#this is easy to understand. kindergarten level stuff

[agave]

hey when people say don't harass animals to make your funny video you guys know that includes fish, right? you know that, right?

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Can we have a deeper analysis in Sabo's shape language study please? It's amazing how you make him give different vibes with just his hair and I like to understand how does that work.

Oh. I'm SO glad you asked.

(The Post In Question)

Okay so this isnt the first post ive made about shape language,

Here are the others:

ASL Shapes Strawhats Shapes

i'm just gonna copy and paste the definition i have for shape language from those posts here so i dont have to write it all again.

Shape language is defined as “a concept used in art and animation to communicate meaning based on shapes we are familiar with” (source). This concept uses circles, triangles, and squares to convey an idea of the “personality” of the design without using any words.

In designs, using circles and rounded edges in your silhouette and detailing gives the design a soft and squishy look. They tend to be harmless, approachable, or changeable.

Designs using squares gives the design a solid, sturdy, and strong look. They are supportive, reliable, and inflexible

Lastly, triangle designs are sharp and directional. They are dynamic, dangerous, and unpredictable.

That's base level but here's more in depth description of each design for ya:

this one is up first!

You may notice how in this design, his hair isnt in large clumps like the others are. His hair falls delicately and waves gently with little to no hard angles.

In this design, i was trying to convey the idea of "he wasnt born to fight, but he's molded himself into someone who will." I tried to depict that by making his hair all light and feathery, his facial features soft and rounded, but also showing how he's modified his body in a pointy and aggressive way.

I didn't want to only go hard edges with the piercings though because much like he's strayed from his mold of being delicate, he's also strayed from his mold of being a cruel noble. so some of his piercings are rings, AKA: Circles.

You may also notice the different in how I've drawn the collars of these guys. the collar of this Babo's black coat falls softly, and its' arc is rounded. The shoulders don't have any padding and it rounds at the corner.

This Man Is Round.

Next up is this Freak

This is supposed to be Triangle Him.

His hair is in larger, hard angled clumps. Indicating that he probably cut his hair himself. He did... greattt. I already headcannon him as someone who cuts his own hair, but i dont think this one ever gets any better at it.

The hard angles on his teeth, his scar, his jaw, his collar, that line i forgot to erase on the left, and his coat all give indication that this guy is Dangerous and you probably shouldnt mess with him.

I didn't have any real deeper meaning to this version, I just wanted to make him look as opposing as I could. this guy is "what you see is pretty much what you get."

Even though he doesn't have a lot of deeper meaning, I think this one is my favorite of the designs. I really love these colors on him and his hair was really fun to draw. I think I wanna draw him again at some point. I think this version of him would be very funny paired with Koala. I'm chuckling thinking about it:

Koala and her Armed and On Fire kindergartener

And lastly this guy

Sabo's base design is very rectangle coded. From his Hat, to his face shape, to his coat. So this version was very easy to make as I didn't actually need to change that much!

I think maybe I could've made his design a little more complex? But also I think there is a beauty in simplicity for this one. He looks straightforward, reliable, and kind. He seems like the kind of guy who gets his hands dirty, not because he likes doing it, but because he does what he must for the greater good.

I really love his hazel eyes, too. I think it brings a nice warmth to his design that is really nice.

Additional comments:

I love talking about this stuff. I love designing. I love art. I love drawing so much it's so fun

Everytime I get to sit down and make some funky doodles my brain feels like 🧠🤸🧘🧜🧚🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🧚💃💃💃💃💃💃

If you got this far thanks for reading :)

I usually have a description for my designs and my choices and stuff and I forgot to do one for this post, it makes me happy to see that it was missed :)

[faetaiity]

HII! If you don’t mind could you do the rise tmnt guys (separate if u don’t mind) reaction to a normally rlly sweet and happy reader getting angry/snapping at something for 2 seconds (reader secretly has bad anger issues ☠️) like reader is doing homework and then just randomly punch’s their computer and just takes a deep breath and goes back to normal LMAO

Tysm for ur time! ^^ have a nice day and remember to take breaks <3

Yeah! I relate to the Reader in this ask a lot tbh.

Separate! Turtles x Gender Neutral! Has Bad Anger Issues! Reader

Post Format: Headcanons

CW/TW: Yelling, Mild Angst for Leo, Crying, and 'mild' Leo 'slander' lmao ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raphie:

You're playing a game with Raph and Leo, unfortunately, Leo ends up winning and taunting you in particular, mainly because you preformed the worst

You grit your teeth as you hear him gloat "Oh ho ho! It seems I've won a game, it was bound to happen anyway, with how horrible you are at anything we play~"

Normally this wouldn't be too bad, you'd leave as soon as he was done piggishly gloating, but he HAD to jab you in the fucking ribs

Tears prick your eyes angrily as you tell him to 'shut the fuck up and shove the award up his ass', this causes him and Raph to wince at your harsh words

They don't know how to respond, Leo ended up awkwardly walking away, unnerved with your sudden display of hostility

Raph walks up to you and asks what's wrong, you take a deep breath and try to relax for a few seconds

You talk about how you actually get angry and frustrated a lot, it's just physical touch makes it harder to push aside

I actually HC him to still have anger issues like his previous Iterations, but on a lower and more mellow level

he gets irritated sometimes when things don't go the way he wants them, (aka safely and quickly) or when Leo is a pain in the ass, but he never takes it out on people or openly talks about it

He understands a lot.

He hugs and kisses your head, making you promise that you will tell him when you're starting to get a little too angry so he can help smoothen the situation

You nod and thank him

"Anytime <3"

Donnie:

Also has some bad anger sometimes

You're doing homework with him, usually you didn't need help, but you wanted him to explain certain trigonometry concepts to you because the Teacher was downright horrendous at explaining things.

You both got frustrated when you couldn't understand what Donnie was explaining, you because you were usually a really fast learner and didn't understand why this was so fucking difficult, and He was frustrated because he considers this relatively easy

It gets hostile when he says in what you misread as a condescending tone "How can't you understand this?! It's like teaching ABC's to a Kindergartener! It's simple!", you growl out a 'Fuck you' and start packing your stuff, just wanting to leave the lair and cool off

He doesn't stop you, he only huffs and puffs in irritation

Leo would be near the entrance of the lair and would probably crack a stupid joke, causing you to snap a "Back off!" at him, making him squint his eyes, trying to make sure this isn't someone else.

Once you leave the lair, you start to assume this will put a strain on your relationship up until he breaks into your apartment and apologizes a couple hours later

He struggles to understand that you won't get things as quickly as he does, he understands that concept with his brothers, but not with you

Mainly because he considers you smart, he's not good with apologies but he wants you to know that it wasn't your fault

It would probably lead to a long talk about you two and your anger, you two promising to be more open about your frustrations and to vent it out in a healthy way and not demean each other for what they don't yet understand

and that would lead to a rather uncommon case of Donnie cuddling you, with you two finishing your homework and watching Jupiter Jim movies

Leo:

Okay, unpopular(?) opinion but he would totally unintentionally rile you up

He's just so.... Jokey and to someone who doesn't know him, Probably Narcissistic, Dense and Immature

Which, with the Last two, he can be, but he definitely is NOT narcissistic.

