#naked lunch lb

[panicbones]

you a faggot? wanna see something batshit? * steps aside and reveals a real bug freak *

[faefeedee]

Asking AI how Fae would look like at 240 lbs and then morphing the pic 😋

She has gained so much weight in a few months! Look how fat and distended her belly has become. Her arms now are chubby and soft, her boobs grew 3 size bigger, her ass is huge now. She stands naked in front of you showing you the result of these feeding sessions and stuffings. "Baby, I need to go shopping now, I don' t have anything that fits me! Why don' t we go shopping and then we have lunch together? I heard that there's a new italian buffet in town"

She has gained a lot of weight. You love it! But above all she loves it! She can't stop overeating and passes hours grabbing her new curves and admiring her body in the mirror.

I hope you like it! Kisses! 😘🥰

god i love this so much i wish i could just fast forward to looking like this fr. damn

[separatist-apologist]

The Great War

I vowed I would always be yours

Summary: Feyre Archeron's kingdom has been warring with King Rhysand for longer than she can recall. When, on an unlucky stroke, he stumbles upon her and her sisters locked in a tower, Feyre will do whatever it takes to keep him from finding them.

Even marrying him.

Happy @unofficialfeysandmonth2022 (but really LB appreciation month!) My only multi-chaptered offering.

Read more on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Azriel was gone the next morning. Feyre had stomped out of her room to look for him only to be turned around by an irritated servant. Straight back to the ultra-smug Rhysand needling her all through breakfast. She wished for another knife to drive through his gut, or at least a willingness to get close enough to his face, if only to slap the smile right off him. 

Feyre only wanted to know one thing, and she asked it constantly. “Have you heard from my sisters?”

Feyre asked multiple times a day, bursting into his office and interrupting whatever business he was trying to conduct. It was the only time she saw that flash of temper in his violet eyes before smoothing it over and assuring her he had not.

He had his revenge with his seamstresses. After dinner, Feyre was stripped naked while fabric was draped, pinned, and sewn around her body. Shoes were made for her feet and one evening, after stepping from the bath, several women all but pinned her to the ground to measure her inseam and bust in order to create delicate underthings her new husband might enjoy. 

She didn't want Rhysand to enjoy one single moment of their impending marriage. She had no plans of letting him enjoy her body, at any rate, and caught herself wondering on more than one occasion what would happen if she slipped a knife in her underwear. He’d pull them off, thinking he was about to get what he wanted—her utter submission—and instead find himself missing his favorite appendage. 

The ticking clock of that cursed night was approaching with each passing night. Feyre was practically vibrating by the time she reached the forty-eight-hour mark. Two days left of belonging only to herself. There was no way out—she was too carefully watched. Guards were stationed at every door every hour of every day, while others patrolled the forest.

At least, that was what Rhys had told her. She didn’t think she wanted to test him, if only to avoid knowing what his body felt like on top of hers. Feyre could still feel the phantom squeeze of his thighs around her waist, of the warm, hard slab of his chest when they’d been body to body. Hell, sometimes she woke and swore his calloused fingertips were bruised against her wrists. 

Irritated that any part of her had a reaction to him kept Feyre from being pleasant. When she couldn’t find a way to occupy her time after lunch, Feyre turned to her all-time, favorite activity–annoying the king, simply to remind him this was to be the rest of his life. 

Feyre found him in the throne room. Unlike his usual, straight-back demeanor, today Rhysand was sprawled over the throne casually. He had his powerful legs spread open while he rested his head on his first. A feline smirk graced his handsome face as he stared down some blonde courtier just before him.

“Where are—”

Rhys held up two fingers, not bothering to look at her at all. Feyre halted, her slippered feet sliding over the marble in her haste. He’d never ordered her silence before. The silver gown she wore whispered through the silent room, the only sound as all heads turned to look. Only Rhysand kept his lethal, violet gaze on the man before him. 

“So it’s true,” the blonde whispered, his hushed tone filled with venom. Feyre’s heart spiked—she’d forgotten how hated she was here. Rhysand had made her forget with his teasing, while his servant’s gazes had softened. Now, though, every eye in his expansive, black marble throne room stared at her with nothing but abject disgust. 

She felt small and foolish all of the sudden. Rhysand’s eyes snapped to her face, as if he’d heard her thoughts.

“Come, Feyre darling,” he murmured, those two fingers that had once silenced her now beckoning for her to join him. She hesitated before practically tripping towards him, heart thudding painfully in her throat. He was going to embarrass her in front of these powerful men. She knew this game all too well–how often had her own father let his court make sport out of her and her sisters to appease their small, fragile egos? 

If she turned and fled, they’d mock her cowardice. They’d be twice as cruel the next time she saw them. The crowd parted for her, letting her walk in an unbroken line over the swirled onyx marble. A chandelier overhead threw light across carved pillars, while a wall of unbroken windows offered no relief from the snow-filled gloom outside.

When Feyre reached the first of the four steps that would have led to the dais, of which Rhysand was still perched atop, he stood gracefully. He came to meet her, offering her his hand like the picture of courtly manners.

She had no choice but to take it. The half-smile on his face and the softening around the edges of his eyes certainly seemed real. Rhysand led her up the steps, slid his hand over her waist, and smoother than water, brought them both to the throne before she could catch her breath. Rhysand settled her in his lap so her back was flush against his chest, his thigh wedged between her legs. 

The intimacy of her posture made Feyre’s cheeks burn. 

“Magnificent, isn’t she?” he murmured. His thumb rubbed indolent circles against her waist while the other gently pushed her hair all to one shoulder. She felt his lips brush the side of her neck as he stared down his court, daring these powerful men to challenge him. 

No one spoke. Not even Feyre, who had no problem telling him exactly what she thought, often as she thought it. The whole thing was theater, though it took her a moment to realize it. Rhysand had made a choice outside of his court's opinion, and now he meant to enforce it.

“Your majesty–”

“Bow,” Rhysand interrupted, using one of his long fingers, clad in a silver ring, to draw a lazy picture on the lace covering her shoulder. “Bow before my new wife. Show her your respect before you speak to me” 

Feyre’s heart hammered in her chest for an entirely different reason. At no point in her life had anyone ever bowed before her. The daughter of a king, for all it mattered—and it didn’t. Not until that moment, perched in her enemy's lap while he touched her with lazy, teasing strokes, did Feyre feel a small sliver of power. 

Begrudgingly, every body in that room fell to one knee. Heads bowed, eyes lowered, while Feyre watched with surprised, parted lips. 

“Tell me what it was you wanted when you first came in, my darling,” Rhysand murmured, his breath warm against her ear. The smell of him was just as intoxicating as his show of strength. Feyre knew that he was well aware of why she’d burst in.

He shifted his thigh, rubbing between her legs without meaning to. She gasped ever so slightly at the bolt of pleasure that speared through her, causing her to grip his other thigh in order to keep from rubbing against him.

She cleared her throat softly. “My sisters,” she whispered.

His teeth grazed her throat as he replied, “Safe. As I promised they would be.”

She had no response for him. It was as if he’d stolen every last inch of her ability to fight when he’d put her on his throne. 

Feyre swallowed, “Rhysand—”

“Rhys,” he interrupted, ignoring how his court was still bowed. “Call me Rhys.”

“If you’re busy, I can leave–”

“Stay,” he murmured, that finger crooking under her chin to make her look directly at him. His eyes slid to her mouth, nostrils flaring. “I find these things so terribly dull by myself. Your presence has improved my mood, which I’m sure my court can appreciate.”

Against her will, Feyre’s own gaze found his full, sensual mouth.

What was happening to her? She nodded, putty in his very large hands. She thought he might kiss her at that moment, and what was worse, didn’t think she’d stop him if he tried. 

“Rise,” Rhys ordered, his voice laced with boredom. He settled back against his throne, one arm wrapped around her waist to bring her with him. With a fluid, almost practiced movement, everyone was back on their feet. Resentment burned in the eyes of several of the lords and all of it was pinned directly on her. 

She was the enemy here. Did they imagine she’d somehow enthralled their king? Or did they just loathe the idea of hosting their enemy's daughter when they imagined their own sitting in his lap. Feyre tried to create a mask of boredom so similar to the man behind her, but her anxiety was written all over her face. 

“Kier is my steward,” Rhys explained, his voice loud enough for everyone could hear him. Keir offered Feyre a nod of his blonde head, unable to keep his hatred out of his brown eyes. “He’s been detailing my court expenses.”

“I was unaware we would be accounting for a wedding,” Keir snapped. Rhys straightened, fingers tightening against Ferye’s waist.

“Did you think I would joke about taking a wife?” Rhys asked, his voice lethal—deadly. Keir immediately backed down, stuttering a step backward.

“My apologies, my lord. It’s just…I assumed this was a ploy for her father's attention.”

“Look at her,” Rhys murmured, some of his anger ebbing. Feyre shifted, nervous with all the eyes pinned to her form. She very much did not want them to look at her. “The north has never once produced anything half as beautiful as Feyre darling. Why shouldn't she be mine?”

His court could do nothing but agree. In Feyre’s whole life, no one had ever called her beautiful. Elain, yes—often comparing the two of them with a pitying stare. Nesta, too, in her regal, unyielding sort of way had been called beautiful, though Nesta always bared her teeth at such a compliment.

And then there was her. Strange, awkward Feyre, always in the shadow of her older, prettier sisters. No one had ever thought anything of her. Not until just now, when Rhysand had called her magnificent. 

Beautiful.

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. She wanted to turn and see if there was any honesty on his face. Feyre couldn’t bear to see this was all some terrible joke, which kept her pinned against him with a dry throat and sweating palms. 

“I trust we’re not suffering?” Rhys drawled, his fingers creeping lower over her dress. Everyone pretended they didn’t notice the way he was touching her. Feyre wished she could, but each long swipe over the fabric left a wake of heat pooling in her core. 

“No, lord.” “Good. You may continue if there is more? Otherwise, stop wasting my time.”

Feyre scooted back against him, trying to escape the onslaught of sensation writhing through her. This time, when she accidentally ground her bottom against him, it was Rhys who hissed a surprised breath of air. His whole body went taut beneath her, his secret accidentally revealed. His cock was now nestled neatly against her ass, utterly rigid in his excitement. He wasn’t unaffected, then. For a moment, a thrill of arousal slithered down her spine and she half twisted. Hazy with lust, she’d forgotten that she hated this man—she merely wanted to touch. Their eyes met and he saw her intention plain as day, his violet eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and what she thought might be a relief. 

Do it, his gaze seemed to dare. Feyre bunched her fingers into fists, holding them in her lap as she turned away. She tried to hold herself still, an impossible task when he continued his onslaught of touch. Feyre couldn’t keep her body from reacting. While another courtier droned on and on about the coast, Rhys pressed his lips experimentally against her neck for a feather-soft kiss. She arched without meaning to, which in turn caused his cock to jump against her back. 

