arms so no one will see my tears. ‘I wish I didn’t exist anymore.’ I think to myself...

…

...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! 

A rapping noise echoes on the wooden table. 

“Hey, you’re Toya, right?” A sprightly voice calls. I keep my head down, staring at the darkness that I formed in the shelter of my arms. I try to keep my body still so they can’t notice I’m crying, and I struggle to stop. 

“Who wants to know?” I gripe, keeping my voice steady.

“Oh, I’m Keigo Takami! I’m your roomie this year! Hey, are you okay? Or just tired? Hope I didn’t wake you up,” Keigo laughs. 

“Are you new or something?” I snap, not in the mood to talk. 

“How’d you guess?! Yeah! I’m a first-year! Ready to become a hero! Anyway, is it okay if I sit here? I don’t really know anyone yet.” Before I can say anything, I feel him sit down next to me. 

“Are you gonna eat your food?”

“Not hungry,” I say flatly. I briefly activate my Quirk on my face so all the tears evaporate, but no one can see it the way I have my head down.

“Then why’d you get it?”

“You ask a lot of damn questions don’t you,” I growl before raising my head to look at him. Keigo Takami’s Quirk is obvious at first glance. The fifteen-year-old sports an elegant pair of feathered, red wings on his back. He returns my glare with a bright smile, and an emotion I’ve never felt before rips through my entire body. 

“Are you not scared of me?” I ask, indignantly, but, once again, Takami just returns my venom with warm, caring eyes. 

“Why would I be scared of you? Hey, did you know your hair is turning white?” Keigo points to the white streaks that pepper my crimson hair. 

“Stress. And my mom’s Quirk.” I mumble, suddenly wishing I had a hood that I could pull up to hide it. 

“Oh. That’s cool. I guess. Hey, you sure you don’t wanna eat anything? You can have half of my sandwich!” He extends half of his PB&J to me, but I put my head back down. Keigo shrugs, and, then, his eyes light up. 

“OH MY GOD! I ALMOST FORGOT TO ASK! Your last name is Todoroki, right? As in Endeavor’s son? What’s it like having such an awesome Pro Hero as a dad?” He excitedly asks, and my brain fills with screams. 

“I WON’T LET YOU SLEEP UNTIL YOU’VE PERFECTED THIS MOVE! GET UP!” 

A phantom pain in my stomach forms where I got kicked last week; I’d forced myself to stand and finish the exercise, burning my shoulder in the process. I feel my emotions setting my Quirk into overdrive; I’ve gotta get out of here. Without saying a word, I immediately stand up and walk out of the cafeteria, leaving Keigo alone, worried, and confused. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Few Months Later

(Almost the end of the First Semester)

 

“DAD I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT SHOTO!” I scream as I wake up from a horrible nightmare...well...a memory. I’m covered in cold sweat, and I’m shaking uncontrollably. A faint blue glow permeates the darkness of the room, and I panic as I realize I’ve set my pillow on fire. 

“SHIT SHIT SHIT!” I whisper heatedly as I get up on my knees and struggle to put it out with my trembling hands, burning myself. I bite my lip as I endure the pain to snuff out the flames, leaving a tender red mark in the middle of my palm. When I successfully put it out, my mind flashes with my father’s terrifying, furious gaze; all I hear is my mother and my siblings screaming at me. I continue to shake uncontrollably and begin hyperventilating. I stare at my open, shivering palms...The weapons that I used on my little brother. It was an accident. But that didn’t change the fact that it happened. If Mom hadn’t acted quickly, who knows what could have happened. And it would’ve been all my fault. Tears start streaming down my face, as I start rocking back and forth, desperately trying to calm myself down.

“Toya?” A sleepy voice echoes through the darkness, and a feather whizzes by my head before pulling open the curtains on the window, letting moonlight flood our room. 

“Are you okay?” Keigo asks as he rubs his eyes and starts to sit up. I say nothing. Words can’t come out of my mouth; my chest is unbearably tight, and my stomach is in a knot. I feel all the color instantly leave my face.

“Trash can,” I manage to croak out as my dry mouth suddenly fills with saliva. Thankfully, as soon as I heave, a flurry of feathers brings a trash can to sit in front of me on the bed. I grab it quickly and thrust my head into it as I get sick.

“You’re definitely not okay.” Keigo’s worried voice is at my bedside next to me; he must have gotten up. I breathe heavily as I lurch again, and Keigo sits beside me before patting me on the back; I flinch at his touch and retch until there’s nothing left in me. 

“I hate everything,” I cough as I try to catch my breath, water leaking out of my eyes. I spit into the bucket to get the horrible taste out of my mouth. 

“Even me?” Keigo says in a sing-song voice, and I look up briefly to give him an annoyed glance. He hands me a rag, and I snatch it from him, wiping my mouth before setting the trash can and the rag on the other side of my bed. Just in case. 

“Did you have nightmares about your dad again?” Keigo asks, concern in his voice. I shudder and nod, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You should probably be on something for those night terrors and panic attacks. That’s not healthy. You can’t just keep throwing up dinner every other night,” Keigo touches my shoulder, and I shrink away from him.

“My folks wouldn’t care even if they knew,” I mutter as I feel the waves of anxiety and dread flood my body. I start to move to go back to sleep, grappling with the covers, forcing Keigo to get off the bed. 

“Do they not know?” He asks. 

“There’s a lot they don’t know,” I growl, turning my body away as the tears start flowing down my face again. I pass out from pure exhaustion.

…

...

Two hours later, I wake up screaming again, except this time I can’t move. I’m paralyzed with the fear of my dad’s gaze burning into my very soul; I whimper and shake, hating how pathetic Keigo must think I am. 

‘Dad’s right, all I ever do is show weakness.’ I keep my eyes shut, trying to calm my dark thoughts and not jump out the window to end all the pain once and for all. ‘It would be so easy just to hit the ground from how high up we are… the seventh floor….I doubt I’d even feel anything. And then, my family wouldn’t have to bear the burden of me anymore.’ With eerie timing, I feel the paralysis fade away. ‘This is my sign.’ I think to myself as I take a deep breath and prepare to roll out of bed and end my life. Suddenly, I feel a warmth surrounding me, and my body freezes. 

“It’s okay, Toya. He’s not here,” I hear the familiar voice whisper as I open my eyes and see a pair of red wings enclosing me in an embrace. I instantly think to push him away so I can finish what I started when a wave of calm washes over me as the feathers brush my face. They’re very soft and comforting...something I don’t feel very often, if ever. My nightmarish thoughts seemingly melt away as I lean into the wing, allowing my senses to fill with something other than physical pain and emotional numbness. Keigo gingerly drapes his arm over my shoulder, limply pulling me toward him. 

“If you want me to go away I will. I know you don’t really like hugs. But...You looked like you needed one badly,” Keigo’s voice echoes through the silent room. I roughly shake my head as I bite my lip and let my tears flow. This time, it’s a mixture of emotions that sparks them; the normal ones: fear and anguish, but also: peace. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the silky feathers and the sound of Keigo’s breathing, my shaking breath slowly calming down to a smooth even pattern. My chest fills with a warm glow that I’m not used to; whatever it is, I know it isn’t my Quirk because it’s the complete opposite of pain.

“Thank you,” I choke out through my tears as I sleep peacefully for the first time in my entire life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Beginning Of The Third Semester

(First Week of September)

 

I was planning on going home for the weekend, but my heart told me otherwise. My dad could go to Hell for all I cared. This was gonna be the night I confessed. I’d practiced this for weeks by myself in the bathroom mirror, but my nerves were all over the place. This should be easy considering this was the person that made me realize I swung both ways. But, it’s also the first time I’ve ever felt strong enough to do something about my feelings. I don’t think I could handle rejection though. In fact, Keigo was pretty much all I had to live for lately. I don’t think I’d be able to keep on living in this Hell without him.

‘Keigo. I like you. Let’s go out. Simple enough.’ I think to myself as I splash water on my face. On Friday evenings after class, Keigo and I typically played poker by ourselves. Instead of poker chips, we just used chicken nuggets. I’d put on the only nice outfit that I owned; a black, long-sleeved button-up with black slacks. I kept the top two buttons undone so I didn’t look too serious, and I combed my hair so it didn’t look so spazzy. It had almost turned completely white at this point, and the only trace of red remained at my crown. I take a deep breath and head back to our dorm.

...

I grab the handle and take another deep breath, trying to hype myself up.

‘Alright. You got this, Toya. Be smooth. Be cool. You can be charming… Right? Just don’t make a fool of yourself.’ 

However, when I open the door, the lights are off, and Keigo sits on his knees on his bed with the chicken nuggets in a fancy-looking tray instead of lying on the bed like they usually are. He has a candle lit on his nightstand, and, when he realizes I’m inside the room, he seems to freeze up and get nervous. I raise my eyebrow and close the door behind me.

“Where’re the cards?” I ask as I walk over to sit across from him cross-legged on the twin bed. That’s when I noticed that I’m not the only one that cleaned up. Keigo’s normally unkempt hair is neatly brushed, and his feathers even look shinier and more orderly than normal. He’s still wearing his normal black and yellow T-shirt, but it looks brighter, almost like it’s brand new. 