Knowing him, He'd probably make a smartass comment, come up to you saying "huh?! Huh?!" Over and over again, you KNOW he's not trying to irritate you, mainly because you've never actually shown irritation or aggression when he does this (Because you're used to this behavior even before you dated)

Like in the Raph scenario, he jabs your ribs with his fingers, causing you to yelp and glare at him, he just looks at you, completely misreading the situation, thinking you're just being playfully angry so he fUCKING JABS YOU AGAIN

You snarl out a "WHAT THE FUCK, LEONARDO!?" and instinctively shove his hand away from your side

He looks shocked before actually becoming a little sad, looking akin to a kicked puppy

You sigh and relax, feeling guilty you softly mumble out, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell... I'm just in a bad mood, you didn't deserve that treatment." he averts his eyes, clearly still hurt

I'm gonna be honest, you're the only one who truly accepts his jokes aside from Mikey (Mostly), so he kinda.... gets depressed

Over the next few days, he might become slightly timid with making jokes around you, and might actually fall into a small depressive episode, feeling as if his coping method irritates his S/O

It'll take a long talk about boundaries with jokes and reassuring him that it was just a bad day, and you genuinely don't mind his jokes

that talk actually made people like Donnie tolerate his jokes more, as now he doesn't usually include physically jostling, pinching or poking people in his jokes

It might take a few days of mild, timid jokes before he goes back to his absolutely wild personality that you fell in love with.

Mikey:

Gonna be honest once more, he is the least likely to see you in an irritated state

He is super in-tune with your emotions and can tell when you're irritated or sad so he can get you out of that situation... 98% of the time.

But also, like Leo, I could see him being unintentionally irritating at times, it never bothered you up until this point because its Mikey! one of the most lovable goofballs you know!

But if you're already in a bad mood and he's being a little too rambunctious, I could see you snapping at him a little, and then instantly feeling guilty

Like Leo, the minute you snap at him, he gives you the biggest kicked puppy eyes, tears softly falling down his face as you wince and apologize profusely

He forgives you, albeit asking for a reason as to why you barked at him

He might turn into Dr. Feelings to help you talk about your outbursts and why it's not a good response to irritating stimuli

Similar to that episode with him and Donnie lmao

He doesn't blame you; he knows everyone has their own emotional baggage, but he makes you promise to tell him when you're getting closer to having an outburst so he can help you.

You agree and place a kiss on his beak, making him churr happily

there's probably a lot of small sessions with Dr. Feelings about your anger over the next couple weeks/months until you can handle it better

All of Them:

They love you even if you snap at them sometimes (and them sometimes snapping right back)

The last thing they want is to make you feel negative/neurotic emotions because of them

While they wouldn't change anything about themselves, they know you don't want them to do that anyway.

You have issues, they understand that and are willing to talk to you about boundaries, so you don't have or get a bad reaction from you or them.

[multifanlol]

Could you do some romantic Yandere Marcy Headcanons?

Okay so first off-thanks for the request! And second of all, i love her smm and yandere her would def make me question my life choices lol anyways….

Tw: Stalking, obsessive behaviours, overbearing behaviours, just regular yandere stuff….

Marcy would be clingy

Like not the clingy clingy the very overbearing one of your personal space type my girl would not know what personal space is 💀

Like let’s say you were going to give some letter to a teacher-

Marcy would offer to come with you! No saying no she very much insists

I can see her doing the basics like stealing your used pen, taking locks of your hair, etc stuff that you wouldn’t be too sad about

And if she did take stuff that would bother you she would play the hero character and give it back to you!

“Oh found your phone by the table s/o heh, you should really be more careful with your stuff!”

While i don’t think she’d have a big hero complex like Anne and Sasha due to her insane clumsiness she’d like the idea of it though, like yk those movies she probably watches with the dashing hero and there love interest, she would always tell you that and probably force you to watch the movies with her-

Speaking of her insane clumsiness i feel like that would stop you if you ever did from suspecting her stalking behaviour, because she’s Marcy Wu the clumsiest girl you’ve ever known since kindergarten!

But believe me she can stalk, in more different ways per say like if you had social media she’d probably be using her own account or an unknown account but to be fair she wouldn’t wanna creep you out!

So probably her own account to monitor you at best, no she’s not controlling you, she’s just watching over you! She has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid after all!

Overall, she’s be harmless before Amphibia of course…..

Now i wouldn’t say she’s Sashas level of manipulation but we have to remember she got her best friends stranded in Amphibia a pretty deadly world you could easily die in making one wrong move and did a pretty good job still lying about it

She’s more of a gaslighter type of manipulator maybe guilt trips you anyways back to her in Amphibia-

The first thing she wants in Amphibia other then the cool adventures is looking for you, and oh boy would she be training, she’s a ranger now she can protect you like she always wanted! Now it could go two ways

If you changed like she did and got more stronger, she wouldn’t know how to feel, sure she’d try to tell herself she’s happy but how’s she supposed to protect you if you don’t want her to? Maybe she has to be a little forceful but it’ll all work out in the end don’t worry! She’s sure you’ll be hers by the end

She’s sure of it……

But if you didn’t change and we’re still “weak” in her eyes, she would do anything in her power to protect you! It would honestly be how Anne saw her-

Now she’s not clumsy and can protect you at all costs, now that you are in Amphibia i feel like it’d be more easy to now see through her, since her clumsiness mostly made up for her being creepy and oh boy you wouldn’t like it

You’d notice how possessive she’d probably get again, she wouldn’t want to be forceful, but what if you die?! Especially since she is yk the reason your there, not like you need to know though, she feels like you would understand but what if Anne or Sasha talked you into it that what she did wasn’t okay?!

Her jealousy would show almost clearly when interacting with Sasha or Anne, especially Anne since she said it herself she was jealous of Anne especially with how likeable Anne can be……she’s just a clumsy nerd after all….

Or well she was

Would probably try to to impress you with her smartness and stuff 😭

“You don’t think you can solve these huh, Anne? Woah these stuff are really easy!”

“Those look really hard though-“

When King Andries offers her that deal, how could she say no?! I mean if her parents moved she’d lose everything…..she’d lose you…..

And to her your her escapism, like a fictional character you’d wish was real different is you are real….

So this is for her and your own good…..

When King Andries outs the truth to you all she expects you to understand

Why are you backing away from her like the others…..

I did this for us s/o! T-They were gonna tear us apart!