Feyre tried—and failed—not to think about his sheer size. She hadn’t lied when she’d told him she’d been with another man. Only one, a handful of times. The stablehand back home, Isaac, had been convenient for a girl unwilling to be traded like cattle on the back of her virginity. She’d merely wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible, both to de-mystify sex, and to be able to tell any future husband he hadn’t had her first. That she’d made that choice for herself, irrespective of his wishes for a virginal bride.  Isaac had been so unexpectedly kind that Feyre had come back a handful of times, exploring her own sexuality with someone obviously doing the same.

It had been sweet—two kids on the cusp of adulthood trying to figure themselves out. Rhysand, behind her, was hardly a boy. The sheer size of his cock, coupled with the way he lightly touched her, the way he let his breath curl over the back of her neck, and how his lips were always grazing the lobe of her ear, made Feyre think that Rhys was well practiced.

Skilled. 

Someone used to getting exactly the reaction he wanted. That made him dangerous, and her stupid for getting so close to him. Feyre had never been more relieved than when Rhys dismissed his court. The sun had begun to set, bathing the already dark room in inky shadows. 

When she tried to rise, his grip on her body tightened. She, too, was desperate to escape him. Trapped, Feyre kept herself still until the last courtier vanished. She didn’t want to be the subject of their gossip any more than she was certain she already was.

Only when the door slammed shut did she squirm against him.

Rhys lifted his hips, exhaling a loud, long breath. “Stars above, Feyre. Turn around and look at me.”

She did turn, only to slap him roughly in the face. “You had no right,” she breathed, hating how badly she wanted to slam her mouth against his own. To do so was to teach him he could make a spectacle of her and still get what he seemingly wanted.

One hand caged around her wrist as his cheek bloomed red from her assault. “You know I like it when you hit me, darling,” he growled, pushing his erection against her. 

“You’re an ass,” she accused, her other hand slipping from his chest. A dagger, hidden from his belt, grazed her overheated fingers. Rhys was too busy staring at her mouth to realize what she’d just found. 

“I’m about to be your husband,” he replied, loosening his hold on her other hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like to be with me? To try me out?”

Gods, but some depraved part of her did. She was still twisted against him, his thigh rubbing between her legs with obvious intention. Feyre was going to break, was already so wound up and unable to pretend the attraction between them wasn’t two-sided.

“I’m sure you’ll make it suitably horrible,” she breathed, eyes drifting to his mouth again. Fuck her, she needed to get away from him. “I have no interest in an early preview of what promises to be a boring, uneventful night.

He chuckled, refusing to release her even when the hand not hovering by his dagger shoved at his chest. 

“Boring? Even you don’t believe that,” he said, licking his lips with obvious anticipation. He thought he was going to get his way, that he’d cajole and she’d spread her legs for his pleasure. 

Fuck. Him.

Feyre pulled the dagger from its sheath and pressed the jagged teeth against his tender flesh. Rhys arched his neck, as if to give her better access.

“What a predicament,” he murmured, his eyes glittering with a mixture of heat and amusement. “I wondered if you’d find that.”

“You can’t be serious,” she retorted, pressing the blade tighter until a drop of blood slid from his neck into the open buttons of his tunic. 

“Do it, darling. Cut my throat and walk out of here. No one would blame you.”

Feyre didn’t move, holding his stare. “Tell me the truth about something.”

“Anything,” he swore. Her hand trembled as he sat up just a little straighter, both hands still drawing teasing circles around her waist. As Feyre worked up the nerve to just ask her pathetic, insecure question, his fingers drifted upwards until he found her breast.

“You called me beautiful.” It was the best she could do.

A lazy smile graced his handsome features. “That’s not a question, darling. Ask.”

She couldn’t breathe. He’d found her nipple through the fabric of her gown, teasing and pulling until she ground against him. She hadn’t dropped the knife, didn’t think she was physically capable of it.

He leaned forward, causing another rivulet of blood to slip against the bronzed muscle of his chest. She watched it vanish into the black and silver fabric of his tunic and strangely, could only think of how they accidentally matched.

“Ask me.”

“Do you think I’m beautiful, or were you—”

His mouth was against her own before she could finish her question. His free hand clamped around her wrist, prying the dagger from her fingers and flinging it away from them. She heard the steel clatter against marble, the only sound in an otherwise silent room. 

He’d closed his eyes for the kiss, twisting his fingers into her hair to hold her against him—as if she might try and escape him. Feyre swore she wanted to. 

Just not yet. 

She liked the slight of this man seemingly falling to pieces beneath her. His chest rose and fell as he panted for breath, his mouth moving furiously over her own. When his tongue slid against the seam of her lips, part of her opened just to see what would happen.

A moan ripped from her throat as his tongue tasted her own. The sensation spooled between her legs, unraveling the last ounce of her resistance. She decided this was some new battle, some winnable war. After all, he could have killed her, and instead, he’d dressed her in his clothes, put her in his lap, and—

“Please, Feyre,” he interrupted her thoughts with a guttural plea. His eyes had snapped open too even as he kissed her again and again, robbing her of all her good sense. He was so good at it, his lips soft and still firm.

“Please what, Rhys?” she replied, her own voice dripping with arousal. His eyes rolled upwards in his head, hips lifting off the chair.

“Touch me,” he begged, taking both wrists in his hands to press them to his chest. She didn’t know what came over her—didn’t care. There was no one to witness them as her fingers flew over the buttons of his tunic, deftly undoing one after the other while they kissed the other madly. 

She pushed aside the fabric of his tunic, revealing the most gloriously sculpted chest she’d ever seen in her entire life. He could have been carved from marble—every inch of him was hardened, bronze muscle. The two trails of blood from his throat, of which a red imprint still lingered just beneath his jaw, had pooled against the masculine slope of his collarbone. She gazed at the trail of dark hair just beneath his naval, vanishing into the laces of his pants. 

Rhys panted as she stared, suitably breathless for a man in his predicament. Feyre didn’t bother to try and explain her actions to either of them as she tilted his jaw, teeth tugging at his ear before she began the slow descent of kisses. She avoided the blood in favor of the salty taste of his skin.

Down, down, down, until she’d decided to slip between his legs and see the appendage he’d been grinding against her all night.

“No,” he groaned, catching her by the arms before she could fall to her knees. “No.”

“No?” Rejection pricked just behind her eyes. He’d asked her to touch him, and then when she tried he told her no. Feyre pushed away from him, intending to leave before he could humiliate her further.

Rhys had no intention of letting her leave him. Quicker than she could track, he hefted her up into his arms just long enough for him to stand. He dropped her into the chair, still warm from his body. Her eyes immediately landed on the bulge in his pants, pushed away by his impatient hand.

“You want to know if I think you’re beautiful?” he asked her, his eyes as wild as his hair. “If I meant every fucking word I said to those miserable bastards, staring at you like you were the most hateful thing in the world? Looking at my wife with any of the appreciation she deserves?” Feyre remained utterly still as Rhys, King of Velaris, her enemy, got on his knees before her. 

With torturously slow hands, Rhys slid the skirt of her silver gown up over her legs. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It is I who ought to fall to his knees and worship you, and not the other way around.”

Her whole body felt too tight at his words which had become nearly inaudible over the blood roaring in her ears. She didn’t move, gripping the arms of the throne as he parted her knees. Rhys, too, seemed as if he were unraveling at whatever he was seeing. He was all but rabid, hooking his fingers in the band of her undergarment and oh so carefully pulling them off her body. Feyre lifted her hips to assist him, unable to take her eyes from his face. 

He balled them in one large hand, pocketing them quickly like they were a souvenir for later. Rhys pulled her legs upwards, dragging her to the edge of his throne until she was draped over his bare shoulders. “I have wanted to do this since that day in the dining room.” “When I stabbed you?” she asked incredulously. He was such a liar. Rhys pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, trailing upwards before skipping her cunt entirely to move down the other.

“Yes,” he replied, the word revenant. “I wanted to haul you up on that table and have you for breakfast.”

“Liar.”

Their eyes met. “Let me show you,” he whispered. Feyre didn’t move, well aware she’d already given him all but explicit permission. He had her skirts up against her hips, her body practically flush against his face. If he touched her, he’d find her dripping wet and aching for any contact. She thought, as he brought his thumb to the nub of flesh apexed at her flesh, that she ought to close her eyes and pretend he was someone else. 

She couldn’t look away. Not when he groaned loud enough the sound bounced off the high ceilings, creating an echoing melody around them. He rubbed slow circles around her, dragging her own silken arousal against her aching clit to soften his touch. Feyre would have been satisfied with just that, was positive she could have come even if he’d changed nothing about his technique.

Rhys lowered his mouth, replacing his fingers with his tongue. She flew off the chair, pressing him closer which elicited another breathless moan from his lips. He reached for her, keeping her there. Unlike his careful, slow fingers, his mouth was ravenous. Feyre had to hold herself upwards on her elbows, hair spilling over the throne as she fought to catch her breath.

Had she promised him a wife who knew what she was doing in the bedroom? Feyre felt like a liar—every new glide of his tongue felt brand new to her. There was nothing hesitant or tentative like Isaac had been. She’d been far too timid back then to ask him for what she wanted, and more often than not Feyre hoped he angled himself just right so she found release, too.

Feyre gripped his thick, dark hair, holding him where he was. Already wound up from hours on his lap, it took practically nothing to drag her upwards. Rhys was relentless, licking and sucking like his entire life depended on it. Perhaps to him, it did—some small, scared part of her wanted to believe this was his way of proving he would be a good husband.

A kind husband. 

Rhys pushed two of his fingers into her body without warning, pumping them in and out of her cunt in a mimicry of what his cock might do. Incandescent pressure had begun to pool against the base of her spine, drawing her upwards whether she wanted to be or not.

And Feyre very much did. She couldn’t even pretend, given how she watched him watching her. “Rhys,” she pleaded, hanging on the very precipice of her sanity. “Rhys please.”

His fingers curled, lips sucking around her clit all while his tongue continued its fevered adoration. Feyre screamed without meaning to, bowing off the throne in an effort to chase the shattering orgasm ripping through her. She was lost in a sea of brilliant stars while wave after wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was lost, tethered only by the hand still gripping Rhys’s inky black hair. 

He rode her through before pulling away, letting her catch her breath and sit up. His eyes were blown out, the darkest shade of midnight violet. While Feyre tried to steady her trembling legs, Rhys brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean.

She fully expected to repay the favor. She wanted to offer him even a whisper of what he’d just given her. Feyre smoothed out her skirts, oddly hurt when he jogged down the steps of the marble-cut dais to shrug his jacket back on. He was glancing at the window, fingers quick against his buttons. 

