#posting because I feel bad I'm really chubby now

[luveline]

omg I just saw your post about Steve where you asked which Steve we wanted. I'm missing KBD Steve so bad rn. Anything like a family movie night would really just heal my soul rn! (love your writings so much btw)

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k

“Did you play guitar?” 

Steve slinks further down into the corner of the couch, Avery too big but exactly where she’s meant to be in his lap. She’s affectionate from years of the world's most ridiculous parents, he assumes, so he could have Avery sit beside him rather than on top of him, but why bother? She’s gentle about how she sits despite her long limbs, swinging one arm behind his neck as she gets comfortable against his chest. 

“Did I what?” Steve asks. 

“Play guitar?” She points at the TV. “Uncle Eddie plays guitar.” 

“I can play a little bit, nothing like Uncle Eddie,” he says. “Just enough to serenade mom. I’d sing her all her favourites.” 

“So you had a guitar? Where did it go?” 

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe in the attic? There’s not room for all our stuff sometimes, so me and mom box it up and put it up there.” He looks at her knowingly. “Why, do you wanna try?” 

“Can I?” she asks. 

“Not tonight, but tomorrow? Is that okay? I’ll have to get the ladder from the garage, and we’re gonna watch a movie soon.” 

Avery’s pretty easy, as kids go. When Steve says tomorrow she doesn’t whine. In fact, she gives him a grateful, shining smile, the arm that’s laid across the front of him curling tighter as she presses her face into his neck. “Thanks, daddy.” 

He thinks that it’s because he’d guessed what she wanted. But that’s his job, to understand her and make her happy. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he loves her and he’s feeling quite loved up by her hugging and the feeling of her hair under his chin, he drops his voice into some rare parentese for her, “I bet you’ll be great at it. It takes some patience, but you have so much of it, and then you can play anything.” 

She giggles. “Like the song from The Neverending Story?” 

Steve’s heard enough of that song to last him a lifetime. “What about that song you and mom like? Have you seen her?” He’s tempted to sing it, and he figures it won’t hurt under his breath, “So fine and pretty, fooled me with her style and ease–”

Dove interrupts with a laugh as she tries to join in. The words escape her, but her passion makes up for it. She climbs up from her seat across the couch, sending the jellybeans she’d been holding in the lap of her nightgown careening across the living room floor. 

“Dove!” Avery says. 

“It’s okay, I’ll get them,” you say, standing just in front of the doorway with a towel around your shoulders. 

Steve hadn’t known you were there, you were gone so long for your shower he honestly forgot what you were doing. He groans as Dove drops her face into his jaw, what a disaster, but she doesn’t cry so he brushes it off while you clean up.

“Dove’s gonna help,” Steve insists. “Aren’t you, babe? Ow. You’re gonna help mom pick up your jellybeans. Ow, baby, don’t step on me.” 

“No,” Dove says with a giggle. “Sing again, daddy.” 

Beth jumps in behind you in fresh pyjamas, her hair damp and water wetting the neck of her t-shirt. That’s why you’d taken so long —your shower had been commandeered. It’s nice to see you both in some comfy pyjamas, better to see his lovely Beth feeling better. She’d been sick for so long it was starting to make him depressed; seeing her invigorated after a good shower and chasing down jellybeans with a mischievous smile makes his night. “I got them!” she says. “I got them, mom. There’s like, seven.” 

You hold out your hand. “Thank you. I think you got all of them.” 

Steve misses the rest of your conversation, a chubby palm smushed to his nose that he attempts to throw off. Avery giggles at his misfortune as Dove says, “Sing! Sing!” 

“I can’t sing, I can’t breathe,” he says. 

Dove pulls her hand back. She’s as close to rolling her eyes as she can get. “Sing.” 

“Now I can’t, Dove, you’re making me shy.” 

“Dad!” 

“You sing,” he suggests, leaning back, shielding Avery from her younger sister’s volatility with his arms. 

“We’re gonna sing so much.” You beam as you unveil the VHS tape for tonight’s movie. In time, your three girls gasp aloud. “Daddy’s favourite movie, the Little Mermaid!” 

“It’s not my favourite movie. That movie is my enemy. It makes all my babies cry.” Even Dove ends up in tears, though she usually cries when Ariel’s upset, rather than during Part of That World like her sisters do. 

“It makes you cry,” Beth says. 

“Beth, do we have a problem?” he asks. “Are you trying to get into a fight with me?” 

Beth grins and runs across the rug to climb up on the couch where Steve’s being submerged. She sits down by Doves’s feet, wrapping her arms around Dove’s little tummy, squishing herself to Steve’s side. “No, dad. I love you.” 

“I don’t believe you. I think you know you’ll lose if we wrestle.” 

You snort. Steve steals a glance at you between all the little arms, your hip pressed to the TV stand, your lip between your teeth as you click the wrong button. It’s not like you’re stupid, just the TV is old, and half the buttons don’t do what it is they say they do anymore. Your nose wrinkles and you backtrack, and Steve wishes he was standing right there to smooth it over with his thumb. After a few seconds of searching (and harassment on his end, Dove’s fingers dangerously close to his ear) you click the right thing and the tape that the girls were watching before dinner pops out. 

You smile to yourself at a job well done. Steve smiles at you, though you don’t see him doing it. 

“Your moms kinda pretty, huh?” he asks Avery. 

“Not kinda, super.” 

“How’s the baby?” you ask. 

Steve gives the baby monitor on the table by the couch a tap with his finger to make sure it’s still on. Feedback whines. “She’s hasn’t made a peep since your shower, honey.” 

“Maybe I’ll go see if she’s okay before the movie comes on. Miss the previews.” 

He can’t wait for you to sit down. “Okie dokie. Give her a kiss for me.” 

You raise your hand in scout’s honour. As you’re walking up the stairs, Avery shifts in Steve’s lap and asks, “You smile at mom all the time, does it make your cheeks hurt?” 

He sews a hand behind Beth’s back. “Nope. I have strong cheek muscles.” 

[spread-the-influence]

may we be spared crumbs of the jesterdolly shenanigans

i am asking this with the same wet dog stare as post t.i. ragatha

i'm pretty sure most people here don't know these two so for context they're just my funny interpretations of human ragatha and pomni

woe , domestic fluff be upon ye

their relationship was developing in the circus so by the time they got out of there they were already confident about living together .

they sued the fuck out of their boss so they have money out of the gate . let's go lesbians

dolly's chubby now because ' gaining weight because of depression ' is out , ' gaining weight because of being in a better mental place ' is in .

anyways . jester always likes to lay her head on dolly's thighs or belly . it's a really similar feeling to her plush body in the circus so she would sometimes fall asleep . dolly would be stuck there for hours not wanting to wake her up .

dolly's left forearm is fucked up to the point it has nerve damage . so she can't really feel things in that forearm . sometimes it tingles and sometimes it'll just limp . jester has to often stop her from injuring herself further . babe please stop trying to take out the casseroles with your bare hand

jester would also help out in the kitchen by preparing or mixing ingredients since dolly's arm problem could cause problems . there is no way she's going near an oven or a stove without supervision though

" oh jester , surely you can't be That bad at cooking ! " famous last words

they would still sometimes communicate to each other in sign language even though dolly's at the point that she can hold a spoken conversation . it's just a little thing between them

2020 . covid-19 hits the headlines . dolly turns towards jester with the most shit-eating grin the other has ever seen from her . " i know another virus that took over the world "

[cottonlemonade]

Making Up After A Fight

word count: 756 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Oikawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with happy ending

warnings: none, just Oikawa being hard on himself and insecure

Oikawa hates fighting as much as you do.

But sometimes it was inevitable. His training schedule had been crazy, the coach had scolded him for putting too much pressure on his bad knee and he was frustrated with himself for delivering, as he thought, disappointing performances on the court lately.

And unfortunately, you were the best girlfriend through all of this. Something he should be happy about, but like many times before it just made him realize that he didn't deserve you.

He couldn't give you the time he wanted. He wished more than anything that you would just tell him how disappointed you were in the relationship and in him, for not being good enough, there enough, doting enough - he hated it. He hated every second, because he knew that when he got to his phone at the end of training, a sweet and loving message would wait for him, saying that you missed him. You would have maybe sent a picture of something cute that reminded you of him during your day or suggested something to do together on his next day off. It was infuriating that you never blamed him for not being the boyfriend he should be.

So it came as no surprise that one night after practice, when he was over at your place, he snapped. He just arrived, took off his shoes and smelled the lovely home cooked meal that was simmering on the stove. You came to greet him, smiling tiredly but genuinely happy to see him and he couldn't take it anymore. He started yelling and gesturing, asking you why you even bothered with him, told you how you weren't right for him, that you made him feel like garbage, turned on his heels, grabbed his shoes and left.

You stood in the doorway of your kitchen, not knowing, not understanding what had just happened but you also knew that he had never yelled at you before. Ever. Sure you'd seen him frustrated and stressed but even then his outbursts were never directed at you. Not like this.

Tears started to fill your eyes. You grabbed your phone, wanting to call him, had already one arm in your jacket to go after him, but decided against it.

The phone in your hand buzzed but it was only a text from your friend asking about your day. You typed a nondescript reply, not wanting them to worry and promised to call tomorrow.

Now only silence filled your apartment. Silence and the taunting smell of an untouched dinner.

You paced a while up and down your living room, throwing tentative glances through your window to see if you could maybe spot him on the dark street below. But nothing.

You started several messages to Tooru but deleted them before hitting send - none of them sounded right.

Not knowing what else to do, you put the now cold dinner into the fridge, took a shower and headed to bed, unable to stop more tears rolling onto the pillow.

You heard the front door unlock at around 1 am, but didn't know if you just imagined it in your half sleep state.

A soft knock came from your bedroom door. You weren’t exactly in the mood to talk, so you stayed quiet. Another soft knock and the door opened slowly. For the longest moment Oikawa just stood in the doorway, looking at your, he assumed, sleeping form.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and then shrugged off his jacket to sit on the bed. Slowly, carefully, he laid down behind you, moving closer to wrap his arm around your soft waist.

"Are you awake?", he murmured.

You shifted slightly to show him you were.

"I'm really sorry.", he whispered gingerly into the crook of your neck, "You did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise. It's just with the training and my screw ups at the last match and you have been so great about it all and-"

You heard his throat closing up as he nuzzled closer to you, "I really don't know how you put up with it. I'm never around, I never have time to do normal couple stuff, I mess up your sleep schedule and you never complain. I feel horrible."

You finally turn around to face him. "Well, I am mad at you now, if that makes you feel better."

He had to chuckle through his tears and bit his lip, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. "I love you, darling."

You snuggled into his chest and entwined your fingers with his. "I love you, too."

[berry-potchy]

I went through my drafts and found this. I typed this during a moment of weakness for cliche chick flicks and fuckboy Miguel:

This is not edited and messy but I just wanted to share that I'm thinking about a very typical and silly high school coming of age romance setting with the popular broody bad boy x wallflower good girl except that Miguel is already so down bad for (obsessed with) good girl who btw is chubby and cute.

What's on my mind rn is kid Miguel and kid reader were childhood best friends/sweethearts. You were neighbors and your families were close. One day, for some reason you had to move away. This was maybe when you and Miguel were like 7. You were inconsolable during moving day and Miguel's poor little heart broke at the sight. He confessed to you then and asked you to be his girlfriend and you said yes and you kissed him on the cheek and you guys hugged until your parents had to pry you off each other so you can leave. Your parents felt really bad that they had to separate you from your best friend and what they thought was pretend boyfriend but the move was a canon event.

You weren't able to keep in touch, you weren't able to make many friends in your new place either. Like you had friends but they kinda have their own separate friend groups that you're not a part of. You were kinda just there, mourning your loneliness. Growing up you always had that ugly feeling of missing out and the "what if I didn't move back then?" in the back of your head. But one day, you're already like what? Last year in high school? You get a notif on your IG that a Miguel liked a photo you posted from a few months prior (it's a rare photo of you wearing something that shows off of your curves and feeling it). It's odd. You've posted a lot more photos since then. You check the profile and it's your Miguel... but he grew up HOT. Tall, wide, jacked, but it's the same Miguel with the pretty brown eyes and dark loose curls that he now styles slicked back. You follow him thinking he won't notice because of all the pretty girls who comment on his pics but never get replied to. But he followed you back immediately and sent you a 'hey' on DM. You didn't know what to say at all so you just stared at it until he replied ':/' followed by 'see you soon. you better have something to say to me by then.'

Later that day your parents drop the bomb that you're moving back to your childhood home. Next to Miguel.

Not to get into too much plot I just really wanna think about Miguel welcoming back his girlfriend and wanting to make up for lost time which gets you super flustered by his advances and shamelessness. You can't quite tell if he's just teasing you about the girlfriend part but the flirting definitely feels for real.

Your parents telling you to keep the door open when he goes up your room to hang out and you get embarrassed, stuttering that you're not planning on doing anything sexual. Miguel however shrugs and goes "I wouldn't trust me in a room with you either. I would eat you up"

And during lunch at school you cant find a seat, you try to look for Miguel but the scary popular kids are flocking around him. He looks like he's so bored but perks up when he sees you walk by and grabs your wrist to make you sit with them. Some random girl mockingly goes "oh sorry there's no space for you here" and you feel humiliated. Miguel shuts her up with a glare and makes you sit on his lap. No one dares to speak up as he tries to feed you with the snacks from his tray. He's squeezing your thighs enjoying the feel of you on his lap while he goes "I remember you liking this (insert snack or boxed drink here) so I got you an extra one, chula"

There's really nothing else to this I just thought it was cute and had to share.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey hello! this is probably a weird ask but I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma? when I've heard stuff like "you might gain weight going on T" it's been giving me nothing but joy for the future. Like I actively Want To Get Bigger? I'm really skinny now, and have been all my life, and I keep getting comments from people being like "woahh you're so thin I wish I was as skinny as you" and like. I feel bad for wanting to be larger? I know fat people face a LOT of problems and discrimination due to their size, and it's not like I'm not aware of that, but I'm worried this is some weird fetishizing thing I need to unpack. me wanting to be fat that is, and loving the idea of gaining weight on T. like, going from skinny hairless girl > fat hairy man is something I really really want, and is basically a transition goal atp. But I haven't said anything about this bc I'm worried this is disrespectful to fat folk or just downright gross?? idk

that is not fetishizing, you're okay, you should never be made to feel bad for wanting to be bigger, i'm so sorry people are treating you that way

they are objectifying your body and i am so sorry. your body is yours, not theirs. the thing a lot of people don't want to accept is that some people genuinely want to be larger, chubby, fat, and so on. some people genuinely want to be a weight that's higher than what's considered "normal" and that's genuinely not a problem. like i don't get how people don't understand that someone's weight impacts them and them alone. and no it doesn't impact their doctors, because doctors need to be open to working with all body types

people are so possessive and weird about body weight. people feel so entitled to each others' bodies that they will take someone else's weight gain personally. as if it's an affront to them. (or are they upset because this affects whether or not they're attracted to you...?) even people who claim to be fat liberation will get pissed off at people who want to gain weight on purpose. there's nothing wrong with gaining weight on purpose. it's not going to inherently cause health problems for you, and if it does, you can tackle that when it comes. but people are so weirdly possessive of others' bodies. like. i don't think this behavior comes from a standpoint of concern for that person's health.

we are so fucked up about weight that i genuinely think that when they see a well fed fat person they get pissed off because that can't be them. that person is too concerned about dieting and losing weight and toning up and cutting back calories and going without and skipping meals and ignoring cravings. like. it's a projection of how that person feels about their own weight. their taking out their issues about not being able to eat what they want and be the size they want. so much of this comes from internalized fatphobia. most people who get pissed off when fat people enjoy being fat and enjoy eating are people who desperately want to be able to eat what they want, too, but get mad when they see someone who's doing it because they just don't have the courage. a lot of the time it's jealousy

also keep in mind that a lot of people actually like being "overweight" "obese" and so on because they have issues with disordered eating, gastrointestinal issues, anxiety, personality disorders, cancer, chronic illness, or anything else that might lead someone to struggle to keep on weight. for some people, being fat is actually safer.

a lot of people who go on T do so with the goal in mind to be a big fat hairy guy. i was already fat, but i that was my goal as well. i wanted to stay fat. i wanted to add some muscle and then stay fat, which is what i'm doing. so many other trans guys want this. i'm sure many will speak up on this post!

anyways, i'm sorry people have made you feel like that. it's your body you get to choose what weight you feel the most comfortable at. ive never been bothered by my weight. i don't feel held back by it. this is just the weight ive been for almost my entire life. i don't care if the way i look offends someone else, i'm the one who sees me all day long, not them. i'm gonna look the way i want for me, not for anyone else. good luck anon, feel free to come back any time. you are allowed to do whatever you want with your body

[yuri-is-online]

I kinda wanna hear more about Azul! Yutu if you are willing

Very. He is long overdue for a proper post. I'm going to skip over some of the stuff that happens while he is in the bad future as I am a big fan of what Archivist has been writing, and would encourage you to look at their posts (here, here, and here) They've been a huge inspiration for this ayuu and finally gave Yutu some friends! I am really really attached to them and their dynamics with the various Yutus and might have written some stuff where they hang out but didn't post it because idk if you folks would be interested...