……

Let’s say you were with Sasha and wartwood training, you didn’t know how to feel about Marcy as a what she did was messed up, but you end up coming to the conclusion on hearing her out, with the other girls there of course……

While you were doing this Marcy was being held captured ready for the core to be the new host for the body, what the core nor king Andries knew was that this was a girl with a certain strong obsession towards someone……

While the core isn’t obsessed as much as they try to stop it Marcy’s “love” for you ends up reaching Darcy who’s a smart manipulative psychopathic strategist……

Yeah

The first thing Darcy wants is for you to be found and be captured immediately

Sasha notices how different the bots are acting…..like they aren’t trying to attack her when they see her…..they seem to have eyes on you…..

Sasha thinks that King Andries is probably trying to capture you while she doesn’t know why she knows it has something to do with Marcy

I mean she’s kinda right

Anywayssss if Darcy does capture you your screwed, like very screwed

Your dealing with a smart obsessed mastermind who also happens to have the core hosting the mind therefore makes it Psychotic

Why don’t you just call “it” Darcy

With Darcy’s psychotic and obsessed personality it would be no lie Darcy would be forceful

“Heh! Oh “sweetie” you thought you could escape from me?! There will be no earth after we’re finished so why don’t you just be a cute thing and listen….”

I feel like King Andries would feel guilty and would always try to make it being captured by “Darcy” a little better by trying to tell Darcy letting you roam around the castle as it’s not like you can escape since the castle is in the air

Not like she’d listen that much but he’d try

Expect a very overbearing, forceful, clingy “girlfriend” i mean your practically hers at this point nobody could ever love you like she does!

Expect all those lovey dovey cheesy nicknames like “cupcake” “sweetie” yk the usual she’d say this while with the psychotic, most sinister look on her face it’d be kinda scary…..

Even when Anne does save the world and you four can all return safely not everyone is happy

Particularly a short blue haired girl

She still has to move, no matter how much she begs she wouldn’t care at that point she wasn’t losing you

Maybe she has to make a few lies to the new job application place you might say she couldn’t but she’s grown so much in Amphibia i think she’s sure she’s capable if it doesn’t work though logically she’ll maybe start with your parents then depends if there divorced or not, maybe convince them how cool the place is….and if none works

Well I’ll let you decide 🙂

Overall Marcy i feel like would be a bit that obvious yandere although if you just look a little deeper you’ll realise how different she’d look…..

I feel like there’s more stuff she’d do but this is all i could come up with for now-

[dokidokitsuna]

I wanted to make a video about this, but seeing as my first Splatoon vid is already taking ages to make, and I don’t really have a whole lot to say, I’ll just write it out:

If you’re not playing X Battles, it may interest you to know that you’re really not missing much. ^^;

When I first tried grinding up to S+ rank to unlock them, I did it in the hopes of finally getting access to serious, exciting matches that always come down to the wire because all the players are super skilled and intent on winning. I mean, Turf War and Anarchy are fine, but sometimes you want a real challenge, y’know? I think every MMO game needs some form of “no noobs allowed” mode in order to provide a consistently engaging experience for mature players, and that’s what I expected X Battles to be.

Unfortunately, that’s not what I got…my first foray into X Battles was surprisingly average; and at the time it was kind of funny. ^^ I mean, every once in a while I did run into a few crazy people who definitely belonged there, but most of the players were virtually indistinguishable from everyone else in terms of observable skill. Like, the battles just felt…normal.

And now, a few seasons later, they feel a lot worse than normal. :[ If it came out that Nintendo was secretly allowing players to buy access to X Battles without having to earn it, I would 100% believe it at this point. Because I’ve seen some really stupid stuff going on in recent matches…and when I say stupid, I mean STUPID.

The vast majority of the time, the experience is something I call “steamroll or be steamrolled”: either you get a disappointingly easy match where the enemy team doesn’t stand a chance against you, or a useless-to-even-try match where your team doesn’t stand a chance against the enemy. Either way, the outcome is pretty much set in stone about 30 seconds in. :/

And then there’s the absolute worst kind of match, a new phenomenon I’m calling “babysitting”: basically, the enemy team isn’t even that good, to the point where I can hat-trick or wipe them all by myself multiple times…but it amounts to nothing, because my allies are even worse, and can’t hold the line without me. So every time I die, we lose all our progress…and unless I can kick it into max-overdrive and 1v4 my way to victory, we just slowly and painfully lose the match.

Obviously, these aren’t things that should be happening in matches pulling randomly from what should be the most skilled players in the population. 6_6; Like, I refuse to believe that I’ve unknowingly become such a god-tier fighter that the whole playerbase seems like kindergarteners to me (I’m good, but I’m really not that good…).

It HAS to be a matchmaking issue…but even then, it’s concerning that people who’ll spend a whole match hiding from the enemy and “charging specials” (a strategy that only makes sense when you’re woefully inexperienced) are (a) somehow allowed into X Battles, and (b) matched with players like me. In a specialized mode like this, I should not have to worry about playing with people who clearly don't understand the game very well. They don't deserve it, and I don't deserve it. :/ Like, if not here, then where??? What's the use of all these ranks and points and statistics if they don't affect the gameplay experience? Am I expected to grind all the way to S+10 before I'm consistently matched with players of a similar skill level...?

And on that note: something interesting I’ve noticed recently is that, as X Battles have steadily gotten worse, Anarchy Battles have actually gotten better: all of the truly fun, challenging down-to-the-wire matches I’ve had in the last few weeks have been in Anarchy. And to me, this suggests that grinding to X Battle eligibility has become so unrewarding that skilled players who would be going there are instead opting to just stick with Anarchy Battles, making the population of skilled Anarchy players larger than before. I mean, if they’re all having experiences similar to mine, I wouldn’t blame them...

In conclusion: X-Battle players are not to be envied, and also I’m kind of concerned about the future of Splatoon 3’s multiplayer viability. ⚆_⚆; There’s a reason that we have a growing population of exclusive ‘Salmon Runners’ and I think this is part of it…hell, if Salmon Run just had more than 1 mode available on the daily, I might make the switch myself (maybe sthg where you don’t have to worry about losing your pay grade and can just kill fishies for fun with your weapon of choice…I’d love an ‘arcade mode’ or ‘infinite run’~). I’m among the people who no longer enjoy Splatfests (I never thought it would happen to me, BUT IT DID ;_;), and yet I always have fun during Big Runs and Eggstra Work. Apparently, the game immediately becomes 50% more enjoyable when 50% of its inscrutable, unreasonable matchmaking system is no longer an issue. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[naivemlnd]

Maybe it's You

Another BHM/FFA romance story I posted on dimensions magazine that I also wanted to post here :)

Summary: Catherine feels alone in the big city, until she meets a man who changes everything.  Content warning: This story contains a character who suffers from health-related anxiety.

There’s something wrong with me.

