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prickly-paprikash · 7 months ago

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Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

#kendrick lamar #drake #music #hip hop

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kalims · 2 months ago

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⋆ too drunk to recognize your boyfriend

feat. third years of diasomnia

malleus

"I.. have a boyfriend,"

to an extent. the guarded, suspicious look on your face would have concerned malleus to no belief, to others. he wouldn't have bat an eye whatsoever, but it's you so the feeling crawls up his spine and clouds his heart. he can't help the slight nudge of offense clouding his face cause you definitely shouldn't have any reason to make such a face to his.

the more his arm reaches out towards you—to ground your swaying form perhaps, the more you seem to be inching away from him. which shouldn't make sense at all! "child of man?" he murmurs. dropping the attempt to console you, to which you squint at him. back pressed against the front door to his dorm.

"who are you?!" you point at him, and he blinks. mortification spreads in his head. you've.. accumulated amnesia?!

malleus' fingers clench around the fabric on his chest, just after he had retracted the outstretched limb in fear of frightening you even more. there's a certain stiffness to his hand that illicit a drop of sweat from his forehead. him? he's your mal?

if he had the nerve to cry, he would.

but of course, you remain a priority. you exhibit unnatural behavior. no one just forgets important details in a day! you especially, won't forget about him! and he won't let you, ever.

you sway. your eyes darting around, and squinting like you're struggling to focus on one subject of your attention, a factor that might affect it is the fact you keep looking around instead on settling on something, preferably him. and, malleus is torn between steadying you, or him.

he chooses you.

despite your half hearted protest that audibly makes him sulk more, he twists the door to the dorm open and ushers you inside. not too much of a struggle, if anything, you seem lighter, and he almost actually hauled you around with minimal effort.

"must be a good night," a voice purrs, malleus doesn't have to glance at the source to know that it's lilia. years spent with the man does wonder with familiarity. it took him a couple of decades to get used to him. strangely enough he feels like he's known you longer, despite not.

the statement makes the taller male frown. lilia though, keeps the tiny smile, now tickled with a hint of amusement as the rubies shift from your blubbering form to malleus' face. oh? he's upset now. lilia muses. it's easy to ascertain his boy's move, like a sixth sense.

so lilia decides to probe further. "no? your face tells me otherwise."

malleus huffs a little. one of the habits he never seemed to grow out of ever since he learned to keep his... more draconic traits at bay. "you are less than accurate with your assumption," his eye twitches, either torn between distressed or irritation. despite the conflicting behavior, he still manages to treat you with a gentle hand while leading you towards the couch.

"it is a very terrible day." malleus continues. sad enough to complain, but fond of you enough to take the hint from your apparent cautious behavior towards him. lilia almost laughs when he spies him gloomy, sitting on the far end, away from you.

the lightning strikes just as the clouds roll in. lilia peers behind the curtains, chuckling a little at the weather.

well! he just hadn't seen malleus moping around this much since, what? when that gold trinket wouldn't fit in his tower anymore? "why so, my dear?" lilia coos, positively charmed by the 'adorable' disposition.

of course, he already knows. he'd heard your exchange moments ago.

lilia retains the easy look. "the child of man has forgotten about me," malleus explains. looking more stressed by the second. "whoever has done this, will pay." from a sad, faraway look to rage suddenly. "I beg of you, please return them." then switches back...?

he has half the mind to pretend like you're never gonna return normal but decides against it.

"of course!" lilia chirps. "they'll be well by tomorrow."

and, malleus looks like he had been holding the world by his shoulders seconds ago, a sigh of relief.

the next day, you're not sure why malleus is introducing himself in concerning detail. do you really need to know what color his assigned blanket was when he was given birth to...?

lilia

if anything, he's really the one who enabled your behavior.

"just one more." , "oh my, need another?" , "you look like you need it, come on now, don't be shy, you only live once~"

concerned, silver steadied you as you wobble on your feet. babbling about some nonsense under your breath which only illicits the boy to cast a disapproving glance at lilia (who only wears an amused smile).

"seems like they had quite the night." a cheery comment from the latter, and silver makes no move to resist when he moved closer with silent steps, then pries you to his side inside with a gentleness that would prove that he isn't.. actually the reason for your state, but not really.

lilia cooed, like he'd coddled them before. silver thinks but it is so distinct from the way he used to coax them into bed. "time for bed."

you peel your eyes open, squinting with a crease between your brows. you tug at your arm, of which doesn't really budge but lilia decides to humor the struggle so he lets go and raises his brows. "I'm not a kid!" you say, then turn your head to the side—like a kid.

oh, so adorable. lilia croons, swooning inside his head for a bit. how he'd like to simply hold you for hours end...

the romantic monolog of his daydreams though, is interrupted by you once more. ironic since you were the one he was just day dreaming about.