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. You can find even more stuff for it on my masterlist under the series section.

Yuu started removing mirrors from the house when he was around nine. They did so slowly, and Yutu had been avoiding them for so long he barely notices when their gone. It's not like he was born hating himself, he remembers playing with Yuu in the garden hose or the bath tub and feeling... happy. But that was when he was a little kid, he's almost double digits now he shouldn't be feeling sick to his stomach about this. It feels hard to walk some days, like his balance is wrong and his body is made of the incorrect material. It isn't normal for a kid this young to hate his own bones because it is the bones isn't it? They're hard until their not hard enough and he's stuck in a cast for the summer. Yutu tries to be grateful it's on his arm and not his leg, but it doesn't keep his mind off of things. He feels unwhole every time he tries to walk, and he has no words to express what's missing other than to say he feels unsafe. And it's hard to say that when he knows there's no solution you can give him for what he's feeling. If you could cut off your own limbs to make him whole you would, but then that would leave him just as alone wouldn't it? The last cost Yutu wants to pay to fix himself is the life of parent who loves him.

But that's what the price ends up being. And as he lays there trying to scream only to be rejected by the air he'd spent so much time wasting as his body churns on the floor into the form he'd spent so much time dreaming of he has to wonder why he ever thought the outcome would be different. He should have known that he was never meant to be anything other than alone.

Yutu was a chunky baby, and for the first bit of his life no one minded that at all. He was so cute, Yuu had a bunch of pictures of their precious baby boy and even though there were questions about how he came to be those were sort of shoved to the side in favor of cooing over his cute nose and chubby cheeks. But the cooing turned to concern when he started having some problems reaching his developmental milestones; it took forever for him to learn how to walk, even when Yuu helped guide him through the motions it somehow just didn't seem to stick. Talking was difficult, he'd learned how easily enough but he just preferred not to, wanting to communicate through noises and looks instead. Yuu would try to calm their worries and focus on how he at least slept through the night, but they never did get a solid opinion on why Yutu was so slow to learn from any doctor they saw.

His slow development cause Yuu to really focus on going over his lessons with him at home, it fosters a love of learning in him that evolves as he grows. At first it's very innocent, his eyes are wide with childlike wonder at the world around him and his smile is as bright as his eyes. "Unfortunately" (because it's not truly unfortunate that his parent can still afford to feed him) he's still a chubby little boy, and one who is missing a parent so he's an easy target for his peers to isolate and tear into. He feels like a beached whale, or a dried up octopus, his self esteem is severely hurt as is his outlook on the world. Yuu feels like they are seeing a familiar sight when their child hiccups through recounting his day as they desperately try to hold back their anger and think of a way to deal with this logically.

"Your daddy went through this too." Yutu blows into the tissue you hold for him and tries to hide his surprise. He's always eager to learn about his father, you wish you could think of more to tell him but the words you're saying don't fully feel like you are thinking as you say them. It's like you are briefly being possessed by someone else, just that the "someone else" is... yourself from when you were whole. "He was really hurt by it, and he was one of the strongest people I knew. So it's ok if you need to cry about how you feel."

"I dooon't want to feel." He pushes his face up against your chest like he's a baby again trying to soothe his nightmare against yoru heartbeat and you squeeze him as tight as you can. "I want it to stop, can daddy tell me how to make it stop?" Your mind screams that however daddy handled it must have been bad, it turns to look at someone, you can just see the outline of him. He's handsome, well put together and he's... worried.

"I don't want them to be scared of everything; suspicious,̸̮͉͓͔͎̭̜̦̽̄̆̇̿̈́̍̉̽͌̍̕ͅͅ ̶̰̙͔̝͕̞͍̭͙͕̇͆͌̋̿̌͐̂̿͘̚͝y̷̨̪̳̳͉̮͚̅͗͗̽̔̂͐͌̽͠ę̶̩̣̤͚͎͔̯̖̭͐̃̏̓͐̾͐̓̎̇̅̊͐̕s̸͚̖͙̗̣̩̼͎̼͇̝͂̿̉̌͛̈͜ ̴͔̟̤̩̗̯̦̀͐̄̽̊͛͑͋͊͒̓̕͝b̵̧̧̡̰̪̫̤͔͚͕̝̠̹͈́̀̈́͌̄͋̔̿́̕͘ǘ̵̢̼͖̪̱͖̼̼͎̲͈͙͆̀̎͌̍̎̂͐͗̇͌̎̊̚ț̶̛͖̹͚̾̆̂͑̌̊̕ͅ ̴̢̛͇͙̱͇̝̺͇̗̫̘̥͛̀͊̅n̸̢̥͕͗̓e̴͙̹̹̘̮̫̦͐v̶̡̡̧̡̛͓̮̝̺̮̜̳̠̜̅͊̒̄̔͂̋͋͋̊̔̈́͆͘ë̷̟̳̲̰̗͉̬̘̘̣̳̼͙́̑͜ŗ̸̳̹̺͔̦͔̮̖̔͆̊̈́͆̈̔̊͠ ̶̧̢̩̺̗̗̲̠̬̰͇̣̦̈́͑͜͜p̶̱̗͔͔͌a̴̰͓̎͂̅̓̈̎͝r̶̯̰̪̟̾̾̓̂̈́͆̈̀̒̓̕͠ ̴͇̖͉̯̖̞͍͐́͊͛̐̂̐á̵̢͎̙͎́͝ ̸̨̙̞̙̩̮̺̦̻̗̭̩͉̱̠̐̓̿͘ń̷̡̡̡̧̨̪̜͕̠͐̄̉̐͝͠ő̸̥̹̣̙͛̏̏̃̋̍͝͠ḯ̶̢̛͍͔̯̤͊̈́̉̑̂̈̐͊̚̕ḋ̸̦̘̮͍͙̜͈̙͉͖̭͚̊͌͗̊̊̈̾̄͌ͅ ̵̛̛̠̫͙͎̘̣̘͕͗̒̈͒̓̅͊̔͘͝"

Yutu's silence brings you back to reality, he's mercifully fallen asleep against you and missed the aftershocks of your migraine. It's nothing new, but somehow this little scenario makes you feel that much more tired, and that much more alone.

I've mentioned it before but Yuu decides to enroll Yutu into martial arts classes as a way to help with his self confidence and the bullying. In my mind the end up doing it out of a worry that the bullying could get physical, and in the hopes that maybe Yutu will make friends with the kids in his class. It sort of works, Yuu enrolls them in a parent-child class and they certainly make some connections. Yutu finds some inner peace from the class, but his experiences at school make him very shy and keep him from truly opening up to the people around him. The friend groups he finds his way into never seem to fully accept him, a lot of it comes down to petty rivalries over sport and school. Yutu is smart sure, but he knows that no amount of talent makes up for hard work and he's a very hard worker. He's too proud to do something like throw a match or fail a test just for a little social acceptance, and not afraid to say as much.

That's not to say he doesn't want to be accepted, he does. He really deeply does he just doesn't think he could live if that acceptance was fake. Part of that, not that he ever tells Yuu this, is fueled by their descriptions of his father and of how much they loved him. If his dad was in the same position and found you then one day, he hopes, he'll find someone who accepts him too. And he'll make sure to stay alive and do all the little things with them they have ever wanted to do, no matter how out of his comfort zone or weird he finds them to be. Azul! Yutu is a bit of a hopeless romantic underneath his jock appearance, so he's one of the yutus that assumes his dad died in a tragic accident that left your memories in shambles. He's willing to fight people on that point, but Yuu made him promise not to and while he's fussy about listening to other people, he always listens to Yuu.

Which makes the trip between worlds that much harder on him. He might have been alone, but he wasn't exactly lonely. Not when he had a home to come back to and a parent who loved him, he could handle waiting for people who would accept him when he already had someone who did but now... It doesn't help that from his perspective he immediately does something stupid by getting put in Savanaclaw. Crewel already told him his dad was the dormleader of Octavinelle, that he was an exemplary student but not very... athletic so why would he be any different than anyone else. This isn't helped by the reception he gets from his dormmates. Yutu never starts fights, but he sure as hell finishes them and the amount of people left on the floor by the end of his first week makes everyone aware of that.

It earns him respect, and it would have immediately made him his first friend if he had been willing to take Sav at his word when he asked him to show him how he fought so well. Instead he insists on acting like Saitama and making the guy "prove" himself, something that Crewel watches from the sidelines with a weary expression. So his grandson wasn't lying, he really does take more after his dad than you.

He does not so much make other friends as they do make him theirs... two Heartslabyul students and an overly enthusiastic gamer from Ignihyde who sticks to him like a wet cloth and he hates the realization that he's worried about these guys. Sav, Thrush, Fiore, and... Mori. He loves these people. He hopes they never die, but everywhere he looks he sees omens. It hurts, he never knew he had three hearts or that he could fill them up with so much love that it wants to bleed out of him but he refuses to let it. He's learned that he's stronger than he ever thought possible, he'll squeeze a good outcome out of this, for you and for them it never had to be one or the other.

Traveling back in time and being separated from his friends terrifies him. Sav is always refusing to use his brain, what if he got lost because he decided not to read a sign somewhere? Fiore is a little shit and Thrush can't be assed to keep his brother in line what if they get thrown in jail and Yutu has to actively stop himself from thinking about Mori. The muscles in his chest go taut and he forgets to breathe until little black dots prick at his vision from all the ways things could go wrong for the self proclaimed "white mage of the FC party." The guy is just too much of a flight risk... he needs to fix this fast.

But does he? Having you alive again is like a dream, sure you're younger now and don't know him from a hole in the ground but he gets to see all of the memories he was so curious about. He's especially happy to have met Ace and Deuce, they remind him of his own Heartslabyul friends. His world feels a bit more full when he sits to eat a meal with you, guys who he guesses he'll probably end up calling Uncles at some point, and Grim. He's got mixed feelings about Grim, but the little guy really seems to like him now and it's funny to think about whether or not he's the older or younger brother. He's starting to remember what it's like to have a family again, speaking of which...

"Aww looks like you're a real dorm leader now ain't ya shrimpy?" Floyd's voice sounds fun, and it's all Yutu can do to keep from smiling. He instantly understands why Jade must have missed him so much, they looks alike but the difference in tempo is apparent from their stance and dress, and just looking at the younger version of his Uncle he can see how much more alive he feels.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Yutu was it?" Jade's smile suggests danger, he thinks the name is funny that's his guess. The glint in his eyes suggests he wants to tease, and Yutu prepares to make some comments of his own before he notices that his Uncle's attention is not on him but rather- "Floyd told us about your unexpected arrival," he has been avoiding this for so long he almost didn't see the familiar stranger next to Jade, the rest of his words are heard but not noted as he looks directly at his father for the first time. What a painful realization that is.

"Hey hey grouper, you ok?" Floyd's tone very much does not suggest worry but it brings him back to the present. Or would it be the past?

"Grouper? Might regret calling me that pool noodle. Yeah I'm fine, just surprised you came over here yourselves. I thought I was doing good keeping my nose where it belongs." Yutu swears Azul looks genuinely hurt for a second, but it disappears under his glasses and his patented grin.

"Well you certainty don't pull any punches do you?" If Yutu didn't know any better he'd assume his dad was... excited.

He is, he's very excited. Yuu is a kind hearted person and Azul loves them for it, but Yutu has some of that hater energy he knows he can work with. A second set of eyes on Yuu's world is just what Azul needs to win their ha- expand his business, so he keeps finding ways to talk to Yutu. He ends up learning a decent bit about him despite Yutu's best efforts: he's lying about his unique magic to catch people off guard when he uses it, he's not a muscle head nor does he take particular pride in his physique despite the intense amount of effort he puts into staying strong. It's interesting to watch the sort of things he likes to eat... sure a lot of it is healthy food but none of it is health food. That ends up being the first real conversation they have and it throws Yutu for a bit of a loop. It reminds him of that conversation he had with Yuu all those years ago when he was crying about being bullied. About how his dad gone through the same thing he did and suddenly his dad seems a bit more like a person and less like a shadow that's haunting him.

The way his dad looks at Yuu is breathtakingly soft. Azul is ambitious, talented, hardworking, and oh so desperate to impress that Yutu finds it hard to hear their doubts about the way he feels because he can see all of the signs clear as day about how Azul feels about Yuu. Uncle Jade's stories about how Azul was silly in his affections, the little ways he got excited when Yuu complimented him or how much of a show off he insisted on being around them are happening right in front of him and while he wonders about that little thing he always tried to avoid. The "could have been." Would his dad have agreed with Yuu's decision to enroll him in martial arts? Or would Azul have put him in a different school, would that even have been nessecary or would people be too afraid to make fun of his son? That promise Jade said Azul made to Yuu about never having to go hungry again... would he have kept it? Yutu never starved but he knows his parent did, what would Azul say if he knew? Would it break him? Would he even care?

These thoughts take a toll on Yutu. He can't keep pretending he isn't worried about his friends when he is trying to avoid thinking about his parent's relationship, and vise versa so he puts more effort into finding them. Thrush and Fiore are the easiest, they made their way to Craneport and established a base pretty quickly and are surprisingly not complete shits about him taking his sweet ass time to find them. Sav is though, the Scalding Sands is a long way away and getting him to Sage's Island proves to be tedious and expensive, of course he's going to complain and pick a fight when Yutu shows up again. He hates to admit it but it feels good to have his sparring partner back, it perks up his mood a tiny bit. But time beings to drag on with no signs of Mori, Yutu is getting more restless in his worries and clumsier in hiding where he's going. Sure he knows how to shake off a tailing eel, but an octopus? The only one he's ever known is himself.