There has to be.

I have these thoughts sometimes, and they’re not like what everyone else around me is thinking or feeling. They’re… different. Taboo even.

I can’t quite put my finger down on when they started. Maybe for as long as I remember. But it took a while for me to understand that other people didn’t feel the same.

In kindergarten, I’d grab the pudgiest boy in class by the arm, squeezing his upper arm fat like it was a stress ball. He would laugh, seemingly happy to have found a friend at all, even if she was odd and didn’t respect personal boundaries.

But it became weird in first and second grade. You couldn’t just grab someone’s fat and squeeze it. And other kids liked to poke fun at the fat kids, they would taunt them. 

Eventually I would just join in. It was easier that way. Less conspicuous. But I’d never grown out of wanting to touch, to feel that supple flesh under my hands.

During puberty was when I really noticed it.

People would talk about going to second base, how hot abs were, how sexy an hourglass figure was on a girl. But I was only ever aroused when I imagined someone eating, rubbing their fat belly, getting full, moaning, but still stuffing food in…

So, it turned out most people didn’t share this interest. 

And I never said it out loud, never admitted to anyone besides myself, that I was attracted, with a level of exclusivity that scared me, to fat people. More specifically, fat people actively getting fatter.  

My first boyfriend was thin. I was 15 and I wanted. I kissed him. I really tried to get into it. 

But I couldn’t.

My college boyfriend was big, but not in the ways I wanted. He was physically imposing, well over 6 feet, broad shouldered. Handsome, sweet, funny. That helped. I nearly convinced myself that I was attracted to him. See, brain? He’s big. He makes me feel dainty and happy and nice.

It didn’t work.

I never wanted to have sex with him because I couldn’t get aroused around him. 

My excuses of taking it slow, then of ‘headaches’ or of not being in the mood only went so far. So we went our separate ways after a year together, never going farther than kissing and fondling.

It was depressing and sad that I’d only ever gotten myself off when watching some fat person on youtube stuff their faces. And after getting off, I always feel worse.

It’s in these moments of self doubt, late at night, when my heart aches for some kind of intimacy, some kind of belonging, that I think about these things. 

But maybe it’s not my interest in fat men that is the problem. Surely, if that were the case, I’d just find a fat guy to date.

So maybe it’s me that’s the problem.

*

“Cath!” 

I whipped my head around, spotting Layla as she waved a hand to get my attention. She was standing with a couple of other people, none of whom I recognized as I approached.

I cleared my throat, “Hi.”

Layla reached out to hug me, but I leaned away and she dropped her arms. Her smile was pinched around the edges, making me feel even more like shit. 

Layla knew not to do things like that, but she was always…pushing. 

Layla recovered quickly.

“I’ve got to introduce you! Okay, this is John,” she gestured to a tall man with thin wire glasses, “and Isaac,” a broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair nodded towards me, an easy smile on his lips. I attempted to mirror the expression, but it felt forced.

“They work in marketing,” Layla prattled. “And this is Vienna, she’s a data specialist like us, but in a different department.” 

Vienna, a short woman with very big hair greeted me.

“Everyone, this is Catherine!” Layla said, hovering over my shoulder. 

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, still feeling off balance from the almost-hug and Layla’s watchful gaze. 

“You as well,” big-shoulder guy, Isaac, said. 

The thing about being an adult, with an adult job, is that you always feel about an inch from unraveling. 

I hesitated around the edges of the end-of-quarter banquet, near the hand sanitizer dispenser. 

It was annoying that every employee had to attend these. So many people crammed into a banquet hall, all for some mediocre mostaccioli and baked chicken to ‘celebrate’ the employees and boost morale. 

And although Layla’s attention to me was misguided, I did appreciate that there was someone here who was interested in socializing with me.

“You should ask John out,” Layla said, appearing at my side. She was eating the olive out of her martini. 

“No no,” I started to protest.

“Come on! You’ve got to get out sometime!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. 

“Which one was that again?” I asked.

“Glasses.” 

Thin and tall, I added mentally. I shrugged. I knew it would only end one way: disappointment. But as usual, I was hoping for a miracle, a miraculous change to occur in me. For me to feel something for someone else, even just for a moment.

*

The date could be worse. But it felt more like a friendly meetup. I glanced at John’s slim figure, his slender arms, his sharp jaw, and knew with a sinking feeling in my gut that I wouldn’t even want to kiss him.

“How do you like the city? Layla mentioned you’re from the south,” John asked after a sip of water.

“It’s good, busy. I miss Georgia sometimes, of course, but I am grateful to be away from the humidity,” I said, pleased when he laughed with me.

“Oh, I'm sure! I’m a native New Yorker, so it’s interesting to hear about other people’s hometowns. Back when I lived in Queens…”

At the end of the night, John walked me home. He leaned down, maybe to hug me, maybe to kiss me, but I pulled away. 

There was a small frown tugging at his lips, but politeness seemed to keep him from saying anything.

“I had a great time, thank you for dinner,” I said, and went inside my building. 

*

“And so, this Layla person, the only friend you’ve made from your work, is now dating the guy she set you up with?” my sister’s voice, thick with the sound of home, crackled through my phone speakers.

“Yup,” I said, trying not to get polish everywhere as I painted my toes. 

“Wow. What happened to girl code?”

I sighed. “I didn’t like the guy. So I honestly couldn’t care less.”

My sister made a thoughtful noise. 

“It’s been over a month since I went out with him. Once. One date. It’s not like I had some kind of claim on him.”

My sister Ciara, like most of my friends and family, thought I was too picky with men. If only they knew the half of it. 

“When are you visiting again, Cath?”

“Not until Christmas,” I replied. 

Ciara audibly sighed.

“You could visit me here, you know.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn't need to. It was expensive and she had the kids to worry about. 

“How are the rugrats?” I asked when the silence had stretched a moment too long, and she went into depth about how Connor was doing with potty training and how Rachel was able to keep her head up on her own.

It seemed like everyone, even the kiddos, were doing more, were improving, changing. Bettering themselves. Everyone except me.

I recognized that this thought was unfair, but it didn’t stop me from having it.

*

Exactly three months after the last, there was another end-of-quarter banquet. 

I dressed myself presentably, in a comfortable yet stylish sweater with black dress pants. 

Layla waved me over to a table, where she and John were sitting side by side. Vienna, who I remembered from the last banquet, was there too, sitting by John. Next to her was a couple I didn't recognize but who Layla quickly introduced. Layla, an insufferable extrovert, was always making new friends. Or networking. I could never quite tell with her.

I took one of the two empty seats, sitting at Layla’s right. 

They were talking about holiday plans, and so I chimed in that I was going to visit family in Georgia.

“How fun!” Vienna said.

“Probably won’t be a white Christmas,” John said with humor.

“I’m not built for snow anyhow. I hate the cold,” I said, gesturing to my tiny body. 