“Um, I thought we could...just eat the nuggs tonight instead. And. Uh. Talk?” Keigo stammers, and I see his face flush. I blink. 

‘There’s no way we had the same idea. There’s no way he actually likes me back.’ 

“Okay?” I say as I move to grab a chicken nugget, only for him to slap my hand away.

“I need to talk to you first.” He blurts out, his voice wavering. He’s trying to maintain eye contact with me, and his feathers start to ruffle. I can see the sweat on his forehead, and a small smile forms on my face. 

‘Oh my God, he DOES like me back!’ 

“Listen, you’re my best friend. And... And, I hope this doesn’t ruin what we have, but, I-” He stumbles over his words as I slide the tray to the side so nothing stands between us. 

‘Fuck it, I’m just gonna go for it.’ I start to close the space between us, but Keigo is oblivious as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to confess.

“What I’m trying to say is: I L-” 

I stop his words short as I kiss him, and he makes a surprised noise before completely relaxing. He kisses me back, making my heart flutter, and, for the first time in my life, reciprocated love washes over me. He starts to lean back onto the pillow, and I move with him, positioning myself so I’m looming over top of him. His wings start flapping, and I laugh as I break the kiss, propping myself up on my elbow and looking down at him with a smirk. He stares up at me with huge eyes, and I laugh again. 

“Warn me next time you’re gonna do that,” He whispers, his face beet red. I’ve never seen him so flustered before, and it makes me grin even more to realize the kind of power I have over him. 

“Okay, here’s your warning,” I say as I lean down and kiss him again. He reaches up and limply puts his hand at the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. I’ve never ever felt like this before, but I love it. For once in my entire life, someone cares about me just as much as I care about them. I run my hands through his hair as I breathe him in. He reaches up with his other arm and starts undoing the buttons of my shirt. Before he gets to the last one, I grab his hand tightly and pull away from the kiss.

“We’re not fucking. I want to make that clear,” I say, bluntly. He can’t afford to get too attached to me...just in case. Keigo rolls his eyes and jerks his hands away from my grip before undoing the last button.

“There are other things besides that, hothead,” He whispers as he slides my shirt off. I smirk and lean back down, slipping my tongue in his mouth, making him make another surprised noise; his wings stiffen for a moment. I reach over with my other hand and snuff out the candle, surrounding us in complete darkness. My heart thuds as my tongue dances with his, and I start grinding up against him. The sensation is intoxicating, and I grind rougher as his hands slide up my abs and my chest. My body seems concerned at the random influx of dopamine that is never present, and my entire being is tingly with a warm, positive feeling. I break away from the kiss as we both start breathing heavily; I move to kiss his neck. 

“I love you,” I let the new words drift past my lips without even meaning to say them aloud; I don’t even care if it’s too soon to say them. I can’t help how I feel. My heart swells as I hear him echo my words; I leave dark marks on the side of his neck and start to move further down when he pushes himself up with his wings, knocking me backward on the bed. I blink in surprise and start to push myself up.

“Whoa whoa, wait a second, birdbrain. I’m the one on to-” Keigo kisses me before I can finish my sentence and starts taking my pants off. In a panic, I hold my hand up and let a small ember burn as a warning, causing him to break the kiss. 

“I said no fucking!” I snap, feeling betrayed.

“Relax, Toya. I said there are other things,” His words hang in the air, and he starts trailing kisses from my neck farther and farther down my body. I fall silent as the night air consumes us...

...

...

The next morning, I wake up in my boxers with Keigo fast asleep on my chest. I smile down at him before abruptly realizing that last night was the first night in years that I didn’t have a nightmare or a panic attack. I trace his feathered wing lightly with the tip of my finger, causing him to stir awake. 

“Good morning,” He yawns, stretching and sitting up. A smile creeps across my face before I can hide it, and I tousle his hair. 

“You know we can’t tell anyone about this, right?” I say quietly, and Keigo frowns.

“Well, why not?” He snorts, climbing off of me and getting out of bed to get dressed.

“We just can’t,” I say as I put my finger on the candlewick and ignite it, giving the room a blue hue.

“Too bad. I’m still gonna try to hold your hand, and you can’t stop me.” Keigo laughs. I rub the sleep from my eyes.

“Fine,” I grumble as I climb out of bed. Before I can get my bearings, Keigo hugs me tightly. 

“I knew there was something beneath that tough guy act,” He smiles, and my expression softens. 

“Come on, we gotta get ready for practice. I reserved the training room for this morning,” Keigo says in his sing-song voice as he flaps his wings, lifting himself off the ground. I smile and get dressed before he opens the window. I raise my eyebrow, and he just grins before holding his hand out to me. I tentatively take it, and I cling to him as he sails out the window into the open orange sky, heading toward the training field.

[endcrman]

Allostasis

(Chapter 2)

As a general rule of thumb, Grian doesn’t do public servers for a multitude of reasons. This one hadn’t even made it onto the list.

TW for implied sexual assault, PTSD symptoms, Self-Neglect, and minor Disordered Eating

Read the whole fic here.

-

Grian woke to more messages. Some from hermits, but he didn't bother looking at those too closely, too preoccupied with the hours-old notification in the universal chat.

samgladiator: griannnnnnn

samgladiator: i know you havent blocked me grian cmon

samgladiator: are you mad about the redstone thingy? i was just goofing and gaffing you know what im like lol

Grian laid his head back against his pillow, eyes closed as he tried to figure out how to respond. His eye hurt. He didn't want to get out of bed. He didn't want to build, he didn't want to fish, he didn't want to work on anything right now. He was tired.

His comm buzzed again.

GoodTimeWithScar: hey grain, how are you doing after yesterday?

Grian: bit tired, but just fine! thanks for checking in

He was tapping out a lie before he could even think about it, not wanting to worry Scar. He had enough to concern himself with even before Grian was involved, he didn't have to add any more stressors to his plate.

Scar said something else, but Grian had closed his messages already, opening Sam's again, staring at them. What was he even supposed to say to that? Call him out on his bullshit? Laugh along with his shitty excuse of a joke? A voice in the back of his head was telling Grian to block him, but that would just make Sam mad, he reasoned.

Grian: what do you want sam

He regretted the message the instant he sent it, flinching as he turned off his comm again. Why was he so stupid? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

Grian turned over on his side, pulling a pillow over his head with a groan as the communicator buzzed. If only he hadn't just woken up, then he could fall asleep again and ignore all of this for even longer. 

Of course, Grian had no such luck. Instead he laid there, staring at the blank wall in front of him.

His comm buzzed yet again and Grian let out a bitter laugh, he could almost imagine Sam staring in anticipation at his own comm, waiting for Grian to get back to him after all this time. It was kind of pathetic, if that was what he was doing. How lonely was he?

And yet, Grian was reaching over to read his messages anyways.

samgladiator: i'm sorry.

samgladiator: like for real. no jokes. i know we were really messed up as kids and ive been working on it i promise. i guess i saw you and it just felt like we were kids again. fucked up but still in it together. i didnt mean it

He was still trying to process the words when another message came through, automatically populating the chat.

samgladiator: you can keep ignoring me if you want, i get it :( but if youre ever willing, i wanna make it up to you. text me whenever

He was going to throw up. There were a few panicked moments as he dug through his chests, silently pleading to anyone listening that he actually had a bucket up in his base, not just lost in his chest monster down below. His wishes were answered luckily, however unneeded, as he curled over the metal bucket on the floor, retching and dry heaving. His stomach was already empty, bile burning his throat, but that wasn't enough to curb the ill piercing it's way through his entire being.

Grian wasn't sure how long he sat there, bucket in his lap as his body tried to evacuate his stomach's non-existent contents. He was trembling when he finally managed to stop gagging, the bucket empty aside from a couple stray tears that had made their way down his cheeks. He was so tired again.

Shakily, he set the bucket down on the ground, easily accessible just in case. The sound of metal meeting the wooden floor was so, so loud in his ears, echoing around his base, making him flinch. Grian took a deep breath, carefully getting up on two wobbly legs before rolling into bed again. He should eat. 

He didn't get up, falling asleep again.

-

I'm sorry. Sam might as well have written those words on the inside of Grian's eyelids, as often as he was stuck thinking about them. Sam didn't apologize, that was part of what made him so insufferable to begin with, always convinced that he was in the right. So what the hell was this?

Grian wasn't sure how long it had been since he received those last messages from Sam, not really bothering with the passage of time. He'd spent most of said time thinking, turning over what had happened and what Sam had said in his head, picking at pieces of food he had laying around the base, and making up excuses to not have to see any other hermits.

He knew he was in a sorry state, and he knew he had to pull himself together before anybody saw him. Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have other plans.

“Grian!” Joel's voice was loud, Grian almost didn't recognize it as his own name, directed towards him. He pulled a pillow over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored him, he'd go away.

That was too much to hope for though. Why would Joel ever go away when he could cause problems instead?