Azul learns from his various contacts that Yutu has friends. He keeps his appearance under the hood, but his friend group is close and clearly working towards some sort of goal. None of the names he gets show up in any systems he has access to, Jade does his best to find a shred of evidence that these are people who exist and can't. It worries all three of the octotrio, this is a problem they need to get to the bottom of and fast. But before that can happen another one of those portals opens, this time outside Ramshackle Dorm while Azul is trying to spend some precious alone time with you. And the thing that comes out of it is terrifying.

The blot phantom is unlike anything Azul has ever seen, not in a textbook or in person. It's a misshapen mass of a person, clothing real but foul smelling and stained with ink.

"Use my phone to call the twins and get out of here as fast as you can." Azul doesn't like his chances alone, but he likes yours even less. You don't run, it brings just a bit of a smile to his face, but you still call Jade as Azul weaves ice around it's legs to try and keep it down. The monster howls squirming against the ice and screaming at him like he should understand what it's talking about. Azul tries to stare it down, tries to appear like he's a mage that belongs on the front lines and not a support. The best support but still, he's slow. Too slow to dodge the vine that whips out of the creature's back and speeds towards his heart but fast enough to catch the scream that tears from Yutu's throat.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY DAD YOU FUCKING PIECE OF TRASH!" Eight cosmic tentacles rip out of the ground and tear into the monster, Yutu's chest is heaving with the strain of bringing his full strength to bear as Azul pauses to collect himself. As Yutu finishes off the monster he goes over what he knows, looks at the boy in front of him and traces parts of himself in him and forgets his previous plans to expose him to Yuu as a fraud. When his child looks back at him, disguise knocked off and fear clear on his face the reason for the previous distance Yutu has been trying to maintain suddenly makes sense. Before Azul overblotted he was quiet. There's a similar quiet over him now, a similar look of tense surprise, but Yutu- no- his child doesn't know that. His child is looking at him in fear, in worry for his reaction or his safety he doesn't know but he knows the way those tears start to form. Azul knows the quiver of the lip and the shriek, of all the things he could have passed on to such a treasure.

"You deserved better from me." Because it's true. He might think of himself as a work in progress but he still thinks he has quality; he would have done research, read every book he could get his hands on, taken classes, anything he would need to do to be a good father, a worthy partner. Anything. "You deserved to have the world within your grasp, not whatever shadow of a future and a father I left you with. I am so sorry." He does not expect Yutu to grab him and hold him like he's still somehow worthy of his love, but Azul can't fight the urge to grab back, to stroke his son's hair and let the tears fall on his suit without any care at all. I'm here. It's ok, daddy's here, daddy's got you, he won't let anything happen to you.

Azul likes to make plans. He planned how he would confess to Yuu (it did not go as planned but he still planned it) and he has clear ideas about the future he wants to have with them. Yutu was already a part of it, he's dreamed of having somewhere safe and full of love to come home to since he realized what his feelings for Yuu were. So to see that dream come to life, to have it crying in his arms about how someone else corrupted it into a nightmare and stole what he'd worked so hard to earn- Oh Azul is a petty and vindictive little bitch once he has gotten his own tears out of his system. He's extremely proud of all the work Yutu has already done towards ending the bad future, and while he is disappointed that he didn't think to ask for his help he is understanding. If he was in Yutu's position he doesn't know how he'd react, but he could see himself making similar choices.

He insists on having a family dinner so he can get to know all of the real things about Yutu from him instead of just observing them. He wants the three (and a half since Grim's there too) of you to cook together and just talk before getting down to the sad business that's brought Yutu here. Some of it's instinct to feed his child, but mostly he wants to prove to his son that he's worthy of being his father. That you chose him out of everyone for a reason, something Yutu sort of knows already but he's wanted to have his father in his life for so long that he plays up his nerves just a little bit so he can be spoiled by him.

Azul's reach is long, and combined with the twins finding where Mori is should be much easier. What worries Azul is the bad future and the little information Yutu tells him about how it started. He's never had any real reason to doubt what he knows about overblots, or to distrust the Headmage, or to think Grim could kill him. But if the world ends the economy does too, and he is not about to die before he's achieved everything he's been dreaming of. His ambition is almost scary, but Yutu can't bring himself to be afraid. This version of his father is the nicest one he's seen yet, and if it means anything to anyone, he'd like to keep him just as much as Azul wants him too.

[itstobias149]

Little Macs Sibling Lore dump

Hey guys! Today I bring you a post made up of a collectionon of random lore drops about Marie through the eyes of Little Mac! I had a lot of fun, I'm sorry its such a long post. I hope you all enjoy it though.

This post contains stuff about my oc, if you don't like oc stuff this post may not be for you and that's okay! This is also based on my own Headcanons and ideas! Everyone has their own interpretation of the boxers and their stories and personlives and that's okay!

“Alright, so Marie’s like, my older sister or whatever, but I swear, she’s basically an old lady trapped in a chubby cutman’s body. She’s out here knitting scarves for nobody, like just endless scarves that pile up in her closet. She’s got this thing for baking cookies at 6 AM—6 AM!—like who wakes up thinking, ‘You know what the world needs right now? Snickerdoodles.’

Oh, and don’t get me started on her tea collection. It’s massive. She’s got every flavor you can think of, like she’s preparing for a tea apocalypse or something. You open her cupboard and BAM! It’s like a botanical garden exploded in there. She’s always watching those weird crime shows too—like, if you ask her about “Murder She Wrote,” she could probably write a dissertation on it.

And you know what really gets me? The puzzles. Marie will sit there at the kitchen table doing jigsaw puzzles for HOURS. Like, she’s got all these guys fawning over her, and she’s over here acting like a grandma just waiting for bingo night. It’s weird, but it’s Marie, y’know? Her card game obsession is just the cherry on top. She’s always trying to rope people into playing Gin Rummy or Canasta. If she doesn’t have anyone to play with, she’ll sit there doing solitaire, shuffling the cards like she’s in a Vegas casino. And don’t even think about beating her—she’s ruthless, calling out rules you’ve never heard of, like, ‘Actually, you can’t play that card because it’s Thursday.’

Marie also has these old-school habits that just make her seem even more like an old grandma, and I mean that in the funniest way possible. First off, she’s always trying to feed everyone. Doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not—she’s like, ‘You’re too skinny, you need to eat.’ She’ll whip out a full meal in five minutes like it’s a magic trick. Fighter? Coach? Cameraman? You mention you are hungry and she just appears with food, where does it come from? Her big beehive?

And the food—oh, the food. Marie’s kitchen always smells like she’s been cooking for a village. She’s making kugel, latkes, stuffed cabbage—you name it. She even learned how to make her own challah, which she insists on braiding perfectly, and don’t even get me started on her chicken soup. It’s practically a cure-all. Got a cold? Soup. Bad day? Soup. Sprained your ankle? Guess what? Soup.

And the guilt trips? Oh, man. Classic Marie. Like if I don’t call her when I’m out late, she hits me with, ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll just sit here and wonder if my little brother is alive or in a ditch somewhere.’ I’m like, ‘Marie, I went to the store for five minutes!’ I get it I'm short and I'm only 17, but I've beaten guys that are three times my age and height.

Then there’s her obsession with coupons and deals. She’s not even strapped for cash, but if she gets something full price, she acts like she’s personally betrayed her ancestors. She’s all about ‘Why pay $5 when you could pay $4.75?’

Oh, and holidays? Forget about it. She goes ALL OUT. Passover, Hanukkah, you name it—she’s dragging me to synagogue, making matzo ball soup, and lecturing me on traditions like I’m in Sunday school again. But honestly, it’s kinda nice. Makes things feel like home.

Marie’s just got this old Jewish lady energy, even though she’s… y’know, Marie. It’s like she’s channeling generations of bubbes, but in her own chaotic, lovable way.”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started on Marie’s house. It’s like stepping into a time capsule. She’s got these old decorations everywhere—like, actual antiques. She’s got menorahs that look like they came straight out of the shtetl, ceramic pomegranates, and a hamsa on every other wall. There’s even this weird old clock that doesn’t work, but she won’t get rid of it because ‘it has character.’

And then there’s the singing. If she’s cleaning, cooking, or just puttering around the house, you know she’s gonna be singing something in Yiddish. It’s like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it half the time. She’ll be scrubbing a pan and humming ‘Tumbalalaika’ or ‘Bei Mir Bistu Shein.’ Sometimes she gets into it and starts belting out like she’s on stage, and I’m just sitting there like, ‘You good, Marie?’

It’s honestly kinda comforting, though. Like, it’s chaotic, but it’s her. I mean, yeah, she’s got this whole grandma vibe, but it just makes the place feel warm and alive. Even if she’s singing so loud the neighbors can hear.”

“Okay, so Marie’s list of grandma activities is endless. Like, she collects random jars and containers. Doesn’t matter if it’s an old pickle jar or a tin from cookies—she’ll clean it out and say something like, ‘You never know when you’ll need a good jar.’ Now her cabinets are full of ‘em, and I swear, half of them are empty.

She’s obsessed with gardening, but not, like, normal plants—she’s growing herbs and weird flowers that I’m convinced nobody’s even heard of. She’ll come in with dirt on her face like, ‘Look, Little Mac, my rosemary’s thriving!’ Meanwhile, I can barely keep a cactus alive.

Oh, and she’s got this thing with handwritten notes. Like, she refuses to use her phone for reminders. Instead, she’ll write down recipes, to-do lists, or random thoughts on little scraps of paper—and they’re everywhere. You’ll find ‘em in her coat pockets, on the fridge, even in the bathroom.

Then there’s her perfume collection, which is wild. She’s got these vintage bottles that look like they came out of a 1920s department store. And the scents? They’re super flowery or musky, like classic grandma fragrances. She’s always dabbing it on her wrists like it’s a ritual, and if you say it’s strong, she’ll just shrug and say, ‘That’s how you know it’s good.’

And her dishes—oh boy. Marie’s got the fanciest plates and bowls, but they’re so old-school they’ve probably been passed down for generations. She’s got these blue and white porcelain plates she only uses for special occasions and some glassware that’s so delicate she practically makes you sign a waiver before touching it. Meanwhile, she’ll serve you cookies on a little tray that looks like it belongs in a museum.

Marie’s collections are a big part of who she is—they tell stories of her past, her culture, and her unique personality. Walking into her apartment is like stepping into a cozy, lived-in museum of sorts. It’s a collection of memories, keepsakes, and things that hold sentimental value. But at the same time, it feels like home, a space that’s warm and inviting despite all the stuff packed into every nook and cranny.

First, there’s her collection of old religious items. You can’t miss them. She’s got candles, menorahs, and even an antique silver kiddush cup that’s been passed down through generations. When she talks about these objects, you can see the reverence in her eyes—they’re not just decorations; they’re links to her family’s past, to the traditions her grandparents carried with them from Europe. She’s got prayer books in Yiddish and Hebrew, their pages yellowed with age, some of them with notes written in the margins. It’s clear that every item in her collection has a story, a memory attached to it.

Then there are her trinkets—lots of small figurines and dolls from different cultures. Some are from her travels, like the little wooden figurines from Slovakia or the hand-painted pottery she bought when she visited Romania. They’re scattered around her living room, on shelves or in glass cabinets, like little time capsules. Each one seems to have a story of where she’s been, who she was with, or something important that happened in her life. Some of the pieces are quirky—like the hand-carved wooden clown from a street market in Prague—but others are so intricate and beautiful, I can’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

Marie also collects vintage cookbooks. Old ones, some of them falling apart from how much she’s used them. She’s got this one cookbook that’s a hundred years old, and she’s used it so much that the pages are stained with grease and food marks. She said it belonged to her grandmother, who taught her how to cook all those old-world recipes. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but think about how much history is packed into those pages. You can tell these aren’t just recipes; they’re part of her family’s identity. Whenever she cooks, she’s connecting with her roots, with the women who came before her. It’s like she’s passing the knowledge down, one meal at a time.

There’s also a whole section of her home that’s dedicated to vintage postcards. She’s been collecting them for years—mostly ones from different places she’s been, but also some old ones she’s found at thrift stores or flea markets. They’re mostly from the early 1900s, showing cities, landmarks, and scenes from long ago. I remember her showing me one of New York from the 1920s, and she told me that her great-grandparents used to live in that exact neighborhood. It’s amazing how these little postcards capture a moment in time—like frozen memories of lives that were lived long before we came along.

And then, of course, there’s the collection of old dishes and teacups. She’s got this collection of mismatched, delicate porcelain teacups—most of them from different countries. There’s one that she’s really fond of, a cup with little roses painted on it that she got from a shop in Vienna. She says it reminds her of when she visited the city with her mother, back when things were simpler. Sometimes, on quiet afternoons, she’ll pull out one of her favorite cups, brew a pot of tea, and we’ll sit and chat, letting the time slip by. It’s like she’s recreating those small, intimate moments of her past, making new memories with each cup.

I’ve noticed how Marie’s collections aren’t just about having stuff; they’re a reflection of her life, her history, and her connection to both her Jewish roots and the cultures she’s grown up around. Sometimes, when she’s showing me her collections, it’s like she’s telling me pieces of her story without saying much at all. It’s in the way she talks about the items, the pride in her voice when she tells me the history behind them. It’s almost like these collections are her way of holding onto the past while moving forward—an acknowledgment of where she’s come from, and a way of keeping it all alive.

The coolest part, though, is how she’s started teaching me about her collections, how she’s opened up about the stories behind each item. I’ve learned so much from her—about her family, her heritage, and her way of seeing the world. She’s passed along some of the old cooking techniques from her family’s recipes, the way they used to stretch a meal and make everything from scratch. And every time we cook together, it feels like I’m adding my own little piece to her collection—like I’m a part of her story now, too.

Marie’s collections have this way of connecting the past and present, of honoring where she’s come from while she builds her life here and now. And even though I’m not really a collector, it’s hard not to get caught up in the magic of it all—the way she looks at each item, the pride she takes in preserving these pieces of her life. It’s not just about the things she owns; it’s about the memories they hold, the people they’ve connected her to, and the legacy she’s continuing. It’s a big part of why being with her feels like being part of something so much bigger than just the two of us.

Marie’s collection of old quilts and handmade clothes is probably one of the most personal and heartfelt parts of her home. Each piece is like a patchwork of memories, not just fabric, but moments in time, stories of hands that sewed them, and the love that went into making them. I’ve always been amazed by the way she talks about her quilts—how each stitch feels like it holds a piece of her family’s history.

The quilts are incredible. Some of them are centuries old, handed down from her great-grandmother and others from her mother. They’re faded now, the colors soft and worn, but they’ve got this warmth to them—almost like they still carry the imprint of the hands that created them. I remember the first time I saw them, spread out across her bed like a tapestry of the past. The designs are intricate, sometimes even abstract, and Marie can tell you exactly where each one came from. Some are made from fabric scraps, leftovers from clothes that her family wore, while others are more meticulously designed patterns that took hours to stitch together.