A few people at the table laughed, but my attention was pulled away as the empty chair next to mine was pulled out. 

I glanced up. Broad-shoulder guy, er, Isaac? Yes, Isaac, with the curly hair. But he looked… different. 

He sat down heavily. I’d noticed at the last banquet that he was a large person to begin with, tall and wide. It had been difficult to tell in a suit, but he’d seemed stocky. Like someone who was quite muscular, but not cut or lean by any means.

But now…he had a belly. A real, honest-to-god, belly. It balanced out those crazy wide shoulders, pushing out from his suit jacket, and balling up in his lap as he pulled the chair up closer to the table. 

I felt myself blushing and pinched my thigh.

Now is not the time. 

“Snow is overrated if you ask me. It’s glorified cold, icy rain. Bleh,” Isaac said.

John made an indignant noise.

Isaac grinned at him.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Vienna started singing when John and Isaac began debating the pros and cons of snow. 

“Isaac,” somebody said from behind. Isaac turned in his chair, smiling that easy smile. “You been hitting the eggnog a little hard, pal?”

My eyes widened, and I deliberately looked into the candle flickering on the table’s centerpiece so that my eyes wouldn’t wander towards his midsection. Why would this guy say that? Wasn’t that… rude?

But Isaac only laughed. I heard something, a light patting that might’ve been Isaac tapping his belly for emphasis.

“Yeah, it’s my winter coat.”

I crossed my legs under the table.

Get a grip, Catherine. 

We were served dinner, chicken in mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes, which I picked at, paying much more attention to the plate next to mine, which was cleared before anyone else's. It was all but licked clean. 

*

That night, I couldn’t get Isaac out of my mind. As Isaac was someone who had only spoken about three words to me in my entire life, I had become quite easily infatuated. 

Isaac was fatter now. And based on the way he had eaten tonight, it seemed likely that he would continue to do so. 

Check and check.

I couldn’t help searching him up online. 

I went through Layla’s friends list, and scrolled to the ‘I’s.

“Found him,” I muttered to myself, clicking his profile. 

Isaac Friedmann

I scrolled through his profile photos, but the newest was over a year old, before he’d gained weight. Still, he looked nice, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. I scrolled back, seeing younger versions of him. One photo from six years ago showed Isaac in a hockey jersey, fresh off the ice, stick in hand, grinning with some of his teammates.

“College hockey player? That’s impressive,” I murmured to myself. I ignored the twinge in my gut reminding me of the ‘ex-athlete who gets fat’ trope in weight gain fiction.

Isaac’s ‘about’ info was private, so I couldn’t check his relationship status. But really, what were the chances that he would even be interested in me anyway? 

I didn’t request to be his friend, even though I sort of wanted to.

*

I spent the holidays back home. I had to dodge lots of questions about my love life, which was of course, nonexistent. Instead, I steered conversation back to safer topics, like my job.

“I basically crunch numbers for the company. It’s a little boring, but the pay is nice and it’s low stress. Good hours, and benefits.” 

This explanation generally had my aunts cooing and congratulating me on my success.

I flew back to New York on the 29th, as I wanted to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. I’d done it the past two years since I’d lived in the city. It was crowded and cold, but somehow, my inner child lived for it. 

I had plans to meet up with my friend Chris, also known ‘Moxie’ when he was in drag, and his partner Sid. Chris lived in my apartment building and we’d bonded over being the only tenants who do laundry at 5:00 am. For Chris, he usually hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I had typically just woken up. Between our incompatible sleep schedules, we barely saw each other outside of these strange twilight hours or weekend nights. We exchanged texts semi-regularly throughout the weekdays, which was about all I could look for in a friend anyway. It’s not like I needed 24/7 companionship.

I’d been tempted to tell Chris about my, um, tastes. He was very kink positive and not at all judgmental. But every time I considered it, I practically broke out in hives. It stressed me out so much that I eventually gave up on the idea. Chris was probably under the impression that I was ace, and I had never done much to dissuade him from this idea. Hell, maybe I was on the ace spectrum. 

That might explain why the only thing that could get me going was fat bellies.

This is not the time to think about this. 

I met up with Chris and Sid in the lobby and we walked to Times Square together. 

I was freezing cold in a matter of seconds.

“Aw, poor Peach,” Sid said, rubbing my arm as we walked, which didn’t do much to quell my shivering. Peach was Sid’s nickname for me, one which I thought was endearing in a slightly annoying way.

“I have extra gloves if you want to double up,” Chris chimed in.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m wearing lots of layers,” I said. The wind chose that moment to blast frozen air directly onto my exposed face. “Fudging fudge!” I exclaimed.

Sid cackled while Chris groaned.

“Please just say fuck. Please,” he begged. 

I wrinkled my nose. “Hmmm,” I pretended to consider it. “No.”

We argued over which swear words I was likely to say, and what disastrous scenarios might prompt me to break my ‘no-swearing’ streak, which I’d had for as long as I could remember. 

Eventually, we nudged our way into the NYE crowd and found an area to stand. We weren’t near any of the stages, but that was alright. The main attraction was the ball, which could be seen from anywhere. None of us had much interest in the musical guests.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Sid said, gesturing to the pub down the block that was selling drinks in disposable cups. “Anyone want anything?”

“I’m alright,” I said.

“A beer?” Chris asked. Sid nodded, gave his partner a quick kiss, and headed off.

I had become acclimated to the harsh cold and so I wasn’t shivering too badly anymore. That, or my face had become completely numb.

“Your nose is so red,” Chris commented, booping me on the nose with a gloved finger. 

“It’s charming,” I replied easily, earning a crooked smile from him. Chris had a way of soothing my mind. I couldn’t think of a single other person who I could joke with quite so easily.

As he readied to say something else, I was bumped into from behind. Chris caught me by the elbows so I wouldn’t fall.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, shit,” a deep voice mumbled.

I turned, don’t worry about it, already on my lips but…

I saw shoulders, broad and thick. An open winter jacket, a sweater-covered belly filling the opening. Curly brown hair. Chubby red cheeks. It was Isaac!

I blinked.

Isaac blinked back.

“Oh, hey, um Catherine right?” 

I felt myself blushing, but hoped that the general redness of my wind-numb face would cover it.

“Yeah, hi, um Isaac.” 

Chris nudged me. “Oh, and this is my friend Chris,” I added. 

“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said. His eyes darted between Chris and I. I felt keenly aware that Chris still had one hand on my arm.

I pulled away and gave Isaac what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Um, great to see you somewhere that isn't work-mandated.”

Wow, I am horrible at flirting, I thought to myself. But he laughed.

“Yeah, you too!” He glanced around. “I’d better get back to my friends, but it was great running into you.”

“You too!” 

There was another awkward smile exchange, and then he was slipping through the crowd and out of sight. 

