#there was one of these at the ymca when I was little

[lopposting]

I have the feeling that originally, earlier in development, P was supposed to die at the end.

(Or, About more than a year after the official release,

the headcanon that changed everything for me.)

So the ending I'm talking about is this, the Rise of P ending.

But what really made me think this is this event in 2022. (people back then correctly guessed might be one of the endings or the ending of the game. Taking from this post here)

At G-Star Neowiz booth in 2022, there was a promotional statue of the Saintess statue in the game, except the figurine of the puppet is strangely suspended, as if it's literally ascending to heaven. The post writer also notes even then that the figurine looks like P. (The literal Rise of P)

There's also some footage of the figure here: (around 1:16)

The symbolism seems very very apparent, as though Neowiz were spoiling their own game two years before release. Not only is the figure literally ascending to a higher plane (imagery often associated with death), the statue itself is an inference to a famous statue of Mary mourning the death of her son. The writer of an article covering Neowiz's section at the event also notes that the ascending figure looks like P, and that it has a feeling of melancholy.

Beginning and End

Around the time of the release I think what was going around was that Rise was being considered as the "true" ending. It's interpretably the best possible outcome of the game, but I feel like it's also because it made the most sense thematically (the puppet -> Human ending, and the saintess statue being foreshadowed earlier). But P's collapse at the end was also widely (mis)interpreted as his death. And I think that's also because, in a way, it makes the most sense thematically. Puppet awakens in the train, goes on an adventure, and then sacrifices himself for who woke him up in the first place, it's just narratively a very classic and might I say standard thing to do in that very traditional, circular sort of storytelling sensibility.

However, we know that the truth is that P has fallen asleep (a human act). It is still his death in some sorts - but he's leaving a past behind and it's his "rebirth" that is being emphasized now.

And then it hit me.

I don't know if P knows that he will survive reviving Sophia.

Keeping in mind that if P was originally supposed to die - I think the entire end sequence of ROP and the overall tone of it makes SO MUCH sense to me now.

Sophia brings a lone puppet to life in the train, he is animated, listening, fighting. At the end of his journey, so much has changed - but to return her favour perhaps, truly human at heart, he returns her life to her, and then - returns to back to stillness. It’s just a narratively very tight and circular thing to do in a traditional storytelling sense, especially when you consider a kind of tragic korean media sensibility that might have influenced the country in which this studio is based out of. (Film critic Roger Ebert once suggested that he had not yet seen a happy korean film.)

I am not an expert on the Korean cinema, which is considered in critical circles as one of the most creative in the world (“Oldboy” won the Grand Jury Prize at Cannes 2004). I can say that of the Korean films I’ve seen, only one (“The YMCA Baseball Club”) did not contain extraordinary sadomasochism.  "Oldboy" review (2005)

Not to mention... Since release, I've always felt like there was this strange feeling of sadness, of melancholy, permeating throughout the entire game. Of course, we're walking through a destroyed city, but still. And I was glad that that didn't seem lost on other people:

We know that Sophia is able to turn back the clock for our main character, but turning back time is Sophia's ability, and it's possible that she can't just revive anyone once that part of her that animated him was returned back to her. Okay, maybe it's a little contrived - but that hardly matters when audiences can often overlook these things for the sake of a story making a statement. Besides, remembering that P could not even wake up without Sophia's help in the first place, it's possible that for whatever reason, he cannot sustain life on his own. In his POV this might very well be his final act.

Another thing to keep in mind is that P has just lost his father. He's witnessed Polendina's death, Antonia's death, etc., in a string of major losses throughout the game's final arc. We see him mourn over his dad but in the ROP ending it will then cut straightaway to the balcony scene. Regardless of how much time has actually passed, Geppetto's death is the scene right before this one. I don't mean to suggest that this act was one of pure self-destruction, but it is something that we as the audience can't help but feel affects him and the decision we are seeing now.

There's a certain gravitas to the way he's walking towards her that in the released version isn't unjustified, but the tone of the entire sequence has so much conviction and sombreness that it came across as a little odd to me in retrospect. And I also think this is why others might have (mis)interpreted the ending as "he died", because of the tone of this scene. But in line with the game's themes - I remember that often, it's the intent that matters. And if he doesn't know that he's going to survive this, and this is what he chooses is his final act, for all intents and purposes, it IS him sacrificing himself to save Sophia.

Re-contextualizing it this way, I think the balcony scene was maybe originally meant to be him choosing to look at Krat one last time. I definitely think that was the implication now.

P's blue butterfly flying away (his spirit leaving him). I used to think this blue butterfly represented Sophia, but now I feel like it represents P ? as I don't think we ever see this specific blue butterfly anywhere else in the game. [maybe a reach I dunno]

To be honest - when LOP first came out, up until about a week, I really did think he was dead. I was honestly pretty sad about it, but in equal parts I was sort of really impressed that Neowiz would have the guts to kill off their breadwinner straight away [I WANT TO WRITE ABOUT THIS TOO AHH]

So if this ending was originally written to be P's demise, I wonder why the powers that be would have rolled that back. Presumably they need him alive for some sort of future franchise instalment? Maybe they genuinely thought it was just too sad? But there is one thing that doesn't change, and it's what P doesn't know.

The truth is what you make it, I suppose.

Who are you? Are you a puppet or a human being?

[haveyouplayedthisirlgame-poll]

Tetherball is a game played with a volleyball tethered to a pole by a length of rope. Two players stand on opposite sides of the pole, and try to wind the tether all the way around the pole by sending the ball in "their" direction- either clockwise or anticlockwise.

[cowboy-robooty]

this is a real scene from that goddamn ameger fic im not joshing

[yourheartinyourmouth]

I was about to be FURIOUS that i missed these in my youth

like “what the hell!! How did I MISS THESE AS A KID”

then I saw that these came out two years before I was born.

oops lol

Barbie Astro Fashions - 1985

[ritualcollision]

i saw a uni's production of the guy who didn't like musicals last night and it was phenomenal!!!

we got a pic with (almost) the entire cast and got to talk with them after the show and they were all so cool!!

a got a few individual pics with some cast members before i got too anxious to ask for more lol

here's me with their charlotte, hidgens, and alice

a little bummed i didnt get individual pics with their paul, emma, bill, ted, sam, and mr davidson (but emma, bill, ted, and mr davidson are in the group shot so)

this is the closest i got to a pic with paul lmao

there was a few script/choreography/etc changes but it all worked so well. they had a larger ensemble than starkid did, and so had ensemble cops lean in from the wings to harmonise during tied up my heart, emma handing hidgens the gun when paul asks for drinks, hidgens knocking emma out with a cane, "sing the beginning of moana" was changed to "sing the ymca" (which they do terribly and hidgens is like "how do you fuck up the ymca?") i tweeted about that one and actually got a response for the hidgens!

so it was different every night and the cast didn't even know! which i think is brilliant

i really hope it was filmed, because i need to experience this again!!!

[californ1asnow]

Call Me Up Again - pt. 2 Mike Schmidt x Reader

Part two of All Too Well Angst!!! So much angst everyone I've decided to turn this into a miniseries, this post being the second part. I'll continue to link chapters as I post them This is also being updated on ao3 (cough cough) No warnings this time 1.9k words

Snowflakes fall silently, coating everything around them in a white dust. The wind blows with a crisp chill, nipping at all the rose-pink noses. It sends shivers down the backs of those who dare be out in this weather. The pumpkins and fake graveyard decor that had once littered every home’s front yard has long since been swapped for tinsel garlands and pine wreaths. 

The Schmidt residence beams with colored string lights and holiday music. A tall, sturdy evergreen sits patiently by the window. Its branches are decorated with years worth of homemade ornaments, ranging in all size and age from both Mike and Abby. The red skirt beneath it falls relatively empty of presents, only donning the few small ones Mike could afford to buy this year. They’re wrapped pathetically in an old birthday paper, the only wrapping Mike could find to reuse. 

Usually, the tree is so full that he’s had to store things in his closet, but that was when you were still a part of their Christmas. Stockings hung happily above the fireplace and a love so innocent it wraps the house in a warm glow. However, it’s void of that feeling now, instead Mike is left to pick up the pieces that you once fit together. Abby doesn’t understand why you don’t come over anymore, or why Mike has been so quiet lately. All she knows is that something went wrong, and now everyone is upset. She’s stopped bringing up your name in conversation when talking to Mike, because it always ends with him withdrawn and retreating to the solidarity of his room. 

That didn’t stop her from drawing you, though. Sometimes she’d sit at her desk, tears collecting in the well of her eyes, and doodle old memories of the three of you. She remembers them being happy, but by the time the crayons were set aside and the picture was finished, it was a glum mess of dark blues and frowning faces. 