I think what really strikes me about the quilts is the level of care in each one. Marie says her grandmother made them during the tough years when they didn’t have much. They used whatever fabric they could get their hands on—old dresses, scraps from coats, bits of whatever they could salvage—and then she’d sew them all together into something beautiful and functional. It’s not just about making something to keep warm; it’s about creating something from nothing, something that could be passed down, that would be there to tell the family’s story.

Marie’s not only a collector of these quilts—she’s a maker, too. She’s shown me how she still hand-stitches some of the smaller repairs or adds new designs to the older quilts, kind of like preserving them, but also giving them a little life of their own. She told me that it’s part of how she connects with her family, with the women who came before her. Each stitch she adds feels like she’s participating in the same tradition, carrying it on in her own way. I never really understood how something like that could feel so personal, but when you see the care and attention she gives to each piece, it’s hard not to feel the love in it.

And then there are the handmade clothes. Marie’s always been into crafting—knitting, sewing, crocheting. She has this incredible collection of vintage sewing patterns that she’s gotten from all over the world, some dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen her pull out these old patterns with these beautiful, detailed drawings of women’s dresses, coats, and even accessories, and she’ll talk about how she wants to try them out one day. She’s made everything from wool cardigans to hand-sewn dresses, each one unique, each one a work of art. The fabrics she uses are often vintage, too—like old silk from her travels or linen she picked up at a market in Spain—and she’s so particular about every little detail. I’ve watched her sew late into the night, her hands moving over the fabric with this incredible focus, like she’s channeling the spirit of all the seamstresses in her family.

One of the most special things she’s made, though, is a sweater she knitted for me. She gave it to me last winter, and when I first saw it, I couldn’t believe how much care she’d put into every stitch. The yarn was this deep blue, soft and thick, perfect for the cold weather. I don’t know if she meant for it to be anything more than a simple sweater, but when I put it on, I felt like I was wearing a piece of her heart. I wear it all the time now, especially when it gets cold, and it always makes me feel close to her, like I’m wrapped in her warmth.

What I love most about Marie’s quilts and handmade clothes, though, is how they represent her dedication to the people she loves. It’s not just about creating something beautiful—it’s about making something that lasts, that can be passed down through the generations, just like the quilts and clothes from her ancestors. It’s like she’s making her own legacy, stitch by stitch, and with each quilt she adds to her collection, each sweater she knits, she’s making a piece of history for the future. Even though she’s modern, her love for these handmade creations feels timeless, as though she’s carrying a tradition forward that might otherwise be lost. And every time I see her working on one of her projects, I’m reminded of how much of her heart goes into everything she does.

Then there’s her knitting addiction. She’s making blankets, socks, and hats for everyone. And she doesn’t just stop at knitting—she crochets too. Sometimes she’ll call me over and be like, ‘Try this on,’ and it’s some oversized sweater that I’m not even sure fits me.

Oh, and Marie LOVES writing letters. Like, actual letters with envelopes and stamps. She’ll sit at the table for hours with her fancy pens, writing to people who probably won’t even write back. She says it’s ‘more personal.’

I’m telling you, she’s basically 80 years old in a younger body. It’s kinda hilarious, but also weirdly comforting.”

“Okay, so I get it—Marie’s an immigrant from Germany, and her late family was super traditional. She’s told me the stories a million times: how they kept kosher, how her mom would light candles every Friday night, and how her dad used to lecture her about the importance of keeping traditions alive. Like, I know where all her quirks come from.

But sometimes I look at her and think, ‘Marie, we’re not in the old country anymore.’ Like, I’m pretty sure nobody else in the WVBA is sitting down to hand-roll kreplach or yelling at the TV in Yiddish when the news is on. And yet, there she is, making gefilte fish from scratch and humming old folk songs while she does it.

I get that her upbringing made her who she is, and I respect it—I really do. But Marie takes it to a whole new level. She’s out here sewing patches onto my clothes, like it’s 1935 and I can’t just buy a new jacket. Or she’ll tell me things like, ‘In my family, we always did this,’ while setting the table with enough food to feed the entire league.

Okay, so yeah, Marie’s got all these old-school habits, but honestly? She’s been teaching me a ton of stuff that’s actually useful. Like, she’s a master at stretching a dollar. I used to think meal prepping was just for fitness buffs, but nope—Marie’s out here making meals that last a week, and they taste better every day. I’ve learned how to make a mean pot of chicken soup, and now I’m the guy everyone calls when they’re sick.

She’s also big on fixing things instead of throwing them out. My gloves were falling apart, and I was ready to toss them, but she showed me how to sew them up. I know, sewing doesn’t sound tough, but you’d be surprised how handy it is when you’re training and gear gets worn out.

And her cooking? It’s like a crash course in survival. She’s teaching me all these recipes that are cheap, filling, and taste amazing—latkes, kugel, even braided challah. She says it’s about ‘taking care of your people,’ and now I feel like I could feed an army if I had to.

She’s even teaching me some Yiddish phrases, which is great for trash-talking in the ring without anyone knowing. Marie says, ‘If you’re gonna call someone a nudnik, at least do it with flair.’

So yeah, she’s old-fashioned, but it’s like having my own personal life coach. I don’t just get a sister—I get a survival guide, a tailor, and a chef all rolled into one.

It’s like she’s stuck between being this old-world Jewish bubbe and a modern-day cutman, and somehow, it works for her. It’s just… sometimes I have to remind her that we’re in New York, not a little shtetl in Germany. It’s funny how people can look at Marie and think she’s just this old, traditional lady, but they don’t always know the full story. I’ve heard her talk about her parents, and honestly, it’s a bit heartbreaking. Her mom and dad, they were born and raised in Germany, and they had that old-school, strict mindset that a lot of people from their generation carried with them. You know, they had lived through a lot—survived the war, rebuilt their lives—and they were determined to keep their family traditions alive, even if that meant keeping a tight grip on Marie. They weren’t bad people, but they were overbearing in a way that you’d only understand if you were raised in a time and place like that.

She was expected to follow the rules, do things the “right” way, and stick to their ideals. It was all about preserving the family name, the old customs, the way things had been passed down from generation to generation. And I get it—her parents went through things most people can’t even imagine. They lived through the worst of history, and their experiences shaped how they viewed the world. They probably just wanted to protect Marie from the chaos that had torn apart their lives and their home. But that didn’t mean she had to stay trapped in that mindset forever.

Marie’s always been this independent spirit, though. She’s got her own opinions, her own ideas about how things should be, and as much as she respected her parents, she didn’t agree with a lot of the things they pushed on her. She loved them, no doubt, but she needed more than just their way of living. It wasn’t until after they passed that Marie felt like she could truly breathe, like she was finally free to make her own choices and live her life on her terms. I think that’s when she really came into her own. That’s when she left Germany and came here, looking for something different, something that would allow her to be herself.

It wasn’t easy, though. Coming to a new country, starting fresh, and breaking away from the expectations her parents had set for her—it was all a huge challenge. But that’s Marie. She’s never been one to back down, and even though she didn’t agree with the way her parents had raised her, she understood where they were coming from. They’d lived through the worst times in history, and for them, that kind of control was just a way of coping with everything they’d lost. But for Marie, it was suffocating. She wasn’t going to live a life defined by fear or by the shadows of the past. She came to us, to America, for freedom—freedom to be who she truly was, to make her own path, and to define her own future.

It wasn’t like she rejected everything they taught her—she still holds onto parts of her heritage, her culture, and the values that shaped her. But she learned that she didn’t have to live under the weight of their rules, and that’s something she’s always fought for. She believes in embracing the past, but she also believes in moving forward, in creating a life that’s her own. That’s why she’s so willing to learn from others, to hear different perspectives, and to understand people from all walks of life. It’s her way of reclaiming her own identity, and I think that’s what makes her so special.

She doesn’t talk about it much, but I know that leaving Germany wasn’t just about escaping her parents—it was about finding herself, finding a place where she didn’t have to live in anyone’s shadow. And when she came here, she didn’t just step into the world that awaited her; she built her own life, on her own terms. It’s something I admire a lot about her—she took the lessons from her past, the struggles she went through, and used them to shape the woman she is today. She’s proud of her roots, but she knows she can’t be confined by them. That’s Marie—always pushing forward, always staying true to herself, no matter where she came from or who tried to hold her back.

But outside of her old ways her opinions are pretty modern. She is for the people, for the minorities. You know, sometimes Marie comes off as old-fashioned, especially with the way she carries herself. She’s got her routines—like making sure everyone’s got enough to eat, or making time for her old-school traditions, like keeping the house cozy with homemade quilts or sitting down with a good book. People might look at her and think she’s just this sweet, old lady who’s stuck in the past, but they couldn’t be more wrong. She’s actually one of the most forward-thinking people I know, especially when it comes to social justice.

It might not always look that way, but Marie’s got this fire inside her. She doesn’t just sit back and accept things because “that’s how it’s always been.” If she sees something she thinks is wrong, you can bet she’s going to stand up for it—no matter the situation. She might be the one sitting in a quiet corner at a dinner party, but when it comes to speaking out, she doesn’t hesitate for a second.

I’ve seen her go toe-to-toe with people who try to put others down, especially when it comes to injustice. Whether it’s racism, discrimination, or people being treated unfairly, she’s never afraid to call it out. It’s not always dramatic—she doesn’t make a big scene—but you can feel the power of her words when she does speak up. I remember this one time when a few of the boxers were making some off-hand remarks about someone’s culture, and Marie didn’t let it slide. She didn’t lecture them, but she calmly told them how those kinds of comments were hurtful, how important it was to respect every person’s background, no matter where they come from. The room got quiet, and for a moment, I think everyone realized how much they’d been missing—how easy it was to fall into ignorance if you didn’t stop and think.

Marie’s not the kind of person who makes a big deal about it, but when she stands up for what’s right, people listen. She’s never one to shy away from a conversation, especially if it means standing up for the underdog. I’ve seen her defend workers in the stores she shops at, the people who’ve been overlooked by others. It doesn’t matter if it’s someone cleaning the floors or serving food—Marie sees people as people, and if she feels like they’re not being treated right, she’ll speak up. She’s taught me that being kind and respectful isn’t just about showing love to people who are easy to love—it’s about standing up for the ones who might be forgotten or mistreated, too.

I think part of it comes from the way she was raised—growing up in a tough time and learning that you’ve got to fight for what’s right. It’s a different world now, but Marie’s sense of justice hasn’t changed. She was taught that you stand up for the people who don’t have a voice, that you make sure everyone gets a fair chance. She doesn’t just fight for others when it’s convenient or when it’s easy. She does it because she believes it’s the right thing to do.

And even though she’s old-fashioned in some ways, it’s clear that she’s got a modern heart. She understands the struggles people are going through today, and she’s got a strong opinion about how things should change. Whether it’s talking to one of the boxers about their behavior or stepping up for a cause she believes in, Marie is never one to back down. She may be gentle, but she’s got a backbone made of steel.

It’s honestly kind of amazing to see someone so rooted in tradition still push for progress. She reminds me all the time that standing up for others doesn’t have to be loud or flashy—it’s about doing the right thing even when nobody’s looking. That’s the real power she has: making sure people are treated with dignity and respect, no matter who they are or where they come from. And to me, that makes her more modern than a lot of people I know, despite the fact that she’s into old quilts and listening to language tapes. She’s got a wisdom that comes from experience, and I can’t think of a better role model.

“I mean, I’ve always been Catholic, y’know? It’s kind of in my blood. I’m Hispanic, so that whole church thing was a big part of growing up. Sunday mornings meant heading to church with my mom, and then there’d be the whole family afterwards for a big meal, and of course, we’d say grace before we ate. It’s just… tradition. My mom would make me sit still through the whole mass, even when I wanted to run around as a kid, and she’d always say the rosary with me at night before bed, counting the beads like it was a ritual. I’d pray to the Virgin Mary and Jesus, asking for guidance. It was something I didn’t always get, but it was comforting, like it grounded me in a way. Even if I didn’t understand all the words or the history behind everything, there was this peace in it. Church was a space for me to reset, y’know?

Then, there’s Marie. She’s Jewish—born and raised, and her family’s super traditional. I know she grew up with a lot of the same values, just with a different foundation. Every time I stay with her, I learn a little more about her culture and her faith, and she’s always open to hearing about mine too. I don’t think I ever realized how much I didn’t know about her traditions until she started explaining it. For example, she told me about Shabbat, how every Friday night, she lights candles, says a prayer, and makes everything peaceful for the weekend. It’s such a simple but deep thing, right? She said it’s about setting the tone for the rest of the week—something like that. Honestly, I was kind of surprised by how similar it felt to what we do, except ours is on Sundays. She also explained how lighting the candles is a way to honor the Sabbath, and I thought that was powerful. She said the prayer in Hebrew, and I couldn’t really catch all of it, but the way she said it… there was this calmness to it. I wanted to understand it more.

One night, I asked her about some of the prayers she says before meals, and she told me about the bracha, the blessing over bread. That was something I had never heard of. She said, ‘Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth,’ and she explained how it’s this deep connection to what the earth gives us. I liked that. It felt really… connected, you know? Like, appreciating where food comes from, where life comes from. I actually started saying a little prayer in my head after hearing hers, kind of like how we do grace before meals. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the feeling behind it—being thankful, taking a moment to appreciate what we have—it made sense to me. It’s not that different when you really think about it.

She’s even asked me to teach her some of the Catholic traditions, like the rosary. I showed her how we pray with the beads and how the Hail Mary and Our Father are part of our routine. At first, she didn’t really get it—like, ‘Why do you have to repeat so many prayers?’ But as I explained it to her, she seemed to find it interesting. She said something like, ‘It’s kind of like meditating, right? Repeating the words to focus your mind?’ And I guess, in a way, she’s right. It’s not just about the words, but about the mindset. About putting your trust in something bigger than yourself, taking a minute to just breathe and let go.

It’s funny because sometimes we’ll sit together, each of us in our own little world, practicing our faiths in the way we know how, but we never judge each other. Instead, it’s like we’re both learning from one another. I’ll catch her lighting candles, and sometimes, without even thinking, I’ll say a prayer to myself. Or we’ll sit down for a meal, and she’ll say her bracha while I quietly say grace. There’s no conflict, no “this is better than that.” It’s just… respect. We’re different, but there’s a shared understanding that both of our faiths are important parts of who we are.

I remember one day, I was feeling kind of off after training, and Marie noticed. She looked at me and said, ‘Maybe you should say a prayer for strength.’ She didn’t know what I usually do, but I felt like, for once, I didn’t have to explain. I just said, ‘Yeah, I think I will.’ And we both took a moment, in our own ways, to connect with something bigger than us. I said my rosary prayer, and she said one of her own, and it was like, for just a moment, we were both in the same place spiritually.

Honestly, the more we talk about it, the more I realize that faith isn’t just about the specifics of the tradition. It’s about believing in something, having that foundation to stand on when life gets tough. And Marie… she’s shown me that while our religions might look different on the surface, the core of it is the same: love, family, tradition, and a deep appreciation for the life we’ve been given. And, I guess, in that way, we teach each other, without even trying.”

“Man, when I think about how Marie and I have blended our cultures together, it feels like it’s more than just about food or traditions—it’s about a deeper connection. We’re from different worlds, right? Me, with my Hispanic background, raised in a Catholic household, and her, with her Jewish upbringing, coming from a family that holds onto traditions like they’re a lifeline. At first, I didn’t think we’d have that much in common when it came to holidays or meals or anything like that, but as we started sharing more of ourselves with each other, I realized it’s all about finding that space where both of our worlds can exist side by side.