“Um, who the hell was that?” Chris wheeled on me. His face was all-too knowing. 

“Work acquaintance,” I said.

Sid slid back up then, took a quick look between Chris and I before saying, “What’d I miss?”

“Catherine just attempted to flirt. With another human being.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. 

I pulled my hat down so it covered my ears better, not acknowledging that. 

“Attempted? Was she successful?” Sid asked.

Chris eyed me and I felt horribly transparent. 

“The guy seemed into it. He was all smiley.”

I frowned. Had he been? I couldn’t hardly remember the encounter except my own horrible embarrassment. 

“Well, who wouldn’t be? That’s the power of the Peach right there.”

I laughed and felt a tad lighter. 

When the ball dropped, I bit my lip and sighed, yearning for something unnamed, unknowable. For something. 

*

“Great work, Catherine.” 

I couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise. My boss wasn’t harsh, but he also wasn’t overly friendly. He meant what he said, and he rarely gave compliments.

I let the high from that interaction carry me through the rest of the day. Petty work drama couldn’t touch me, not when I had done such ‘great work’ on my report. 

“There’s cake in the lounge if you want. It’s for, em, Eric,” Shelby, one of the interns from NYU, attempting to remember, “… Eric from accounting,” she said as I walked past.

‘Eric from accounting’ rang absolutely zero bells in my brain, but I figured I’d grab a slice.

My workplace was a big office suite located inside of a high rise. The data specialists had a corner of cubicles to themselves which budded up against the accounting cubicles. The marketing and supply-chain people had offices to themselves with glass walls and great views of the skyline. Of course, executives had a whole floor to themselves. 

It wasn’t like us numbers-folk were in some dark hovel or anything, but it nagged at me when I crossed into the marketing offices and noted the differences between our office areas. 

The lounge had a few people mingling around. I grabbed a slice of cake; it was chocolate. Not as good as vanilla, but it would do. 

“Cath, oh, tell them about that funny saying your mee-maw always says. Mee-maw, isn’t that such a cute way to say grandma?” Layla, always in the center of all social gatherings, asked as I went towards the beverage station. She was standing in a loose circle with John and Vienna.

I filled a paper cup with some burnt coffee and made my way over to her.

“Good ol’ mee-maw,” I said, playing up my accent. “She says lots of things. But, the one that always gets Layla is well, that just dills my pickle!”

Layla laughed, batting at my arm as she doubled over. I stepped out of the way to avoid the contact.

“Ah, such southern charm,” she said, giggling.

It was hard to tell with Layla whether she was laughing at you or with you.

Just then, Isaac waltzed through the lounge doorway.

“Heard there was cake,” he said, and instantly made his way over to the cake and cut himself a large slice.

It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen him on New Year’s Eve. In that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit plumper. His dress shirt was tight across the push of his belly. The buttons were pulling a bit on either side, puckered. I tracked his movements as he forked up a big bite of cake and stuffed it in his mouth.

Isaac made an appreciative noise before stabbing another piece with his fork.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck.  

I sensed rather than saw Isaac’s eyes flick over towards me. I instinctively glanced down at my own plate, not wanting to be caught staring.

“We still on for the gym tomorrow?” John asked. I looked up. John was staring with concern towards Isaac’s middle. 

“Course,” Isaac said through a mouthful of cake.

“Are you going to do cardio with me this time?” John asked in a lighter tone.

Isaac scoffed. “You know I gave up cardio for lent.”

Layla tilted her head. “Lent doesn’t start until the end of February,” she pointed out.

“Eh, I’m not particularly religious,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything.

Vienna laughed.

I couldn't suppress my own smile. I felt Isaac glance at me, but he quickly looked away before I could catch his eye. 

“Well, that was delicious. Have a good weekend everybody,” Isaac said, throwing his empty plate into the trash. He waved and left the room. 

There was a lull in the conversation, seemingly until Layla had declared Isaac as far enough away from the room to be able to talk about him without risk of being overheard.

“He got a bit chubby, didn’t he?” Layla said, her voice laced with concern. I bit my lip and said nothing. 

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, he carries it well,” Vienna chimed in.

I nodded subtly. I itched to come to Isaac’s defense, but the urge to stay silent was stronger.

“I’m not trying to nag him, but he’s been eating loads. It is a little concerning, but I guess… He’s an adult,” John fragmentally explained.

“Of course! I only just noticed,” Layla said placatingly.

“Excuse me,” I said before hastily leaving the lounge. God, why was this messing with my head so much? 

Maybe it was because Isaac was practically the human incarnation of my every fantasy. He’s been eating loads John had said… Oh God, now I was picturing Isaac sitting around, gorging on takeout, eating his way out of that tight dress shirt, buttons popping and flying off as he continued stuffing his fat face…

What the hell?? Stop thinking about this at work.

I knew I was flushing profusely, so I made haste towards the women's restroom.

Once inside I checked my face in the mirror. My mascara was flaking a bit after the long day, but other than that, I looked alright. I took a few deep breaths, counting to 10 in my head. 

I felt much better as I was leaving the bathroom.

Well, I thought I would, except when I swung the door open, it opened directly into someone.

“Fiddlesticks, I’m so sor-,” I began, pausing when I glanced up and saw who I’d hit.

“No, don’t worry about it, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Isaac laughed a bit. “Payback for New Years.”

That knocked a surprised giggle from my chest.

“Oh, you know I was meaning to apologize for running into you the other day. Well, not for running into you, but for like actually physically bumping you,” Isaac said, an embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to like being touched.”

I laughed again, slightly nervously. He noticed that? Oh, now he probably thinks I’m neurotic. Which… probably wasn’t so far off. 

“No, it wasn’t a big deal. The square was super packed, it happens.” I was pleased at how nonchalant I sounded.

Isaac nodded. “And sorry for you know, interrupting you when you were on a date or whatever–”

“What?” I blurted, entirely lost. 

Isaac glanced at me.

“You were with that um guy? He had his arms on you? I thought…”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I doubled over, cackling.

“No, no.” I sobered when I saw his embarrassed expression. “That, that was my friend Chris.” I said. Then after a beat, “Chris is gay.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and then he was laughing too. He looked relieved in some way, but I wasn’t sure.

“Ah, well. I’m an idiot, sorry about that. I just assumed.”

“No biggie,” I said, still smiling.  

Isaac stared at his feet, kicking at the carpet with his heels.

“So since you’re not dating your gay friend, what are you doing Saturday?” I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. He misinterpreted my expression. “I mean, tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings. But I would like to take you out sometime. You know, to see you on purpose instead of randomly bumping into each other.” He smiled lopsidedly.

For some reason, I heard Chris’ voice in my head, urging me to say yes, you idiot!

“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

It wasn’t until much later that night that I freaked out about it. 