“I won’t be at dinner this evening. Feel free to use the dining room,” he told her, all business again. Feyre blinked.

“What?”

He pressed at the bulge in his pants, the only proof he was affected at all. Turning towards her, apparently unaware his hair was sticking up at unnatural angles, he flashed her a smile. “I have a meeting I’m probably very late for. Use the dining room without me, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What about—” she felt stupid even saying it. His smile became quickly apologetic.

“My gift to you, pretty Feyre. Go on, then. I know you’re desperate to be rid of me.”

And that was the problem. She very much wanted more of him.  

She adopted her haughtiest flounce to hide her confusion, striding away from him without another word. If he was playing a game with her, she didn’t appreciate it.

And she didn’t like being in his debt, either. She ate alone that night, her thoughts only on him. His half-naked body, his mouth, his hands.

His words. 

How casually he complimented her.

How quickly he’d discarded her.

She was angry by the time she’d bathed and dressed in a flimsy pink nightdress, clearly one of the pieces made for her new husband to enjoy. She tugged at the hem which covered the swell of her ass and nothing more, drawing the top over her breasts. There was no winning, then.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. He thought she was pretty, he wanted her…so why didn’t he just take her? 

He’d said so himself that he was already late. What would a few more minutes have meant, in the scheme of things? Feyre was well aware that men never lasted long when they were taken inside a willing mouth. Three minutes, tops? And he could have gone on his merry way without making her feel so out of sorts. 

She stomped out of her bedroom. If he wanted to play games with her–if this was his way of keeping her confused—Feyre meant to put a stop to it.

She knew where his bedroom was. She’d scoped it out days ago thinking she might try and cut his throat in his sleep. Now that she knew she wasn’t capable of that, it was good to know where she’d be living in a few days.

Feyre didn’t bother knocking. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps if she’d offered him the courtesy of knocking, Rhys could have pretended he was a gentleman for the first time in their complicated history. Might have paid her another compliment before sending her back to bed, none the wiser.

But she hadn’t, and as consequence, Feyre barged through his sitting room and flung open the double doors to his bedroom to find her soon-to-be husband utterly naked in his large bed, hand wrapped around a very swollen, very large cock.

Her mouth opened, blinking as she struggled to regain her anger as it slipped away. 

“There you are,” he whispered, his voice heady with arousal. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh,” she replied, rendered speechless. 

He leaned up on his elbows, his body half bathed in the flickering light from the fireplace across the room. “Feyre, darling…have you come to join me? Or have you come with another weapon?”

A quick sweep of her body told him she’d come with nothing but herself. His grin was entirely too smug for a man caught touching himself. He ought to have been embarrassed and for the life of her, she couldn’t see why. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life. While Rhys waited for her to say something—anything, her desperate brain screamed—Feyre drank in the sight of his muscled thighs, toned calves…and how his large hand was just the perfect size for the thick, bruising length of him. What, she wondered, would his cock look like in her hand? 

“Close the doors behind you,” he murmured, shifting on the silken black sheets beneath him. Feyre turned, reaching for the silver handles to lock them in together. She swore she heard him sigh with relief when the latches clicked.  

“Are you going to get into bed with me? Or would you like to watch me beg again?”

“Why…” she gulped down air. “Why didn’t you let me…?”

He pumped his hand over his cock, dragging a bead of moisture over the tip. “I would have lost myself,” he murmured, letting her watch him slowly pleasure himself. “Some things are required of me, I’m afraid.”

“Is it about my family?” she asked. Rhys exhaled softly.

“Your father. Not your sisters.”

“Your court is angry you’re planning to marry me.” Again, it wasn’t a question.

“They don’t dare oppose it.”

“But you should.”

He held her gaze. “If this is your attempt to escape, let me assure you that hell itself could not keep me from you. Do you understand that, Feyre? I don’t give a fuck about my court's approval, about your father, or the politics. This marriage is only about us.”

She yielded a step. “He’ll kill you for this.”

Rhys offered her a hoarse laugh. “He’d kill me anyway. Might as well have a little fun before I go.”

“Is that what this is, then? Just fun?”

Shadows danced in his gaze, and for the first time since she’d met this man, Rhys seemed uncertain. He cleared his throat, his hand stilling on his still throbbing cock.

“Is…is that what you want?”

She reached for her fingers, holding them in front of her body. Truthfully, Feyre wanted much, much more than just fun. And she also didn’t know him. Didn’t trust him enough to offer him an inch of vulnerability. What if she told him she wanted a real marriage, the opposite of what her parents had, of what she would have eventually been sold into, only for Rhys to laugh himself hoarse? 

“Yes.”

Liar. 

Some emotion flashed over his features, too quick for her to read. A lazy smile replaced it as he looked up at her with his fuck me eyes.  “It’s awfully hard to have fun when you’re all the way over there, darling.”

Feyre went to him, then, still tight from the lie she’d told. Maybe in ten years, when the dust had settled. When they knew each other better, she’d ask him what it was that he wanted. If he wanted a real marriage or he just wanted to piss off her father and knew that filling her with his sons was the easiest, most expedient way to do that. 

As Feyre climbed into his large, soft bed, she thought that maybe it was better for her sisters to stay where they were. If Elain and Nesta were happy, there was no reason to drag them into this. It could remain her burden, one she was taking up gladly. 

Feyre scooted beside Rhys, reaching for his face for a kiss. He leaned towards her, the stubble of his jaw scraping against her cheek. Was it really so bad? If he offered her respect and some measure of kindness? 

Rhys was quick to cup her face in return.

“What is it that you want from me?” she whispered, wondering if he’d let her get on her knees now that they were alone and had established some shaky boundaries.

Wariness flooded his expression again. “I…” he gulped. “Feyre, I want…”

“Me on my knees?” she supplied, using her finger much as he had done earlier to trail down the flat plane of his chest. “Or would you prefer my hand?”

Relief replaced his fear. “I suppose wanting you on your back is out of the question, then?”

Oh. “Be grateful for anything at all,” she said in the sultriest voice she could muster. “Be glad I don’t offer your cock the same blade I offered your throat.”

“Don’t tease me,” he breathed, parting his legs as she climbed over his body. “You know I love how violent you are.”

“I have teeth, you know,” she informed him, pressing a kiss to his stomach. Rhys huffed out a breathless laugh, his cock dripping against the thin material of her night dress. It might have been pathetic had his arousal not settled her own insecurities. She wanted him—and he wanted her. Enough so that he kept his lips pressed together when she was finally at eye level with the base of cock. While Rhys gathered up her hair, holding it off her face, Feyre took a moment to wrap her hand around him.

Just to see if he’d fit. 

“How do I compare?” he asked, his voice husky with desire. “Smaller than what you’re used to, right?”

Her fingers didn’t close around the base of him. Feyre’s eyes flicked to his face, well aware that Rhys knew the lie about to tumble from his lips. “Is this all, then?”

He smiled. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

Feyre traced the throbbing vein under his cock with the tip of her tongue. She had more experience with this than anything—Isaac had preferred to finish in her mouth and Feyre, concerned about pregnancy, had been perfectly content to let him. 

She supposed it didn’t matter anymore. 

Rhys shuddered when she lapped up the bead of precum, delighted to find the taste of him was perfectly pleasant. Just like the rest of him—well groomed, bathed, and otherwise well taken care of. She’d heard from the other women at court it wasn’t a guarantee. Of men who were so disgusting, their wives plugged their noses before they let them get into bed.

Rhys smelled like citrus and the sea. She had no problem sucking the tip of his cock into her mouth or sliding him into her throat as she braced her hands over his muscled, lightly-haired thighs. 

“Fuck me, Feyre,” he groaned when he hit the back of her throat. She could take another inch before she lost her ability to breathe and had to make up the rest with her hand. Encouraged, she began to work over him the way his teasing hand had been when she’d first come in.

It was clear he’d already been close. The vein under his cock head throbbed from his pulsating heart against her tongue and Rhys didn’t seem able to stop himself from using the hands holding her hair to help her bob up and down.

“Feyre, your mouth,” he panted, voice trailing into an incoherent moan. She’d been right to think he’d finish quickly.

Rhys’s back arched off the bed, his thighs spread wide. “Feyre,” he practically whined, grip tightening in her hair. “Feyre, I’m going to come, Fey—” and he did, pouring himself into her throat before he could finish his warning. She was happy to let him if the alternative was letting him come on her skin, which risked her hair. 

Rhys pulled her off him when he was totally spent, dragging her back up his body for a rough, messy kiss. If the taste of his own come bothered him, he gave no indication of it. His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, just as frantic as the rest of him. 

“Stay,” he told her when she tried to pull away. “This will be your room in two nights anyway.”

“Maybe I prefer to sleep alone.” 

Another lie. She was starting to lose count. She’d spent nearly two years sleeping beside her sisters and hated waking alone in that massive, cold bed.

“Well I don’t,” he told her, dragging blankets over their bodies. He pulled her into his chest, face buried in her hair. 

“Is this how you intend to sleep beside me for the rest of your life?”

He draped one of his legs over her waist, the weight settling her anxiety.

“Yes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her ear. “I can’t risk you biting my cock off while I sleep.”

She elbowed him in the ribs while he laughed at his own stupid joke. Still, there was no escaping the hold he had around her. 

And for the first time, Feyre was perfectly content with that. 

[bluesundaymorn]

weighed myself naked for the first time in a long time and i think im finally losing again although it has been an overall gaine since August still :/ only a few lbs but ugh. At least fasting is working and I'm doing well at it. Gonna go from 18hr fasts to 24 and omading lunch from tomorrow I think

[berry-lite]

15 Aug 2024 - 194.8 lbs - 1618 total cals

I last minute found out I need to get blood work tomorrow because I'm having surgery on Monday. They're running a metabolic panel so I needed to eat normally today so it's not all fucked up from restricting. I'll probably have to eat a bit more normally next week because I need to heal quickly from my surgery. So you guys might be seeing higher cal logs from me or no logs at all.

My totally sedentary BMR is 1875 so I'm shooting between 1500-1700 when eating normally.

Food Log: 1618 cals

🍌 Breakfast: oatmeal, peanut butter, banana

🚫 Lunch: 0

🥥 Snack: Naked Juice Piña Colada

🍚 Dinner: Bibigo teriyaki chicken rice bowl

🍪 Dessert: Oreos and unsweetened almond milk

Exercise:

I moved today so I didn't do extra exercise because I was so busy and tired. I did burn a lot moving though.