I remember the first time I went with Marie to her family’s Shabbat dinner. It was so different from anything I’d ever experienced. The candles, the prayers, the way everyone gathered around the table to share the bread and wine—it felt intimate, spiritual. I had never been part of anything like that before. And I’ll admit, I didn’t fully understand all the prayers or the Hebrew, but I could feel something deep, like this connection to the past, to her ancestors. It was like they were carrying on something that meant so much, something that had been passed down for generations. There was such a reverence in the room, a respect for tradition. I felt like an outsider at first, but Marie, she didn’t make me feel that way. She just told me to do what felt right, and that was enough.

And then, she started asking me about my own traditions. I remember the first time I talked about Día de los Muertos with her. She didn’t know much about it—how we honor our loved ones, set up altars with candles, marigolds, and pictures, and how the food, like pan de muerto, is a symbol of life and death coexisting. I could tell it really resonated with her. She asked a million questions, like she was trying to understand the whole concept—not just the rituals, but what it meant to me, how it shaped my perspective on life and death. And I think that’s when I realized: it wasn’t about just explaining a holiday; it was about explaining a part of myself. Sharing that with her felt like we were connecting on a deeper level than I ever imagined.

When we decided to merge our two cultures for Christmas last year, that’s when it really hit me how much we were growing together. I cooked up some tamales, and she made her famous latkes. I swear, she was more excited about my tamales than I was—she was curious about every little detail, asking how I wrapped the masa, what kind of fillings I liked. And when it came time for dinner, we sat down together, and it wasn’t just about eating—it was like a celebration of both our families, both our histories. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that meal was a symbol of us coming together in this space we created—our own little mix of everything.

But it’s not just the meals or the holidays. It’s how we’ve both started weaving bits of each other’s cultures into our everyday lives. Like when Marie would teach me the Yiddish words her grandmother taught her, and I’d throw in some Spanish phrases she didn’t know. Or when we started making room in our lives for both the rosary and the Shabbat candles—one for the end of the week, the other for the beginning. It’s small stuff, but it feels monumental, like we’re building this bridge between us, brick by brick, until the difference between us doesn’t feel so different at all.

And the best part is, we don’t feel like we have to choose one over the other. It’s not about me abandoning my roots or her abandoning hers. It’s about realizing that the beauty of our relationship isn’t in our sameness, but in how we’ve learned to respect and embrace each other’s differences. It’s like each holiday, each meal, each little ritual, is a way to say, ‘I see you. I understand where you come from. And I want to be a part of that.’

We’ve built our own traditions now—ones that mix the old and the new. Like, this past year, we decided to make a whole bunch of different dishes for Thanksgiving. We had the turkey and the stuffing, of course, but we also had marinated brisket, challah bread, and tamales. It was a weird combo at first, but when we sat down to eat, I realized that this—this was the new tradition. It wasn’t just one holiday, one culture, or one history; it was a reflection of both of us, coming together and carving out something that was uniquely ours.

And the deeper I get into all this, the more I realize it’s not about any one meal or prayer—it’s about what those things represent. It’s about learning the sacredness in each other’s customs and realizing that, even though we’re from different backgrounds, we’re both carrying pieces of something bigger. That’s what’s made this whole journey with Marie so special: it’s not just about learning from each other, it’s about creating something new together, something that honors both of our pasts while looking forward to the future we’re building.”

Marie’s always looking for ways to connect with people, even when it’s hard. She’ll invite the other boxers over for dinner or lunch, and it’s not just about feeding them—it’s about sharing something, learning from each other, and seeing if they can break through the barriers that sometimes exist between them. I’ve seen it firsthand. No matter how different the boxers are, or how much tension might be between them, she’ll set a table for everyone. Whether they’re from different parts of the world, speak different languages, or come from different cultures, she’s always trying to create this space where people can connect.

Marie doesn’t expect miracles. She knows she can’t always get along with everyone, and she knows that sometimes, people aren’t going to suddenly become best friends just because there’s food on the table. But she tries anyway. She makes an effort to make sure everyone feels heard, even if it’s not easy. I’ve seen her with Bald Bull and Soda Popinski—those two can barely stand each other, but somehow, at one of Marie’s dinners, the tension fades a little. It’s not like they forget their differences, but it’s like they understand each other a little better. They’ll start talking about their hometowns or their favorite foods, and even if it’s just for that moment, the rivalry takes a backseat.

She’s got this deep need to get to know people, not just as boxers but as individuals. She’s always looking for common ground, always trying to understand where someone’s coming from. It’s not always about speaking the same language; it’s about making the effort, showing respect, and being curious. That’s why you’ll find her listening to language tapes in the car on the way to the gym or before bed. I don’t think she ever stops trying to learn. She’s always listening to lessons in German, Yiddish, Ladino, or Spanish, working on something new to help her communicate better. It’s one of the things I admire most about her—she’s not content just knowing what she knows. She wants to understand more, and she’s willing to put in the work to bridge those gaps.

And even though not everyone gets along, she still believes in the value of that connection. She knows there are going to be days when the boxers clash or when there’s a rough atmosphere in the gym, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to build something different. If she can’t make them all get along, at least she can try to give them the tools to understand each other better. She’s not a miracle worker, but she’s definitely a bridge builder. It’s something small, but it has a big impact. Even if they don’t always see eye to eye, I think they leave her dinners with a little more respect for each other and the cultures they come from.

Sometimes it’s the smallest gestures that mean the most. She doesn’t ask for much in return—she doesn’t expect anyone to suddenly speak fluent Yiddish or learn all about her background in a day. But it’s the effort she puts in, the conversations she sparks, that slowly starts to change things. I think it’s part of who she is—this belief that no matter where someone’s from or how different they seem, there’s always something you can learn from each other. It’s not easy work, and sometimes it feels like it’s not making much of a difference, but she’s always at it, trying to make the world a little smaller, one dinner at a time.

Oh, man, Marie’s definitely had her moments with the language barrier. It’s actually kind of funny how hard she tries, and how sometimes, it just doesn’t go the way she plans.

I remember this one dinner with a few of the boxers—Bald Bull, Soda, and a couple of others. Marie was really excited because she’d been studying a bit of Turkish for a while, trying to connect with Bald Bull more. She had this whole plan to surprise him by speaking a little Turkish when he arrived, and she’d been listening to language tapes for days. So, she’s all pumped, right? The food’s ready, and she says to Bald Bull, “Hoş geldiniz!” (which means “Welcome”), and she’s smiling real big, waiting for his reaction.

Bald Bull just stands there, blinking for a second, and then he says, “What’d you say? Is that a new kind of soup?”

Marie’s face went from excited to totally confused, and we all just started laughing. It turns out she’d gotten one of the phrases wrong. She’d meant to say something welcoming, but it sounded like she was offering him a bowl of something. Bald Bull wasn’t upset, though. He actually laughed, too, and started teasing her about being “fluent in food, not language.”

It was funny, but it also showed just how hard she works to make that connection. She could’ve easily just stuck to speaking English, or German, or whatever she knew best, but no—she’s always pushing herself, trying to speak someone else’s language, even if it doesn’t come out perfectly. And honestly, even though it didn’t go as planned, it meant a lot that she tried. After that, Bald Bull was actually way more open to talking to her, even teaching her some Turkish words. He got a kick out of it, and by the end of the night, everyone was joking around in a mix of languages—English, Yiddish, Turkish, even a little Spanish from me.

Marie’s always learning and pushing herself, but she doesn’t take herself too seriously when things don’t go perfectly. The language barrier’s still there, but she doesn’t let it stop her. That’s just Marie. She’ll stumble, but she’ll keep going, even if it means saying something that makes everyone laugh.

Oh, Marie’s always so thoughtful about these things, so before she gives anyone a hug or that European cheek kiss, she always checks with the management first. She doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable—she’s just naturally affectionate, you know? She’ll ask them, “Is it okay if I greet him this way? I just want to make sure it’s not too much.” She’s got this polite, considerate side that’s honestly kind of funny considering how enthusiastically she greets people.

But sometimes, it doesn’t always go as smoothly as she thinks. I remember one time, Marie had just been told by management that it was fine to greet this new boxer from Eastern Europe with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They’d said it was cool, so Marie went for it—no hesitation. She walks up to the guy, big smile on her face, arms open wide, and as she goes in for the hug, you could see the panic in his eyes. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

He tries to awkwardly sidestep her, but Marie’s already there, giving him this big warm hug, and then she quickly plants a kiss on his cheek, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But here’s the thing—this guy doesn’t even know how to react. He turns bright red, completely flustered, and backs up a little like he’s trying to get his bearings. At first, he’s just standing there, looking around like he’s trying to figure out if he’s supposed to do something in return. Is he supposed to kiss her cheek back? Hug her again? What was happening?!

Marie, not missing a beat, just smiles at him and says, “There, see? Wasn’t that easy?” as if it’s a casual, everyday greeting.

But this poor guy? His face goes even redder, and he starts mumbling in a mix of broken English and his native language. He’s flustered, trying to explain he’s not used to the whole European cheek-kiss thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her—it was just, well, a cultural shock. He looks over at the other boxers like he’s hoping for some guidance, but everyone else is trying to hold in their laughter, not wanting to make it worse.

Then, just to add to the comedy of the situation, one of the other guys (who’s seen Marie do this a hundred times) leans over and says, “It’s okay, buddy. Just wait until you get the full Marie treatment—you’ll get used to it!”

It wasn’t that the guy didn’t appreciate the greeting, but the suddenness of it caught him totally off guard. After that, he made a point of giving Marie a little wave every time they passed by, but still kept a bit of a distance—like he wasn’t quite ready for the full embrace yet.

Marie, though? She just laughed it off, completely unaware of how flustered he was, and continued to ask management about the next person she’d be meeting. She never wants to make anyone uncomfortable, but she’s definitely got that big, heart-on-her-sleeve attitude that sometimes takes people by surprise.

Man, when I think about Marie, there’s a lot I could say. She’s definitely not perfect—nobody is, right? She’s got her quirks, her old-school habits, and sometimes, she comes off a little… overbearing. But in a lot of ways, that’s what makes her who she is, and honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.

She’s a hugger(sometimes), always going for those big, warm embraces, and the European kiss on the cheek greeting is so her. I’ve seen her catch people off guard with it—guys who aren’t used to that kind of thing. She’ll greet anyone like they’re family, whether it’s Bald Bull, Soda Popinski, or some new guy we’re training with. Sometimes, they’re flustered or confused at first, but they come to appreciate it. She doesn’t judge people, and she doesn’t care where they come from. She just wants to make sure they feel welcomed. And that includes asking management if it’s okay to greet someone that way, making sure no one’s uncomfortable.

Marie’s got a lot of old traditions—she loves her Yiddish, her German roots, and her ethnic foods. She cooks like you’re at your grandma’s house, and she’ll make sure you know every single ingredient in that dish, even if it’s hard to pronounce. And don’t even get me started on how she’s always trying to learn new languages—she’s listening to tapes in the car, studying words late at night, just so she can connect with the guys better. She knows it’s not always going to work, but she tries anyway. Even when there’s a language barrier, she’s trying to make that bridge. It’s like she believes that communication, no matter how imperfect, is key.

She’ll invite boxers over to dinner, even if they’re from different cultures, just to get to know them. Sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes it’s a little weird, but she makes it work. I’ve seen her do it—making those cultural exchanges happen, finding something in common, and trying to break down those walls. Even when they don’t get along, she’s there, working her hardest to build some kind of understanding. She doesn’t let differences keep her from trying to make people feel at home, even if it’s a battle sometimes.

Now, I’ve seen the way she handles things with her family, too. Her parents were strict, real traditional—especially with her being Jewish and growing up in Germany. They had a way of thinking that didn’t always mesh with Marie’s need for freedom. She didn’t agree with everything they said or did. When they passed, she left for the U.S. She came here for a new life, for more opportunities, and for the chance to live on her own terms. She didn’t let anyone hold her back, and that took a lot of courage.

She’s got a big heart, but she’s also a fighter in her own right. She stands up for social justice, even when it’s not popular. You don’t always see it, but she’s got that fire. She might not be loud about it, but she’s quietly pushing for what’s right, helping people out in the ways she can.

But yeah, she’s not perfect. Sometimes she’s overbearing, sometimes she’s got her own ways that don’t always make sense to everyone, and sometimes she makes things awkward with her affection or language mishaps. But that’s what makes her Marie. She’s real. She’s stubborn, kind-hearted, and she doesn’t stop trying to make the world a little better—whether it’s through food, hugs, or just taking the time to learn about people. And to me? That’s enough. She’s family, and I’m proud to have her as my sister.

P.S. If you ever find yourself at one of her dinners and you see her pull out a dish that looks like it came straight out of a history book, just smile, nod, and eat it. You’ll be fine—unless it’s one of her experimental Yiddish-Slovak fusion dishes… then just pray you survive the taste test.

P.P.S. If you’re ever wondering why Marie insists on giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek every time you walk through the door, just remember: it’s not because she thinks you need it, it’s because she’s convinced that if she doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget that you’re loved and appreciated. She’s like a walking, talking emotional safety net.

P.P.P.S. And if you’re one of those boxers who’s not into hugs or physical touch? Don’t worry—Marie’s got a backup plan. She’ll give you the warmest, most awkward air hug you’ve ever seen, complete with a look like she’s praying it doesn’t freak you out. Or some cheesy joke. It’s her way of saying, “I respect your boundaries, but also… I really want to hug you, just so you know.”

[lardguz]

hi!! i love ur work so much aa men do something to my brain chem LOL

i was just wondering what ur hcs might be for the weight hierarchy of ace attorney guys (if u have one)? also i loved the sizes you wrote for your link story; do you think you'd ever write a similar size for anyone in aa?

Oooooh, excellent question! I think of like, main male prosecutors/attorneys, my hierarchy would be, from skinniest to heaviest:

Nahyuta (I just don't think a well-trained monk would gain much weight even after traveling to Japanifornia)

Kla/vier (likes to keep his figure for the stage so he can do slutty dance moves and poses easily)

Kri/stoph (puts on some weight in solitary lbr)

Go/dot (mild dad bod, opens a cafe/bakery post-T&T)

Edg/eworth (Phoenix is a bad influence on him, he's probably like 300 pounds as Chief Prosecutor)

Apo/llo (Tops out at like 650 after AJAA because of Nick's influence, very well-rounded body gains)

Blac/kquill (Starts out super ripped and muscular after being released from prison, descends into hedonism now that he can eat whatever, probably borders on near-immobile but deliberately keeps the ability to move because he likes feeling powerful for having to force people to walk around his mass)

Phoe/nix (Dude is like a ton at least by the end of the second trilogy. Completely immobile, retires from law permanently to be Miles's personal stress toy. Lazy, hungry, total blob.)