After a drawing is finished she’d slip past Mike’s room, quietly tiptoeing out the front door, and make a break for the house across the street. Your house. She’d work fast, her feet carrying her quickly to and fro. It was unclear from her perspective whether you paid attention to what she’d give you, but by the time she slipped a new piece of paper underneath your door, the old one she had gifted you was gone. 

Mike was unaware of it all. 

He had found a new job in town where he could bury all his thoughts. It was working construction for a local contractor, a job that certainly wasn’t ideal but it paid better than what he’d been used to. Unfortunately, it required longer hours and ate up all his free time, meaning Abby needed a new babysitter. A job that was once happily filled by your company, now replaced with an afterschool program suggested to him from a flyer he found at work. He hated the thought of her sitting in essentially another classroom, surrounded by strangers and snotty kids, but it was his only option left. 

With a third of his paycheck dedicated to it, Abby now spends her weekdays at the nearby YMCA. 

The first time he told her about the new program didn’t go over very well. He remembers it clearly.  

“Abby please,” his irritated voice interrupts her incessant protesting, “listen, it’s the only place that can watch you.” 

“No it’s not!” She yelled at him, her finger pointing to your house across the street, “I want her back!”  

A pang of guilt struck his chest at her words. The lack of your presence has clearly been taking a toll on the both of them, but it’s the first time Abby’s ever been so vocal about it. He crossed his arms with a sigh, watching his little sister stare up at him with solemn eyes. Her lip quivering ever so slightly, evident that she’s holding back tears. 

He crouches down to her level, just like he had done to you so many nights ago, “I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her, “but she’s not coming back right now.” 

Her head shook with disbelief, stubbornly stuck in her spot, “Then make her come back.” 

–

You’re not sure when the Mike shaped hole in your heart stopped aching, but it’s significantly less sore compared to a fresh wound. That’s not to say the constant reminder of him and Abby living across the street from you doesn’t sting. It’s hard enough to ignore all his calls, but trying to get to your car while avoiding his gaze is even worse. Eventually, he gave up on contacting you by the third month of radio silence. It hurt both of you, but you knew deep down neither of you could continue functioning like how you were. 

The back and forth pull of his affection took too big of a toll on your mental well being. You can remember every moment down to the exact detail of how much you craved for him to just do something, anything. 

All those times you held him in your soft embrace whispering sweet nothings in his ear, reassuring him everything will be okay, just for him to turn around the next day and never bring it up again. Or when you’d run your warm fingers through his hair to calm him down after a panic attack, and he’d let his head rest in your lap. Words of affection dripping off his lips like a rich honey, warming you up from the inside out. Then he’d disappear for a while, claiming he needed some space to figure stuff out, all the while you’d beg and plead for him to tell you what’s on his mind, only for him to give you nothing back.You stood by him regardless though, keeping a silent promise that you’d always be there for him when he needed it, a love that was never reciprocated back. 

A long sigh escapes from you, eying the new delivery that just appeared by your door. You shuffle towards it weakly, unsure if you really wanted to torture yourself by looking at it. It’s one of those things that curiosity will drive you to do, unable to ignore it like a pedestrian passing by a car crash. The paper crinkles under your touch, unfolding it reveals the familiar childlike style of Abby’s drawings. A man drawn in green crayon frowns up at you, holding hands with an equally sad looking child. Your gaze drifts over to the other side of the paper, highlighting a person relatively similar to you standing alone with their arms crossed, angry. Your heart hurts at the sight of it, knowing that Abby is implying that you’re angry at the two of them. You shake your head quickly, trying to evade any tears that threaten to spill. It’s not fair for Abby to be caught in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Mike, and you realize that. 

The sound of your phone ringing breaks your train of thought, and when you check the caller ID your breath hitches. Standing in the middle of your living room frozen with indecisiveness, you stare at the screen while chewing on the bottom of your lip. Without thinking, you accept the call.

“Hello?” 

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, somewhere in between a choke and a gasp, and then your name is mumbled out in disbelief. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up…” Mike’s voice is still a little startled, mimicking the internal panic in your chest. 

You suck in a deep, steady breath before answering, “Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” There’s a slight pause from both of you, unsure how to continue the conversation. It’s felt like years since you last heard his voice. 

“Are you…doing okay?” 

“...Yeah.” Your answer is unconvincing, but Mike doesn’t have any ground to be able to question it. So it’s left like that, timidly dangling in the air between you both. 

You hear shuffling in the background, and a smaller voice asking a question before he dismisses it. Your heart lurches thinking about how Abby is there, trying to figure out who her older brother might be on the phone with. It almost makes your cool demeanor crack, urging you back into your savior complex. 

“Uh, sorry about that,” your phone crackles back to life, “anyways, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Oh okay.” 

“Can you,” he stops, leaving you on edge, “meet me somewhere?” 

The lack of response from you causes him to start rambling, going on about how it would be better to talk in person, and how it would be easier if you could see each other’s expressions. Soon afterwards, a string of apologies ensue, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

“Okay Mike. Promise me this will be worth it.”

“I promise.”

–

A young waitress stares nervously at your booth. Orders continually piling up, hungry customers giving her rude looks whenever she ignores their impatient huffs. It’s been a good thirty minutes since you first showed, and she’s checked up on you at least a handful of times by now. Mike had suggested this little diner down the street from your house, and you agreed to meet here. 

However, it seems like you’re the only one who showed up. 

Your back is pressed against the uncomfortable foam board of your seat, a leg bobbing rapidly out of habit. You pick at the pills on your sweatshirt sleeve, trying to avert your gaze from the sympathetic waitress. Prior to your predicament, she had asked if you were dining alone, and you told her no. However, It’s starting to look like you just might be. With anger bubbling inside of you, a voice in the back of your head is saying you should have seen this coming. It’s so typical of Mike to make promises that he’s unwilling to keep. 

The air smells like grease, mostly from the old fryers sitting in the back of the kitchen. Oil bubbling and brooding in their tanks, waiting for someone to drop a morsel of food so it could shrivel in the scalding lard. Stomach stirring with disgust, a wave of nausea washes over you. It’s unclear exactly what’s causing it, you’d like to give credit to the sleazy restaurant, but something deep down points to the lack of a certain person’s company. 

You keep your attention trained on the dwindling heat of your coffee. Both corners of your mouth scrunch downwards at the smooth ceramic now held in your cold hands. When did watching a cup of coffee become so interesting? 

“Would you like some more?” The sweet but timid waitress asks you, now back at her spot beside your table.  

A joyless smile flashes across your face, a futile attempt at masking your dejection. Pushing the cup forward, silently accepting a fresh refill from her kettle. 

“He’s not worth it.” She adds, tipping off your mug. Her eyes refuse to meet yours as she does so, and you are thankful for that fact. 

“No,” you respond back, “he never is, I guess.” Your voice is shaky, as are the hands that are folded in your lap. 

Mike is not worth the years of being hurt and pushed away. Not worth the tears that fall after coming home from a night spent at his house, inconsolably sobbing because you know no matter what you do it leads back to the same thing. To give up all your time, love, and patience just to receive nothing in exchange. 

It’s not worth the unrequited love. 

“Can I have the check please?” You ask quietly, still avoiding the gaze of the girl next you. 

Her head shakes with pity, fingers wrapping around the arm of the kettle, “it’s on the house.”

TAGLIST - @wriothesleysbimbo @psbc @victimsofadownn @that1lxnlybxch @callsignwidow

[best-overplayed-song]

Best Overplayed Song Bracket (part two) - round one

full playlist here

side A

dreams (fleetwood mac) vs here comes the sun

yesterday vs the sound of silence

old town road vs jolene

it’s tricky vs low

despacito vs smooth

some nights vs take me to church

stolen dance vs cigarette daydreams

every breath you take vs billie jean

tiny dancer vs hey jude

what’s up? vs dreams (the cranberries)

drops of jupiter vs over my head (cable car)

wake me up when september ends vs wonderwall

welcome to the black parade vs all the small things

somebody to love vs killer queen

californication vs santeria

escape (the pina colada song) vs margaritaville

roxanne vs brown eyed girl

sweet home alabama vs free fallin’

edge of seventeen vs you spin me round

american pie vs life is a highway

freebird vs stairway to heaven

everybody wants to rule the world vs don’t fear the reaper

we didn’t start the fire vs don’t stop me now

stacy’s mom vs we built this city

the chain vs we will rock you

immigrant song vs seven nation army

the final countdown vs eye of the tiger

sweet child o’ mine vs highway to hell

livin’ on a prayer vs i love rock n’ roll

one way or another vs zombie

side B

bubbly vs unwritten

careless whisper vs time after time

dancing queen vs september

everywhere vs little lies

get lucky vs boom, boom, boom, boom!!

hey, soul sister vs best day of my life

a thousand miles vs i’m like a bird

i want it that way vs oops!... i did it again

bad romance vs toxic

wake me up vs stronger (what doesn’t kill you)

before he cheats vs love song

firework vs born this way

i write sins not tragedies vs dynamite

poker face vs tik tok

tongue tied vs truth hurts

payphone vs fireflies

just dance vs ...baby one more time

like a prayer vs running up that hill

sugar, we’re goin’ down vs dog days are over

rolling in the deep vs ironic

pompeii vs centuries

thnks fr th mmrs vs ain’t it fun

love shack vs video killed the radio star

mr. blue sky vs hooked on a feeling

viva la vida vs paradise

total eclipse of the heart vs in the air tonight

feel it still vs pumped up kicks

YMCA vs 867-5309/jenny

blinding lights vs take on me

africa vs more than a feeling

View previous bracket here

[beirarowling]

"Cho and Lavender are pathetic! JKR hates women because Fleur is beautiful! Hermione is stupid for fighting for house elf rights!"