[shop-korea]

PURPLE - WRIST - REST - IS

AGAIN - SUPER - HUGE - SO

DID - NOT - MEASURE - THE

3 ROUNDS - HAS - SOFT HAI

TAPE - WHAT - I'VE - BEEN

WISHING - SO - WILL - YES

MEASURE - 9:35P EST - MALE

MANAGER - OPENED - MY HAI

DOOR - WHERE - I AM - NAKED

SCRUBBING - HE - CALLS - YES

WOMEN - MENTALLY - ILL - A

TRUE - MISOGYNIST - HATRED

AND - ABUSE - OF - FOREIGN

WOMEN - ESPECIALLY - HE

ATTACKED - BECAUSE

SAT - 1P - 5P - AUTHORS

OF - FLORIDA - MEET THEM

HE - WENT - 2 - LUNCH - TO

GO - TOWARDS - MAIN LIBRARY

HE - HAS - BEEN - STALKING ME

LISTENING - HOW - 2 - MURDER

2 - GET - $150 BILLION - NO USD

NOW - OVER - $250 BILLION AS

HOMELESS - BLKS - WENT

CRAZY - BALD - HEAD THAT

LET - TREE - HIT - MY HEAD

ONLY - BOUGHT - BEER - NO

DRINK - 4 - ME - INLOVE AND

MIAMI - POLICE - ALLOWED

PUBLIC - ALCOHOL - DRINK'G

HE - WAS - JUST - CRAZY - SO

THAT's - DONE - MANAGER

WAS - STALKING ME - THUS

WAS - GOING - 2 - BOX - ME

FRIDAY - NIGHT - TGIF TGIF

SINCE - 1941 - WHEELCHAIR

DEMOCRAT - ROOSEVELT

WHO - PUT - AMERICAN

JAPANESE - CONCENTRATION

CAMPS - STARVED - 3 MEALS

A - DAY - FLORIDA - BEGAN

BAKER - ACT

CONCENTRATION - CAMP

4 - EVERYONE - LESS THAN

3 DAYS - 4 - BIRTH CONTROL

PILLS USER - COED - U SEE

SOMEONE - WENT - ALL THE

WAY - WITH - ME - REALLY

I - KNOW - WHO

3RD - DAY - THEY'RE - YES

PREGNANT - PILLS - 2 HAI

HOW - MANY - KIDS THEY

WANT - NOT - 2 - BURN THE

AREA - LIKE - THE - BLK

GYNECOLOGIST - HE WAS

DESCRIBING - BURNING TUBES

I - SCREAMED - SHUT UP

SHOWED - BABIES - IN - THE

WOMB - HE - AIN'T - GIVING 2

50 AND OLDER - HE SMILED

DR MARIA MEJIA - UGLY

HISPANIC - TOPIRAMAX

SEASONIQUE - SAID - NO

2 - THAT - SHE - SAID BIRTH

CONTROL - A - JOKE - SO IS

BONIVA - BONE - DETERIOR -

RATION - PREVENTOR - JUST

ONCE - PER - MONTH - SHE

SAID - USA - PSYCHO - MEDS

NO 1 - SHE - DOESN'T - GIVE

2 - ST JUDE's - SHE SAID - A

SCAM - 1 UGLY - WEIRDO SO

I - TOOK - IT - AND - STOPPED

BLOODFLOW - NO NEED FOR

GYNOCOLOGY - SO - HAPPY

TOPIRAMAX - 50 MG

TODAY - FOOD STAMPS - $67

FEB - 2 - UC - SIGNALS - 2 ME

2 - MANUALLY - APPLY

DO - I - HAVE - PIG - FARM

LAND - 4 - PROFIT - STUPIDS

DO - I - HAVE STOCKS BONDS

I - ALMOST - HAD - A - HEART

ATTACK - 15 MIN - AGO - NOW

I'M - FINE - SUSHI - 4 - ME SO

SINCE - EBT - DOESNT' - GIVE

MONEY - 4 - DELI - FRIED CKN

CHECKING - 13ST - SUSHI

I'M - 2 - WEAK - 2 - GO - 4

INARI - MAYBE - TONIGHT

BECAUSE - MONDAY - NO

FOOD - TONIGHT - RIVER

LANDING - INARI - $7.05

FOUND - ROOT BEER - 0 CAL

IS - ABOVE - IS ONLY - 8 INCH

INSTEAD - OF - 14 INCH HARD

2 - GET - OUT - FOUND - TENT

4 - IT - TRIED - 2 - FING - 4 FT

WIDTH - NO SUCH - THING

SO - 5 FT - LIKE - MINE BUT

LONG - 10 INCHES - MORE

INSTEAD - OF 3 INCH - YES

ABOVE - SUPER EXPENSIVE

ARRIVES - TOMORROW

CAMILLUS HOUSE

THEY KICKED - ME - OUT

THEY - WANTED - 2 - THROW

PACKAGES - ON MY - FACE 2

BATTERY - AND - ASSAULT

LIKE - MY - PHILIPPINE

ADOPTED - FATHER - WAS

WATCHING - LITTLE HOUSE

ON - THE - PRAIRIE - AND HE

GOT - HIS - SLIPPER - AND HIT

MY - HEAD - HOLE ON - FORE

HEAD - TIRED OF - SUBJECT

RAN - 2 - GRANDPA - NO MORE

FUEL - SHOOT - HIM - HAVE TO

GO - 2 - MAKATI MEDICAL CTR

CHARGE - ON - THEM

HE - SHOT - MY - ADOPTED

DAD - TWICE - SO - THERE

ME - HIS - 1ST - GRANDCHILD

THEN - WE - WENT - 2 - PARIS

WHAT - DO - U - WANT - FR

PARIS - GRANDPAPA - HE

TOLD - ME - GOT - HIS THEIR

MACAROONS - NICE - TELL

TEACHERS - WHAT - WENT

ON - GONE - 4 - 3 MONTHS

ABOVE - IS - ONLY - 6 LBS

PUT - IN - SMALL - BAG

OTHER - 15 LBS - DESTROYING

SIDES - OF - TENT - HEAVY

AND - LONG - EASY - 2 - YES

ASSEMBLE - NO - COT - WHY

THOSE - BECOME - FLAT YES

FAST - USING - AIR MAT WITH

MANDATORY - TWIN - FITTED

SHEET - OR - WILL FREEZE U

ABOVE - IS - BEST - INCLUDES

FREE - OVERNIGHT DELIVERY

THE - PRICE - TENT - IS GREEN

75.6 - LENGTH

TENT - 86.5 - INSIDE

MAT - 77 INCH - OVER 9 INCH

LEFT - NICE - ROOM - LEFT

SO - LIKE - GREEN FOREST

[toastedkiwi]

Returning The Favor

Summary: after realizing you’ve been taken advantage of your friendship with Sebastian, you’ve decided to spoil him like he does with you.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Rich!Reader

You knocked on Sebastian’s door. No answer. You knock again. Still no answer. You pouted and grabbed the door knob. You turn it and head into the apartment. You close the door and lock it.

“Sebastian?” You called out looking around his open floor plan.

You head to his bedroom and opened up the door. And then you hear the puking. You frowned and head into the bathroom. Sebastian’s hugging the porcelain as he throws up his guts. You immediately think of what he does for you when you’re sick and you spring into action. You start rubbing his back which makes him question who’s in his apartment.

“The fuck you doing here?” Sebastian grunted seeing your high heels and he flushes the toilet.

“Well clearly taking care of you,” you said brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

He’s shaking in his skin. Truly, you wanted to take him out to his favorite restaurant for lunch and treat him since you saw that terrible article a reporter did on him but your favorite man is sick. It was about time for you to return the favor because who knows how many times you’ve called him over something and he comes over quickly to comfort you or help fix the problem. He’s called you and you wouldn’t show up claiming to be too busy for him.

“I didn’t call you,” he said.

“I know. I tried calling you but you didn’t pick up,” you said.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay,” you said grabbing his bicep. “Let’s get you into the shower.”

He groaned as you helped the 200 lbs man onto his feet but he’s a bit confused at your behavior. You leaned him against the bathroom counter and opened the glass door of the shower. You turned on the shower and found the right temp. You spin around to a butt ass naked Sebastian and he isn’t bothering covering anything. He’s definitely gifted.

“Fuck modesty,” he said giggling and making his way into the shower as you keep your eyes to the ceiling.

You closed the shower door behind and said, “please never do that to me again.”

You leave him in the shower and head into his bedroom. You take the bedsheets, sheets, blankets, and pillowcases off the bed shoving them into the laundry basket knowing it’ll be better for him to have clean ones on his bed instead of dirty ones. You try to make quick work even though it’s a struggle.

“Y/N!” Sebastian called out whining. “HELP!”

You come into the bathroom and he’s peaking his head out of the shower. The poor man looks absolutely miserable and exhausted. He holds the shampoo bottle to you. You take it and he lowers his head. His greasy wet hair falls forward dripping onto the rug. You opened the shampoo bottle. You squeeze more than enough in the palm of your hand. You put the shampoo bottle on the floor and then run your fingers through his hair. You make sure you’re gentle and lather every strand on his scalp. He nearly moans.

“There. Now rinse,” you said.

He does what you say and you rinse your hands in the sink. You then dry your manicured hands.

“Towel, please?” Sebastian begged after the water turns off.

You grab a towel on the rack and his bathrobe that you sent him because it was too big for you and was not your style. You hand him the towel as he steps out and he covers his dick thankfully since he doesn’t want to flash you this time. You help in his robe and you tie the belt around his waist. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Sebastian sniffled looking at you.

“Yes. Why do you ask? Do I look sick?” You asked frantically. 

You spin around and look in the mirror. Sebastian chuckles before coughing. His arms go around your waist after putting the towel on the counter.

“You look beautiful, Y/n,” he said. “Always do.”

You spin back around placing your hands on his broad shoulders and you look up at your proclaimed BFF. The shower seems to have helped him out a bit.

“Then why did you ask?” you questioned.

“You don’t come over unless you need me,” he said.

You frowned but know he’s right. You’re quite the selfish person. It’s bad. Real bad. But thankfully, you’ve started realizing it and you don’t want to be that way anymore.

“So, what do you need from me?” He asked.

“I need you to get better but for now, you’re gonna camp out on the couch while I make your bed and do your laundry,” you said.

Sebastian laughed before going into a coughing fit. You pat his back and you’re pretty worried about him. 

“I gotta see this,” he said.

You pouted and lead him into his bedroom. He seats himself in the chair that usually houses clothes he throws on it. He sees his sheets and what not on the floor in a pile.

“You’re really gonna make my bed?” he asked shaking a bit in his seat.

“Yes, I am,” you bragged. “You won’t even want to sleep on it since it’ll look so amazing and you won’t want to ruin it.”

Sebastian grins knowing you’re in over your head. You don’t know how to make a bed. You grew up with a rich daddy and mommy who had maids and nannies raise you and clean up after you and your snobby ass sister. Your dad funds your lifestyle with a maid still even though you’re 25. 

“I can’t wait,” he sniffled.