If I were to write a story of one of the AA guys reaching a similar size to Link in my most recent story, I think it'd be Nick or Simon. Maybe Apollo if I elaborate more on my "Nick is a terrible influence on him" headcanon, I think a barely mobile feeder taking on a chubby feedee apprentice and turning him into a blob has some good potential actually.... Hmm..... I'm gonna have to write that one down that's actually REALLY GOOD. 😳

[imashoe69420]

Hello! I'm having a bit of a rough time so I thought I'd send this ask. What would the turtles be like with a S/O that has anxiety, depression and PTSD? How would they help them if their depression is bad enough that on some days they can't get out of bed, forget to eat, etc? Bonus if S/O is plus-sized/kinda chubby and insecure about it.

So since I’m doing all the boys, each mental illness/self-image issue will be separated by turtle. I hope that’s okay!

The reader’s symptoms are also closely aligned with my own as well as outside research. If you feel that something could be more accurate, let me know! :)

===================================

Rise!Bros X Reader Headcannons★彡

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Relationships: Dating

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Timeline: Post Movie

Warnings ⚠️: Language, Mental Heath Issues, Brief Mention of Medication (Mikey)

===================================

Leo // PTSD

• Leo would be the first the know how to deal with PTSD.

• Well, not necessarily know, but empathize with you because of his time in the prison dimension.

• Both of you had vivid nightmares, so most nights, you two would stay awake together.

• The first time this happened, Leo caught you with your head in the refrigerator picking at some leftovers:

• “Nightmares?” The blue turtle asked, sleep lacing his voice.

• “Nightmares.” You nodded.

• You two finished some leftover spaghetti, then trudged back to Leo’s room, spending the rest of the night under the covers watching TNTL videos.

• This became a normal occurrence, talks eventually getting deeper:

• “It’s just… I feel so stupid sometimes. It happened years ago. Why do I still think about it almost every day?” You sighed as you laid on the blue clad turtle’s plastron.

• Leo shrugged. “I dunno, it’s more annoying than traumatic now.”

• There’s a pause when Leo took your hand in his own.

• “But I don’t think you’re stupid for it.”

• You smiled as he rubbed his hand over your knuckles.

• “Thanks, Lee.”

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

Raph // Anxiety

• Being the oldest in the family causes a lot of anxiety, especially in the Hamato household.

• You were also stressed being the oldest sibling as well. One of your siblings was in the hospital, and although it was just for a broken leg, it had you worried.

• Sleeping was a battle. One night, you were in the lair in Raph’s room.

• You slowly watched the clock tick by.

• 11PM… 12PM… 1PM.

• And you were still tossing and turning.

• Eventually, you started to think about your sibling and if it was right for you to be with your boyfriend rather than being in the hospital with them.

• It didn’t take long for the tears to start flowing as you had convinced yourself that you were a bad sibling.

• The snapping turtle eventually noticed your sadness and sleepily asked you what was wrong.

• “I should be with them, not here.” You said tearfully. “What if something happens? What if they dropped the remote to contact the nurse? What if—”

• “(Y/N), (Y/N)… don’t worry so much. They’re gonna be fine.” Raph tried to quell your anxiety.

• “But what if—”

• “Ya’ can’t live a life on ‘what if’s, (Y/N).” He interrupted you, speaking gently. “I know how you feel. You think I’m never worried about these knuckle heads? Ya’ just gotta trust them and the doctors.”

• You pushed your hair back from your face and sighed. “I… I know. It’s just…”

• “I know.”

• Raph scooped you in his arms and held you close. “You don’t have to explain. Just try to rest so you can see them tomorrow.”

• You snuggled up against him, attempting to hold back your tears. “Okay… I’ll try. Thank you. Really.”

• “What’re big siblings for?” He said sarcastically before you both eventually fell asleep.

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

Mikey // Depression

• Despite being medicated, there were moments when you would have a depressive episode.

• This consisted of staying at home, ignoring texts to hang out, not showering for days at a time, and overeating while watching a random Netflix Original.

• Mikey respected that you sometimes needed time away, although he was naturally clingy.

• After about three days, he’ll come visit you.

• It’s always a gamble with you. You either let him in graciously, or simply act like he’s not there.

• When you would let him in, he would bring snacks and DVDs of your favorite movies.

• Most of the time, you two would huddle under a blanket and watch those DVDs for hours.

• Other times, he would beckon you to come outside. And when you obliged, you two usually had a good time exploring New York and the Hidden City.

• When you were out of your funk, you were back to being physically affectionate.

• You were always grateful for your little orange weirdo.

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

Donnie // Plus Size

• Donnie never quite understood people’s hate for plus sized bodies, nor did he understand your misplaced desire to be skinnier.

• Your insecurities really stood out when you guys would go out or on dates.

• “We’ve been walking for a while. Are you hungry?” Donnie asked you as the two of you walked the streets of New York City.

• “I mean… are you hungry?” You asked bashfully.

• Donnie shrugged. “Not especially.”

• You shook your head. “I’m good, then.”

• It took Donnie a couple of minutes to become curious as to why you only wanted to eat when he was eating.

• “Why didn’t you want to eat?” He asked out of the blue.

• You sighed and shook your head again. “It’s nothing, Dee.”

• “No,” the purple clad turtle stopped walking, “I wanna know.”

• “Well… I dunno, it’s embarrassing.” You thought about how to formulate your words to help him understand. “When people see us eating together, they’ll just think that we’re hungry. But when I’m the only one eating…”

• Your words trailed off, and it took Donnie several seconds to finally understand what you’d meant.

• “That’s nonsense.”

• “Yeah, well, that’s how people will see us: a guy and his fatass girlfriend.”

• To say the turtle was angry at the absurdity of the world’s mentality on plus sized people was an understatement.

• He quickly took hold of your hand and pulled you back to the hotdog stand you’d just passed.

• “Two plain hotdogs, please. And some ketchup on the side.” Donnie told the vendor.

• He had really meant that he wasn’t hungry and only ended up finishing about half of the hotdog, but your comfortability meant more to him.

• After the meal, you started walking again before you took hold of Donnie’s bicep.

• “I really appreciate that, babe. I mean it.” You rested your head on his shoulder.

• The turtle leaned his head so it was on top of yours. “Anything for you.”

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Starving in The Dark

Okay another mini thing while I'm struggling to do the other responses rn, these ones I do while im laying down to go to bed lmao, but your requests will get done I promise!

Anyway! This is based on the thing I posted earlier today 😈 if you know you know.

Its very 18+ so minors DNI

WARNINGS!: NSFW, arthur literally devouring you, in general sexy things, chubby reader because I said so and theres not enough chubny reader and chubby arthur in this world

TAGS:@mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @kieropal @cantchoosejust1 @6kaja9

So lets get started!!!

You feel as though you're gonna loose a finger to the cold around you, even being bigger and retaining heat better than smaller people would, you felt frozen to the core.

After the gang had left the Amberino mountains on your run from the law you didn't figure you'd be back up here so soon, but here you were, shivering and shaking on your horse, even in your heavy coat, as you and Arthur trek through the snow the further you got into the mountains.

Granted the snow that you traveled through now was no where near as bad as it had been the first time the gang had come through here, but it still seemed to sink right into your bones, you could only imagine how cold your horses were.

But you refused to complain. Arthur had told you he wanted to take you somewhere out of camp, far away, just the two of you, so you could finally spend sometime together without being harassed by the others or being pulled apart to do other jobs.

Granted you would have appreciated it if he'd taken you somewhere warmer, but you weren't about to start whining when he was trying to do something sweet and thoughtful for you. It wasn't often the two of you got to sneak away like this.

"We're almost there Darlin' I swear, then I'll get the fire goin' and that cabin'll warm up quick."

Arthur looks over his shoulder at you, his face reflecting a mixture of guilt and apology.

He'd clearly recogonized your freezing state.

"I'm okay!" You lie through your teeth offering a smile, you hate seeing the big guy look so sad. "Just cold!"

"I know, I shoulda just had you ride in the same horse with me, woulda been warmer for ya." He sighs and then nudges his horses sides. "C'mon, pick up the pace, let's get there."

The two of you ride for just a little longer, snowflakes sticking to your eyelashes the further you go, until eventually the two of you come over a hill to see a rather small cabin on what would be a beautiful lake, had it not been frozen over.

You're quick to hitch the horses in a nearby area where they're slightly sheltered, and make your way into the cabin.

It's a little run down, but upon looking at it you realize someone's clearly cleaned it up, and as you look back at Arthur you realize he really has been planning this for a while. The bed is made and the floor's been decently cleaned, a stack of wood decently high is sat against one of the walls and the cuboards are stocked with food.

Arthur moves and closes the door behind him the moment the two of you step over the threshold, he gently kisses the side of your head before beginning to start a fire up for you.

You can't help but watch him as he works, crossing your arms in an attempt to retain your heat.

Even in the cold he keeps his demenor, which around you is a little softer, kinder.

There's a small smile on his face as he does his work and the cold air has caused his cheeks to bloom red.

"You look so cute in the snow." You mumble, taking note of his denim clad jacket, the collar lined with fur. It covers his cheeks a little, but not enough to cover the fact that his face gets slightly redder at your compliment.

"Now, I don't even believe you when you call me handsome," he chuckles and continues to throw wood into the stove settled in the center of the small cabin. "What makes you think I'll believe you when you say that?"

"Who says I need you to believe it grumpy?"

He simply offers another small chuckle to you before he starts to attempt to light the fire. Luckily it doesn't take long.

The fire blazes and you find yourself crowding in the front of the stove as soon as Arthur shuts the front of it and opens the vents to allow heat into the room.

He stands behind you, his hands gently grasping your shoulders and his chin resting on rhe crown of your head.

"Sorry it was such a long ride Darlin' and a cold one too." He mumbles under his breath, letting out a long sigh that you feel reverberate through your body.

"It's okay Arthur, really." You smile this time, to yourself, he needed this break more than you did, you were just happy he wanted to take it with you. You'd follow him anywhere he wanted to go, and this included anywhere.

"Hmm." He gives the hum in response and then another sigh before he lets go of you to move towards the bed placed against the wall across frkm where you stand.

You watch as he plops down and begins to take his boots off and his coat soon follows.

He himself is a big man, and even he seemed a little cold, that redness of his face, and the small chatter in his teeth that occasionally appeared, it was no surpise you were so cold.

"I know it's cold," he mutters. "But you should get that heavier stuff off and get under the covers body heat'll be better for the two of us then these cold jackets."

You offer a nod, and then move to meet him, taking your coat off as you move.

It was gonna be a cold night.

.............

You wake up sweating, with the smallness of the cabin and the constant wood going into the stove to keep it that way, plus Arthur's body heat, you felt as though you were absolutely swimming.

The two of you together, both bigger bodies, the heat you both gave off, it was a wonder he wasn't sweating his ass off too.

It's completely dark in the cabin, other than a little bit of fire light from the stove.

You manage to get up out of the bed without waking Arthur, sliding out of his iron grip as quietly and as gently as possible.

You do the only thing you can think of to get to a comfortable temperature and strip out of your night clothes.

Tossing them to the side you feel much better, still warm, but without the extra cotton its a much more comfortable warmth.

You give a quiet sigh and clamber back into bed, getting back under Arthur's arm as quietly as possible.

"Y' good?" His words are slurred agains your neck as you settle back down, and after a moment his hand finds your waist and he seems to wake a little.

"The hell did your clothes go?"

"It's hot in here Arthur-" you hear the whine in your voice and feel awful for a moment, but you realize now laying back under the cover with arthur again that you'll most likely wake up covered in sweat once more.

Arthur's silent for a moment, but then you feel his hand travel over your stomach, going a little lower, reaching your thighs.

He's clearly not thinking about the words you just said.

"Arthur you are not listening-"

"Kinda stopped after I realized your tits were out if 'm honest." He sighs and you feel a hot kiss against your neck. "What I wouldn't give to feel these around my head...."

He squeezes your thigh gently, his fingers crawling towards your inner thigh.

"I'm already warm..." it's a feeble excuse, and you know it, yiu absolutely love it when he gets like this, so despite your discomfort you know that you're more than likely going to go along with him.

"Maybe if you got out from under these covers ...let those pretty tits of yours hit the air..."

"What the hell are you suggesting?"

"Mhmmm...." Arthur's voice comes out as a groan in your ear, and he places a small kiss there, right behind your ear.

"I'm sayin'," he mumbles. "I think you should sit on my face..."

"Arthur!"

You've never done such a thing. Of course you've had him between your legs before, and you'd never deny him that, as he got pleasure out of it just as you did, in fact it was one of his favorite things, but NEVER had you ever sat on his face.

"I'm too big." You mutter. "Too heavy, I sit on your face and I'll sufficate you-"

"Good, a fine way to die." He kisses your neck again.

"Arthur I'm serious!"

"I am too."

You sigh and he simply gets closer to your ear.

"Please Y/n...Please, I want you to do it so badly....please."

He's begging you. How could you tell him no.

"Okay..." You mumble the answer after a few moments of silence. "But you have to promise to stop me if you can't breathe, please?"

"Of course, you're My Girl."

You feel a heat in your cheeks and move, watching as he moves to lay on his back.

He keeps his hands to the sides, lazily awaiting you to sit on your throne.

He motions you towards him with his two middle fingers on each hand.

With just that you're compelled.

You manage to manuver yourself to the right place, and you begin to squat over his face, hovering if you will, and you feel Arthur's hands latch onto your thick thighs.

"I said sit." His voice comes out in a growl and then with a tight squeeze and a single rough pull on his end you find yourself completely sat on Arthur's face.

You can't move, he hold's you tightly against his face, buried in your pussy.

His hands massage your thighs, and you can feel his tongue moving in the best way you can think of.

It sends tingles through your body, the way he seems to nearly devour you, as though he'd never had a meal in his life.

His mouth is warm, and wet as he licks, and licks, and each flick of his tongue that seems expert you can't stop yourself from letting out lewd sounds that make you grateful he's taken you all the way into the mountains.

You reach between your thighs, gripping his hair tightly as he has his snack.

"Arthur...." You doubt he can even hear you from his position, but you hope that he gets the message when you begin to move your hips, riding his face.

His hands move from your thighs to your ass, and he helps guide each thrust of your hips.

You take a moment to look down, meeting his eyes between your thighs.

He's got a look there that you've seen many times, full and utter lust.

You can feel his nost brushing against sensitve areas of your heat, and his tongue still works away at you, lapping like a thirsty animal.

One of his hands moves from your ass, wrapping over your thigh and reaching between your legs, finding your clit easily, as it's nearly second nature for him.

Your breathing is ragged as he continues his assult of pleasure on you.

You know it isn't gonna take much longer for you to come undone, and your grip in his hair gets tighter, he can tell it won't be much longer.

The faster his tongue gets the faster his hand goes, he matches the circular motion just right with everything else until-

"Arthur!"

You feel yourself clench up and your thighs close instinctually against Arthur's head, and he continues to lick, doing his best to help ride out your orgasam.

When you're able to regain your composure he offers a few taps on your thigh and you manage to move off of him, catching the glint of your arousal on his face from the small firelight.

"Next time, when I say sit on my face I mean sit." He swallows and you watch as he licks his lips before placing his hands behind his head. "I want you to smother me."

You simply blink at him, your heart still racing from your high.

He'd just eaten you as though you were his last meal and that's all he could say.

You blink and then look towards his waist.

You had some giving to do.