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

*

This date was lightyears away from my awkward date with John. For one, I had butterflies. Actual butterflies, not the nervous sour awful kind, but the good kind, the kind that made your stomach feel like pop rocks.

For two, Isaac was sitting across from me in the tiny booth of a Jewish deli, which made him look somehow even bigger. Apparently this was his favorite spot, but I’d never been.

I closed my menu. “What should I get?”

Isaac eyed me, tilted his head, as though trying to read what I might like off of my face alone.

“Hot pastrami,” he decided. 

“Okay,” I agreed easily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a few things for us to share too. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily eat your leftovers.”

My head swam with dirty thoughts at that, but luckily the waiter stopped by just then and saved me from having to reply.

“All decided?” 

“Yeah, she’ll have the hot pastrami, and I’ll have the stuffed cabbage, a hushpuppy, and fried kreplach.” 

Isaac gave a stunning smile and handed over our menus. I realized Isaac was someone who was self-assured, content. It was inspiring to me though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also envious of these attributes.

Still, I couldn’t help but catch some of his infectious good mood and smile back. 

“What in the world is a hushpuppy doing on the menu of a Jewish deli?” I asked.

“Right! I almost forgot you’re a southerner. Oh boy, you’re gonna love this, it’s a kosher hot dog, wrapped in mashed potatoes and baked until it gets all golden brown.” He leaned back and made a sound somewhere between a moan of please and ‘yum’. 

“Oh my God,” I laughed. His stomach was looking quite plump from this angle.

I took a fortifying sip of iced water. 

There was a tiny bit of awkward silence; my lack of experience on dates was making my arms itch.

“I’m wondering how to ask ‘tell me about yourself?’ without actually asking that,” Isaac said in faux seriousness. His eyes were alight with humor.

“Hmmm, that is a tricky one. You could always go with the classics. What do you do in your free time? Favorite color? Dog or cat person?” I trailed off, unable to think of any others. Isaac was laughing in earnest now though, so I suppose I’d done enough.

“Well, I like reading, watching movies, being with family, you know. All that wholesome stuff.” Isaac leaned forward and I was again taken aback by how stunning his smile was. “Favorite color… that’s tough. Maybe red? I maintain the right to change that answer anytime though,” he said, pointing at me. 

“I’ll allow it,” I replied.

“And I’m a dog person. Now you go.”

I looked up, thinking. “I like reading, movies are good too. When I’m bored, I like going outside, walking, that sort of thing. Um, my favorite color’s got to be magenta. And I like cats and dogs equally.”

“Ah, now we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?” Isaac teased. 

“Oh, definitely.”

Isaac glanced past me, and I turned to see our waiter heading our way.

“Oh, finally. I’m starving,” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.

My meal was placed in front of me, and I was shocked at how much food was here.

An open-faced sandwich, pilled high and surrounded by french fries. 

But Isaac’s was even more full, plus the extras he’d ordered on top of his meal. Our table was crammed with plates of food.

*

We chatted a bit while we ate, but less so. Mostly because Isaac’s mouth was constantly filled. 

I tapped out after eating about half of my food, but Isaac insisted I try a bit of stuffed cabbage, the weird potato hotdog, and the kreplach (which was actually very delicious). 

I was rambling about the leaky sink in my apartment, which my landlord was resolutely ignoring, when Isaac finished the last of his food.

“You want mine?” I asked, pushing my plate towards him. 

Isaac groaned, but nodded. He looked like he wanted to lay down, but he sat forward and stuffed bite after bite of my sandwich into his mouth until it was gone. 

I pinched my thigh so hard it was likely to bruise, but it didn’t help.

I wanted to peel off the tight sweater, unbutton those slacks, feel that big bloated belly under my fingertips. 

But, well. That was weird. Even if your date glutted himself out in front of you, you didn't have any right to feel them up. Right?

The waiter came by and picked up our empty plates, and Isaac ordered a coffee. He was probably very full, I thought to myself. Maybe he needed to digest a bit before he got up.

“Ahhh,” Isaac sighed into his coffee.  “You know, I used to be a college athlete. Now I feel like I just ran a mile when all I did was stuff my face.”

He was probably going for self-depricating.

But, God, if that didn’t do something to me.

I felt my face go hot. I crossed my legs, but that made it worse. 

“Oh, what’d you play?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know from my cyberstalking.

“Hockey,” he said. “Did you ever play any sports?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t very interested in extracurriculars,” I said.

Isaac drained the last of his coffee and twisted his wrist to check his watch. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said, startled. 

“It’s no problem. I’m glad to be here,” I said. He met my eyes and smiled. I melted a little.

Isaac paid the bill even though I offered to split it.

“You can get it next time,” he’d promised, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

We walked back towards my building. It was chilly, and so my hands were in my coat pockets. That was probably safer. If my hands were free I’d probably try to do something stupid like touch him.

All too soon, we were approaching the front steps. 

“Thank you for dinner! I had a really great time,” I said. It was my usual line, but this time I meant it very sincerely.

“Catherine, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to see you again.”

My breath caught.

“I’d like that too,��� I agreed.

Isaac took a deliberate step closer to me. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” I squeaked, voice too breathy, too quiet in the air between us.

He squinted at me. Licked his lips.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

I nodded, shivering.

Isaac seemed to steel himself. His hands reached out to cup my face, not touching, but hovering just a bit away from my jaw. “Can I touch you?”

I leaned towards his hands. “Yes,” I whispered. 

Isaac’s hand cupped my face, reeling me in. His other hand made its way to the small of my back, a comforting weight. The places where his hands were touching me felt electric. I slowly wound my arms around his neck. 

He leaned in so incredibly slowly that I was nearly vibrating with want by the time our lips collided. 

It was soft, hesitant, at first. Then I gave into it, letting myself lean against him. His belly pushed into my abdomen, and it was more satisfying than my fantasies had ever led me to believe. His head tilted, and our mouths slid together more securely. 

I made a needy noise in the back of my throat and he held me tighter. 

For once in my life, my mind and body were attuned as one, reacting the same. This passion, this longing, it was mirrored in the way Isaac held onto me, as though I was something precious. As though he didn’t want to let me go.  

*

Sometimes I have these thoughts that make no sense. I know they’re not logical, that they’re well… crazy. But I still have them.

I remember one time I spiraled really bad. My brain convinced me that no one even knew me. No one had ever known me, really. That no one cared about my existence. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. That I was invisible and unwanted and I had to text my sister Ciara to make it stop.

ME: You care about me right?

She’d texted back after a few minutes.

CIARA: Of course

And I didn’t believe her. But I put on a youtube video and after a few hours of mindless  media consumption I remembered that my family loved me. 

*

I was trying really hard to keep Isaac from seeing me spiral. 

Usually when I had those weird trains of thought it took time to dig myself out. For rational thought to finally wrestle its way back into my mind. 