On the one hand this is hilarious. On the other hand now that we know the backstory about Snape’s love life his reaction is making me have sad thoughts.

Also what is JKR’s obsession with hating pink. For someone so transphobic and critical of gnc people she’s weirdly fixated on hating a color traditionally associated with femininity. (And yeah I know Lockhart is a man but Umbridge isn’t.)

[netherfeildren]

Masterlist:

Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing! All works are 18+

Fear of God : Joel Miller x OFC

Summary : What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

-OR-

Big bad Joel Miller falls in love and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life?

-OR-

A Joel infidelity AU

The Cassandra Complex : Ongoing : Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: the creation of myth.

-OR-

the mandalorian / dark sider au

Fable of the Dog : Ongoing : Joel Miller x FMC

Summary: The sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks, and you’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended.

And then there is Joel Miller, too.

-OR-

the cowboy/heiress AU

Pink : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Honey, Stomach, Mine : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Existence is a needful thing. Choice is fickle, nature inescapable. Run to the end of the world, Joel, all those things will still find you. 

She'll still come for you. 

-OR-

the A/B/O outbreak AU 

One Shots :

bétteln : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary : You really want Joel to give you a baby. You don’t really care what he has to say about it.

biéten : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary : Now that you have his baby in you, you’re Joel’s most special girl. 

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill! : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Greener Memories of Better Men : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them.

-OR-

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

I urge you: Bite me : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that.

Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too. 

With Mercy for the Disturbed : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Evermore : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The Thanksgiving AU

Meet Me in the New Year : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The New Year’s Eve AU

10:05 PM : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is exhausted, you’re there to make him feel better.

How to Endure Ardor : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Notes On a Virtuous Affair : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

At the Restaurant : Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Forfeiting My Mystique : Ezra x F!Reader

Summary: You're a girl made of golden gossamer, a work of art come to life, and Ezra, well, he's dedicated his life to collecting beautiful things.

-OR-

An Ezra Art Collector AU

Austerlitz : Simon (Ghost) Riley x F!Reader

Summary: The day he left for his hideous war, the dream changed. The house was still there, but now neither of us lived in it anymore. And when he finally came back, if that’s what you could even call it, he was nothing but a Ghost. 

-OR-

Ghost goes away, comes back in a maybe dream.

[artdcnaldson]

Consider: you're a close friend of Tashi's from stanford and you'd drifted apart after the injury. You vaguely recognize Patrick at a bar and decide to go home with him despite not... Really remembering where you knew him from. This becomes a semi regular hookup. Until...

You get pregnant. You try calling him but it's not like he picks up. And you'll be damned if you beg for help from any man, especially Patrick fucking Zweig. So ... Maybe it's a bit spiteful. You could've included that important detail in any of your voicemails.

You have a girl. Victoria. (Ricky for short. Yeah it's corny but hey. You're a single mom. You get the right to feel however you want about the situation.) You try not to be bitter - even when you start seeing news that the three of them are together again and you're... SOL.

There's a kids tennis day camp nearby. Shed seemed interested and it gave you some free time. Ricky's 6 now, just a couple years younger than Lily. You show up to pick her up, all sunglasses and tight ponytail and cool ease when you see a girl with the same eyes as your college best friend clinging to your baby girls hand with two men walking behind a bit awkwardly.

What were you going to say now?

This actually makes me insane like hbngngnggg also changed the daughter’s name one fraction ok i think it makes sense tho

Patrick was getting too attached— 24 years old, in his prime, and he didn’t want to tie himself down to someone. He stopped picking up your calls and fucked his way through the eastern seaboard— far away from you so he could get you out of his mind.

A little over a month after he started ignoring you, he got a text.

hey. can you call me?

And he was mean. He knew it was mean, because he saw the message come in and he felt a fondness. And he wasn’t sure if he missed your pussy, or if he missed you. He knew he longed for conversations with you, the way you’d mindlessly trace whorls over his back and talk about the day, ask about things he liked, his childhood, fond memories, tell him some of your own. It came too easy, the most natural thing he’d felt since Art, since Tashi, so he got out. He stayed out.

who is this lol

You don’t text back. He doesn’t see you again for seven years, but you don’t stop seeing him. Partially, you see him in your daughter, in her personality, in her eyes, in her crooked smile, in her ears. It always struck you as funny, the way genetics picks and chooses things like that.

It wasn’t just her— it was your incessant need to know about him. You kept up with his ranking, watched a few of his matches after Ricky goes to sleep and you have the TV to yourself. It was just like that for a while— his rank would dip, it would rise, but he stayed relatively stagnant.

Until New Rochelle. You watched the match live with Ricky, because she had developed a persistent interest in the sport since she’d learned about it in P.E.. A month prior. After the match, after the insanity of the tie break, when Patrick wins, Ricky asks for you to please put her in lessons.

You start small— a local thing at the YMCA. She takes to it like a duck to water. Fucking genetics, if that was even how it worked. You start working your way up, wind up paying a ridiculous amount of money for a fancy tennis camp just because she loves it so much. You show up a couple minutes late for pick up a few weeks in and Ricky runs up to you with a friend in tow.

“Can Lily go to lunch?”

You crouch down and push your sunglasses atop your head, smiling fondly at your daughter. “I dunno, baby… does Lily want to go to lunch?”

“My dad and Uncle Patrick already said yes,” Lily supplies, gesturing behind her.

And fuck, of fucking course. You stand, sweep invisible dirt off of your legs and look at Patrick Zweig in person for the first time since, what? 2012? He looks good, of fucking course he does. You’d seen him during matches, but normal clothes look good on him. It pisses you off.

“You know you just agreed to Chuck E Cheese, right?” You say in lieu of a greeting, omitting awkward pleasantries with Art and Patrick. Maybe Art at least deserved a hello, congratulations on retirement, on the US Open, but the asshole standing beside him was all you could focus on. “I take Ricky after tennis lessons.”

“You have a kid,” Patrick says, not a question, just a statement of fact. You nod, swallowing down irritation. Your luck was so fucking bad. “And she’s…”

You sigh. “She's turning seven in a few months,” you supply. He swallows, nods, does the math in his head

Chuck E Cheese is hell. You remembered liking it as a kid, having your fifth birthday there and being scared of the animatronics. But they got rid of the animatronics, and made the mascot in question creepy and skinny and all but one skeeball machine is out of order. But you play anyway, leave Art and Patrick at the table as soon as the girls get up.

Patrick finds you, sidles up so close it’s like he has no sense of personal space. “She’s mine?”

You huff in annoyance, flub your roll down the skeeball lane. 0 points. What you want to say is something along the lines of, what the fuck do you think? But you remember where you are, sigh, and try your best to censor yourself. “Yes. Biologically, she's all yours.”

He fucking groans, swears under his breath, paces a bit behind you as you ignore him and keep playing. You toss another skeeball down the lane, then another, and the timer runs out before he speaks again.

“You didn’t think maybe you should tell me anytime in the past seven years?” He finally says, He grabs your arm, his hands warm and big and exactly like you remembered.

“I thought I should,” you reply, as casually as you can as all of the hurt and frustration and resentment rears its ugly head. “But you lost my fucking number within the same week that you ditched the west coast for wherever the fuck you went. I called you— over and over. You were the one that never picked up.”

He huffs in annoyance. “You could’ve left a message. Something. I deserved to know that I had a fucking kid running around.”

Ricky darts by, steals your hard earned skeeball tickets from the machine, and runs off giggling like a maniac. You smile fondly and pocket your game card. You turn to Patrick and let the expression fall back into something cold and stern. “I disagree. And I think it’s best if Ricky doesn’t find out.”

He grabs your arm, pulls you closer. “You fucking named her after me,” he practically growls in your ear. You clench your jaw and look away. “She’s never asked who I am? Never wondered about her dad?”