[shigarakisslutbag]

PLS DO SHIGGY THIGH FUCKING HCS thank u ily

I honestly didn't think I'd write on here again but I can't sleep and it's like 5:30 in the morning lol. So I'll write some thigh fuckin' headcanons to ease the stress 😎 (also TW: for thigh fucking, somnophilia, long post in general LMFAO. If I missed anything I apologize. Also it's now 6:19 after finishing it so there's probably typos I've missed after briefly skimming this so Im also sorry for that LMFAO)

(EDIT after writing. I'm so sorry this ended up not being headcanons and was just a full on drabble I found of pulled out of my ass but I hope you still enjoy it lol)

Now truthfully I havent even watched/finished the seasons after season 4 lol. I'm in the middle of season 5 still because I'm severely depressed and can't enjoy anything. But that doesn't mean I don't still love shigaraki and tbh I still read fanfiction from time to time about him or dabi.

I feel like a lot of people paint shigaraki as either absolutely vile and grimey or just aloof and soft with a grumpy attitude. And I feel like it's a bit of both. Which really plays into his sex life (if he'll ever have one). But even without a sex life, his personality most certainly plays into his fantasies and kinks.

I want to also emphasize that fantasies are just that, fantasies. Shigaraki most likely has plenty of fantasies that he'd never dream of acting out with his partner should he ever have one. I feel like even if he had some sick fantasies or kinks, and you happened to be okay with it, he would still be iffy because if this man, for whatever reason, picked you out of everyone else?? He's not going to treat you like absolute garbage. Shigaraki is definitely not the nicest person by any means, but by God if he cares about someone he fucking cares. Esp because you're probably the only person who actually loves him in his entirety. So if he's into noncon, somnophilia, predator/prey play, or whatever, it's going to be a while before he gets comfortable bringing up any of those fantasies with you.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you're wondering "goddamnit ash shut the fuck up and tell me the thigh f-" wELL THATS TOO DAMN BAD YOU LISTEN TO SEGGSY MONOLOGUE OR YOU GET NOTHING. ty luv u.

Okay so his fantasies right ? What are shigarakis kinks ? Does he have any? Oh absolutely. And they range from either something as light and soft as hickeys and tying you up in silk while eating you out for 2 hours to nipple clamps and making you wail with hot tears and shoving a dildo down your throat telling you take it like you've taken every other mans cock down your throat because he knows stupid sluts like you are always capable of doing those things if you know it'll make your pussy soak the sheets.

Now it's not his top fantasy, but thigh fucking. And God do you have the prettiest thighs. It doesn't matter is there's stretch marks, if they're chubby, skinny, or if you have immense scarring on them he LOVES them. He loves how soft they are. He loves how they look in shorts or a skirt (esp when you keep trying to pull them down a bit because they're a size smaller than what you wanted so they don't pudge out). He loves how your delicate hands lay on top of your thighs while you fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness. He loves the way they move when he walks behind you, you have a walk that puts any model to shame. He just loves them . And by God does he throb at thought of getting to push his cock past your sweaty or oily thighs. The head of his dick barely kissing your clit each time he thrusts. But that's not the biggest and best part at all. He wants to wake you up to it. You've told him countless times he can wake you up to any sexual acts but he's still nervous. But he's really horny right now. And you're sweaty from the lack of AC and you're naked on your side sleeping away. But he genuinely can't think of anything else other than how wet your pussy must be right now and how slick your thighs must be from the heat of the room. His cock is absolutely aching to slide between your thighs and folds. He has never felt so hungry until he met someone with a body as inviting as your own. He's been stroking for the past couple minutes but it's just not enough .

He peels off the throw blanket you have over you because despite the heat you always love your blanket to sleep. But even after the blanket is removed you still don't wake . He slowly examines your body and grazes his hand down your body. Going over your shoulders and arms to ribs to hip bone. Finally meets that beautiful soft ass of yours. He gentle lifts your thigh to angle and can see your pussy . Its so wet and glistening from the lights on the street coming in through your window, beaming in and lighting up your skin to a beautiful warm glow.

He lifts up one of your slick folds, seeing your pretty clit and rubbing his thumb in tiny circles on it. He can't take it anymore and slides his cock between your thighs, his shaft rubbing your leaking pussy and making your clit throb even more. You may be asleep but your cunt is always awake and ready to be touched by him.

He starts thrusting slowly to building up that pressure in his groin to make his orgasm feel even better in the end. He can feel you coating his shaft with your juices more and more with each desperate thrust he makes to your thighs. Your thighs are so sweaty and warm and grip his dick so nicely taking any and every drop of cum he wants to and could ever give you. He can hear slight wet sounds coming from your cunt with each thrust that keeps getting more rapid and animalistic with each thrust because you dont know how to stop being such a needy whore all the time even in your sleep. Before he knows it you're gushing and your cum is on the sheets making him go over the edge. Now he's spitting thick, white shots of cum all over your thighs while drops of it roll down your skin onto the bed as well. You're still mostly asleep, but youve adorned a dazed smile on your face with a satisfied tomura passed out next you .

[attic-club-sandwich]

Hello I am in a really bad way rn after an incident with a nurse and I'd like to request the bros (and side characters too) looking after a chubby/overweight MC after she/they was called fat by someonr and started losing their shit because of it (like starting to not eat, getting snappy with the boys, wearing baggier clothes, not leaving their room as much, etc.) "Because it's true and they're just stating facts"

If you're uncomfortable writing this that's totally fine! just thought I'd try my luck lol

- 🌹

Hello my dear! Thank you so much for sending this request in and being patient! This is just the 7 brothers first, then I will post the Side Characters as a second part since i'm bad at keeping things short lol I really hope you like this! I'm very sorry to hear you are feeling down, I hope that this cheers you up and know that i'm a safe person if you ever need to talk ^-^

TW: Self-deprecation, discussions of weight and body image, possible triggering language, Swearing. Please read at your own risk and let me know if I missed anything that could be triggering!

Genre: Angst/Hurt, Comfort, Fluff.

Please be aware that I am not a professional. I do possess a degree in Psychology, but everyone's experience is different when it comes to personally dealing with this topic. I apologize if this does not align with your own personal experiences!

Taglist: @delphi-dreamin @sassykattery @bite-sized-devil @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar (feel free to ignore if this isn't for you!)

Harsh Thoughts, Gentle Praises

Your chest felt heavy as you walked home from RAD. Tears threatened to spill over your cheeks, but you didn't dare let them fall in front of him. You felt bad because you had snapped at him when he asked why you were so quiet, and now the tension was so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. It's all because that stupid no-name demon called you that word. A word that had a tendency to trigger you. A word that was considered so ugly in the human world, and they knew that and used it to their advantage just to hurt you.

Fat.

The word echoed in your head. "Aren't you a little fat for a human? I bet you'd make a nice meal for those demons you hang around all the time. I don't know how they can even stand being around you." They had said. you tried so hard to not let it bother you. But you knew you were slipping into the toxic state of mind that you hadn't been in since coming to the Devildom.

Lucifer

The eldest demon was one of the first to notice your behavior. He kept a close eye on you after all.

He walked you home that day, and you immediately shut yourself in your room.

Lucifer will give you space at first. He knows all to well that when he's angry, he just needs time to cool off.

However this went on for a couple of days.

He notices you skipping meals, claiming you aren't feeling well.

When he does see you, you're wearing an oversized shirt and sweatpants and your hair is messy and unkempt. This isn't like you at all.

He eventually sits you down in his study to talk with you. "MC, I'd like to know what's been bothering you. Are you okay"

Suddenly, all of the feelings you've been bottling up explode.

"No, clearly i'm not okay!" you shout, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Lucifer is taken aback by your outburst, but he listens as you tell him everything. Anger rises in his chest and he clenches his fist in his lap.

You were a sobbing mess, "I don't even know why I'm upset, they're only stating facts anyways."

Lucifer immediately pulls you into a tight hug, silencing the toxic words that leave your mouth. “Regardless of whether their observations are true or not, clearly we all still care deeply about you. So they are wrong about that aspect.”

You continue to sob into his chest, but this time at his words. "B-But Luci...It's true..."

He pulls away and plants a delicate kiss to your forehead. “That's quite enough of that. MC, you are the most beautiful being I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

He scoops you up onto his lap, cradling you close. You squeeze your eyes shut, enjoying the moment of tenderness you've been craving so much. "Now let's get you showered and ready for bed. Would you care to join me?"

Mammon

The Avatar of Greed is surprisingly quick to notice the habits you've formed.

You had yelled at him for barging into your room, which you didn't normally do anymore.

He was startled when he had walked into you crying, and decided he wasn’t leaving without an explanation.

“Mammon I said go away already!” You cried, tossing a book at him.

He had dodged it of course, and made his way over to your bed. “No way in hell am I leaving until ya tell me what’s wrong!”

You were stubborn. You sat in silence, staring at the floor. Mammon sighed, "Please MC. Don't think I haven't noticed you haven't been eating... or takin' care of yourself... and you're so stressed. It's my job to pay attention to these things!"

You began to weep again, explaining the situation through hiccups.

Once you finished, Mammon was pissed.

"Are you fuckin' for real?! I swear i'm gonna rip 'em apart..." He demands the name of the demon who dares say such vile things to his human.

He was so angry, his demon form was threatening to take over.

"It's fine Mammon, It's not like they were lying. Its true, I'm fat. I'm disgusting. Just look at me."

Mammon practically growls at the way you talk about yourself. His hands are suddenly on your shoulders.

"You're really gonna listen to some bastard demon who doesn't even know ya at all?! Yeah, I'll look at you. And when I do, all I see is this beautiful human who makes me fuckin' crazy."

He stared at you intently before crashing his lips to yours. You welcomed the kiss gratefully. His hands are exploring their way down your arms, and up the curves of your hips.

When you broke apart, he pulled you into his chest, squeezing you tightly. He just wanted to hold you. To protect you from everything that could possibly harm you.

Your legs trembled when he pulled you to your feet and you held onto him.

"Let's go watch a movie in bed or somethin', okay? I want to show you just how beautiful you are."

You nodded, taking his hand and wiping your tear stained cheeks with the other. All you wanted right now was his company. His love and attention. "I love you Mams. Thank you."

He flashed you a wide grin. "I love you too, Treasure. Don't you forget that."

Leviathan

Levi was shocked when you turned down his offer on watching the new episode of anime you've been watching together.

You muttered something along the lines of "I know I can't be as perfect as that one character you like so much."

Levi froze in place, watching you retreat down the hallway and to your room. W-What did you just say?!

It takes him a moment, but he follows you and cautiously opens your door.

You were sat on your bed, arms crossed and tears falling down your face.

"M-MC! What's wrong?? D-Did I say something to upset you?" He stuttered, unsure of how to approach you.

When you told him everything, he was practically crying right alongside you. "I know i'm fat, Levi. I don't know how you can stand me when all those anime characters are so perfect."

Levi shakes his head, his amber eyes filled with tears. "No, no, no. Don't even go thinking that. Those characters aren't real. You're real, MC. And you are perfect to me. You're my Henry, remember?!"

You let out a small giggle through your tears. "Y-Yeah, I guess. But-"

Levi interrupts you, pulling you into a hug.

You run your fingers through his purple hair and you begin to relax. You felt bad for snapping at him. "I'm sorry, Levi."

The purple haired demon pulls away, wiping his own eyes with his sleeve. "N-Now you've made me cry! Come on. Let's go back to my room." He glances down at the hoodie and pajama pants you're wearing. "I-I'll lend you one of my shirts if you want..." he said, shyly. He knew you loved borrowing his anime shirts.

You perked up at that, the thought of being surrounded in his scent cheering you up. He really does know you so well.

He grabbed your hand and lead you to his room, his face flushing in the process.

"Hey, Levi? I love you."

Satan

Satan could feel your pact mark with him burning.

You had just gotten done throwing a tantrum over not being able to understand the material you were studying for test the next day.

Satan's emerald eyes widened, reassuring you that it was okay, and he didn't mind going over it with you again.

"No, I'm just too stupid to get it! That demon was right. I don't know how you can stand me!" you yelled, sliding down to the floor of the library.

"MC...what demon? Will you please explain?"

When he finally got it out of you, his own wrath began to rise in his stomach. He felt sick with rage.

You pulled your knees to your chest, your own pact mark beginning to burn. "It's not like they are wrong or anything. They're stating facts."

Satan sat on the floor next to you, wrapping his arms around your trembling form.

"Now you don't actually believe that do you?"

You sniff, wiping the mixture of snot and tears from your face. "W-Well yeah I do..."

Satan shook his head. "Unacceptable. I believe we aren't finished with our session yet. I have another subject to teach you in."

The remainder of your study session was spent with Satan planting soft kisses on various parts of your body. Your face. Your hands.

He rolled up the sleeves of your oversized hoodie to kiss your arms.

He ran his hands over the curves and dips of your body. Over your soft, plush thighs.

"S-Satan...stop..." you sighed. But you really didn't mean it. All you wanted was his gentle touch. You couldn't get enough.

He smiled, wiping your tears. He helped you to your feet, and planted one final kiss to your soft lips.

"Let's continue this session after hours. I have lots more to teach you about yourself."

Asmodeus

You and Asmo were supposed to go to the spa together that evening. Needless to say, you weren't exactly feeling up to it.

Asmo pouted when you told him you were cancelling, and demanded to know the reason why.

You tried to come up with an excuse, but you began to grow visibly upset, finding it hard to speak.

Asmo's face fell and he quickly guided you to his room.

"Darling, what ever is the matter?" he asked softly, sitting you down on his bed.

You wept as you finally came clean. "I just don't get why you want to spend time with me! I'm fat and disgusting! I'll only ruin your image!"

His concern began to transform into anger. "As the Avatar of Lust, there's no way I'm letting you speak that way about yourself!" he cried, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at your wet cheeks.

You let out a choked sob as he pulled you to your feet, standing you in front the large mirror that stood in his closet. "A-Asmo, no... I don't even want to look at myself..."

Asmo only shook his head. "Look at this beautiful human standing right here with me. Who says being heavier is a bad thing? That demon's only goal was to hurt you because he's simply jealous."

You sniffed, staring up at Asmo's reflection in the mirror. You've never seen him this serious before.

"Y-You really think I'm beautiful? Are you sure?" you asked, timidly.

Asmo pressed the side of his face against yours as he continued to admire your reflection. "The beauty I see in you is undeniable, my dear."

You chuckled as he twirled you around to face him, bringing your hand to his lips.

If there was one thing Asmodeus was good at, it was loving himself.

Now he was going to teach you, too.

Giving you a wink, Asmo guided you to his bathroom."Let's go have a spa night here, instead. You deserve nothing but the best treatment from yours truly."

Beelzebub

When dinner time rolled around, Lucifer called your name.

You reluctantly emerged from your bedroom, and in a cloudy state of mind found yourself at the table with a plate of food in front of you.

You stared down at it, and began picking through it with a fork.

Beel immediately noticed your behavior.

You normally ate your food with no hesitation and gratefully thanked whoever had made it that night.

It had been Beel's turn to cook, so he made your favorite, sensing you were down about something.

He only wanted to cheer you up.

"MC, are you feeling okay?" he said quietly as to not draw attention to the rest of his brothers.

Your lip began to tremble, and your fork clattered to the floor.

Now the other brothers were looking at you, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Would you all quit staring at me?! I'm going to my room. I-I'm not feeling good." you yelled.

Beel got up, leaving his own unfinished plate of food behind to follow you.