“Grian! It's Sunday!” His voice was getting closer, and all Grian could think to do was hold the pillow even tighter over his head. “It's Sunday and you're not at the permit office! Get your butt out here! Or else I'll come in, and drag you out of your birdhouse by your scrawny little ankles, I swear to-'' Joel's voice peaked in both volume and proximity the same time it petered off into uncertainty. Then, it was quieter again. “Grian?”

Grian just groaned in response, holding the pillow even tighter over his head, maybe he could suffocate in it. Then he would respawn, Joel would laugh it off, call him some names for being stupid enough to do something like that, and everything would go back to normal instead of whatever else was about to happen, whatever lecture he was about to receive.

No such luck. Instead he felt a touch on his forearm, something he instinctively rolled away from which left him looking up at the other, wide eyes meeting even wider. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t force anything to come out. He noticed too late to stop just how tightly he was clutching the pillow to his chest, he must look like a mess.

Joel slowly withdrew his hand, and judging by how his brows furrowed and ears flattened against the top of his head the mess part was definitely true. Without wasting another moment, Joel schooled his expression into something more neutral— as if his tail flicking back and forth didn’t give him away— and sat bodily onto the foot of Grian’s bed, bouncing on the mattress.

“You seem busy, the permit office can wait,” he said with a shrug, not looking directly at Grian. He sat cross-legged, pulling his tail into his lap to brush the fur into place, pulling out a leaf and dropping it on the floor without even checking if Grian would care. His wings itched at the reminder of what could be. “Impulse’s wall is starting to get some graffiti on it, have you had a chance to see? Gem’s got a real good tag up there, I think you’d like it.”

Grian was silent, pulling his legs up just a bit so they weren’t in Joel’s way and shifting onto his back to look up at the ceiling instead of the tanuki in front of him. He couldn’t tell if this was better or worse than if the other had just confronted him about what was going on.

“I’ve actually been thinking about what I want to put on it,” Joel continued after a moment, as if the other actually had responded. Grian’s muscles ached from the sudden movements after what felt like days of disuse, leading to him stretching his legs out again, around Joel this time, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I need to put something up over by my base, I couldn’t stand it if it didn’t match my build, even if it was undeniably fantastic.”

He just kept talking, filling the empty air with his voice. Grian wouldn’t admit it, but it was sort of soothing, having somebody else around instead of just jumping from thought to thought, getting lost in them and feeling worse and worse.

It did start feeling awkward after a little, having Joel sit while he laid in bed, so Grian forced himself to sit up even as his muscles protested, at least a little, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

“Thought you might have fallen asleep or something,” Joel joked once Grian had settled, making him look away in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, you look blummin’ tired, huge bags under your eyes. Something bothering you?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. Grian only shrugged, not trusting his voice after so long, thankfully Joel didn’t push for an answer beyond that, coming to the same conclusion. “Stupid question, sorry. New question, when’s the last time you got out of bed?”

Grian must have made a face at that, because Joel laughed before managing to catch himself, snapping his mouth shut, which pulled the quietest huff of laughter out of Grian in turn. Just that by itself made his throat hurt a bit.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to be a good friend here.” Joel’s tone was light, and his smile made it clear he considered the small noise a success. “Hey, bed boy, let’s get you up and clean, how’s that sound? You go shower, and I’ll make you some real food.”

He wanted to protest, but his throat felt all closed up, and his traitor of a stomach growled at the thought of something other than stale bread for the first time in forever. Instead he pouted, petulant, and held his hands out.

“Yes!” Joel pumped his fist, making Grian roll his eyes. This was so stupid. “Sorry, come on, let’s get you moving again.” He slid off the bed first, taking Grian’s hands and helping him stand up. He almost fell at first, leaning far too much of his weight onto Joel, his legs wanting to do nothing but lay down again. “Careful, can you stand by yourself?”

It took a couple hundred ticks for him to stop swaying, and a couple more for him to finally stand on his own, wings spread just a bit to help him keep balance. He took a deep breath, trying to think of anything but said wings.

“Good job, you’re doing great,” Joel murmured, and it didn’t sound mocking at all, but Grian couldn’t help himself from ruining everything good that happened to him.

“I’m not a child,” he croaked out, voice rough from disuse, it almost didn’t sound like him.

Joel must have thought the same, because he looked shocked, though he quickly gathered himself again. “I know you’re not,” he scolded gently, too kind, “but you look like you’ve been through hell and back, and I want to make this as easy for you as possible."

And now he felt bad, guilty, for ever considering anything different than that. “Sorry,” he managed, even quieter, but Joel shook his head.

“Go get cleaned up, alright? I’ll make some food for you.” He brushed Grian’s hair out of his eyes, brows furrowing again, and he only pulled away when Grian nodded, throat hurting too much to say anything else at the moment.

He didn’t think Joel was going to find anything to make in his base right now, having neglected to actually fill many of the chests, Grian was lucky to have had enough bread to last him as long as it had. Regardless, he made his way to the tiny shower he’d managed to cram into the base, cranking the water heat up as high as it could for now and carefully pulling his t-shirt he’d been wearing for void knows how long off over his wings. He crinkled his nose, imagining the smell he’d become blind to and immediately feeling grateful that Joel hadn’t said anything about it.

Grian kicked off his pants without much fanfare and immediately dove into the shower, melting under the hot water. Now that he was made aware of it, he could feel the layer of grime that was surely there covering his skin, burning water finally melting it away. He carefully sat on the floor of the shower, barely managing to fit in the small space, especially with his wings. He took a deep breath, resting his head on the wall behind him, and just soaked it up like a fish left out of the river for too long, he chuckled softly to himself at the comparison.

He must have dozed off or something, because he jolted awake at the sharp knock on the door, and Joel's voice coming from just outside of it. “You alright in there Grian? Food’s almost done!”

“Y-yeah!” He called back before even thinking about it, regretting it immediately, voice scratchy. His throat hurt, but he didn't have time to worry about that, fumbling for the shampoo among the other bottles in the shower with him.

He definitely spent too much time just sitting under the water, so he tried to properly clean himself up as quickly as possible, so Joel wouldn't be left waiting. It wasn't long before he was out again, towel around his waist, hair and feathers dripping as he peeked out the door into the rest of the base.

“Joel?” He tried not to speak too loudly, not wanting to irritate his throat more, but he needed the other's attention. It seemed the other wasn't wandering far though, with how quickly he reappeared. “Can you-” He coughed. “Can you bring me clean clothes?”

Joel brightened up the more he spoke, nodding quickly as his tail swished behind him. “Of course! Be right back!” And he was off again.

He was back just as quick, and Grian didn't have the energy to ask him how he managed to find everything so easily, and whether or not his closet was left in decent state. Instead he closed the bathroom door again, pulling on clean clothes and already feeling a bit better. The sweater topped that feeling off, covering him like a security blanket. He shook the water out of his hair and wings before padding out into the main room again, catching a whiff of something that smelled amazing.

“Hey,” Grian's gaze fell on Joel, who was setting up a place for him to sit. “Your hair's a mess still.”

He blushed, shrugging his shoulders. He sat down before Joel even suggested he did, feeling tired.

“I can brush it for you,” he offered, setting down a grilled salmon in front of Grian, whose mouth was watering already. “I've done it for Lizzie before, I promise not to pull.”

“Did you catch this?” Grian asked instead, forcing himself to slow down before he ate the whole thing immediately.

“Borrowed one of your poles, figured you wouldn't mind too much,” Joel explained, setting a steaming mug down in front of him too.

He hummed softly in response, forcing himself to slow down after a couple bites and taking a sip of the tea Joel had made him. Far too sweet.

“I added some extra honey,” either Joel was reading his mind, or he'd made a face without realizing. “Your throat sounded pretty rough, it'll be good for you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, truly meaning it, whether it sounded that way or not. Joel was pretty quiet while he finished eating, puttering around the small base, occupying himself. Eventually he finished, pushing the plate away for later, and he heard Joel coming up behind him.

“I found your brush, mind if I take care of your hair?”

Grian sighed, a little smile creeping onto his face. “I guess, you promised not to pull though,” he reminded the other, head tilting back a bit.

“And I meant it!” Joel sounded offended, though he snickered after a second. “It'll help, you'll feel more like a person,” he murmured, and Grian felt him starting to work his fingers through his hair.

“You've been helping a lot already,” Grian admitted softly, relaxing easily into the touch. How long was his hair now? It couldn't be too much longer than he usually kept it.

“Glad to hear,” for once Joel didn't sound smug or full of himself, just genuinely glad. “How long have you been out of it?” The brush started working it's way through his hair.

“Dunno,” Grian mumbled, taking a deep breath. “Since… Since I last went off server,” he felt himself tense a little at the reminder, wings twitching.

“With Scar and Mumbo?” Joel kept his tone even, non-judgemental for once. “They mentioned your eye, was that what happened?”

A hand suddenly flew up to his eye, gently touching the skin near it. “P-part of it. Is it still there?” He'd been avoiding looking in the mirror since.

“Barely,” Joel assured him, and the motion of the brush through his hair started relaxing him again. “I only noticed because I knew to look for it. You said part, what else happened?”