You pull your arm away and glare. You’re sure you look like two divorced parents trying and failing to play nice for their kids’ sake. It honestly amuses you a bit— you might have laughed about it if you were with anyone else. “One, her name is Veronica, okay? Ricky’s a nickname. Two, yes, of course she wonders. She’s a kid. Kids ask questions. You should know that Uncle Patrick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, an annoyed smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “I’m living with Tashi and Art. Tashi’s coaching me this season.”

You laugh wryly and start to walk back towards the table. “I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, but you want to make bitchy fucking comments, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes and brush past him. “Fuck off, Patrick.”

But you can't deny it. As you sit at the table and watch Patrick get roped into some game hacking scheme by Lily, as Ricky stands to the side and watches with wide, interested eyes, that you feel a twinge of... something.

When Ricky comes back to the table with a large plushie she got from the prize counter and happily says that man helped her win it. When Patrick smiles fondly down at her and steals crusts from Lily's plate. Maybe you don't have to hold him to a seven year grudge. Maybe you could let him back in.

Not for your sake, of course. Clearly that would be a bad idea. A horrible idea.

But for your daughter? Maybe you could just reap the benefits.

[sparklingcid3r]

That time Darry learned gymnastics at the YMCA and taught the gang how to do stunts

- Steve trying to spot Soda for his backflip and accidentally dropping him on his head

- Two-Bit practicing on a trampoline and being really good at bending backwards, but when he flings himself into it on the grass he nearly breaks his arms

- Dally abt to cry from laughter when Johnny falls forward in his handstand (you can HEAR his spine roll on the grass)

- Pony sees Darry doing a one-handed cartwheel and tries to copy him, only to have his arm just collapse under his weight and he eats shit

- “Wait stand on my shoulders” “Alr but don’t drop me” “Naw I won’t trust”

- Darry convinces Dally to let him spot his backflip (“If I don’t land this I’m gonna scalp you”) and then actually hits it—they all get so hyped

- Johnny uses Steve and Soda’s shoulders as ledges to step into Two-Bits cupped hands and he does a wobbly little one-legged cheerleader stunt except him and Two-Bits arms are literally shaking so much from the effort they’re vibrating

- Soda tells him to fall and they’ll catch him but Two-Bit’s arms give out before he’s ready and he falls so hard on top of Soda he accidentally chipped his tooth after snagging it on Soda’s shoulder (Soda still has the scar)

- Soda and Steve locking arms, one person upside down and the other right side up, and just somersaulting

- Pony makes Two-Bit help him with his handstand and actually manages to do it for longer than two seconds but then comes down so fast he kicks Two-Bit in the jaw

[techramonic]

What are some facts or tidbits about Daniel that you don't think is very well-known?

Hey! Thanks for the great question. I have a few things not a lot of people have talked about Daniel, all of which are information taken from his father's book: "Walking in Daniel's Shoes".

Facts about Daniel Mauser

1. Daniel's name came from the Biblical character Daniel and his mother Linda's fondness of Elton John's song titled with the same name. Conner was Linda's maiden name and since she was an only child, it was a way for them to carry her family's last name.

2. In sixth grade, he struggled somewhat with depression. After his mother sent him to a therapist, it was revealed that he was feeling stressed because at the time, he had pneumonia and missed school a few times. He felt that his teacher was pressuring him to catch up. Fortunately, he recovered after a few months.

3. Daniel used to be in cub scouts and boy scouts for a few years. Once school had became more hectic and he was more engaged in piano lessons, he dropped out of the scouts. He had earned basic badges but was not too enthusiastic with scouting long-term.

4. On July 24, 1999, Boy Scout 359 installed a park bench in Daniel’s memory along the South Rim Trail at Roxborough State Park, ten miles south of Columbine. Daniel was once a member of the Boy Scout Troop that preceded 359. Roxborough was the Mauser family’s favorite hiking area.

5. He played chess and won second place in a Denver metro tournament as a member of the school's chest club team. He also won two National Science Olympiad awards, presented to the top ten scorers in general science knowledge.

6. He was an occasional babysitter and was great with kids.

7. He was a Junior Volunteer at Swedish Hospital for two summers and helped in the pharmacy and he expressed interest in working in a medical or medical research field.

8. Despite winning often in games like Super Mario Brothers and even Foosball, his dad had caught on he was getting bored of playing with him, but despite that, he still played whenever he was invited because that was how much he loved his father.

9. He had a keen interest in current events and social issues and was a frequent reader of Time Magazine and viewer of 60 Minutes.

10. His father said he sometimes worried about little things, like if the gas tank in the car was getting too low.

11. He played soccer for a couple of years when he was younger, tried skiing, and played baseball on a YMCA team.

12. Before his death, Daniel's Biology teacher told his mother that he would be receiving an award for outstanding sophomore biology student. It was a supposed secret, one which Daniel never found out.

13. His family was very close. Tom described them as a "Dinner Table Family", who always ate dinner together. According to his father's words, "there was no sneaking off to watch the TV or play on the computer. We are together, talked together, and exchanged stories."

14. Daniel and his sister were close despite their contrasting personalities. Daniel was more like his mother—shy, introspective, intelligent, and calm. His sister Christine was like her father—outgoing, witty, a bit wild and crazy. He would often roll his eyes at her and in an exasperated tone, he would exclaim, "Theater people! Oh, my God!"

15. He had a dry sense of humor and his mom thought he prided himself on being a rational sort of fellow who was not given to drama of any sort.

16. Tom, Daniel's father, grew out of poverty. He came from Finelyville, a small town south of Pittsburgh. His father was a coal miner, his mother was a housewife, and he was the youngest out of four siblings. Tom rarely had pictures of himself. However, he didn't want that to happen with his children, so he would frequently take their pictures and film them to keep memories.

17. Daniel didn't like his pictures being taken when he was a teen. His father would still insist to take pictures for keepsake.

18. When he was fifteen and a half, Daniel was qualified to receive his driver's permit but he said he wasn't ready yet.

19. His nickname in debate class, according to Devon Adams, was "Moose": "So appropriate —it's a large, amusing but quick and fierce when-it-needs-to-be animal."

20. Daniel volunteered to rake the leaves off the lawn of a neighborhood senior citizen's house after he recently had a heartattack.

[outsidersheadcanons]

A few random headcanons that I have of the greasers

•Ponyboy cant sing or dance and is super embarrassed abt it so he never does

-but one night Two Bit brought him over to his house and his little sister somehow forced Ponyboy to play a dance game with her and when Two Bit saw them he laughed so hard he ended up choking (Its up to you to figure out what Two Bit did what that info)

•Ponyboy gets sick super easily

-Darry has an abnormally strong immune system so he barely ever gets sick

•Steve can handle spice really well and Sodapop tears up when smelling something spicy

•Dally kinda needs glasses (it isnt that bad tho) but will never get it because itll ruin his ‘tuff’ image

-Darry is the only person who knows this and constantly urges Dally to at least get contacts but Dally never listens

-Johnny is sort of noticing it but he doesnt think much of it

•Sodapop will purposefully play the cringest music ever just to piss of Steve, only to find out that Steve likes it

-Sodapop makes fun of him for it

•Two Bit creates the craziest conspiracy theories and gets Sodapop to back him up to annoy the others

•Johnny and Darry are both really good when it comes to medical stuff

-Johnny has the skills to patch people up because he’s had to do it to himself often, and also because Dally goes to Johnny whenever he’s badly beaten

-Darry patches the whole gang up almost all the time and has gradually gotten better to the point one of his nicknames is ‘Doc’

•Most of the gang has some form of insomnia except for Two Bit, Dally and Steve

These are all canon. congratulations

esp the one abt Darry patching everyone up, he’s definitely taken a few babysitting/first aid classes at the YMCA when he was a teen.

[ike-mcswains-mortician]

i went to a roller rink today with friends and now i am thinking of dndads characters at a roller rink so here you go

-

henry: absolutely horrible at roller skating. coordination of a baby deer. he considers it a personal victory if he can make it one lap around the rink without eating shit or clinging onto darryl. the twins mock him endlessly for this.

darryl: you can’t convince me darryl didn’t get bored one day and join a roller skating league. he is a little out of practice (and henry isn’t helping) but he has a ball. he’s the designated “help you up when you eat shit” guy.

glenn: is at best mediocre, he doesn’t fall but he also only goes a couple of laps before just hanging out by the wall the rest of the night. makes frequent trips to the dj to complain about the music choice. also spends more time at the arcade than on the rink, and wins a LOT of tickets.

ron: inexplicably amazing at roller skating. the pants were holding him back and he is just sailing around the rink. terry jr doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed or impressed.