"oh, my. is that so? how lucky of me." he chooses to say instead.

silver sweatdrops. glancing between your hazy... anger maybe? it's not really anger in all honesty, just bordering. then to the lax demeanor his father exhibited. a glance would find normality in it, but he hasn't seen him pick on someone so...

he doesn't know the word for it, perhaps insisting on bothering a singular person as much as he can?

you gasp, snapping your head to silver. cause apparently you recognize him, but seemed scandalized by lilia's presence. "silver! protect me!"

amused, lilia watches you scurry back behind the boy.

"there's nothing to protect you from..."

"there's a man!"

"I'm a man too..."

"there's a bad man!"

your head peeks out from silver's confused frame, lilia's head follows the action. tilting to the side as you eye him hilariously warily. hmmm.. so very cute. "I'm an innocent, only wishing to steal my beloved." he replies, with a usual lightness. though the usual relaxation you had around him is replaced with irritation.

"you can't steal me away, my boyfriend and his children will strangle you."

lilia shares a look with silver. where did they get the idea of... such violence?

silver shrugs. not a clue, he seems to reply back, committed to just remaining a bystander even if he's technically in the middle.

"is that so?"

you nod vehemently, a more open vulnerability clear on your face than before. you point to lilia (well, technically you don't actually know its him! or maybe you're just playing with him?) squinting, accusing at all with him at the end of your pointer finger. the male only raises his brow, and flashes you a cheeky smile.

lilia contemplates playing with you. as in, replying 'why don't you guess?' because knowing you, even in this state you'd probably tell him: "how would I know?" then proceed to guess anyway.

you would have a cute expression, perhaps. but he isn't so cruel to the point where he would waste time—time you could be using to rest instead, preferably get sober, remember him when you wake up, and return to your lovey dovey self.

alright. maybe not lovey dovey on some days but he would definitely prefer that than you using his son as a shield against him, like the boy could actually hold him back.

well, it is technically his fault... but lilia had all the intentions to care for you if you ever got too drunk, he'd hold you up if you were too unsteady, guide you away from possible fiends, and make sure you recovered well the following morning.

but, this definitely didn't enter his area of expectations.

"yup!" you cry. "he might be short, but he can kick butt." for someone who's heard many arrogant words, he's never seen one who says one thing—a threat in your case, then you proceeded to cower behind the nonchalant silver.

you nudge silver.

silver blinks. "um... that's correct."

you glance back at lilia. as if to say I told you!

"so... he will kick my... butt?" lilia hums, indulging in using the word. goodness, good thing sebek is not here. that boy definitely would've kicked you out for endorsing such foul language.

he feigns a look of horror, to his amusement you seem to brighten.

simply adorable...

long story short. you seem to believe you've truly scared him off when he disappears.

concerned even more, silver watches you welcome lilia back with a dreamy sigh. like... you actually recognize him as your lilia, and not the guy you were just... threatening to bite the curb.

this is absurd... I should just rest... silver sighs.

lilia only beams at the showering affection.

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#pov written by someone whos never been drunk #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fluff #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia #gender neutral reader #as i write this im gonna write a draft ill nrver finish next #lilia babies mc #WHEN WAS THR LAST TIME I POSTED!@#no beta we die

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queertransetc · 1 year ago

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- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

#Lincoln logs #fatphobia //#eating disorder //#fat liberation #body positivity

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megpie71 · 1 year ago

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Technically, it's 4 minutes and 33 seconds of whatever ambient sound is audible in the hall where it's being performed. The point of the piece being that music is merely noise organised neatly (this is, I suspect, why my autistic brain which gets overloaded by noise seems to cope quite well with music, most of the time).

The particular version I suspect they've banned the audio of here had a thunderstorm happening outside, which is just dimly audible in the background, and you can hear the other people in the hall, but at the end of the first "movement" someone offstage plays the "Looney Tunes" playout theme on a slightly out-of-tune piano in what I suspect is the rehearsal area. Which sets some people laughing in the hall. (and that is why the disabling of the audio track is because "it wasn't authorised by Warner Music Group").

(If you're looking to hear this version, may I recommend unto you a novelty CD set produced by the Australian ABC in 1999 called "Wagner's Rinse Cycle", which has the relevant extract at the end of the second CD).