He felt like his throat was closing up, eyes watering a little. “My- my wings,” he managed out, taking a deep breath. “Something happened.”

“Something,” Joel repeated, hands never stopping. “Are they alright? Nothing broken at least? They don't look broken.”

“N-nothing broken,” Grian confirmed, feeling them tremble, just a little. “Don't really wanna-”

“That's fine,” Joel murmured, and it was quiet for a moment. “With me? Or with anyone?”

He didn't know how to answer that, opening his mouth to begin speaking, only to close it when he couldn't think of anything. No, not Joel specifically, but he wasn't sure who, if he would anyone.

“I usually braid Lizzie's hair when I'm done,” Joel said nonchalantly, the brush regretfully leaving Grian's head, “but yours is pretty short. We could try a little ponytail if you want, I think it'd be fun.”

Grian shook his head, reaching for the mug of tea again. Knowing Joel, he'd gather up all the hair in front of his head, pull it all together right on his forehead… Though maybe not today specifically.

There was silence for a bit, comfortable, until Joel decided to speak again. “Would you tell Mumbo?”

Grian froze. Would he? He could. Mumbo knew the kind of stuff he went through when he was young, even if just vaguely. He was scared though, there was always the chance, no matter how small, that Mumbo would scold him when he found out just how deep that rabbit hole went.

“Careful, you'll shatter that,” Joel warned him, moving to take the mug from his white-knuckled hands, setting it down on the table again. Grian hadn't even noticed how tightly he'd been holding onto it. “Not Mumbo then, what about Scar?”

Scar. Scar didn't know any of it. At least, he knew less than Mumbo, he'd have less context clues to put it all together, he'd be reliant on the details Grian told him, and only those.

“... Maybe, I don't know,” he answered honestly, tracing the grain in the table with his finger.

“Maybe is better than no, or trying to shatter a cup of boiling tea all over yourself,” Joel was being dramatic, it wasn't even steaming anymore. “Why don't you take a nap? I'll get him over here in the meantime, I think he'll help, even if you don't tell him.”

Grian hadn't even realized how tired he was again, the thought of a nap sounding much more pleasing to him than it usually would. He didn't even think to argue, nodding as he carefully got up from the table, a yawn escaping him.

“Careful now,” Joel warned, helping him to bed. Grian would have taken offense at that were he not so exhausted, and the second he was laying down again he was out like a light.

[jacksfandomrandom]

Body problems

Summary: Charlie has the perfect date in mind. Unfortunately while Vaggie is getting ready, she gets self-conscious of her body. Luckily, her girlfriend is there to assure she's okay.

Tw: slight implication of an eating disorder and implied sexual content (nothing graphic or smut)

“Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie!” Charlie ran into the mini library where Vaggie was reading a book. This day was one of the only day’s that they had free time and weren’t doing any activities to help redeem sinners.

“Huh, What?” She looked up, a little surprised. 

“I just had the best idea!” She prompted. “You know how we haven’t been on a date in like 8 months?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to take you out!” she said. This was the best idea ever. Both of them needed a break from everyone, even though they slept in the same bed and were near each other almost all the time, they needed a date night. They haven’t had one in so long. It would be fun!

“I don’t know, Charlie… what if the hotel gets attacked while we’re gone?” 

“Alastor will take care of it. You don’t gotta protect everyone, silly,” Charlie ruffled her girlfriend’s hair.

“I guess it has been a while since we went on a date… alright, lets do it!” Vaggie shut her books and got up from her seat.

“Wait, wait, what we’re doing is a surprise. You go get ready while I prepare the date,” Charlie kissed her cheek.

“But don’t you need to get ready too?” Vaggie asked.

“Babe, you know I slay in a tux, no matter the occasion,” Charlie said confidently. Vaggie chuckled at the pure cinnamon roll of her girlfriend.

“Well, maybe not in bed,” whispered Vaggie in a seductive voice. She inched closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked into Charlies eyes, swooning in her own head. Charlie moved closer too as Vaggie tried to stand up tall. Their lips connected and vaggie put both hands on Charlies cheek’s. Charlie put her hands on Vaggie’s waist. They pulled apartbut only about an inch before passionately colliding their mouths together. 

“Wait, wait, you have to get ready,” Charlie pulled apart. Vaggie whined slightly but knew that they didn't have time for this right now. 

Charlie knew exactly what she was planning. She was going to take Vaggie on a perfect, picnic date on a hill behind the hotel. It was also a perfect day. Luckily the sun would start setting in about two hours, so the two of them could watch the sunset together and get all snuggly and share their feelings and swoon over each other.

As Charlie was setting up the picnic basket in the hill in the back, Vaggie was quietly freaking out over what to wear. She wanted to be perfect. But her body wasn't perfect. She was flat. Not skinny. Her nose was so long, she looked like a witch. And her arms and hands were covered in battle scars. She was a bit muscle-y but had a bit of meat on her bones. At least that's what she thought. She found that she had gained weight from the past couple of months. It really hurt her and she constantly tried not to cry every time she looked at the scale. It made her feel worthless and ugly. Her nose was so masculine but also looked like an ugly witch nose.

Vaggie looked through her closet, trying to find something that'll cover her up a little more. Maybe that was why Charlie hadn't taken her on a date in a while. She was disgusting for letting herself go. So she grabbed a white short-sleeve dress shirt and black sweater vest and put it on. It covered her up a little bit. She put on a black and red plaid skirt and finally rolled on her gloves. She looked a tiny bit better. Her stomach didn't show like it did with her crop top polo shirt.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a while, thinking ‘why can't I just be perfect?’ She couldn't start crying though, Charlie was probably waiting for her. 

“You almost ready? You've been in there a while,” Just on cue, Charle knocked on the door.

“Yeah, I'll be right out,” Vaggie called back. She sighed, looking at herself one last time before trotting over to the door and opening it. 

Charlie stared at her, blushing  behind the red circles on her cheeks. She thought Vaggie looked absolutely stunning. However, Vaggie thought she was staring because she noticed how imperfect her body was.

“You look…Amazing!” Charlie complimented. 

“You… you don't have to lie, Charlie,” Vaggie mumbled. Charlie sensed immediately that something was wrong through her defeated look and mumbling.

“I'm not lying, though,” She doubled downed.

“But I look so… ugly, my nose is weird and I've been gaining weight…” she tugged at her other arm with her hand.

“No, sweetie, you're not ugly,” Charlie took her hand and cupped it with both of hers. She looked Vaggie in the eyes. 

“Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my hundred years in hell. You are amazing, and shit, I don't even care about what you look like, I love you no matter what,” She promised.

Vaggie’s eyes watered and her lips quivered. She ran into Charlies chest and hugged her. She needed comfort from her biggest supporter. The whole day she had been feeling unworthy of food and love. She thought she didn't deserve it with her disgusting ass self. Now she just felt emotional. All of the icky feelings she had over the couple of weeks came out in tears and sobs.

“There, there, babe. It's okay, we all become our biggest enemy at times,” Charlie told her. She wanted her girlfriend to feel loved.

“I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that you were so self-conscious. I promise that I'll constantly comfort you whenever your mean thoughts get into your head. But you have to promise me one thing,” Charlie said. She pulled away a little and put her hands on her shoulders.

“What's that?” Vaggie sniffled.

“That you come to me whenever you're feeling like you're hideous or disgusting. Please, come get me when these thoughts get to you. You could easily develop an eating disorder-” Vaggie tensed at the words, “And your mental health could get really bad,” said Charlie.

“O-okay, I promise…” Vaggie answered. Charlie gave her one final hug before stepping away.

“Now come on, let's go on this date, I have a fun couple hours planned,” Charlie grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. Vaggie laughed a genuine laugh to see how excited Charlie was to take her on this date.

The picnic was absolutely amazing. The food that Charlie prepared were pretty simply but just spending time together while watching the sun start to set made everything feel terrific. 

[ageofhearingloss]

Pick Yourself Up Pt. 2 | Jake Kiszka

a/n: y'all got homework! mandatory listening assignment to accompany this part:

this is a major plot point in this part of the story😎 y/n makes an appearance, but i really want this story to be about jakey so this is not my normal writing from y/n's pov. i'm really happy with how it turned out, and even more excited for where this story is headed!!!! as always, let me know what yall think xoxoxoxo

here's pt. 1

summary: after years of trying to make his dream of being a musician a reality, jake continues to fall short. on the brink of giving up, can his passion alone keep him afloat, or will he need help from others?

pairing: jake kiszka x fem reader

warnings: language, angst (although this part is much happier than the last) , alcohol consumption, light themes of depression and possible eating disorder

word count: 6.9k lol

“Ma, for the millionth time, I’m okay. Really,” Jake assured, phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he struggled to set a couple dirty plates in the sink, “I don’t know why that asshole called you.”

“Josh called me because he’s worried about you, honey, and so am I. You promised me you’d call me every week and I haven’t heard from you in a month.”