-

lark and sparrow: also quite good. they’re the type to switch and skate backward, to spin each other around, to throw each other and conveniently hit henry, etc. lark is a little more coordinated than sparrow when it comes to the tricks, but sparrow wins the limbo game.

nick: spends a lot of time with glenn at the arcade. he gets on the rink for YMCA and some of the games, but that’s about it.

grant: a little out of it while he skates, cause it makes him think of yeet. he doesn’t let darryl help him up when he falls either. sits on the sideline after a while and joins the close boys at the arcade.

terry: takes it slow with grant for a while, but when grant leaves terry is actually REALLY good at skating, sometimes joining the twins in their antics and sometimes trying to keep up with ron.

-

scary: is also really good, apparently it’s a stampler-marlowe thing to be cracked at skating. but she stays by the wall for most of the night cause skating is lame. but she does kick ass when she wants to.

taylor: eats shit a lot. im sorry but he talks a big game up until he tries to actually stand in the skates and then his gusto is gone. he uses the provided walker and sometimes linc gives him a ride with it.

linc: boss kicks? roller rink master. he’s got shins of steel and though it takes him a minute to get used to the feel of skating, once he does he’s unstoppable.

normal: i want normal to be a great roller skater so bad but i just can’t see it. athletically he should be able to but i just think the wheels throw him off. but that doesn’t stop him from trying and by the end of the night he’s actually pretty solid.

(bonus, hermie: is god awful at roller skating until he pretends to be a character from a skating movie. switches between skating with normal and keeping him upright when he slips, and laughing when normal eats shit from across the rink.)

[chocolatechubby]

Bernie's Big & Tall

By Fatbrwncub

(posted with the permission of the Author)

The biggest problem--excuse me while I finish this last bite of cruller--is where to begin. It all seems to have happened so fast. One minute I'm standing in the unemployment line, trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from; the next thing you know, I'm getting the doors in my apartment widened so that I can get through. Oops! There goes another button.

Let me go back to the beginning--back to that unemployment line. My lover and I had been having problems making ends meet. There wasn't a great deal of a demand for my particular line of work in the winter---I was a lifeguard. At 6' 2" and 180 pounds, I cut a muscular frame, but everyone looks pretty much the same bundled up in parkas. My old job at the "Y" would probably have hired me back, but the pay stunk. And with a new lover, Sean, I had another mouth to consider. Sean suggested that I try modeling --his chosen profession, but as gorgeous as he was, he wasn't getting much work either. Why should we both be jobless cover boys? So, I headed to the unemployment office. Maybe something there would turn things around. Little did I know how right I was.

The place was depressing. Fluorescent light and peeling yellow walls covered everything like a moldy blanket. Cheap plastic chairs were set up for clients to wait for their turn to be humiliated by the next available counselor: "You'll have to take forms 2 thru 26 to windows 5 thru 14. Fill out lines A thru F on forms 30, 31, & 45; have them notarized and come back to me.... THEN I can tell you where the rest rooms are." As much as I needed the money, I wasn't up for that kind of run around. The YMCA was looking really good at that moment. As I got up to leave, I noticed the chair next to me quiver ever so slightly--as if a tremor were going through the building. The little table next to it was moving too. Now being hundreds of miles away from California, I knew it couldn't possibly be an earthquake. I was wrong. It was indeed an earthquake in human form. From around one of the peeling yellow corners, came the largest guys I had ever seen. His stomach seemed to go on forever, riding over his belt and spilling onto his massive underbelly like a tidal wave. Each of his labored steps made it quiver and roll. His arms, chest, and shoulders were so large that he had to twist his body slightly to maneuver the corner, yet each movement had an elephantine grace that was something to see. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that must have been tailor-made for him: it hung gracefully on his gargantuan figure. He was quite handsome, dusty blonde hair and neatly trimmed beard, and the bluest eyes. Growing up, the party queens I hung with always made fun of fat guys. Somehow, I always found something vaguely attractive about men with extra meat on their bones. I absent-mindedly rubbed my stomach as I watched him make his way to a Job Resource bulletin board on the other side of the room. He scanned the whole area carefully--deep in concentration, he seemed to be looking for someone. When his eyes met mine, his mood abruptly changed. His full round mouth had a slight smile on it as he zeroed in on me. I got the feeling he was studying me-not in that "cruisey" way, but as if he were trying to figure me out. He, raised a sausage-like finger, and motioned me over to him. For some reason, I wasn't taken aback at all. Something about him seemed so familiar. "Looking for a job?", he said. "Kinda", I replied. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a candy bar and a folded piece of green paper. "Wanna bite?", He asked. "No thanks…", I replied "…but I could use work." He unfolded the piece of paper and tacked it on the bulletin board, smudging it slightly with the chocolate from his fingers. "Well then, you might wanna check this out." With that, he took a large bite of candy bar, turned around, and began lumbering back down the hallway. I was about to say something when he stopped and turned around again (no easy feat for a man his size). "How old are you?", he asked. Slightly startled by his abrupt departure, I blurted out "29." Before I could ask him why it mattered, he patted his mountain of a stomach and smiled a knowing smile: "Same age as I was when I started at BB&T. See ya' around Danny!" And with that, he and his tremors were gone.

BB&T? I looked at the piece of paper for a moment. I took it down from the board and began studying it--trying to make it tell me more about the big, mysterious stranger. But all it did was sit in my hand and smell of Hershey's. The only writing was a quickly scribbled address and telephone number: "Bernie's Big and Tall-525-BIGG. The chocolate had formed a ring around the writing so that it looked like a halo. I laughed at the idea of working in a big men's shop, but hell, I needed work badly. Besides, something inside me started recalling the times when I'd been oddly aroused by the large men who were the butt of my friends' jokes. Maybe by working there, I could discover what the attraction was all about. I walked over towards the pay phone in the corner chuckling to myself. That's when it struck me that he'd called me by my name-Danny. Did I know him? He really did look familiar....

The phone rang ten times before someone answered at Bernie's. When someone did pick up, they were so out of breath I had to wait a couple seconds for a "hello". Then I remembered what type of establishment this was---all the employees probably looked like the guy I'd just met. Well, if for no other reason, they could hire me to answer the telephone. I smiled. It turned out to be Bernie himself on the line. Before I had a chance to say "Hello", or introduce myself, Bernie cheerfully announced: "Danny! Joe said you'd be calling! When can you start?" I was stunned. I stammered out, "B-but you don't even know me!" "I don't have to!" was his amiable reply. "Anybody that Joe picks will work out fine!" I didn't have the guts to tell him that I had no idea who the hell "Joe" was, but then maybe he was an old friend of my family's. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially from such a large horse!

Bernie's Big and Tall was in a little strip mall just outside of the city. It took me two maps and three detours to find it. I almost gave up, but something told me to keep looking. A small card shop on one side and a bakery on the other flanked the store, and were the only other establishments in the complex. I was sure the employees at the Big and Tall kept the bakery in business because it was too far away from anything else to have a regular clientele. The store itself was rather unimpressive: a sign painted on the window proclaimed "Bernie's" with a silhouette of a rotund man underneath. A couple of half dummies sat dejectedly in the window--the clothing which covered them obviously too large for their frames. The one rather curious and slightly impressive item was the door to the front of the shop. It was huge. Much larger than the doors in most retail establishments, it must have been custom made for Bernie's king-size clientele. What did it feel like to need extra room for everything? When I put my hand on the handle to push the door open, I got the strangest feeling that if I stepped across the threshold of this place, my life would change forever. "This is ridiculous!" I remember thinking to myself "It's just a job for goodness sakes!" I pushed the door open and went in.

Lone Star's "I'm Already There" was playing on a far off country music station as the bell over the door gave a little tinkle. The place had that slightly musky perfume of your grandfather's closet-that subtle scent of fine pipe tobacco and Old Spice. The shop was much bigger than it seemed from the outside, and had a second level with a balcony and offices that overlooked the showroom floor. For a moment, I felt as if I was on a sound stage for "Land Of The Giants"-everything seemed oversized. From the racks that were set up for the tallest of the tall, to the suits that looked like they were made for Guinness Book Fattest Man nominees. All were neatly hung on rotating racks or show room displays. I'd never worked retail, but somehow I felt right at home. From above boomed a lusty voice: "Danny!". I looked up to find a large man leaning on the steel railings of the balcony. It didn't seem possible, but he was even bigger than Joe from the unemployment office. Every part of him was fat-from his puffy hairstyle, to his big feet. He looked like a balloon character from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I half expected to see wires attached to him with people below maneuvering him. "Bernie?" I queried and his hearty laugh confirmed it. "None other my boy! Come on up!"