A decade later and this is still one of the funniest things ever

#I have spent too many years accumulating trivia #I have to do something with it

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swappermanent · 20 days ago

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Life In Retrospect

It started, like most things in my life, with a bit of harmless indulgence. I’d been out on the beach, metal detector in hand, just doing my thing. Call it a classic old guy hobby if you want—I know it sounds like one—but there’s something oddly satisfying about it. You spend your whole life accumulating things, working toward something, and yet, in your later years, you find yourself searching for what’s been left behind.

That’s when I found it. The detector beeped, low and insistent, over something solid buried in the sand. Brushing it off, I uncovered a necklace—a little tarnished but still striking. The pendant was shaped like a bird, wings spread wide, with an intricate design that caught the light just so. It looked old. And valuable, maybe. Not the kind of thing you’d expect to find washed up on a beach in a sleepy town like mine.

Being the curious sort, I took it home and started looking into it. I’m no stranger to the internet, mind you. For an old guy, I know my way around a reverse image search. After a bit of digging, I finally found a match, buried in an obscure corner of the web. Turns out, this wasn’t just any necklace. According to the article, it had magical properties—something about granting the deepest, most hidden wishes. But there was a catch: the wishes had to be subconscious. Wear it, the story claimed, and the wish would find you.

remember chuckling at the idea. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But then I paused, looking at the necklace in my hand, and wondered what exactly my subconscious would want, if it had the chance. Money? I wasn’t exactly rich, but I got by just fine. Love? I’d missed that boat, never found someone to share my life with. Fame? Ha, the idea made me laugh—what would an old man like me even do with fame?

I didn’t expect much from it, but it was an interesting enough piece, and it looked good against a sweater or tucked under a jacket, so I wore it. Weeks went by, and honestly, I forgot about it.

---

One day, I found myself at the gym. It was a bit of a routine for me—not the way it used to be when I was younger, of course, but I kept at it, lifting lighter weights and trying to stay active. This wasn’t just any gym, either; it had a reputation around town. People called it the “gay gym”—not officially, of course, but you could tell. The men here were fit, stylish, and, well, meticulous about their bodies in a way I could only admire from a distance. They looked like they belonged in magazines, and I’ll admit, I liked to let my eyes wander now and then.

Still, I kept to myself. At my age, I wasn’t exactly in the social scene here, and I’d long since learned to stay on the sidelines. I came, did my exercises, enjoyed the view, and went home.

But that day, for the first time, someone came up to me. His name was Mikey, and I’d noticed him before, of course. Hard not to, really. He was exactly the kind of man I might've dreamed of being, if I ever let myself dream about that sort of thing. He was young, muscular, with a powerful, chiseled build that made his plain T-shirts look sculpted onto him. His dark hair was perfectly styled, a casual yet intentional wave falling over his forehead. And that mustache—thick, neatly trimmed, lending him a rugged, almost classic appeal, like he could’ve stepped out of a 1970s action movie. He even wore glasses, tortoiseshell frames that gave him an unexpected touch of charm and sophistication. I'd managed to snap a few photos of him before at the gym when he wasn't looking.

I’d seen him around for months, usually catching glimpses of him bench-pressing absurd weights or chatting with friends, his laughter deep and easy. He looked like the kind of guy who owned his confidence, who walked through life knowing that people admired him. And, hell, I was no exception. I'd spent enough stolen moments sneaking glances at those bulging arms, that thick neck, the way his shoulders seemed to strain the fabric of whatever he wore. Every time, I felt a little flutter inside—a mix of envy and something more primal, something I barely let myself think about.

So imagine my surprise when he came up to me. Even he seemed a little surprised, his brow creasing just slightly like he didn’t quite know what had prompted him to approach. And then, he asked me about my necklace.

“Hey, where’d you get that necklace?” he said, eyes flicking from my face to the pendant hanging over my chest. “It’s… different. Kind of cool.”

I felt a little jolt of something—excitement, nerves, maybe both—at the attention. He wanted to know about my necklace? Of all things? I opened my mouth to respond, and then something strange happened. The words just… flowed. I started telling him all about it—how it had been crafted in some long-ago time by hands that shaped it with care, about the artisan who’d worked on it and how they were renowned for imbuing special powers into their pieces. I talked about the mystical properties, the magic of wishes hidden deep in one’s subconscious, waiting to be drawn out by the wearer.

Thing is, I didn’t know any of that. Not consciously. But as I spoke, it felt like I was reading from some invisible script, like the knowledge was being given to me as I said it out loud.