He let out a deep sigh; Josh only ever got Karen involved when he deemed the situation drastic enough. It was true, though. He hadn’t reached out to his mother for a while now and that alone was cause for her to worry. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to her, but it was the same reason that he couldn’t face his brothers: he didn’t want for her to see the truth of how he was living. Sure, he was close with Karen, but he never had the relationship that Josh had with her and because of that, it was easier for him to hide from her. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve just been… busy-”

“With gigs?” she questioned innocently, “How are they going?”

Jake didn’t see the use in hiding the truth from her further but he paused, thinking about the correct way to imply how he was doing without saying it outright. 

“Jakey?”

“Uh, they’re not going so hot, Mom, if I’m being honest,” he said as he straightened up over the sink, bringing a free hand to the back of his neck, letting a shaky breath escape from his lips. “Just kind of same old, same old.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. How so?”

“No one is biting, I guess. I play the same gigs nearly every week in hopes that the consistency will land me in front of the right eyes and ears, but nothing’s happening,” Jake explained, closing his eyes before continuing, “Barely making any money these days, either. It’s been a real drag. I’m feeling a bit hopeless.”

Shit, that part wasn’t supposed to come out. 

His mother was silent on the other line, surely waiting for him to continue. He was half expecting her to begin down the road that she always went down; how he was the most talented kid she’s ever heard, how he just needs to continue to be patient, but it never came. He listened to her breathing before he finally asked, “Mom?”

He was then met with sniffles from the other line. Fuck, is she crying? 

“Ma, hello?”

“My baby, I didn’t know you were struggling like this,” Karen began, voice wobbly as she spoke. “This has been your dream since you could walk, I assumed that since I hadn’t heard from you that meant it was finally coming true.” 

Damn.

“I know Josh probably told you to keep going and be patient. He’s always been right when it comes to giving you advice. Whatever he said, I’m sure I agree,” she continued. “What do you need, Jakey? Should I come down to see you? Do you have groceries? I can-”

He laughed before cutting her off, “No, Mom, really I’m okay. I swear. Plus, I’ll be home soon enough for Dad’s birthday.”

“Are you sure, baby? Josh mentioned to me that you’re looking a little…” she hesitated before finishing her thought. “I’m going to send you some food whether you like it or not.”

That bastard really sees through everything, doesn’t he? 

Jake knew that he had been disregarding his health recently, but his mind was elsewhere. And he absolutely hadn’t realized that it had gotten so bad that his physical appearance had shifted, but of course his twin was able to detect any subtle changes before Jake saw them himself. Trying to scrounge up the money for monthly expenses had become increasingly difficult; he couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the grocery store. 

Before he could respond, his phone began beeping signifying he was getting another call. 

Sam. 

“Hang on, Mom, Sam’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

“Alright honey, call me when you can. Watch your front door for groceries! I love you!”

After briskly disconnecting the call, he answered Sam with a meek, “Hello?”

“Can’t believe you actually picked up. That’s the first time in weeks!” Sam laughed out, his cheery, sarcastic tone palpable through the phone. 

“Sorry man, I’m trying to get better at that. What’s up?”

“Well, Josh clued me in that he had given you some instructions and knowing that you don’t have a gig tonight, I believe you are contractually obligated to go out with me and Daniel. Josh will be joining us at some point, too.”

Jake took a sharp inhale through his nose. Truthfully, he was nervous to begin socializing with his brothers again. He had grown accustomed to being by his lonesome; he didn’t particularly enjoy it and was lonely most of the time, but at least he could be his authentic self and process his emotions freely without the eyes of others watching him. He racked his brain for a sufficient way to decline his little brother's offer, an excuse that would seem legitimate enough for Sam to believe. 

“Sam, I-”

“Remember, you can’t say no!” Sam yelled through the phone, partnered with a poor attempt at a maniacal laugh. 

Jake closed his eyes once more, bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knew he would never hear the end of it from any of his brothers if he declined yet another invitation.

“All right, asshole, I’m in.”

Jake could hear Sam hollering on the other line, seemingly pulling the phone away to tell who he assumed to be Daniel, “The fucker said yes! Can you believe it!” Then, speaking directly into the phone,

“Meet us at Robert’s at 8pm, and don’t be late! Oh, and bring your guitar!”

The phone disconnected with a swift click, leaving Jake to wonder just what trouble his brothers had in store for him tonight. I think Robert’s is that place I’ve been trying to play at for months now…

He looked around his apartment and thought to himself, “Man, this place is disgusting. You really let yourself go.” He continued collecting dirty dishes from all corners of his home, placing them in the sink before cranking the faucet and filling the basin with warm, soapy water. It’d only been a couple days since his talk with Josh, and he found himself surprised that his brother's words had affected him as much as they had. There was hope in his heart, even if it was just a small glimmer, but he felt compelled to begin trying again. To make an effort to show up for his brothers, but also for himself. 

A couple hours later, the dishes had been dried and put away, garbage collected and taken down to the dumpster behind the building. He even took the time to wipe down his counters and finally change the lightbulbs in the hanging lamp that illuminated his kitchen. To keep him company while he worked, he put on his favorite records, something that again he hadn’t done in what felt like months. He let the familiar songs soothe him, his mind lulled into a comfortable rhythm. Humming along as he worked, he began to realize that he felt the most at ease he’s felt in ages; his head was free from the heavy thoughts that have been clouding his brain for the better part of a year, the tension in his shoulders beginning to feel a little less tight. Sure, he still felt the gravity of his situation, but having the motivation to clean himself up a bit was a new, welcome change. All thanks to Josh, that fucker. 

Cleaning out the fridge, he was startled by the sound of his doorbell buzzing. Throwing on the pair of beat up Birkenstocks, he made his way through the door and ran down the stairs to be met with a grocery delivery. He picked up the large cardboard box, hauling it upstairs and setting it on the kitchen counter. He noticed a note from Karen lay on the top as he opened the box:

Take care of yourself, sweetie. Can’t wait to see you soon. 

Love, Mom

He smiled to himself, carefully placing the note next to the box before digging through it, noticing how she sent him all his favorite foods. He put the groceries away swiftly, and as he closed the door to the fridge he caught sight of the clock on the stove, 7:46pm.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath before running to his room to throw more presentable clothes on, grabbing his guitar case on his way out the door. Sam had told him not to be late. 

~~~~~~

Y/N POV

“Yeah, yeah, Caitlyn, 7:45 sharp. I got it,” you said as your phone was snug between your cheek and your shoulder, bringing your bags and equipment down to your car. It was nearing 6pm; you and your bandmates had a local gig tonight at a bar that you frequented. 

“Just please don’t be late like last time! This gig is actually really important, and we’ve only got 15 minutes to get set up,” your drummer explained, concern and anticipation evident in her tone. 

“I’m sorry I was late last time, Cait, I promise I won’t be again!” You slammed the trunk of your car shut with your free hand, “You know I’m not usually like that.” She knows I was having car trouble… 

“I know, tonight is just nerve wracking. I’m kinda freaking out. The whole open mic thing… who knows who’s gonna be there.”

“I can tell! But it’s gonna be fine. I’m heading to Jen's now to make some last minute tweaks to her solo. I’ll see you soon!”

You said goodbye to your friend before shoving your phone back in your pocket. Not too long ago, you and your childhood friends had set out to Nashville to live out your dream of making it as musicians. You had all been playing together for longer than you could remember, the band falling into your lap without any real amount of effort. Caitlyn, your neighbor growing up, was a force to be reckoned with on drums, Jen, your best friend since kindergarten, on guitar, and your cousin, Tyler, holding it down on the bass. You had been chosen as the lead vocalist before you truly knew how to sing, but once falling into the role, you took your job incredibly seriously, taking as many voice lessons as you physically could to solidify your now resonant and skilled voice. 

The four of you hit the ground running once getting to Tennessee, and somehow luck had been on your side, managing to play for the right group of people and now you had your first EP out, working to get your debut album out after having signed with a label. You were confident in your abilities and even more confident in your sound, having pushed many other priorities aside to focus on this career that you had set in motion with your friends. 

After climbing in the driver's seat and twisting the ignition, you blasted the AC in your car. Who knew how long it would take for you to get used to the southern heat. It was only a short drive to Jens, something the two of you made sure of when you were looking at apartments, and as you drove you began humming possible riffs for her to try out on the new song you’d be debuting tonight. 

She ushered you inside her place quickly upon your arrival, clearly anxious about your performance tonight. 

“Cait is totally getting to me. I wasn’t nervous at all until she called me a couple minutes ago,” she fussed, leading you into her makeshift home studio and slinging her guitar strap over her head, walking over to the amp and plugging in. 

You chuckled, digging your own acoustic out of its case, “I really think it’s going to be great! We’ve been rehearsing day in and day out, and we’ve played this bar before so at least that bit isn’t new.”

“I think she’s nervous because they asked her to be the drummer for the open mic that’s happening after our set. They’re paying her good money so she didn’t turn it down, but you know how she is.”

Oh shit, I didn’t know that part. 

“Did they ask you or Tyler to stick around, too?” You realized that tonight may be a bigger deal than you had originally thought. 

“Nah, it sounded like they already had a guitarist, and I think they have someone on both electric and upright bass. We’re going to stick around for Cait’s sake, but who knows, we might hear some good shit tonight,” she said, pulling her hair out from under the guitar strap and throwing it over her shoulder, “Now, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

You beamed at her, situating your guitar on your knee before strumming out the ideas you had come up with.

End of y/n POV

~~~~~~

“An open mic?” Jake spat out at Sam, grasping his brother's forearm tightly. “You shithead, why did you bring me to this place?”