Bernie's office was at the top of the stairs. As I bounded up, two at a time, Bernie let out a chuckle "That's something you don't see many of our salesmen do!" He ushered me ahead of him and I walked through another enormous door to find myself in a small room, made smaller by its furnishings. It consisted of a small oak desk, and a computer-standard office fare. However, the large refrigerator, stand-alone pantry, coffee maker and microwave were not. "Before we begin, may I offer you something to eat?" Bernie asked, already carefully maneuvering his way around the desk to the refrigerator. It was somewhat surreal watching this super-sized man practically squeeze his way through the cramped quarters. He opened the refrigerator to reveal a small deli: meats of all kinds, exotic breads and cheeses, beverages ranging from soft-drinks to fine wines, all carefully stocked within its quarters. Bernie rummaged through, and pulled out an overstuffed submarine sandwich and began munching. His grunts of pleasure permeated the office, and instead of revulsion, I actually enjoyed watching this man eat with such gusto. For so many years, I had deprived myself of some of my favorite foods in exchange for the washboard stomach that I possessed. Maybe, if I worked here, I could live vicariously through these guys. My internal reverie ended with Bernie's voice. "Well at least share a cup of coffee with me. I hate nourishing myself alone." I smiled my assent and Bernie squeezed his way to the coffeepot. I was not a big coffee drinker, but I figure a little kiss up wouldn't hurt my job prospects any. Besides, for some reason the coffee smelled particularly delicious.

Bernie produced two mugs-each with the Big and Tall logo I had seen on the front door of the shop. "How do you take yours?" he cooed. "Black" I answered. "Well you must indulge me one small addition to your mug…I make my own blend of spices that seem to really liven up the coffee-nothing much, just some cinnamon and vanilla. Stuff like that. You're not allergic to anything are you? I told him no, and he took a small packet from the standing pantry, tapped it lightly on the desk, tore the corner and emptied the contents into my cup. The granules looked like Folgers Crystals-little flecks of something shiny danced and fell gracefully into the mug. Bernie took a small silver spoon and began stirring the coffee. The aroma was like nothing I had smelled before. Memories of big Sunday breakfasts and hearty Thanksgiving dinners suddenly became as vivid as if they'd happened yesterday. Nights spent eating cotton candy and funnel cake at the local carnival-laughing with my friends and gorging on hotdogs-all seemed palpable. Bernie brought the mug close to my nostrils and placed my hands around it. "Drink, my boy. And then we can talk about your joining us at BB&T."

Almost mesmerized, I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. The beans of the coffee blended with the spices and my taste buds seemed to spring to new life. The thoughts of all of the goodies I had denied myself over the years began to turn into a craving, then a hunger. I could feel my stomach began to growl for food. I had grabbed a McMuffin when I'd left the unemployment office, but that had been several hours ago. It was natural for me to feel starved. But in the middle of a job interview? I had to eat something. As if on cue, Bernie produced an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Have one?" Bernie again cajoled. "I--I--…" I stuttered, but no other words would come out. The cookies looked like manna from heaven. I could feel the drool forming on my tongue. I grabbed one and placed it in my mouth. It melted like butter, blending with the coffee and exploding my senses like an orgasm. My crotch leapt, writhing with the rise and fall of my breath. I came up for air, took another cookie and a sip of the coffee. Again, the exact same sensation-yet more intense. I thought I was going to erupt right then and there. I gulped more of the drink and began inhaling the pastries with lightening speed. In less then ten minutes the entire plate was empty. The wildest thing of all…I was still hungry!

I looked up at Bernie, who was standing over me with a knowing smile. "It's always better to talk on a full stomach." He went to the refrigerator and pulled out another overstuffed submarine sandwich-twice the size of the one he'd just eaten. "Are you sure I can't tempt you with one of these?" My mouth opened automatically, and Bernie floated over and placed the monstrous hoagie in my hands. I tore into it as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. In between bites, Bernie suggested that we carry our meeting to The Blue Whale, a restaurant frequented by he and his staff. As I rose to go, onions and lettuce falling everywhere, Bernie touched the intercom on his desk. "All right boys…" the echo of his voice could be heard in the showroom below "…time for our foray to The Blue Whale! Close up shop!" In between munching, I could hear, and feel great activity from the floor below. The floor vibrated much like it had done in the unemployment office. We moved out of the office and onto the balcony to a sight that would have sent my old faggy friends into a tizzy. Below were five of Bernie's staff-each one plumper than the next. They stood at attention as we came down the stairs. Bernie introduced me to each, ending with their newest salesman, Dominic. He had to weigh at least 350 pounds. "This is our baby!" Bernie gushed, pinching Dominic's flushed cheek. "Been with us about a year" he poked Dominic's round middle. "He's starting to fit in quite nicely." Bernie lumbered towards the door, pulling me along with him. "Daniel here will be joining us for lunch-and hopefully more. Make him feel at home." And still in a spin from all that had happened since walking through the doors of Bernie's Big & Tall, I was off to The Blue Whale.

The Blue Whale was quite nice--muted tones of aqua and gray gave it warmth and style. A Bach concerto whispered softly as Bernie and the other salesmen took their seats. We had been ushered to a table in a private area of the restaurant--one large enough for the substantial girth of our party. It was obvious that Bernie and the gang were regulars, because all of the wait-staff knew everyone by name. It was also pretty obvious that time that the entire staff of Bernie's was gay. Underneath a curtained archway, a cadre of handsome waiters looked ready to break into a chorus of "Hello Dolly". They giggled and whispered as if they were dance hall girls anxious to see which gentleman would pick them out of the crowd. The headwaiter, who looked to be about Bernie's size, clapped the others to attention. "Don't just stand there like a bunch of schoolgirls! Take these gentlemen's orders!" he barked. "Oh Jacques," Bernie cooed "...just bring us our usual!"

I was returning to normal, my appetite assuaged and my pants screaming to be unzipped-my distended belly playing hide and seek with the buttons on my shirt. It was time to ask about hours and pay, and all the standard stuff. As I opened my mouth to get down to business, the first of the waiters arrived with the appetizers. There was enough food to feed a small city. Plate upon plate of mouth watering delicacies passed before the table: shrimp wrapped in bacon, small puff pastries stuffed with creams and cheeses and meats-anything that I had ever seen at fancy buffets was now being placed under my nose. I thought of the spectacle I must have made in Bernie's office, and my stomach began to turn. The thought of more food was making me nauseous. And then the coffee arrived. Jacques himself brought out the ornate samovar and ushered it towards Bernie. "Monsieur Bernie" he chimed. "Ze coffee wis your special mix eez ready". As Jacques opened the spigot and poured the first cup, the table went silent. Unbelievably I could feel my stomach loosen. I could feel the insatiable hunger I had felt in Bernie's office return. It was as if I had never eaten the mound of cookies. Just the aroma of the incredible liquid wafting into my nostrils was enough to make me want to stuff something in my mouth. All around me, the other men were having a similar reaction. I remember seeing episodes of "Wild Kingdom" with sharks or packs of wolves in a feeding frenzy. There was a primitive ritual about to happen, and everyone knew it. As the coffee was passed around, Dominic, began to sweat. When a cup made it to him, he grabbed it, and chugged down the hot liquid as if it were the first drink of a dehydrated man. He then grabbed the nearest tray of hors d'oeuvres and began shoveling them into his mouth. Sweat glistened on his brow as he tipped the tray up and up until he was literally swallowing and chewing almost simultaneously. A waiter quickly scurried over and began wiping his brow and massaging his hardening belly. I sat in awe as I watched each of the sales guys fall into the same kind of trance-that is until my cup reached me.

I recall one of the adventures of Homer's "Odyssey", in which Odysseus and his men encounter the witch Circe. Once on her island, she turns most of the men into animals. Bernie had led his men into the modern day version of that adventure. I don't remember much about the rest of that meal. As my haze parted from time to time, I was aware of grunts and moans of pleasure coming from around the table. Slurping and guzzling and licking were followed by burps and the occasional button pop or zipper pull being loosened. Halfway through the fourth course, everyone abandoned silverware and began eating off of plates and trays with their hands and mouths. I found myself caressing and licking the gravy off of plates as if it were a lover. No mouthful seemed enough-I couldn't get the food in fast enough, and the sounds and sights around me seemed to urge me on. By dessert, each man was no longer able to feed himself. The waiters took over and began shoveling whipped cream, cakes and pies into our dazed faces. I can't tell you how much I ate, but I literally couldn't move. My belly was as hard as a ripe cantaloupe and I closed my eyes and slept.