Mikey listened, his gaze locked onto the pendant, almost entranced. Then, he looked back up at me, that curiosity still burning in his eyes.

“Would you mind if I tried it on?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was almost embarrassed by the question.

Without a second thought, I nodded, slipping the necklace off and handing it over to him. He took it carefully, his fingers brushing mine—warm, rough skin, the kind that spoke of hard work and hours in the gym. He put it on, and I swear, the thing looked like it was made for him. It hung perfectly against his chest, the bird pendant resting right in the middle of that strong, solid frame.

As I watched him, something stirred in me. I felt a warmth spreading through my body, a tingling that started low and radiated outward, like a current of energy. I caught myself glancing down, noticing with a bit of embarrassment that I was half-hard. But I couldn’t help it—the sight of him, my necklace gleaming against his chest, his broad shoulders framed by that perfectly fitted T-shirt, was… well, let’s just say it was doing things to me.

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat and giving him an appreciative once-over, “it suits you. Why don’t you keep it?”

Mikey’s eyebrows lifted, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little unsteady, trying to hide the flush of heat that was working its way up my neck. “Consider it a gift.”

---

That night, I felt warmer than I had in years—almost feverish, but not quite. I thought maybe I was coming down with something; I’d spent enough winters nursing colds to recognize that slight ache, the subtle throbbing behind my eyes. I drank water, tried to stay hydrated, but there was something strange about the feeling. It wasn’t just heat; it was a tingling sensation that seemed to move through my limbs, settling into every muscle and joint.

I told myself it was just exhaustion. Maybe I’d pushed myself too hard at the gym, or maybe the excitement of talking to Mikey had rattled my old bones more than I wanted to admit. Either way, I decided to call it a night, pulling the covers up and letting myself drift off to sleep.

But somewhere in the dead of night, I woke up drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs. My skin felt hot, almost burning, and my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted a mile. I lay there in the dark, trying to orient myself, but nothing felt right. My arms, stretched out beside me, felt heavier, thicker somehow. I pushed up to sit, but even that felt… different.

For a moment, I thought I might be having a stroke or some other senior moment, and the thought made my stomach twist. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to shake off the dizziness, to piece together where I was and what was happening.

But as I sat up and tried to get my bearings, the space around me looked foreign. Strange shadows fell across walls I didn’t recognize. There was a faint streetlight glow filtering through blinds that weren’t mine, casting an odd light over an unfamiliar dresser, scattered clothes, and a large mirror across the room.

Where am I?

I swung my legs out of bed, almost stumbling under my own weight. The muscles in my legs tensed and shifted in a way that felt… powerful, but wrong. Instinctively, I reached for the light switch, my fingers brushing over the unfamiliar nightstand before finding it. The room flooded with light, revealing more alien surroundings. Posters on the wall. Dumbbells in the corner. This wasn’t my bedroom. I didn’t own posters. Or dumbbells.

Disoriented, I took a few steps, bare feet touching cool, unfamiliar carpet, as I wandered toward the bathroom. I had to steady myself on the doorframe—the sheer strength I felt in my grip, in the size of my hand, jolted through me. I flipped on the bathroom light and looked up, squinting against the sudden brightness.

And then I saw him. Mikey.

In the mirror was his face, his body—muscular and tanned, dark hair tousled and falling forward slightly. I could feel my heart hammering in his broad chest, watched his—my—eyes go wide as I touched my face, tracing over a jawline sharper than I’d ever had, rough stubble under my fingers.

“Oh… my god,” I whispered, hearing Mikey’s voice, deep and smooth, coming from my own mouth. The face in the mirror looked just as shocked as I felt, my hands gripping the edges of the sink to steady myself as I took in the sight of every inch of him—of me.

A thrill shot through me, warmth bubbling up from my stomach as I ran my hand over the expanse of his—my—shoulders, over the swell of the chest, down to the ridged abs, and finally feeling up his impressive package. I couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto his—my—face, couldn’t stop the pulse of excitement thrumming through me. Holy hell. This was real. I was Mikey.

And then, with a jolt, I realized something was missing. My hand went up to my neck instinctively, searching for the familiar weight of the necklace, but my fingers brushed only bare skin. No chain. No pendant.

A part of me, somewhere deep down, was concerned—confused and alarmed, really—but right now, looking at the smirking, shirtless, muscular guy in the mirror, the overwhelming feeling was… arousal. I’d never looked like this. I’d never felt like this.

Stay Tuned For Part 2.

#Mikey Narine

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