Sam was howling with laughter as he yanked out of Jake’s grip, leading him to the table where Danny and Josh sat, somehow already inebriated, whooping and hollering once Jake was in their line of sight. Jake reluctantly plopped down in a chair beside his twin, facing the tiny stage in the corner of the bar that was illuminated by soft overhead floodlights. Nonchalantly swirling his whiskey in its highball glass, he glanced around the bar. So this is Robert’s… 

It looked like any other dive bar, but a little tidier. The walls were painted a dark crimson with neon beer signs and vintage pinup posters consuming every inch of space. The booths were made of brown, worn leather, the floors a warm hardwood. He took inventory of the instruments already set up on stage, and noticed the upright bass snug in the corner. Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of his time after all. 

Josh nudging his shoulder caught his attention.

“I’m really glad you're here, it means a lot,” Josh slurred, just above a whisper that only Jake could hear. 

A slight grin graced his lips as he shrugged before Josh continued, “Did you talk to Mom?”

“Yeah, I talked to her,” Jake replied, jabbing his elbow into his brother's ribs, “thanks for ratting me out. She was all worried and shit. Even sent me groceries.”

Josh shook his head, a cheesy smile plastered to his face accompanied by a pink flush of his cheeks, surely due to the alcohol in his system, “Sorry, man, but you looked like crap! I had to tell her!”

Jake couldn’t help but match his brother's smile; he was beginning to feel true gratitude for all three of them. He was realizing exactly how much they cared for him, willing to carry his burden on their shoulders in any way they knew how. He glanced over to Danny and Sam where they were having their own conversation, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, an emotion that was only supplied when he was spending time with his brothers. 

Danny caught his eyes for a split second and offered him a tight smile; Jake hadn’t apologized to him yet. 

Tonight, if I can find time alone with him. I need to do better. He knew he potentially hurt Danny more than any of his other brothers, and there was still a piece of him too swollen with pride to completely let himself admit just how badly he had fucked up. Before he let himself get too much in his head, something that Josh consistently warned him about, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the group. 

“Alright, Sammy boy, wanna tell us why we’re here? And why I needed my guitar?” He accompanied the question with a raised eyebrow, inclining his glass towards Sam. 

“Well, brother, if you would be patient for just a couple minutes, we’re here to see a band and they should be starting any second now,” Sam replied, clasping his hands together. “The lead singer is a waitress at my restaurant. She told everyone their band had a gig here tonight,” he explained, taking a second to glance around the bar, searching the crowd, “but it looks like I’m the only asshole who bothered to show up!”

“I’ve heard them play before, they’re pretty good! And her voice is unbelievable,” Daniel chimed in, eyes piercing Jake’s as he added, “I think you’re really gonna like her.”

Don’t tell me these assholes are trying to set me up. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why-” 

Jake was cut off by the lights in the bar dimming, turning his attention again to the small stage to watch three musicians climb the few steps up to the platform. A tall brunette took her place behind the drumset, muscular arms and stoic features that seemed to be evident in every drummer he’s encountered. He observed the spritely woman with flowing hair plugging her cobalt guitar into the amp, throwing her wavy locks over her shoulder in the process, and a towering, lanky man who stood impossibly still as he clutched his bass guitar, a mysterious air around him, his eyes hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses. Each one different, surely bringing their own unique voices to the collective whole, but Jake could already tell that their chemistry would likely be unmatched. 

The three musicians checked their sound, the guitarists making sure their strings were in tune, before the lead vocalist made it onto the stage. And as Jake watched her ascend the steps, lights glistening off of her hair and bouncing off her features, his breath was stolen out of his chest. 

She took center stage, if he could even call it that with how confined the space was, and he watched with rapt attention as she adjusted the stand to her height and spoke a hushed “Check, check,” into the microphone. Her voice was low, sultry, alluring, and everything clicked into place as to why his brothers had brought him here tonight. His eyes were glued to the stage, however, oblivious to the three men observing him, smiles plastered wide across their faces upon realizing that they had been successful in their plan. 

She then turned around and spoke something to the rest of the band, all of them nodding and smiling in agreement before a light shuffle began sounding from the drumkit. They all fell into an easy groove, their sound a tempting soulful rock that only few could pull off these days, in Jake’s opinion. He couldn’t take his eyes off the singer as she turned back to the mic, her eyes closed and head softly lilting along rhythmically, an easy, almost lazy smile dancing across her face. 

Jake brought his glass up to his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, settling in for what he knew was about to be a fantastic set, but paused his actions as she stepped closer to the mic, drawing a breath as her eyes opened and the first note slipped past her lips. 

He was sure he looked ridiculous, glass held halfway between the table and his lips, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He was entranced by her voice; his personal siren calling only to him, hypnotizing him. He watched as she effortlessly swayed, interacting with the other musicians she shared the stage with. She was completely in her element, no sense of anxiety or nervousness written in her complexion or any of her bandmates. She acknowledged the audience only a few times, graciously accepting their applause and smiling at Sam when he waved excitedly at her, only to flit her eyes around the rest of the table, pausing when she finally landed on Jake.

His breath caught again and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. For a fleeting moment, they were the only two in the dimly lit bar. 

All he could do was stare, and she held his eyes for longer than what would be deemed comfortable, but it seemed as though she couldn’t bring her eyes away from his, either. Only when she heard a familiar cue did she drop his heated gaze, returning to her revelry-like state as the band began another song. 

Jake caught himself blinking a few times in an effort to try to bring himself back to reality. He glanced briefly at his brothers sitting with him and cursed under his breath when he noticed all three of them already looking his way, knowing smiles evident on each of their lips. He was still clueless to the fact that they had been observing him all night long, not noticing Sam when he leaned over to whisper to Daniel or Josh, “I told you so!”

The set was about 45 minutes long, giving 15 minutes until the open mic started. An older man hopped onto the stage once the band was done, saying that there were still plenty of spots available and that the sign-up sheet was taped over on the bar. The four brothers were still huddled around the table when Sam popped up quickly to announce he was going to get them all another round, which none of them objected to, before hurrying over to the bar.

It was hard for Jake to turn off the voice in his head that was begging and pleading him to go back to the safety of his home, but he had to admit that listening to her sing had been well worth his time. And although he groaned at the thought of listening to whatever “nonsense” was going to be played at the open mic, there was no way he would turn down the opportunity to have the chance to talk to her once her and the rest of her band finished packing up their instruments. 

9 o’clock rolled around, fresh drinks arriving on the table as the brothers talked amongst themselves; it had been far too long since Jake had caught up with them. He learned about the upcoming movie Josh would be working on in the next couple months, always excited to hear his twin talk about something he was so passionate about. The first couple of acts had played their songs, none of them horrible but none of them garnering any of their attention, all too engrossed in each other's company.

Jake was right in the middle of hearing about the most recent tournament Daniel had been involved in when he heard his name being called.

“Jacob Kiszka and Y/f/n Y/l/n, come on down!”

What the fuck?

He panicked as he looked between his brothers, darting his eyes between them until he landed on the culprit, Sam. Of course it was Sam; his little brother was known for getting them into all types of trouble, saying that it was always easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. “Plus,” he would always say, “you guys have to admit that was pretty fun.”

Sam was already beaming, not faltering when Jake gritted at him through his teeth, 

“You motherfucker, what did you do?”

All Sam did was shrug and gesture towards Jake’s guitar case, not intimidated in the slightest by Jake’s blinding rage. 

I can’t play with her, let alone begin to think about what we could play together- His mind was running a mile a minute as he glanced between his guitar and Sam, cursing his brother to the high heavens.

Finally, Josh clapped his twin on the back and whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

He finally looked to the stage where she already stood, a sheepish smile evident across her mouth as she waited for him to make up his mind.

How did she know it was me?

He then looked around the bar, noticing many eyes on him and a hush falling upon the crowd in preparation. 

Oh, idiot, she recognized your last name. She works with Sam.

Turning back to the stage, he saw that the drummer was seated behind her kit, and there was an older man picking up his upright bass that had been gently laying on its side, plucking the strings and tuning it ever so slightly. 

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh before opening them, bending over to grab his guitar case as he stood from his chair. Delighted applause erupted from the patrons of the bar, making him wince, and before he made his way over to the stage, he made it a point to menacingly tower over Sam who was still seated, grabbing the collar of his shirt and whispering a curt “We will talk about this later.”

He let go of Sam’s shirt with a little force, his brother laughing at him and cheering him on, knowing Jake’s threat was completely empty. 

Jake had to take a few calming breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, just like Josh taught him. He stalked towards the small stage, knuckles surely white from how tightly he was gripping the handle of his guitar case. He was all too aware of the eyes on him; he was used to performing and others watching him do so, but he always performed solo and on his terms. This was new territory for him, and it had his nerves blazing. 