When he knocked on your door, he could hear you sobbing. He entered your room and made his way over to you.

"MC, what's wrong?" he asked softly, reaching out to play with a lock of your hair.

You glanced at him, your face messy with tears. "How do you guys love me?"

Beel was confused by your question. "Huh? Why wouldn't we love you?"

You finally broke down, telling him everything. Beel's heart ached for you, and he suddenly didn't have an appetite anymore.

"MC...We could never feel that way about you..."

You buried your face in your hands. "But look at me! You don't see the gross stretch marks on my skin? How fat I am?"

Beel winced at your words. "MC, look." he said, pulling up his shorts slightly to expose his thigh. "I have them too."

You blinked in surprise as you saw the pale white lines traveling over the expanse of Beel's skin. "W-What?"

He nodded, pulling you to his side. "I do. I struggled with weight gain too. My sin is gluttony, and It got out of control for a little bit."

You sniffed, leaning into him. "I-I'm sorry Beel..."

He nuzzled his face into your neck. "Just promise not to say things like that anymore. I love everything about you."

His hands traveled down to your own thighs and squeezed. "You are everything I need. You make me feel hungry in a different way. I crave it all the time."

You sighed as he pressed his lips against yours. "Now only if you're feeling up to it, maybe we can finish our dinner in my room?"

You gave him a small smirk, "Sure, I'm looking forward to dessert."

Belphegor

Belphie didn't pay attention at first.

But when you didn't show up to your nightly cuddle session in the attic, he was worried.

He texted you, but there was no answer. Where are they? He wondered.

He decided to go search for you, going to your room first.

When he got to your door, he didn't bother knocking.

He entered to see you buried under your covers in your bed.

"MC?" he yawned, padding over to lift the covers slightly.

Your teary eyes met his, and he furrowed his brow in worry. "Why are you crying, Angel?"

Your lip quivered, and you began cry more. "G-Go away, Belphie."

The youngest demon only pulled back your covers and slipped into the spot next to you. He pulled the blankets back up to cover you both.

"Nah, I'm comfy here. What's going on?"

You rolled away from him, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Belphie, why do you love me?"

He hummed, pondering the question. "Because you are you. I love everything. There's no way I can list them all. Too sleepy." he yawned.

You felt a bubble of laughter rise in your chest, but only for a second.

"So you don't mind that i'm um.... overweight?"

Belphie's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the question. "Where is this coming from?"

Fresh tears spilled as you began to explain what happened a few days prior.

Belphie growled, pulling you closer to him. He wanted to know who it was that dared say such disgusting things to you.

"But it's true though right? I mean it's pretty obvious they weren't lying."

Hearing those words only made him angrier. He forced you to roll back over so you were facing him.

"Dont say such things, MC. You always hate it when I say bad things about myself, don't you?"

You nodded, wiping your nose. "Y-Yeah, but this is different..."

He shook his head, reaching out to cradle your head in his hands.

"No it's not different. You are the greatest thing to happen to me. I don't give a shit about things like that, and you know it. And I know for a fact my brothers don't either."

You gasped as he pulled you into his chest. You began to relax as he rubbed circles on your back. "Belphie..."

He pulled away, staring into your eyes. "Did you know that every star you see is different? Even though they look the same from a distance. MC, you're the brightest, most beautiful star I've ever seen. If we all looked the same, it would be pretty boring, right?"

Your lip trembled, but Belphie put it to rest once he pressed his lips to yours. "I love you, Angel. Let's get our cuddle session in now okay?"

Side Characters coming shortly! (Will update)

[emeritus-fuckers]

Howdy hey I'm interested in trying the match-up event. I always enjoy reading the things y'all've written.

Apologies in advance if this is a mess. 1. Identity: I am nonbinary, use they/them and she/her pronouns. I'm bisexual and a bit on the demisexual side.

2. Who I like: I'm cool with either the papas or ghouls

3. What I look like: I'm 5'8" and chubby. I'm pretty strong and got some muscle so I'm built perfect for giving big hugs and cuddles (though it'll take a bit of convincing to get me cuddly). At the moment my hair is dyed bright red but it changes colors often. Both my eyes have sectoral heterochromia and are green with a bright blue chunk. I usually wear all black graphic tees, skinny jeans, boots, and fun colored socks that often show because i never find pants that are long enough in my size lol.

4. My personality: I am introverted but enjoy being around others even if it wears me out. I'm good with kids (I'm a human jungle gym at this point) and people tend to tell me their secrets and find it easy to be open/themselves around me. I'd say i'm pretty smart but I will do stupid things just because i'm curious. Folks i'm comfortable around will never hear the end of my current interests and I'm a complete goofball (I've been banned from being funny at the table because i've caused too many people to choke laughing oops). It takes a while to actually get to know me deeply because I keep things close to my chest and dont open up easily. I've got a lot of anxiety and some baggage that I keep hidden but I'm working on I swear. I can get really competitive over trivial things and can turn anything into a game. I sometimes go MIA when im distracted with whatever the hell i'm into at that time but when I reappear there's always something new to share. (I can tell you everything you never wanted to know about pipe organs!)

5. Interests: I've got the adhd so my interests bounce around a lot. I like making things and I mess around with a lot with different crafts. I do a lot of fiber arts stuff and I've also recently been whittling bears (I have a few around somewhere). I love music both listening and playing it. I play 8 instruments (violin, viola, cello, mandolin, ukulele, trumpet, trombone, and french horn) but I'm best with the violin because i've been playing it for around 17 years. I'm also teaching myself accordion and guitar. I play video games sometimes and I especially enjoy getting 100% completion. In general I love learning anything and everything and am a "jack of many trades but master of none"

6.Trivia: My favorite movie is fantasia 2000 and recently I completed my goal of performing every music piece in an orchestra (The Pines of Rome and the Firebird Suite are my favs). I collect knickknacks and random things I find and use them to decorate my spaces and I have a skeleton with a mustache in a wizard costume in the back seat of my car and its name is Todd. I also keep googly eyes in my bag just in case

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is...Swiss

You and Swiss quickly became friends, he's so excited by things and so enthusiastic that you got swept up in it all. He's charming and really sweet to you, so you started to fall for him. One day you were sitting outside, Swiss taking a large drag of his vape before he looks at you and grins. "I love ya, you know that right gorgeous one?" You blush and blurt out that you feel the same way. Swiss responds by biting your shoulder just under the collar of your t-shirt. "There now it's offical" he says so excited he's practically jumping up and down "you're my mate!"

Swiss adores your eyes, he thinks they are the most awesome thing ever, and so beautiful. He tells you this a lot.

Swiss adores how much of a goofball you are, he is too, and you spend a lot of time together both laughing so hard you end up tearing up.

If your anxeity is getting bad he will cuddle and do anythig he can to help. If things get too much and you seem sad he'll hold you. He will cuddle you as long as you need. Then he'll try and take your mind off things, anything to get you to laugh a little and smile. Swiss is chaos personified but one thing is constant for him, he loves you and is devoted to you.

Swiss can keep up with your changing interestests. Infact he loves it! This Ghoul enjoys chaos and jumping around from thing to thing, that keeps him occupied. Whatever you get into he'll throw himself into it completely with you.

He is fascinated by all the things you collect. He loves how varied they are and the skeleton with a moutache is his favourite. He was very excited when you whittled him a bear. You handed it to him and he just looked at it like 'woow this is awesome'. he keeps it in his room, pride of place.

He's more than happy to help you learn guitar, he gets so excited his tail starts swishing around. He passes you his guitar and sits behind you legs either side of you showing you a cord and then letting you practice. He'll kiss your neck or softly bite your shoulder every now and then. He'll rest his chin on your shoulder and watches. He smiles at how fast you are learning, his smile is gorgeous enough to make your heart melt for him, to forget completely what you were playing and you just smile back. Often this leads to you getting so distracted the guitar gets forgotten as he presses his lips to yours.

~

Written by Nyx

[elliottlee23]

{♤Here's a lil about me for anyone curious♤}

♡My name is Elliott Lee!♡

I struggle with alot but here are a list of some

{Autistic} { ocd } { ptsd } { bpd }

{ generalized anxiety disorder / GAD for short }

{ Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome / POTS for short }

{Ehlers-Danlos syndrome}

{ Here are also some of my interests! }

{I'm a artist I may post some more of my art on here in the future just let me know if you wanna see thatt}

I crochet a bit and a lil bit of knitting but I suck

I make alot of stuff out of clay

Jewelry, figures, mini stuff etc

And I do origami some times

I love games here's what I'm playing currently:

:VrChat: :Stardew: :minecraft: :sims4: :breathe of the wild(again): :tears of the kingdom:

And if you have any suggestions please leave them because I always need more games

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

¿Tw? Some stuff I talk about next might be a lil upsetting so beware<3

I've been selfh@rming sense I was 5 it started with hitting myself or thing now its cntting, bnrning, drinking, smoking, not eating, ect

____________________________________

I've had a problem with food from a very young age also around 5-7 I always had to finish my food no matter what and I had to eat it no matter what it was if I didn't I'd stay at the kitchen table for hours and I'd get yelled at and told I was spoiled rotten and selfish and all that good shit

And I always was the "chubby kid" so if ykyk I got picked on about my weight some but I was always the hardest on myself then anyone else was.

My ed got bad when I was 9-10 that's when I started keeping track of what I ate when I ate how much I was eating I had books and books of my ed logs I used to eat around 800 kals a day and stop eating at 9am I was still just a kid and its really sucky going back and reading all that

I'm 17 now my ed it the worst it's ever gotten but I'm not underweight so to me it doesn't feel that bad it could be worse I'm trying to lose weight still but I have a boyfriend now and when I tell you hes the bestest thing to have ever happened to me I swear on my life hes everything you could ever want in a partner and I'm so scared of fucking this up because of this stupid eating disorder. So at the same time I'm trying to get worse and better what a war to fight huh?

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I surprised I'm even here to be honest no one but my partner knows this but I've had quite a few attempts my last one was the worst dec 14th 2022 I dont think I'll ever fully recover from it and to this day no one knows even tho I was in a house full of people it would break my parents heart I dont think they could handle knowing I might not even tell them one day but who knows right?

Not much else to say but now you know a little more about me maybe we can be friends or maybe this can be some message on the internet you remember for days to come a reminder that it's not always worth it. Doing all this to yourself but it's your life dont live it in mind of other people their thoughts. Opinions. Their choices. Because you only get one body for this life time use it wisely or waste away completely I wont stop you

but what ever you choose know some day somewhere out there, it does. Get better.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[AS]

[makerofmadness]

tbh I fxcking hate a lot of posts I get on my dash about fat stuff and I say this as a fat girl. Like no I'm not gonna fxcking kill my maman for calling me her little chunky monkey that's comforting for me I like it stop trying to take happiness away from me stop trying to tell me how I should feel about it my maman loves me and I love her. Maybe words like "chunky" and "chubby" are a matter of personal taste and you shouldn't just say that they're bad when some people might like them (like I do), but you can still establish boundaries and say if you don't want others to call you that those things can coexist just don't try to say that everyone should be mad if anyone ever says those words of that no one should ever use them. "You don't have to say chunky or chubby you can just say fat" Let me be happy. Just let me find my own happiness I'm not hurting anyone I'm not hurting you.

Maman calling me chunky affectionately never hurt me or anyone it made me feel warm and it still makes me feel warm it's comforting for me. The only shzt that's made me feel bad about my weight happened recently and it came from ANOTHER FAT PERSON who I had at first thought as a friend but long story short has continually been really fxcking weird about me and my stomach basically always bringing it up in conversations saying how he wants to RUB IT. Something about how apparently he thinks my stomach looks like it's in pain or something. like bruh no it's not the only pain I'm feeling is fxcking psychological after all of this. This is the only thing that's made me actively want to LOSE my body fat/have a smaller stomach, because I just want him to stop treating me like I'm just a walking talking stomach.

maman never did this to me. She made me feel loved. She didn't make me feel like a freak. But according to the posts I saw SHE would've been the enemy because she calls me chunky and sometimes she makes me exercise (because we have type 2 diabetes in the family. From her own maman. And she wants me to be healthy and happy). But she never makes me feel horrible for my size or my weight. But that other fat student at my school does. And we're supposed to have some kind of "solidarity." But he just won't treat me normally. And he won't leave me alone.

And now I just want to go home to my maman.

[yuri-is-online]

An office shoujo think post

so you know that post from wttmcsms? The one about having a fake ring to chase off the men, a character who doesn't notice it, and flirts with reader trying to prove he'd be the better husband:

I came up with a slight idea for a dating sim based off of it by expanding the original concept just a tad... but I would appreciate some advice lol. It would be a super simple project with the classic neutral, bad (sort of), and good endings to help me practice the coding stuff.

The Setting: it's a simple office rom-com, nothing too deep or serious. The MC has recently decided to start wearing the ring due to some bad experiences at their previous job and is encouraged to do so by their best friend who promises to help keep up the ruse.

original concept/the flirt- same as the above described scenario with no real changes... he would be the "first route." Very shojo flirty love interest who wants to prove himself to the MC and teases them a whole lot. Pretty simple not too much drama?

the pathetic guy- Lennox... he's short and normally really self assured but for some reason he turns into a pathetic mess around the MC on his route. He's a bit of a loser when it comes to romance and constantly shooting himself in the foot to the point it is surprising how well put together he is outside of it. Similar in concept to the flirt's route except he's not a smooth operator.

the tsundere- megane ceo ikmen except she's a woman. She's the sister of your best friend and doesn't remember hearing about you getting married but what if it's true? And she's lost her chance? Because she keeps sticking her stupid foot in her mouth and making it sound like she hasn't been in love with you all this time and when she learns you aren't married that just makes it worse. Because if she flirts with you now then won't she just be like all the other people who made you uncomfortable?

My problem is I would want to add a fourth normal route but I can't settle on a good trope to model it after... the reason being I have a yandere route planned and i know that's not everyone's cup of tea lol. But tropes are difficult, so here are the potential ones I was kicking around:

let's sexualize that old man- idk middle aged salaryman who works at the company tm. The problem is I wanted to also make him a little more pathetic which is Lennox's trope. I guess we don't have a kuudere, which sort of works well for the middle aged man trope.

rivalmance- the MC is a secretary and the business they work for makes some sort of product... so I guess there could be another secretary? Maybe for the cfo of the company. I'm thinking of a rich, bratty ojou-sama. A Regina George type... except less pink and more black??? I'll be honest I am not as fond of this one might need to take it back to the drawing board.

senpai- a pretty obvious trope for this sort of set up... a mentor at the company, maybe the retiring or senior secretary who is very soft and big brotherly who is really gentle in how he expresses his concern over how little your husband seems to care for you, but not because he wishes he was him. If he says that enough maybe he'll believe it?

kohai- MC is new to the company so maybe a little bit of a timeskip where there is a new secretary who really wants to prove himself. Super big golden retriever energy with a person who desperately wants to be taken seriously but is a bit clumsy so you don't at first. He insists he loves you but everyone in the office brushes his feelings off as a crush and it's super annoying!!!! But he's got really chubby cheeks so his pouting is just too cute to listen to what he's saying.

or something idk. I want to work on the demon thirst trap idea but... I really need to practice the code to do that well so I need to do something much much simpler first and office shojo is pretty simple I suppose.