When I awoke, the entire table had been cleared off. Any trace of the feeding frenzy had been wiped away, and all of the men had been cleaned up and were groggily coming to themselves. If it weren't for the screaming pain coming from my stomach, I would have thought it all a dream. Standing above me was a beaming Bernie. "I hope you got enough to eat." The boys and I do this at least three or four times a week. Don't worry about the bill…I take care of that." I sat up and blinked. I couldn't believe this was happening. Bernie handed me a packet of papers-the standard Human Resources forms to fill out along with information about my salary and benefits. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw how much I'd be making. It was at least five times what I would have made at the "Y". How could he afford to pay for all of this? Bernie saw my reaction. He said "Don't worry, this salary is only temporary. With raises and incentives you'll quadruple it in no time. So do we have a deal?" Was he crazy? I propped myself up on my swollen stomach and shook his hand. "On one condition" I said. He cocked his fat head and his chins wobbled. "What's that, my dear boy?" "That you give me some of that coffee to take home"

In the beginning, everything went along pretty normally. The store practically ran itself. And I was more than content--I was happy. The first time I noticed something different was after my initial lunch with the guys. The next few days, I was ravenous. I ate from morning till night. And I craved the coffee with the secret ingredient introduced to my by Bernie. One morning, about a week after I had started working, I rolled out of bed and began getting ready for work. Sleepily I showered, shaved, and stumbled into my clothing. I stepped into my dress slacks and pulled them to my waist. They wouldn't close. With my swimmer's lifestyle, I had been a perfect size 32 for years. I never had to worry about putting on weight. I went to the scale in the bathroom and stepped on. Since I had begun working at the store, I had put on ten pounds! "Not acceptable." I thought to myself. I sucked in my stomach, fastened my pants and made a mental note to go to the gym more often and most importantly--to cut out lunching with the guys. But somehow neither thing seemed to happen--I was constantly working until after the gym closed. And not going to lunch with the Bernie and the gang became as unthinkable as not having cup after cup of the delicious mysterious coffee. I began to have strange dreams: I would dream I was in the middle of Africa in the bush country, taking pictures of wildlife, when the earth would begin to shake. Suddenly an enormous Bull Elephant the size of a building would come crashing through the tall grasses and block the sun. I was terrified until it would dawn on me that I was the Elephant! Then, understanding my power, I began breaking down trees, even mountains--growing more enormous with each new conquest. After one of these dreams, I would always wake in a sweat, run to the kitchen, and raid the refrigerator--absent-mindedly eating until I was sleepy.

After about three months of this, I could no longer hide the results. I tried to wear my size 32 pants until they had all systematically exploded off of my frame. My suit jackets had begun cutting off the circulation in my arms, and my old shirts were laughable on my new frame. Between the daily lunches, midnight binges, and very little gym time, I had gone from 180lbs, to 230. My pants size had gone from the perpetual 32 to a 42.

One night, about a week before my 30th birthday, I tiptoed into the bathroom when I thought Sean was sleeping. I took off my clothes and stepped in front of the full-length mirror. My face was so round! I was beginning to develop a pronounced double chin. My thighs and ass were full and big, and my stomach was beginning to grow into this ball of soft flesh. And my tits! I remembered my high school gym teacher teasing Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor: two fat kids in my class. He used to call their soft round mammaries "man-tits", kidding them about having bigger ones than most of the girls, (which was true). I used to find those two guys fascinating: the way they lumbered onto the field for class, the way they looked in the showers. I knew I was gay back then, but it was something more than that. And here I was with my own set of "man-tits". I touched the right nipple, and then the left--crossing my arms and inadvertently giving myself cleavage. Electricity shot through my entire body. My nipples had become so sensitive! Caught in my exploration, it took me a moment to realize that my lover Sean was standing behind me. He had come in to use the toilet and noticed me in the mirror. "You're fat," he said as he sleepily relieved himself, kissed me on my chubby cheek and padded back to bed. He was right. I WAS fat. But looking in the mirror, I wasn't sure that was a bad thing. I touched my nipples again and headed for the kitchen.

The next day at work, Bernie and the guys threw me a birthday party and presented me with two gifts. The first was a container of the special ingredient for my coffee, and the next was a new suit from the store. It was the first size that we carried for big men. I was still a size or two away from needing to shop at Bernie's and had decided to keep it that way. "No offense guys...", I said, "...but I plan on never wearing clothes from our store!" "Well we can always get it taken in." Bernie quickly replied. "We just wanted to show you how glad we are that you're here. Now cut the cake and have some coffee!" I declined the cake, but I had 3 cups of coffee. That evening determined to change my eating habits for my 30th year on this planet, I took off early and headed for the gym. On the way, I passed restaurant after restaurant, fast food joint after fast food joint. I kept thinking to myself, "You've got to lose weight." Yet every time I would ask myself "Why?" I couldn't come up with a good enough answer. Until I thought of Sean's comment in the bathroom: "You're fat!" "You could lose him", I thought. I steadied myself and pointed the car in the direction of the gym. When suddenly, a little voice spoke to me: "But if you go to the gym right now, you could lose YOU." Suddenly I was starving. I turned into a Kentucky Fried Chicken, ordered a 20-piece bucket, and ate the whole thing in the car.

When I got home, Sean had prepared a huge meal of pasta, fresh bread and salad. Even after my trek to the Colonel's, I wolfed down plate after plate. Sean announced that he had news--good and bad. The good news was that he had landed a choice modeling assignment with a top agency. The bad news was that the agency was out of the country and he would be gone for at least 5 months! I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to scream, "It's me isn't it? I'll lose the weight! Don't go!" But instead, I stuffed some more food in my mouth and hugged him tightly. I loved him too much to stand in his way. And if he found someone else with a swimmer's build who made him happy...so be it. Sean had to leave the day before my birthday. As he hugged me before he boarded the plane, he whispered, "See you later fat boy", in my ear and walked away. And I knew I'd never see him again. When I got home, I pulled out the suit Bernie and the guys had given me and put it on. I looked like a kid playing dress up. Even though I was working on a size 44 waist, the pants had to be at least a 46. I thought of Sean and suddenly felt free. I sat down with a mixing bowl of Captain Crunch and heavy cream and imagined myself filling out the pants.

What happened next is all a blur. Knowing that I had lost Sean, I poured myself into my work and my food. Both satisfied me intensely. The store was doing great business. It seemed that the more I ate, the more productive I became. I was growing daily. Every time I turned around, a button would pop or a zipper would break. I began to carry around safety pins to keep my clothes up--it became a running joke around the store. The guys who used to seem enormous to me suddenly began to look average. I became the star at the Blue Whale. The waiters would line up to be my encourager and with Sean gone, I used their attention to help me forget about Sean. Bernie, who was no slouch at the dinner table, would watch me in amazement as I polished off plate after plate of entrée after entrée with all the trimmings, the servers massaging my distended belly and cooing at my appetite. Then go to work on the dessert cart. I stood in the mirror more often now. I was officially fat by anyone's standards. My face was so round that sometimes I wouldn't recognize myself. Because I was constantly lifting heavy boxes, my arms were huge and firm, as was my chest. But my stomach became my favorite area. I would hang out at the bar around the corner from my apartment and drink beer after beer to the amazement of all the guys. I started wearing suspenders because no pants it seemed would hold my ever growing gut.

In the first month after Sean left, I put on 35 lbs. I tipped the scales at around 265. From then on, not a waking (or sleeping) moment went by that I didn't eat something. I even took food breaks in the store. Bernie was right about the suit I was given for my birthday--I DID have to have it altered...eventually it had to be let out--twice! Sean would call and we would have stilted conversations. He would ask me if I was still gaining weight, and I would avoid talking about it. He would tell me he loved me, but I knew it was just talk. The company had extended his contract--he didn't know when he'd be back. Every now and then, I would get a postcard from some exotic place saying, "Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here". But I was too busy to notice. I was becoming the Elephant of my dream. I could feel my power.

In the next few months, I surpassed all store sales records, and there was big talk of a promotion to store manager. Except for the prospect of leaving this location, I couldn't have been happier. At least, when I wasn't thinking about Sean. The 5 months had quickly become 8 and then 10. In that time, my physical gain had become as impressive as my professional one. In the year since I had begun working at Bernie's, I had gone from 180 to 380 lbs. My waist had gone from a 32 to a 62. I was beginning to make earthquakes of my own.

One night I awakened from a dream (in which my stomach broke through the walls of the Empire State Building) by a voice in the darkness. "My God! You're huge!" it was Sean's voice. He was standing over the bed. He sounded different somehow. My first instinct was to grab him with my big arms and engulf him in my newfound mountain of flesh and warmth. But anger quickly welled up inside of me and I sat up in bed--the third empty large pizza box falling off of my stomach. "Yes I am." I said proudly, "You got something to say about it?" "Yes..." he said-I could hear the smile in his voice as he moved closer. "We are going to need a bigger bed." And with that, he turned on the light. My mouth dropped. When Sean left, he had been a 6 foot 1 inch, 170 lb. cover boy: now standing before me was a 6 foot 1 inch, 285 lb. (he told me later) gorgeous Buddha. His round face now covered with a lush beard. It was obvious that he was gaining weight faster than he could buy clothes to fit him: the T-shirt he was wearing wouldn't fit over the big round belly protruding over his tight size 48 jeans. "How?!...Why?" I stammered. "By eating dummy!" he laughed. "And I have a feeling that the delicious stuff I borrowed from you to put in my coffee helped". "But I thought you didn't like me fat!" I was almost crying now. Sean sat on the edge of the bed--which groaned under the over 600 pounds of us. I could see how horny he was as his great stomach heaved. "You never asked. You just assumed I wouldn't want a fat lover. I loved watching you pig out. I'd come in the bedroom after you'd gorge and jack off. Didn't you notice how intense our love-making got after you started putting on weight?" "I thought you were over-compensating because you loved me." I said. "Of course I love you Danny, but not in spite of how much you weigh-your size turns me on! I want you as big as a house!", was his breathless reply as he kissed me full on the lips. "And I hope you're ready for me to join you." He took off his shirt to reveal burgeoning man-tits and the most beautiful belly I had ever seen. He straddled me, opened my robe and began exploring my under-belly, kissing it and licking lower and lower. I felt hungry and horny at the same time as I pulled him to my crotch. We broke the bed that night.