You rush off grinning and giving him your “I got this” look. It’s quite adorable especially with your black long sleeved shirt underneath the dress you’re wearing and the heels. You always wear heels. It’s what you were taught to wear. It’s very old fashioned but a good dress and heels are great for any event.

“I don’t like this!” you whined and pouted as the fitted sheet keeps coming off of the corners.

“Prinţesă-,” Sebastian said. 

“Shh!” you shushed the fool.

He stands up and treads over to you. You crossed your arms over your chest and glare at the poor sick man.

“You’re going diagonally. Start on one side, Prinţesă,” he said.

You huffed with an adorable pout and start getting to work. You even have your best friend sit on a very stubborn corner as you get the rest.

“I did it!” You exclaimed happily.

Sebastian smiles and you hug him as he’s still seated.

“Congrats, Prinţesă,” he said. “Can you grab me some medicine? It’s in the cabinet by the fridge.”

You nod and head off pretty proud of yourself. It makes him smile briefly before he has to lay down on his unmade bed with a blanket you grabbed. You’ll probably be mad since you didn’t finish but you’ll just have to make the bed with him in it.

“What are you--?” You asked.

“’M tired, baby,” he said.

You sit down on the edge of the bed placing the medicine down on his bedside table along with a glass of water. He sits up a bit so he can take the medicine. You give him some cough syrup and then some cold medicine after reading the labels.

“I feel like shit,” he groaned laying back.

“I know,” you said caressing his cheek. “But you’ll be all better soon.”

“You’ll probably get sick from being near me, darling,” Sebastian said.

“Then we can be sick together and I can call Junie to come take care of us,” you said with a smile.

He shakes his head no and said, “we are both adults. We can take care of ourselves, Y/n.”

“So, does that mean you want me to leave while you wallow away in your misery?” You asked.

“Don’t go,” he whined and weakly grabbed your arm. “I like you taking care of me.”

His words brought the biggest smile on your face. It’s bigger than when you go shopping and make him hold your bags. No shopping trip can get that smile.

“Alright, it’s only because I love you so much,” you said.

It’s his turn to smile wide as he’s feeling quite drowsy with the medicine kicking in.

“I love you too,” Sebastian said. “You should cuddle me. It’ll make me feel better.”

“But you’ll need to eat something,” you said.

“Just until I fall asleep, please?” he begged with a puppy dog look and a pout you can’t say no to. “I’ll eat for ya later.”

You take off your heels and then lay beside him. He tucks you under his arm and wraps both arms around you. You both sigh contently.

“I think I’ve been a shitty friend to you,” you admitted.

He frowns but knows you’re right. He can’t argue on it if he wanted to. He’s adored you for the last four years. Yes, you’re younger than him and maybe he’s got a thing for chicks younger than him but he can’t help it. You’ve got the poor man wrapped around your finger and he’s completely and utterly hooked.

“What made you come to that conclusion?” Sebastian asked and it sounded a bit snippier than he would’ve liked.

“My other friends are pretty shitty and... you aren’t. You treat me like a queen and never expected me to treat you like a king,” you said. “Which I’ve been taking you for granted and you deserve better but I’m quite selfish and instead of letting this friendship go, I’m gonna do better for you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian smiles. It warms his heart. 

[anders-hawke]

Shit I forgot the main question, can you please name some good 100% asoiaf fics

Of course! These are some of my absolute favorites out of all the ASOIAF fics I’ve read so far under the cut!

Chemistry of a Car Crash by HildegardtheB (WIP, 1 chapter left)

Over a decade ago, Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth were actors on the culturally iconic and certifiably cheesy, teen drama “Westerosi” (think of a slightly more obscenity-laced “Degrassi” ). They played Alyce “Dunc” Duncan and Roman Webber -- enemies who become begrudging friends and eventually fall in love.

Their chemistry on the show is off-the-charts, and Jaime and Brienne soon become “Westerosi’s” it-couple. However in real life, the two barely tolerate each other -- and that’s on a good day. Not surprisingly, when their term on the show is up, they part ways expecting never to speak again.

Flash forward to ten years after their final show. Jaime is involved in a horrific car crash. During a night of black despair, he calls Brienne. She is shocked. And suspicious. And doesn’t know what to say. Because they despise each other. They utterly and completely despise each other. Well … don’t they?

The Lion of Highgarden by winterkill / @kurikaesu-haru (WIP, 2 chapters left)

Tywin sends Jaime to be fostered at Highgarden under the watchful eye of Olenna Tyrell. After slaying the Mad King, Jaime flees to Essos, and the stories around him grow more fantastic as the years pass. When Olenna summons him to Highgarden for Margaery’s wedding to Renly Baratheon, Jaime meets sword-wielding Brienne of Tarth, who might just be his match.

A Beauty By Any Other Name by nire / @nire-the-mithridatist (WIP)

Jaime Lannister: security director of Casterly Management by day, graphic artist by night. Brienne Tarth: music teacher by day, audiobook reader and singer-songwriter by night.

Their paths cross online, and slowly, delicately, they build a friendship over mutual appreciation of each others’ works and perhaps too much respect for privacy.

Through the Windows by KendraPendragon (Finished)

On her return to King’s Landing after a three month selling tour through Dorne with Oberyn Martell, Brienne finds that her office has become the auditorium to the LLBLS - the “Lannister Lunch Break Live Show”, which consists solely of the new CFO of LBS, Inc. doing sit-ups half naked. Turns out almost her entire staff simply stops working when the daily show is on and all that hen clucking is driving her up the wall. So the CEO of Tarth Digital, LLC does the sensable thing: She calls that arrogant Lion. A phone call that will change her life. Jaime Lannister is not what she had expected.

Heart Full of Gasoline by sdwolfpup / @ajoblotofjunk (Finished)

Jaime Lannister is a Formula 1 driver with a sordid past, dubious future, and nothing left to lose as he hits the far edge of his career. He thinks all he wants is the world championship title he’s never quite been able to reach and to finally give up smoking. What he finds to his great surprise is what he really wants might be Brienne Tarth.

Brienne Tarth is an unknown mechanic eager to make the jump to the big time of Formula 1. When Jaime hires her as Chief Mechanic for his team of misfits, she discovers she’s ready for the work, but is she ready for Jaime?

i’ve had no love like your love (from nobody) by djelibeybi / @dilfjaime (One-shot)

Jaime flirting with Hildy should be the least of Brienne’s worries.

It’s not.

A Matter of Honour by nire (Finished)

Lady Brienne of Tarth was not pretty, but she was rich. Numerous suitors had failed to meet her condition for marriage, but the latest—and possibly the worst of them—might win her hand after all.

Hold This Threadbare Heart at Needlepoint by nire (Finished)

Jaime wielded a sword well enough with his left hand, but a quill was a different beast altogether. Brienne found an ingenious solution, proposed in the form of a wager.

Or,

Jaime learned how to embroider to train the fine motor skills of his left hand.

I Hold You Like A Weapon by winterkill (One-shot)

“Stop!” Brienne calls out, “Hands behind your head and turn around.” She reaches for her gun but doesn’t remove it from the holster.

The man laces his fingers together in his golden hair and turns to face her. Horribly, Brienne’s first thought is he’s beautiful.

“You’re about to point that the wrong way.”

I hope you like them all!

[dah-knee]

I’m just gonna do this whole thing. Because I’m bored.

1. I’m 135 lbs. my ugw is 122-127.

2. I’m 5’6. I love my height. Being taller makes burning calories easier. I also like being the average height for a girl

3. Too lazy to put a picture but Kendall J is my thinspiration. I fucking hate her. But she’s so pretty. I hate it

4. I don’t really have any fears abt weight loss. I guess gaining it back LMFAO

5. I honestly do wanna lose weight for me. I just wanna look nice naked LOL and I’m into fashion, so having everything look nice is a plus.

6. I don’t reallyyyyy binge tbh. I don’t restrict heavily AT ALL. I don’t even have an ED, just a bad relationship with food. I actually eat about 2200 calories a day and exercise off 750 of them. I hav an Apple Watch so burning off 750 is just routine. I just eat 2200 to maintain in a calorie deficit without slowing down my metabolism too bad. When I do binge, it’s on sweet stuff. It happens randomly tbh, or when my mom has mad something she really wants me to try.

7. My mom knows I’m constantly trying to lose weight and doesn’t really care. She cares enough to make sure I’ve eaten though. My dad doesn’t know. He knows I don’t like how I look though. He’s always super kind and tells me I’m beautiful though😢

8. My mom and sister made a ton of negative comments on my weight about a year and a half ago. Not anymore though. An old friend also said something. Those things really did stick with me.

9. My workout routine is SUPER simple. Maybe: run in the morning and burn off 100 calories. If I have school/work that’s another 300/400. Run at night and burn about 200. Everyday tasks totals up to about 100 too. On weekends I run a little more to makeup for being at home all day. I have a treadmill. I also have a gym membership but I don’t use it much anymore tbh. Thinking of canceling it.

10. The hardest thing I gave up is 100% chips and Nutella. God do I miss them.

11. I don’t have a favourite thinspo blog because I’m not consistent on here lol.

12. I eat a yogurt parfait/ smoothie and lunch and dinner are totally random.

13. I’m losing weight a healthy way. I’ve done heavy restriction of 1100 and gained ALL my weight back. Eating 1600 keeps the weight off.

14. My UGW is 122-127. Hoping by this Christmas and if anything backfires DEFINITELY before I start University in Sept.

15. I would not consider vegan Or vegetarianism. I love chicken too much and think it’s an amazing source of protein.

16. Decided to lose weight around July 2020.

17. I do jot have an eating disorder because I eat enough.

18. My weakness is chocolate bars. My dad has always bought one a week for me since I was kid. I hold it to close to my heart to not eat it.

19. Last time I ate fast food was… yesterday LOL

20. I don’t believe in diets.

21. LITERALLT everything. But typically I’m a size medium and a size 6/8 in pants.

22. My lowest was 130. I gained due to heavy restrictions.

23. Originally the media did not play a Role, but now it does.

24. Don’t like the pro terms at all.

25. Never purged I don’t wanna ruin my teeth.

26. JAWLINES AND SKINNY LEGS. God those both excite for hitting my ugw

27. I do t really “deal” with being around food. I like good lol

28. Don’t care much for the gap. Just wanna be skinny. Gap would be nice tho

29. Everyone’s beautiful. Confidence yet humbility is especially beautiful

30. Fact about me: I love interior design!

[panicbones]

finished naked lunch. that sure was a movie (POSITIVE) my only critique is that i think he shouldve also become a weird bug. COMMIT TO THE KAFKA!!!!