Her eyes followed him as he climbed the couple of steps, and he met her gaze and gave her a shy smile as he passed behind her to the unoccupied side of the stage. He made quick work of unpacking, silently thanking his lucky stars that something had told him to bring his acoustic rather than electric. He plugged it into the amp that was sitting behind him, and continued to crouch with his back to the audience as he tuned his guitar quietly. Fortunately, those sitting out in the bar had begun to talk amongst themselves, effectively helping his nerves settle ever so slightly. 

As he stood, he looked to the other musicians, nodding to the drummer as she sent him a sweet smile, and the bassist who gave him a jovial thumbs up. He could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he finally faced her. 

She was standing in front of the mic, neck turned to watch him make his way to the front of the stage, a grin still on her face but accompanied with an expectant, raised eyebrow.

Oh shit, that’s right. What are we going to play?

He paused once he reached the front of the stage, taking a moment to look between the musicians again, racking his brain as to what would fit their instrumentation best but better yet, what would do her voice justice. 

A smirk found his lips as he settled on a suggestion, feeling much more confident now that he had an idea. Jake found his feet taking him to her without a second thought, closing the short space that distanced them. She turned her body towards him, welcoming him with a warm smile, eager to hear what he was going to offer.

Only once he was truly in her presence did his nerves take the reins again. Her beauty was evident when he observed her from the crowd, but seeing her this up close was something else. His heart hammered in his chest once more as he realized that he got to hear her sing again, and better yet, got to hear her voice sing along with him. He let go of the neck of his guitar, the strap snug across his back, and wiped his clammy hands against his faded jeans in a gesture that could only suggest how anxious he truly was. 

Say something, damnit.

“Hi,” his voice cracked. 

Shoot me now. 

“Hey,” she chuckled out, thankfully not noting his aura of insecurity. She glanced to take a look at his guitar, his hands still resting on his thighs, and then brought her eyes to meet him again. He shifted his weight between his feet; why did she make him feel like a hormone-ridden teenager talking to a girl for the first time? His lips parted to speak again but was interrupted by her bringing her face closer to his, leaning to whisper in his ear,

“Seems like you have a song in mind.”

She retracted her head to stand upright before the mic stand once again, an expectant, but patient, look upon her face. 

Jake cleared his throat before leaning in to softly say, 

“Yeah, you know Lilac Wine?”

Her face flushed and she beamed an earth-stopping smile as she whispered back,

“Jeff Buckley or Nina Simone?”

“Can you play piano?”

She smirked and shook her head, “Not like Nina.”

He chuckled softly, “Me neither.” 

“Jeff Buckely it is, then.”

He backed away from her, inclining his head in confirmation, before making his way back to the drummer, asking her if the song was to her liking and she nodded excitedly, switching her drumsticks out for a pair of brushes. 

Y/n had gone over to the bassist, and he watched as the bassist put his hand on his chest, hopefully a sign of how much he loved the song. Jake looked between all the musicians, making his way back to his spot on the stage, saying loud enough just for the bassist to hear, “G Major.” The bassist winked, leaning his bass against his hip.

Jake watched as she made her way back to the front, only after exchanging a quick glance to her friend at the drums, the bassist, and then directing her stare to him. She gave him a slow nod, indicating that she was ready and waiting for Jake to begin. 

He fixed his attention back front, and took a deep breath as the crowd hushed, watching with bated breath for the music to begin. 

Jake inhaled deeply, exhaling as he strummed the one, solitary chord. And then he heard her voice.

“I lost myself on a cool, damp night,”

Jake heard a few whistles of exclamation from the crowd which caused a slight smile to form on his lips as he played the next, slow chord,

“I gave myself in that misty light,”

He couldn’t help but shift his position to face her, only to realize that she already watched him, her head turned just enough so she could still sing into the microphone. 

“Was hypnotized by a strange delight,” she sang, a sultry smirk gracing her lips as the lyrics came out,

“Under a lilac tree.”

Jake watched her with rapt attention, knowing that it was his cues she was waiting for, and even though his heart was racing in his chest just by the fact that she was staring at him, he wouldn’t let that hinder his performance. 

His strumming picked up as she sang the next couple lines, her voice seeming to rumble through the speakers as she sang the line before the chorus, 

“Because, it brings me back you,”

Jake turned to the bassist and gave a cue, letting him know it was time for him to join even though he was sure he already knew that. The rhythm section set the perfect slow, sleepy tempo to paint the mood of the song, and Jake felt overjoyed to be in the company of such talented musicians. It had been a long time since he played with others, and he forgot how great it felt to collaborate. 

The four musicians were feeding off of each other's energy, the song going off without a hitch considering he didn’t know them at all. He locked eyes with his mystery girl, y/n, he remembered, for the majority of the song, her voice tugging at his heart strings and filling the air with nearly palpable warmth. He knew the song would sit perfectly in her register, but he couldn’t have imagined how beautiful it truly sounded coming from her lips. Her voice would stay with him for a long time; he had never heard a voice quite as unique as hers.