T hat was three years ago. When I waddled into work the next day, I was beaming. Sean and I made love all night, and then spent the entire morning eating the breakfast to end all breakfasts. During which, he told me of his adventures in Europe. He spent the first few months pining over me-not eating, not sleeping. Once he began drinking the coffee, his appetite returned and he immediately found solace in food and proceeded to eat himself out of his misery. Of course this began to show on his waistline, and after a month, he was let go from his modeling contract. As luck would have it, a photographer on the shoot also worked with a new European catalogue designed for big men. He introduced Sean to the head of the company and the rest was history. Sean spent the remainder of the tour eating and posing in the finest cities of the Old World. He really had a wonderful time and wished desperately that I had been there. We decided to get married and spend our honeymoon eating our way through all of the spots he had discovered in his travels.

When Bernie saw me, he sensed the change immediately. "My boy, either you had sex last evening, or discovered that Little Debbie delivers-which was it?" We were in his office, munching on crullers. We had positioned ourselves so as to be able to reach the refrigerator and standing pantry without moving: we had become so large that it was impossible for the two of us to move around. "Both" I laughed. I told him of Sean's return, and of his amazing transformation. I told him that my life was complete: I had a job I loved, and a partner whom I adored. Bernie smiled, and in it, I thought I caught a hint of bittersweet sadness. "Well then," he said. "…my job is done." And he immediately began opening drawers, removing papers and stuffing them in a nearby briefcase. Stunned, I spattered out "What are you doing?"- crumbs spewing across my white shirt. Bernie smiled, and calmly explained. "I am a business man my dear. I have many other BB&T locations to check on. Joe, the man you met at the unemployment office, is my lover. He's already gone off to our store in Portland, and now I can join him. We needed to find a manager for this store that we could depend on and trust to carry on my traditions. We found him." He reached over and patted my stomach, which was wedged against his desk. "But…but…" I searched for words. How could I tell this man that he had become my mentor, my father-my friend! I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. "But where will I get more of Bernie's Secret Mix for my coffee?" Bernie laughed "make it yourself darling-I told you, it's just cinnamon and vanilla." I stared at him blankly. "But what about the secret ingredient? The stuff that makes us so ravenous?" Bernie chortled "The secret ingredient my boy, is you."

I looked down at myself. At 400 lbs., my 4X dress shirt was already gapping in the front around my stomach. People moved out of my way when they saw me coming because of my size. My whole world had become food-I expressed myself in how much I indulged. Was Bernie saying that this had been my destiny all along. I thought back to High School-to Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor-to the big men who would intrigue me when I was with my friends. I realized, not only did I want to HAVE them, I wanted to BE them. And now I was. I guess he was right: it was in me all the time.

So now I run Bernie's Big & Tall Store #836. We consistently bring in the highest revenues of any in the chain. We also have the fattest staff. I've had my offices expanded to include a full kitchen, and have hired my favorite chef and waiters from the Blue Whale to prepare in house meals for my staff. I surpassed Bernie's weight about a year ago, and am so fat that I had to install a freight elevator to get to the second floor, because the steps are impossible for me to maneuver. I am fast approaching Guinness Book proportions. As for Sean-he now models for Bernie's catalogue. He quickly outgrew the standard sizes, and a new super-size line was developed. Sean also recruits new employees for the store. He now tips the scale at over 500lbs., and is the most beautiful roly-poly thing I've ever seen. So you see, dreams come true in the strangest places. Who would have ever thought that I would find my life's calling in an unemployment line? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to interview a potential salesman that Sean found, and I have to brew some coffee.

By the way…are YOU looking for work?

The End.

copyright 1998 by Fatbrwncub

[bit-odd-innit]

"Oh hell yeah." Argyle tips his head down to hang between his knees, clapping reverently and in time as he rises to the next song on Jonathan's mix. "Let's fuckin' goooooooo." Jonathan's nose scrunches around a laugh. "You don't strike me as a John Denver fan." Argyle's arms are up above his head, swaying elegantly in sync with the wind-swept branches above them. Robin is on her feet too, mimicking him, looking like an ancient aunt at a wedding attempting the YMCA. "As far as I'm concerned, dyood," he grabs Robin's wrists and maneuvers her to be somewhere in the neighborhood of the rhythm. "Anyone who's cool with the Muppets? S'cool with me. COUNTRY ROOOOOOADS—" Tonight was meant to be a relaxed night, an evening where the older kids could unwind, but there's an unshakable Finality to it. Jonathan and Argyle are shipping back to California in a few days, and it's a matter of weeks before Robin and Nancy head east for college. Steve's parents at last sold the house (well under asking, his mother loves to remind him) so he's crashing at Eddie and Wayne's Bright Shiny New Ranch for the foreseeable future. Steve's chest sinks. He's never going to be with these people, in this place, ever again.

Beside him, Eddie giggles.

"You amused, Munson?" He asks, rolling his head to the side. They're all more than a little high and more than a little drunk, but Steve and Eddie are the only ones who have fully laid back in the high grass behind the Hopper-Byers home. Steve thinks, briefly, of ticks. The bonfire he and Jonathan cobbled together flares orange, illuminates Eddie's cheekbones. Steve watches his plush pink lips silently mouth the words of the song, eyes closed. Steve's heart clenches. "Big fan of the Muppets, I assume," he says instead of you're everything to me. Eddie's whole face pinches in on itself, caught. "Are you surprised? I'm friends with Henderson, am I not?" Steve's laugh pulls him upright, his fist twisted in Eddie's tee shirt dragging him along for the ride. He's more than a little worried about ticks. Eddie follows him, still giggling, face pushed into Steve's shoulder. Across from them Nancy and Jonathan slow dance. There's something mournful about it; Nancy's hand curved around the back of Jonathan's neck, eyes and jaw hard; Jonathan rubbing his thumb on the small of Nancy's back, eyes watery and set somewhere far in the distance. Nancy's arm flies out and Robin is there at once, curved into her side. Argyle is there too, crushed against Jonathan's back, one hand still wrapped around Robin's wrist.

"Where you from?" Steve asks, feeling as stupid as the question sounds. Eddie squints. "Where d'ya think I'm from, baby?" And ah, God, fuck, shit. Because baby started as a joke. Baby built off their goofy innocuous teasing of darling and sweetheart and my love because they're friends and friends tease, but Eddie called Steve baby and his entire circulatory system collapsed, could only recalibrate by calling Eddie honey, watching his dark eyes go liquid soft, his body melting against him. They're friends. "You're from..." He gestures vaguely. "Not here?" Eddie laughs again, his breath warm against his collarbone.

"I'm from Kentucky," he lets his voice dip into his natural accent and Steve shivers. "I moved here in middle school when Wayne got the job at the factory."

"You miss it?" He tips his head so he mouths the question into Eddie's hair, in the space above his ear. Eddie hums and Steve digs his nails into the underside of his thigh to stop himself from jolting. "I don't remember enough about it to miss it," he says. "But I love this song, and it makes me miss something I don't think I ever had. Does that make sense?" Argyle, who is the closest he's ever been to the East Coast, tips his head back to face the canopy of trees and screams, "WEST VIRGINIAAAAAAAAA—"

Steve leaps to his feet, dragging Eddie with him.

"Dance with me."

Eddie's fingers curve around Steve's. "What about your girl?" "She's fine." Behind them, Jonathan Nancy and Robin kick out the square dance they learned in middle school gym class. Robin is one step behind, dragged along by the elbow Nancy has hooked around her bicep. Argyle watches, nodding and fascinated. Steve pulls Eddie in, chest to chest, hand crawling up to cradle the back of his skull, and murmurs, "take me home..."

He doesn't remember a lot after that. He remembers the thrust of Eddie's body, the soft press of his mouth. He remembers Nancy's squeaky "Oh!", Argyle's affirmative hum, Robin's hyena-like cackle that said he was going to get destroyed tomorrow, and the buzz against his lips. Eddie giggles, pulls him closer. "Take me home," he sings, and Steve thinks, we already are.