[lisaleigh713]

Tutoring the star Football DE

About 2 weeks after the Cheerleader Slumber Party, I was approached by the Algebra teacher and the Football Director.  One of their star players Chris was close to failing Algebra and if he didn’t get an A on the next test, a week away, he would be ineligible to play.  Apparently there were some college scouts coming to watch him.  Chris was doing well in all his other subjects he just had some trouble with Math.

Chis was a Defensive End with college speed and had a high number of sacks.  I asked my mom and dad, they gave their okay.  I told the Director and teacher I would be happy to do so and that we should start right away.  

I met Chris in the school library and we began.  I wanted to see where he was and had prepared a simple little test.  Chris was smart he was just having a time grasping a couple of concepts.  I spent an hour with Chris and we just wasn’t getting the concepts.  With this is mind I stopped.  I said, “Chris, why don’t you tell me everything about your job as a DE.”  Chris began to explain everything.  He talked about the run defense and different positions and he talked about the pass defense and positions.  Chris explained all he could and while he did so, I took notes.

I went home after cheerleading practice and came up with a method to explain algebraic expressions.  I told the Director and teacher I needed a bit more time with Chris and could I skip out on my math class to tutor Chris.  Of course I was given permission.  I used a white board with x’s and o’s and different defensive setups as different variables.  Then we left and went to the football field.  I put helmets in place of players and explained again.  Lo and behold Chris was getting it.  He wasn’t completely there but he was close.

I tutored Chris for 3 days and the day had come to take the test.  I also taught Chris some breathing tips.  The last day of our tutoring Chris was feeling a bit amorous and he put his hand high on my thigh.  I moved his hand and said, “Chris, you ace this test tomorrow and I will let you do to me what you want.”  He simply said, “deal.”

Chris made a 98 on his test.  When he got the result we could hear him scream down the hall.  His coach, my math teacher and I were waiting out in the hall.  He burst through the door, grabbed his coach and picked him up, then he grabbed my teacher and picked her up and of course I was next.  Of course he apologized to each of us but no one took offense to it.  He looked at me with that look.  I said, “after the game Chris, after the game. And remember what I taught you, you can use algebra to read the offense.”  The coach looked at me and said, “what did you say?”  “Coach there is math in everything, we just have to put it into context.”

Looks like I may have some more tutoring to do in the near future.  Chris had the best game of his football career.  Chris had 4 solo sacks, a number of hurried and a ton of tackles.  Our team won.  Chris ran over and hugged me.  I looked at my parents and they nodded.  My parents knew what was going to happen tonight.

Chris was huge.  Chris was about 6’5” and 275 lbs with short brown hair and brown eyes.  Chris went to the field house to get cleaned up.  Us girls did the same thing, but could change into anything we wanted.  I put on a pair of tight jeans, heels and a tight t-shirt.  Chris was to meet with some recruiters the next day at his house with the coach and his parents.

I was waiting in the parking lot standing next to my car.  I had been waiting for about 10 minutes or less.  Chris walked up to me and said, “so about that deal?”  I looked Chris in the eye and said “yes, Chris, you can do what you want to me tonight. Chris, I want to know something though, be completely honest with me, have you ever been with a girl?”  He bowed his head and said “no, I am still a virgin.”

“Chris you can completely trust me, tonight will be the night of your life, you will remember this night for the rest of your life.”  I jumped in his car and he drove us to a little hunting cabin he knew of where he hunted.  We got out and walked to the cabin and went in.  It was nice and looked like it had a comfortable bed.  Chris was very nervous.  I moved over to him and put my arms around him, he leaned down and kissed me.  “Okay, stud, slow down we are in no hurry.”

Chris kissed me again but took his time.  I knew I was going to have to take the lead on this until we really got going and hoped his animal instinct would kick in.  I moved back over to the bed and removed my top.  He took his shirt off in about 2 seconds.  Chris put his hands on my boobs and started to massage and rub them.  Then Chris started twisting my nipples like the dial on a radio.  I stopped him and showed him just how to please a woman with regards to my breasts.

I dropped my pants and panties and stood before him with nothing on but my heels.  I got on my knees and slowly unzipped Chris’ pants and let them drop and slowly pulled down his underwear.  His underwear was restraining his cock and when they went his cock slapped me in the face.  I was not disappointed as it was beautiful but also large.  I thought to myself, why are you fucking every girl in school with this monster.

I took his cock in to my mouth and played with his head for a minute then slowly took him all the way down my throat.  While doing this I played with his balls.  He balls tightened and I knew he was about to cum so I hurried my sucking and used one hand to rub his chest.  Of course the whole time I am looking up at him and watching his facial expressions.  He threw his head back and came.  I thought I would drown in his cum it was so much.  I swallowed all of his love juice, and get going.

His cock stayed hard and now it was time for him to fuck me.  I rose and laid on the bed while Chris got between my legs and slipped his cock into my pussy.  As he pumped away i wrapped my legs around his back or at least part way.  He pounded my pussy and pounded my pussy and pounded and pounded.

I got Chris to stop for just a moment so I could get on my hands and knees while he moved behind me.  He grabbed my hips and slipped his cock into my pussy with one smooth thrust.  He pulled and pushed me onto his large cock for what turned out to be about 20 minutes.   This boy had some staying power once he came that first time.

I moved back into the missionary position as he should look at me the first time he cums inside a woman.  I slipped back into me once again and began to pump away.  I ran my fingernails all over his back and even sunk them into his ass cheeks.  I moaned and screamed and said, “oh my god Chris, fuck me harder.  You are fucking me so good.  Your cock is so huge inside my little, tight pussy.”

“Chris you are such a stud, I want you to cum inside me baby, please come inside my pussy.  Fill me up with your cum.”  That was all he could take and he unleashed another massive load of cum deep inside my pussy until his juice was overflowing and leaking onto the bed.  

Chris collapsed on top of me.  He is such a big man but his weight left me feeling satiated.  I hugged and kissed Chris.  He was sweaty and breathing hard.  His chest was heaving.  He had just played the game of his life and fucked his first woman.  He kissed me again and again.  He rolled off of me and pulled me to him while he cuddled me.  Damn this kid was good and was going to be great.

We began to doze off and I snapped to awake.  “Chris we need to get up and get dressed.  While I would love to spend the whole night cuddled with you and having you fuck me again in the morning, you have to get home and prepare for the scouts.”  He agreed and we got up and got dressed.

Chris drove me back to my car, got out and opened my door and then made sure I got in my car and drove off before he left.  He was such a gentleman.  I got home and my parents asked how it was and I explained every detail to them which excited them which led then to our getting naked and mom eating my pussy with Chris’ juices still leaking from me.  That is a different story though.

Monday morning I met Chris in the hall and asked how his interview with the scouts went and he said really well.  Chris received several offers to play at some power schools.  He and I discussed it and he even sought my advice on the best school for him.  We talked throughout the day when we could and we had the same lunch so we talked during lunch.  

At lung Chris said, “thank you so much for Friday night and all the help you gave me getting to Friday night”.  “Chris, it was my pleasure.  I really enjoyed making love with you and anytime you would like to go again just let me know.”  Chris and I began dating and fucking each other anytime we could get together.  Of course the other girls on the cheerleading squad wanted to know the salacious details.

I know Chris will be gone soon after graduation and during our time together we talked and laughed and fucked as often as we could.  I taught him math and how to fuck and eat pussy so when he went to college he would be able to please the next girl.  Before he left I told him, “Chris, I will never forget you baby.  I love you and I will always have fond memories of you and you should find a nice woman at college who you would like to spend your life with.  If you come home and want to make love to me again all you will have to do is call me.”

Chris and I shared a long embrace and away he went.  I will always think of Chris and when I see him on tv playing football I always remember the year we had.  Play hard Chris!!!

Love and kisses,

Lisa  

[dionysus-is-my-dude]

Hahaha...I’m malnourished...

**warning: eating disorder** Just let me get it all out there. Happy thoughts at the end...

Like, I knew. But lately, I’ve been eating a lot less. I’ve been eating good food, and taking my usual vitamin D supplement, melatonin, a multivitamin, and fiber supplement. But I just...haven’t really been eating. It’s not like I’m not hungry. I am. I’m always hungry. But then I think about my binge eating and that makes me feel like if I eat in-between meals -which are small for me now because I’m SUPPOSED to be losing weight, according to my doctor-, then I’ll be putting on too many calories and I’ll gain all the weight back. So I just...eat a bowl of cereal or have a bagel for breakfast, don’t eat anything until lunch, which, if I were at work, would literally be apple slices or a small bag of chips because I didn’t have time to actually eat anything of substance, then maybe have a small snack in-between lunch and dinner, then have a medium-sized dinner like I’m trying to finally fill up for all the fasting I did for the day.

I don’t like how I look. I have fat around my chin that I want gone. A lot of fat around my middle. My thighs may look great in pants, but look terrible naked. And my breasts are too big and practically saggy. MY home mirror makes me feel good. But whenever I go out clothes shopping, which I hardly ever do because I hate trying on clothes, the mirrors in the dressing rooms make me look twice as big. I haven’t bought pants in years. I have clothes that I’ve been wearing since I was a high schooler simply because I don’t wanna wear anything else. Jeans, too-large t-shirts, sweats, and loose dresses. That’s currently what makes up my wardrobe because I don’t feel comfortable in anything else. I don’t like tight clothes because I hate how my stomach puffs out. I hate those dips in my hips that make me look deformed. I hate that I can pinch all the fat hanging around my neck.

I’ve lost around 20 lbs since the end of last summer. But I need to lose more. I’m out of the woods of diabetes now, since I’ve lost so much, but now my struggle is the malnutrition I’ve apparently been suffering for years. The thing is, I think I eat ok. Maybe not the complete healthiest diet, but I’ve cut down on a lot of processed foods and junk food. I’ve been trying to eat more apples, to drink more water with my vitamin flavouring, eat less pasta, and I wanna do my best to eat more chicken and vegetables. But the main problem is: I hate cooking. I absolutely hate it. I hate how long it takes, and how many steps there are. I hate food prep. My go-to meal is fish sticks cooked in the oven because there’s no prep and they only cook for 15 minutes. I know there are recipes out there that only call for a few recipes, but I swear, I get the ingredients, then just either forget about them or decide that it’s still gonna take too much time and energy, so I just don’t cook them.

I need to talk to my doctor and psychiatrist. I’m definitely malnourished, and should probably meet with a dietitian. I need to talk to my doctor about what might be the cause of my malnutrition (depression, side-effects of medication, physical problem with nutrient absorption, or an eating disorder). I’m gonna talk to my psychiatrist about what the side effects of my medications are (although my ADD meds I already know cause a loss of appetite to help with my binge eating disorder), and about my hatred of cooking, which could be related to my ADD or depression, or both.