He had to play with her again. 

~~~~~~

The song finished all too quickly. Jake had completely forgotten about the audience he stood before, completely enthralled by her voice and the musicians he was playing alongside. Only until he heard Sam’s cheers cut through the applause was he brought back to the moment, focusing his gaze forward to the sea of clapping hands. 

For once, he didn’t have to fake the smile that graced his face. In fact, he didn’t have to think about it at all. Jake was beaming, graciously nodding to the patrons of the bar before his eyes landed on his brothers, clapping excitedly and more obnoxiously than anybody else. It was Josh he lingered on though, his twin giving him a smile that seemed to absolve every insecurity, every heavy weight plaguing him. Before Jake knew it, he was placing his hand over his heart, hoping to convey the immense gratitude he had for his brother, Josh mirroring the action not a moment later. 

Jake ripped his gaze away from his band of brothers and turned to the musicians he just played with, all of them eagerly meeting in the middle of the stage to congratulate each other on a job well done. The drummer, he learned, was named Caitlyn, and she gave him a celebratory firm whack on the back that made him chuckle. The bassist introduced himself as Max and instructed Jake to find him later so they could exchange information. “I can tell you’re a talented kid; it’s not very often I meet a guitarist who truly knows his guitar like the back of his hand,” Max had said, shaking Jake’s hand with a vice-like grip. 

Jake turned to Y/n to say something, anything, but as he opened his mouth he heard the next band called out over the mic, effectively ushering them off stage. Her eyes twinkled, though, and she grasped his shoulder as she inclined her head over to the bar, silently asking him to meet her there. He gave her a shallow nod, not able to keep himself from smiling at her. 

Jake scampered off stage, leaving Y/n to talk with her band as he went over to the table where his brothers sat, waiting for his return. Once Sam saw him approaching, he leapt up off his chair, bringing his brother into an excited embrace that Jake was not all too eager to reciprocate. 

“Oh come onnnnn, you can’t still be mad at me! We all saw you up there!” Sam laughed out, still clutching Jake’s shoulders. 

Jake rolled his eyes, once again not able to hide the smile that was on his face, “Watch me.”

Danny clapped for him from his seated position at the table, giving Jake the most genuine smile he’d received since his fight with him, saying “Brilliant, as always.” Jake shrugged it off, all too aware of the words that continued to be unspoken, but still feeling that this was not his opportunity to apologize. Finally, Josh stood from the table, placing a hand between Jake’s shoulder blades. 

“I think you found it, brother.”

Glancing into Josh’s eyes, he felt all of the words his twin didn’t need to say out loud. All he could do was nod. He agreed; even though he was mere accompaniment, it hadn’t felt that good to play his guitar in a very long time. The feeling of adrenaline, of pride in his abilities, had been lost for months, and he forgot just how addicting the feeling of his calloused fingers against the steel strings could be. Maybe his passion was starting to come back, and it sent a pang to his heart to know that Josh had somehow seen that from the 10 minutes he spent on the stage.

Jake glanced over to the bar, seeing Y/n casually chatting with the bartender. Josh followed his gaze, dropping his hand away from his brother's back and returned to his seat. Jake took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say, not registering that he was already making his way over to the bar. In the distance, he heard Sam yell, “Jakey! She likes gin!” but all he could do was give his little brother a dismissive wave of his hand from over his shoulder. 

He grinned to himself, logging away the bit of information. Don’t meet too many gin fans these days. 

“So, Jacob,” she said, swirling her straw around the glass of her gin and tonic. His name tumbling from her lips felt like a bolt of lightning through his system. 

His smile was bashful as he glanced down at his own drink, trying to keep his composure as he assured that she could call him ‘just Jake.’ Their conversation flowed effortlessly; he learned all about her band and the members within it, as well as how she could handle Sam as her boss. She asked him a multitude of questions, as well, but he couldn’t think about himself at the moment. Any chance he had to think about his own life sent his mind swirling in a downward spiral, so he would deflect the question back to her, genuinely interested in the words she had to say. He found out that she, too, was from the Midwest, both of them commiserating about the heat before he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Jake turned around to see an older man, probably in his 50s, standing behind him, a knowing smile on his face that immediately put Jake at ease.

“Jacob, right? I’m Robert,” he held out his hand, Jake quickly taking it into a handshake, his eyes wide. 

Why the hell is the owner talking to me? 

“I heard you play, you have a really great sound. You a solo musician?”

Jake flickered his eyes between Robert, Y/n, and then over to the table where his brothers sat, before responding, “Yeah, I mostly do solo shows,” he beamed, "It’s really nice to meet you, Robert. I’ve heard so much about this place, it’s great.”

Robert laughed as he thanked Jake, the older man asking a few more questions about Jake’s situation as Y/n sat and listened, a lopsided smirk on her lips. 

“Well, Jacob, I’d love to have you regularly play at the bar. The crowd seemed to love your sound, as did I,” he said, pulling out a business card from his back pocket. “Please feel free to email me if you’re interested.”

Jake blinked a couple times before gently taking the card from Robert's hands. He heard about many great musicians passing through this bar; it was a family-owned place, ownership being passed down from generation to generation, helping artists get off the ground and into the spotlight. Jake met Robert’s eyes again, smiling from ear to ear as he shook the man's hand once more, thanking him and assuring him that he’d be hearing from Jake very soon. 

Once Robert walked away, Y/n chimed in, “He’s a really good guy, but doesn’t interact with a lot of people much. From what I know, he hardly invites anyone to play here. You should count yourself lucky.” She winked at him, a smile evident on her face before bringing her straw to her lips. 

“Your band plays here all the time, did Robert contact you guys?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “he’s friends with Jen’s dad. Her dad called in a favor, got us our first gig here. Thankfully, everyone liked our music enough that we were invited back.”

Almost as if she were summoned, Jen called Y/n’s name from across the bar, beckoning her over and signifying that the band was heading out. 

Y/n turned back to Jake with an apologetic look, “Looks like it’s my time.”

Jake gave a soft smile, glancing at his watch and realizing that already an hour had gone by, the open mic long abandoned. He flickered his eyes back up to hers, “When can I hear you sing again?” 

He felt the air leave his lungs as he watched her blush at his words, but she regained her composure quickly before holding out her palm. She was so sure of herself, an air of confidence around her that he was envious of. If she had any insecurities, she would never let the world know. 

“Can I have your phone?”

“Sure,” he fumbled around for it in his pocket, “what for?”

Her smile only grew at his oblivious question, “So I can give you my number. Maybe you can call me and ask when our next gig is,” she wiggled an eyebrow as she added her number to his contacts. 

“There,” placing his phone back in his grasp, “don’t be a stranger.” In a gesture that was over before it began, she leaned in close and gave him a chaste peck on his cheek before sliding off her bar stool and making her way through the crowd.

He sat and watched her as she greeted her friends, completely dumbfounded. He’d lost track of how many times she had stolen his breath that night, and as he glanced down at his phone that lay waiting in his palm, he brought his other hand to faintly stroke where her lips had grazed his cheek. 

Jake’s heart faltered.

Lilac. 

To be continued....

taglist: @joopsworld @gold-mines-melting @shutupdevvie @indigostreakmorgan @sacredjake @malany-gvf @writingcold @mountain-in-springtime @anthemofgvf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @songbirds-sweet @katelynn-gvf

[vouam]

I'm gonna be honest, telling fat people "Your body is unhealthy, go fix your lifestyle" is not really body neutrality. It's the same thing any random fatphobic person tells us every day.

I get that there's an issue with the body positivity movement relying too much on just sexualizing women. But there's one thing that movement has that I have just never, ever gotten from the body neutrality movement, and that is kindness. The world tells me I'm disgusting and worthless, and the response of body neturality people is, well, very neutral. It's mostly a "Whatever. You shouldn't care about that. Also eat healthier lol".

Body positivity, however flawed it may be, at least shows kindness and understanding. And has the courage to actually disagree and outright say "No, your body is not disgusting. You are allowed to exist the way you are and you can still find love and happiness". Which are extremely normal things to want, but when fat people want them, the body neutrality position say that it's suddenly bad to even say that because it means you're defining your worth via your desireabilty too much and you should just learn to not care that people find you gross and will never want you (and also you should really stop being so lazy and learn some self control when it comes to food).

I hear you, and thank you for sharing your perspective.

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of ‘body neutralist’ conversations being led by gym-bro types that basically just say ‘it’s toxic to say everybody is beautiful, its enabling fat people, they need to just be healthy’ and I really don’t like that because it feels like they’re missing the point of why I like the movement.

While I agree that someones worth and desirability shouldn’t be determined by their size, I would never say that they are wrong for wanting to be loved/desired while being fat.

People have this misconception all the time that overweight/underweight means unhealthy. In extreme cases of course it is, but sometimes people are quick to label someone as unhealthy from just a number on the scales, when in reality everyone is different - you can be ‘overweight’ and healthier than someone who isn’t, the BMI scale is awful 😭 The body neutralist movement would (I guess should, in an ideal world) tell people that they don’t need to change themselves if they don’t look like the typical standard of beauty, and instead the only weight advice would be given by a doctor, asking if someones weight could be causing them problems/worsening problems that are already there. (And yes I’m aware that often doctors do this too much, and ignore other possible factors just because of someone’s weight..)

I’m kind of between two sides when it comes to a lot of things. Like for example I don’t like when the body positivity movement implies that people don’t need to change their body when they are actually unhealthy due to their weight. They would never say it to someone who is underweight due to anorexia nervosa, then why say it to someone who is overweight from a different type of eating disorder. But I say that I’m between two sides because I understand that fat people face a lot more abuse and less compassion/sympathy over their weight than underweight people. Being underweight is often seen as desirable and overweight isn’t. People deserve to always feel kindness no matter their size. And a lot of buddy neutralists need to learn that it is not easy to change your weight, for both mental and physical reasons. They shouldn’t be hounded at for not being the epitome of a healthy body.

I really enjoy this discussion, please feel free (and others who see this too) to share your opinions on this. I’ve never been fat, so I really don’t think I’m the best person to speak about the negative sides of the movement. But of course I would love to hear more, there are probably things I’ve never even thought about.

[hiccupologist]

CW: discussions of fatphobia, sex negativity/kink shaming, eating disorders, and death feeding in a discourse context re: the tumblr feedism ban

I haven’t really felt like it’s my place to talk about the anti-feedism stuff on tumblr since I’m a dom and my blog isn’t as affected as I don’t post photo/video content, but I do have some thoughts as an anti-censorship pro-kink advocate: I think the recent crackdown is really related to recent mainstream discourse about feedism and fat admiration thats been going down in the youtube pop psychology video essay sphere related to certain drama-riddled influencers who are rumored (key word) to be engaging in feeding activities. I’ve watched one or two of these videos, and they always paint the whole community of FAs, not even just feeders, with this broad brush that implies all of us have the goal of leading to someone’s death from obesity-related complications and aren’t actually genuinely attracted to fat people, but rather want to prey on their insecurities “like a cult leader”, because of course no one could just like the way larger bodies look aesthetically! and lest we forget those poor naive feedees who I guess are too submissive and food drunk to make informed decisions, because someone literally said “larger people are so starved for positive attention that they can’t tell the bad kind of attention from the good kind” like oh my god I guess now there’s a BMI limit of consent?? I feel like there must be some kind of sizeist “fat people are dumb” stigma at play there (not even that everyone who is submissive in a stuffing context is necessarily overweight, but these people don’t know that), honestly, because like… feedees are VERY aware of what they want ime, like I had an ex who was into snuff and health play shit and I had to respectfully opt out of that stuff. no disrespect but that’s not my game.

but yeah I also think it’s a weak attempt to appease fatphobes and pro-anas/orthorexics who are up in arms that tags like “thinspo” and “skinny” are flagged as harmful and are all “but what about content glorifying obesity???”

[flockofdoves]

full time jobs that require open availability and that guarantee only 30 hours is such a sick and fucked up concept

i was only applying to things that guaranteed a regular schedule or at least implied it through being full time because i know from experience how bad and unsustainable (beyond just for social life and planning anything around work) random shift work has been for my sleep/eating disorder/disabilities in the past

but i was just so desperate for a job that once this job got back to me and in the interview it became clear that they want open availability to schedule me whenever i was just like 'well ok but they said it'd start at 7am most days and online theres things saying they try to give most full time people a semi regular schedule i guess i'll wait a week and see if anything better gets back to me and take it if not'

but i just feel really sad looking at my schedule for the next few weeks. there's no consistency except for that i have no breaks from work longer than a day at a time and i'm working every day i have social things after work that i'd love to not be exhausted for.

sure i guess a lot of the days are 6am its not like theres much evening work but then its still just randomly like. ok. come in at 5am this day. fucking whatever. and since this job also wasn't ideal in how far it is relative to a lot of other similar jobs that means i need to be waking up at 3:30am on those days. also it mandates when to take your required unpaid 30 min break which i guess is better than being pressured to never take it but it also mandates when you take it so my lunch times are going to vary wildly in a like 5 hour range. :(