I’m trying to be better. I really am. I want to make 2019 my year to be healthy after a lifetime of being sick and exhausted and weak. I’m taking care of my mental health, as I’ve stated lately, and I HAVE lost weight to get out of the diabetes scare, but this malnutrition is going to change everything for me. If it really is a physical issue (perhaps my fibromyalgia, as celiac disease is common in people with firbo), then I’ll do what it takes to have a health body. if I need to take more supplements, I’m fine with that. If I need to eat a very special diet high in nutrients, I’ll have to suck it up and get to it. If it has to do with my mental problems, then I need to work with my psychiatrist and therapist about them.

Sorry for the serious post. I’m supposed to see my doctor in June, but I may try to get in sooner about this. I sent an email to a potential therapist, but she never responded, so I’ll have to look for someone else. (Also, my phone randomly deleted a bunch of my contacts, so I have to search for my doctor’s number again.) I don’t wanna be tired all the time anymore. I don’t wanna feel sick all the time anymore. Final message for the night: if you feel like there’s something going on with you that’s not right, don’t feel bad and don’t hesitate to see a professional. They’re there to help you and keep you alive.

[panicbones]

david cronenberg's naked lunch 🤝 tetsuo's iron man

surreal movies with crazy practical effects wherein a man cannot cope with being gay so he instead embarks on an insane psychosexual hallucination that blurs reality.

[xavieryeates]

It accepts a 3 hp gas motor at the stern and Sevylors 12 volt motor at the bow or stern.

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[sarahunfiltered-blog1]

My Diet/Fitness/Nutrition Journey Thus Far

Most of the memories I have of life growing up revolve mostly around food. I remember growing up and all we’d eat was Sonic, Dairy Queen, Whataburger, McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Wendy’s, you name it, I ate it. I could still to this day probably tell you my order from each place. I was raised on Hamburger Helper, Ramen noodles, Rice a Roni, canned and boxed everything, candy and soda. 

I remember when I was around maaaaaybe 12-13 and my mom doing a diet that may have been slim quick or something along the lines of you eat chicken and veggies, take these pills and do some sort of workout. I had a really bad sweet tooth (still do) as a kid and I started to gain weight and at 13 I was 165lbs, so my mom included me into her diet routine and I would eat the chicken and veggies, rice cakes, a tbsp of coconut oil and would chew sugar gum and we’d walk between the stop signs on the street we lived on and I’d do her workouts with her. I remember watching my brothers and sisters eating candy while I ate my caramel rice cakes because I was the bigger one of all of them, so for the longest time I was just the fat tomboy of a girl that would stare at herself in the mirror and look at how big my butt was at 13 and hating it and my stomach to stuck out and my fat face. I remember I used to grab my stomach and cry and scream about how much I hated it. If only I were skinny I’d be enough. I would sneak and binge on sweets, it was my comfort, it was there for me and it made me feel better

When I got my period and more of my hormones kicked in I lost a lot of weight. I want to say I got down to 125 when I was around 14-15 and I wouldn’t eat because I was extremely depressed. My sweet tooth was still there, but I wouldn’t eat because I thought eating would make me fat, so I wouldn’t and when I did it was minimal. I ate a lot of 100 calorie snacks, drank juice like V8 because I thought it was healthy, diet coke because it was diet and wouldn’t make me fat. When I was 16 I started working at Target and they have a Pizza Hut Cafe and almost every shift I would go pick up there bread sticks and a diet Pepsi and that would be my lunch (the thought of that now literally makes me cringe). I went to a bible college from 17-almost 18 and ate Ramen noodles and whatever shit food they served while I was there, but I didn’t know any different so I just ate it. I was still pretty skinny because ya know I was 15-17 and you can eat like shit and still be a twig.

When I turned 18 and moved out of my parents house my diet didn’t suuuuper change. I was still living a hardcore Taco Bell and Pizza Hut bread sticks and diet coke life style because I was living on my own, broke as a joke and ate the food I was used to eating, but then I gained probably 30lbs easily within a short amount of time (surprise surprise). I had spent my whole time as a teenager not wanting to be the fat kid and here I was back at 165lbs... wtf. I didn’t really know how to cook, didn’t have money for groceries, refused to apply for food stamps, so I just thought starting to workout would cure all my problems. Well, it didn’t long story short. I mean why didn’t working out and running for an hour THEN going eat Taco Bell work? I was working out, right? HA.

I remember scrolling Pinterest when I discovered it and finding the “Military Diet” and giving that a go. You basically don’t eat anything for 3 days and could apparently lose 10lbs. I wanted to DIE during that diet. I made it the first time around and lost 5lbs, then gave it another go and didn’t make it 2 days and stopped by Taco Bell on my way home from work and binged on that. So my diet search continued... One of my coworkers at the time started using My Fitness Pal to track her calories and she was losing weight like crazy, so I obviously I needed to give it a go and the weight just started falling fall. I went from 165lbs to 125lbs within a matter a months. I didn’t work out, I just ate less than 1,500 calories a day, cold turkey stopped eating candy, drinking soft drinks and unfortunately my Pizza Hut bread sticks. Everything was going GREAT. When I wanted to go down to the next lbs and I was 0.2 from it I would pop a few laxatives the night before and then would weight myself the next morning after shitting my brains out, but I HAD to lose that 0.2lbs.. just had to. I became overly obsessed with counting calories and eating lean cuisines and and 100 calories snacks and drinking Naked juice and weighing myself DAILY and measuring every single little thing I ate and would legit cry if I went over my calories. Funny, not so funny story. One weekend I was headed to my mom’s and had already eaten all of my calories for the day, but was staaaaaaaarving, so I stopped by Jimmy John’s and ate a sandwich that was 800ish calories, which put me 800ish calories over what I was “allowed” to eat, so you bet your ass I drug all of my brother and sisters and mom to a walking trail and walked/ran until I burned off the entire sandwich because I wouldn’t sleep peaceful knowing what I did by eating that sandwich. It was bad, just so bad. I remember the day I hit a breaking point and just wanted some damn chocolate chop cookies, but didn’t have the calories saved for it, but I binged on them anyways and cried in Michael’s arms over what I did and he was telling me it was fiiiiiiine and all the sweet things he could, but it wasn’t to me in that moment, but in that moment I just knew I needed to stop all of this, so I did. I feel like I remember just deleting the app off my phone and being done with it. I was 20 at this point and working a standing job.

Beginning in February of 2014 I started a corporate sitting job, so I didn’t have access to Starbucks or a grocery store on my breaks like I did working at Target, so I had to start bringing my lunches and snacks and to top it all off I was sitting. As you could maybe imagine I started gaining weight from being stagnant and snacking ALL day at my desk (#teamnutrigrain). I put on a good 20lbs within the first couple of months. So I started going for walks on my breaks, eating a lean cuisine a day, eating more fresh fruits and veggies, almonds, and limited my snacking to only in the afternoons and that kind of helped and worked for me for a long time and I stayed at a healthy maybe 140ish lbs and that worked for me because I was still skinny. All about that skinny life because skinny = healthy, right? Well, I thought so. 

I turned 21 and didn’t go crrazzzyy drinking, but I drank moscato and margarita’s often enough and still was all about my Friday candy binge. I was also drinking up to 3 cups of coffee a day at work and just couldn’t figure out why I was sweating and so anxious all the time. I genuinely thought it was from work when in reality I was just pumping myself with coffee after coffee after coffee day in and day out (I’ve learned since my lesson since then). I went through a phase of HIIT workout and running, but that faded really quick, but I really enjoyed hiking when I gave it a go, still do. Along with yoga which I am planning to make a goal of starting a practice in 2018. 

Around the time I turned 22-23 my older sister, Meghann, had a baby and really educated herself around living a more holistic lifestyle and it really intrigued me and around that time I had discovered podcasts and I realized how much processed foods aren’t the best choice and what I could do as an alternative way of going about eating, so I stopped lean cuisine’s (haven’t had one since), milk and yogurt along with limiting candy and processed snacks. I completely cleaned my desk out at work from all the sugar filled granola bars and whatever else I had in there and started to work with that. I shortly thereafter learned about one of the best ways of going about what to eat/not eat is if it didn’t come from the earth and/or has a label on it to think twice before eating it and READ the back of the label if you do. This is still newer-ish to me to do and I’m currently learning about all things nutrition, and how the mind, body and spirit all work together and you can’t have one fully without the other.

 As of now I don’t drink dairy milk, I limit cheese but still love it, I grocery shop once a week and buy as much organic produce as possible, I am still working on the meat switch when it comes to buying organic meat (not quite there yet), I cold turkey stopped eating candy and have found organic, non high fructose corn syrup filled alternatives when I have a sweet tooth, I haven’t been drinking alcohol much the last 2 months or so (don’t have a legit reasoning behind it, just doesn’t sound good), I am really into cooking paleo, vegan, Whole30 friendly foods because it coincides with my eating from the earth method I live by and when I want Whataburger breakfast on a Friday or a taco with a flour tortilla or a real homemade chocolate chip cookie I happily will eat it because I do not believe in living a restricted lifestyle. My entire life leading up to recently whether it was mentally, spiritually or physically has been restricted and I’m not OK with it because it’s limiting and keeps me in a box. I’m a believer in the energy you put into something is negative the outcome will be negative, so if I’m to sit here and say “this is cookie is SO bad for me. OMG. I am going to gain 10lbs.” Well, I’m asking for it to happen, versus eating the cookie cause I want the damn cookie and loving every bit. They doesn’t mean I sit there and eat 12, it just means my mindset around food was so terrible for so long and I know what it did to me mentally that is not worth it for me to be negative about it. I am content and happy with where I am out now, I don’t even care to weigh myself anymore, I don’t body shame myself anymore, I don’t calorie count, I don’t binge, I don’t use food as a reward system, I just educate myself around it, listen to my body and see how it feels and go from there. My anxiety has lessened, I sleep so much better, I feel so peaceful inside and out, and my skin has completely cleared up (I’ll talk about my skincare routine future post).  It’s been a long, ongoing journey, but I am thankful for the million and 2 podcasts I’ve listened to, my sister and everyone else along the way to get me to where I am today and I am excited to continue to learn and grow and now have a place to share all the info I am taking in and it maybe help someone else. :)

- Sarah xo

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus,

As always, I was humbled by the number of happy birthday wishes I got on Facebook. I’ve made a tradition of sharing with everyone a detailed account of how I spent my birthday. Here’s what I told them about today:

It started around 3am, when I woke up with a piercing headache. I rolled around until I found a position on the pillow that somewhat alleviated the pain, I convinced myself I didn’t have brain cancer, then I fell back asleep until I heard Gus quietly crying in the next room around 5. I walked by the light of my phone screen from our bed to Gus’s room. When I opened the door, he pushed himself up and looked at me from his crib—he’s a stomach sleeper, like me. I closed his louvered closet doors some so the light wouldn’t be blinding, and I reached in to pull the string so I could see well enough to change his diaper. He stopped crying when I leaned over the crib rail and picked him up. Holding him against my chest in the middle of the night is always a reminder that I have the power to calm him with nothing but my presence and love—a power so raw and wonderful that I don’t understand how any parent ever takes it for granted. Gus cried again when I placed him on his changing table, but I quickly put a pacifier in his mouth, which stopped the crying and allowed me to switch his wet diaper out for a dry one. I put him back on my chest and walked him over to the closet, where I again pulled the light string, but I didn’t rush to place him back in his crib. I walked slowly, stepping side to side trying to rock him back to sleep while his trusty owl nightlight on the table emitted a constant stream of white noise. But even after he fell asleep I didn’t want to put him back down because he felt too precious in my arms to abandon for even a moment. But I did put him down, and he complained sleepily, but then fell asleep again.

I used my phone to light the path to the bathroom, where I stepped naked onto that unforgivable bastard of a scale, which read 195.2 pounds, up a little from Sunday morning because I gorged myself on corn casserole and cherry pie at my grandmother’s house in honor of my family’s plethora of January birthdays. I showered, spending more time than usual letting hot water run over my head because it made me forget about the headache, and I dried off in the dark so my eyes could adjust well when I tiptoed back through our bedroom without waking Liz up. However, when I opened the bathroom door and came into the room, I heard her whisper “Happy birthday” from our bed in the darkness. I felt my way to the side of the bed, then sat. I leaned down and began making kissing noises, which she reciprocated—it’s a game of “Marco Polo” we developed long ago to find each other’s lips when it was too dark to see them—until our lips met. “I hope you have a great day,” she said, before I tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the hall bathroom, where I got dressed and brushed my teeth. I let Suki out into the backyard to pee, put food in her bowl. I let her back in, grabbed my backpack, then went out to my truck.

At the office by 6:30am, I got the parking spot closest to the door, but there were a few cars scattered in the lot. I saw the light on in the gym and wished I had the discipline to develop a regular exercise routine. When I got close enough, I could see Jordan Culver in there like a champion with his headphones in his ears and a kettle bell in his hands. A few minutes after I got to my desk, my sister showed up at my cubicle in workout gear. “I have breakfast for you, but you can’t have it until after I get done in the gym.” “Oooo…” I said. Sometimes my brother-in-law makes breakfast for her and makes enough for me, too. I assumed that was the case. Around 8am, my headache intensified, which reminded me of the promise I made to Liz to call the doctor. I set up an appointment for 1:30. At 8.30, my coworkers gathered in a conference room around a breakfast casserole Chris Nick made and some fruit and they sang happy birthday to me while I wore the designated birthday sombrero and I assured them that—despite the #40andfabulous hashtag Liz used in the Instagram post she made that morning about me—I am not 40 yet.

I worked at my desk until noon, when I drove to Boulevard Bread for lunch. When I got there, I found Clayton Scott Grubbs and Ryan Hitt behind the counter making sandwiches. I asked Ryan what the special was, but he said there wasn’t one. “The first rule of business is to always have a special,” I said in a mock corporate tone the two of us used when we worked together back in 2010 at the now-defunct House Restaurant. I ordered a smoked turkey sandwich and some Zapp’s chips, then sat down until Joshua Asante came over to say hello. He asked me what I’m up to and I told him I was meeting the woman who just walked in. Hilary Trudell runs a storytelling show called The Yarn. We agreed to have lunch because I’m trying to back out of participating in her January 22 show because I don’t think I can tell my story in a compelling way within the allotted time. The show’s theme is “Adoption Stories” and I have a good one about how Lance Lang is my blood, but was adopted by another family at birth, then he sent me an email 52 years later because 23andMe.com said we share some DNA and now he’s family again. Hilary said she really likes the story and she gave me some ideas on how to approach it with brevity. Then we talked about Argenta Reading Series and how she and I are both trying to navigate the waters of nonprofits when neither of us knows anything about it, but we’re both committed to our causes. I promised her I will do my best to get my story where it can be told from her stage, and I’m 50% sure I can make it happen. I want to, and not being able to see the finished product in my head, which aches, so close to the date of the show disappoints me. It makes me feel inadequate as a writer. Like maybe all I’m good at is unnecessarily documenting things—like an entire day—and posting that exhaustive documentation to social media in the hopes of approval from a group of friends and acquaintances who might see it, based solely on some kind of bullshit algorithm that I used to feel I had a grasp of, but now I don’t know.

I drove to North Hills Family Medical Center, watched some sort of house-hunting show on HGTV in the waiting room for 40 minutes while I waited on someone to open a door and call my name, which finally happened. A nice woman in a surgical mask recorded that the scale she put me on read 204 lbs. “The boots,” I told her. She chuckled, and walked me to an exam room, where she declared my blood pressure is great. I told her about how I’ve had a headache since January 1. How the intensity of it comes and goes. The doctor told me a CT scan would be the course of action, but it’s probably just allergy-related, so a scan probably isn’t necessary. “I should tell you my father died of brain cancer in March,” I say. The doctor tried not to react, but his stumbling over words gave him away. “Just to be safe, let’s go ahead and do a CT scan.” And I could feel the pressure of my headache consuming me in that moment as I was reminded of all the doctors’ offices I sat in with my father in those three and a half years that it took him to die.

“If you aren’t in a hurry, he wants you to sit tight while we go ahead and get approval from your insurance to do the CT scan so we can get this going as quickly as possible,” the nurse told me. The urgency. I sat in the exam room and thought about how cruel life is and how I’m already aware that I should’ve met Liz and had Gus a decade ago so I could’ve spent more time on this earth with them as a family. I will be 71 when Gus is my age. To take my mind off of the fact that I may need to gear up for a fight against a brain tumor, I picked up the copy of WebMD Magazine on the table beside me. (How do you have a print magazine when your whole schtick is that you are on the web?) I skimmed it carefully when I read how broccoli might break-down cancer cells. I love broccoli. I should eat more broccoli, I told myself. And then I questioned why in the hell I would be eating turkey sandwiches for lunch when I am smart enough to understand the detrimental effects deli meat has on my body, not to mention the turkey’s. I committed silently to eating nothing but fruits and vegetables and beans and whatever else Clayton Bell's Facebook posts tell me to.

When the nurse came back, she told me the doctor changed his mind about calling me with the results of the CT scan, which will be Tuesday at 2.15pm. Now he wants me to come in on Wednesday so he can go over the results with me personally. It occurred to me that he’s taking the necessary steps to deliver bad news.

Liz wanted me to call her on my way back to the office, so I did. I told her the headache is probably nothing, and she agreed that it’s probably nothing. But she registered my fears through the phone because she picks up on the nuances of my behavior that I am unaware of. It’s a wonderful thing to share this life with someone who loves you enough to notice the subtleties of your voice.

Back at work, my coworkers asked me if I felt better. I can’t remember if I told them about my headache or they deduced that I wasn’t feeling well because I went to the doctor. Either way, I said, “Not really.” The left side of my head pulsated. Around 4:45, Laura messaged to ask me when I was leaving work. She had a gift she wanted to give me before I left. I walked to her office and pulled a box from a bag. Inside was a framed Kodak newspaper ad from way back. “I saw this at an antique store and it made me think of you and Liz.” It’s a black and white photo of a man and woman on snow skis. The man is looking into an old camera and the woman is grinning playfully beside him. It looks like an old-fashioned mirror selfie. “Kodak as you go,” the copy reads. I pulled a card from the box. Inside the envelope I saw Laura’s handwriting on folded up notebook paper. “I wrote some thoughts down on paper when you were in Arizona, I think. August 2016, I think. Dad was sick and you were gone and I know I’ll never do anything with them, but I thought you might like to have them.” I read the small pages. A rare glimpse into my always-professional sister’s emotions. She is my father reincarnate. The note says how she remembers us going to take family portraits in the early 90s, when Dad was preparing to run for the Arkansas House of Representatives. She remembers the man being there that served as Dad’s campaign manager and how she knew from that point on that she wanted to do marketing in some capacity. She and I have never talked about that time, but I tell her, “I think about that guy a lot, too, and what his job was,” but I never thought about the influence he had on my own desire to work in marketing. He was such a minor character in our lives—he had nothing more than a cameo—but then there Laura and I were, sitting in the office where we both do marketing, trying to remember his name. Only now that I write this the next day do I actually remember it. Chuck Hicks.

At home, I found Liz and Gus and Suki on the couch. My head hurt. “Gus is exhausted, I think we can put him down early,” Liz told me. So I took him back to his room, changed his diaper, put him in his pajamas. I turned on the space heater we have in his room, then handed him to Liz, who would feed him in the rocking chair after I turned out the lamp and went outside to throw the tennis ball with Suki until I could see Liz through the window in the kitchen, starting dinner. She bought things to make pad thai for my birthday dinner. I love Asian noodles. While she cooked, we traded stories about what happened during the day. “Oh, God. Were you able to contain yourself?” Liz asked me when I told her about talking to Joshua Asante at Boulevard. I’ve always admired his commitment to his art, and when Liz and I first started dating, I mentioned that I was possibly too intimidated to even talk to him. Now she always ribs me about it. But once she’d had her fill, we agreed that we should go to the gallery opening for his and Matt White’s photography at the CALS bookstore Friday. We decide we can just bring Gus with us. That some art will do him good. And then my head started hurting again, so I sat on the couch and rested my skull against the back of the sofa. After a couple of minutes, Suki pressed her nose against my hand, so I reached down to pet her. I touched dirt on her leg. “How much time do I have until dinner?” I asked Liz. “25-30 minutes,” she said, cutting tofu. “I’m going to give Suki a bath.” I picked all 45 pounds of her up and carried her to the hall bathroom where we have an outdated whirlpool (that I like but Liz says it has to go). I stripped down and got in the tub with Suki. I stood her up under the faucet and shampooed her. She hates baths. When I let her out, she got crazy, as she always does, running around the house spastically, and I tried to rush her into the back yard before she woke Gus up. I closed the patio door behind her and rinsed off in the shower. When I got out and dried off, Liz and I ate pad thai on the sofa while watching The Wire and she said, “I’m sorry the pad thai didn’t turn out better.” She always apologizes that her meals aren’t better, but they’re delicious 95% of the time. I’ve always loved her cooking and I always will. She doesn’t follow recipes.

We were in bed by 9pm, tired, but happy. When my headache surged again, I placed a helpless hand on my head the way my father used to and I tried not to think about it.

“It’s probably nothing, right?” I said.

“It’s probably nothing,” she said.

Dad

North Little Rock, Arkansas. 1.8.2018 - 8.24am.

UPDATE: The CT scan was clear. Turns out I have tension headaches caused by stress. The doctor recommended muscle relaxers and a massage.