But I’d been spending a lot of time with Isaac. And that meant the chances of revealing my fully unhinged self to him increased. 

I know about probabilities okay, I’m a data specialist. 

But, after our fantastic first date, Isaac and I started seeing each other with regularity. We would eat lunch together, sometimes in the staff lounge, but sometimes if we had time, we’d walk to a bodega and get a sub or something. 

And a few times a week we would make plans to see each other after work. We texted in between dates, or during the work day. I spied my contact in his phone and noticed there was a heart emoji next to my name. 

It was quickly becoming ‘dating’ rather than ‘seeing each other’. I wanted to ask about being in an exclusive relationship, but I’d yet to get the nerve. 

But being with Isaac was just great. It really was. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him.

I really liked him.

And I noticed, because I spent so much time with him now, that Isaac seemed to be intentionally getting fat. 

There were a few signs which led me to this conclusion:

Isaac would push himself to eat as much as he could at every meal even if he was full, groaning and subtly rubbing the sides of his gut, he’d still eat more.

Isaac bought a whole new set of clothes, which was only practical. BUT! But he bought them… big. That’s right, they were baggy on him. Which… why would someone do that if they weren’t expecting to keep getting bigger?

Isaac was probably onto me and my weird fetishes and he almost seemed to be leaning into it. Because he would say things, provocatively, but still subtle enough that it wasn’t super obvious, about his weight gain. 

I remember one time we’d gotten ice cream and were walking around central park. Isaac had eaten a huge meatball sub for lunch and I could tell he was pretty stuffed. But he still suggested ice cream with a glint in his eye. And he tracked my reaction closely, I could feel the heat on my cheeks, I’m sure my pupils were dilating a little. And then he’d pushed his stomach out further, ‘stretching his back’ and a sliver of his belly peaked out from beneath his shirt. 

“Oh, I guess I probably didn’t need that ice cream,” he said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing a hand over his rounded belly. It was a ball, defying gravity and sticking straight out. The rest of him was starting to fill out a bit more as well, but his belly was by far the most obvious feature. 

I stammered, mind going blank until I eventually mumbled something about ice cream being delicious.

Isaac smiled knowingly and took my hand. He put it on his side, where his puffy love handle met his back in a roll. It wasn’t inherently weird, couples touched each other’s sides casually. But.

But Isaac watched me so closely and I let my hand do what it wanted, to sink into that flabby flesh.

And Isaac sort of, smirked? Not condescendingly. More… secretly pleased.

And after that it became normal for Isaac to initiate touching around his midsection. 

Because of who I am as a person, I wasn’t ever the one initiating these touches, because I was too nervous. But Isaac seemed to like it when my hands were on him. And I liked it to.

And so it became normal for Isaac to put my hands on his gut after a big meal and I’d lightly run my hands along his bloated belly, taught after a binge. 

But what we didn’t do was talk about it. 

*

Until I walked into what seemed like a fairly tense conversation.

“Why am I always the bad guy when I’m trying to look out for you?” John hissed, a whisper that was scathing in its intensity.

I stopped short of coming into the doorway of Isaac’s office, shocked.

“You’re not the bad guy, I’m just sick of your nagging. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” Isaac’s reply was calmer, but still intense. 

“Jesus christ.” John sounded like he’d begun pacing, letting out exasperated sounds as he did so.

“You’re my oldest friend. You should support me, fat or thin,” Isaac said quietly, and his voice sounded so… sad. 

I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but it felt too dangerous to try and back away now that they’d gotten so quiet. 

John let out a wounded noise. “It’s not that I’m upset you’re fat. I love you, no matter what you look like. But you’re not letting me help you get this weight under control. And that hurts.” It sounded like a tired argument, like John had been trying it for some time now to no avail. 

“I’m gonna be late for Catherine,” Isaac said coldly, a clear dismissal. 

I panicked, and slowly inched backwards, trying to act like I’d just rounded the corner.

Isaac walked out of his office right as I approached, and I forced a casual smile onto my face. 

“Hey! So, I was thinking we could try this Indian place? I read they have really good deals on Thursdays,” Isaac said, perfectly normal. As though nothing happened. 

“Sounds great,” I said. 

Later, after Isaac had eaten his fill of butter chicken and naan, we went back to my apartment.

It wasn’t like that. We hadn’t been doing anything more than kissing. And Isaac seemed good with that. He hadn’t asked, let alone pressured me like I’d expected he would after a few dates. I wondered if I should feel mad that he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive?

But, sometimes when we hugged, I could, ah, feel  how attracted he was to me. So that probably wasn’t it. 

I put on an action movie and we snuggled close. He carefully draped my arm across his belly, where it puffed out under his chest. I squeezed in closer and he laughed softly over my head. 

The movie was terrible, but in a really awesome way. The protagonist had just strutted away from a collapsing building as it blew up behind him when Isaac spoke. 

“Would you judge me if I said I was hungry again?”

I wet my lips, feeling overwhelmed.

“No,” I said. That seemed like a safe answer. Then I realized I was being a bad host. “Would you like something? I have some girl scout cookies, or if you want something more I have frozen pizza rolls?”

I could hear my mee-maw’s voice in my head tutting at me for not having anything freshly baked to offer my guest. 

“I could go for both, if that’s okay.”

I squeezed Isaac tighter and then let go to get his cookies and pizza rolls. My face and neck were probably visibly red from arousal and embarrassment. I felt like a kid who’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. But I wasn’t. I was just putting pizza rolls into my air fryer and getting cookies out of my cupboard. 

I grabbed a can of sprite out of my fridge, because he probably wanted something to drink. And well. Soda had bubbles. It’d make Isaac a little more bloated… I need professional help. 

“Samoas! My favorite! I’ll totally buy you a new box, don’t worry.” Isaac quickly opened the box and shoved a cookie into his mouth. 

I smiled, didn’t trust my voice to say anything, and turned back towards the movie. I snuggled in close, but didn’t wrap myself around Isaac like I’d been doing earlier so his hands were free to eat. 

It was strange that I loved touching Isaac when normally contact with other human beings made me feel gross. I’d yet to fully understand that.

But anyways, Isaac stuffed his face with cookies, pausing to drink his soda and letting out little burps as he did so. He’d always mutter, “Excuse me,” when he did. I shifted, feeling something stir inside me. I wanted so much it was making me antsy. 

Then the pizza rolls were done, so I put them on a plate and came back. 

I saw the empty cookie box and smiled to myself. 

Isaac was looking very bloated. His big ol’ gut was puffed out, and it drooped a little into his lap. He still had those crazy big shoulders, but they looked proportional. His arms had softened up, a little flabby. I rested my head on one and sighed. I could hear, feel, and see Isaac steadily eating his way through the pizza rolls. He was groaning a little. Clearly full, but desperate for a little more. 

When he finished, he tried to reach over and put the plate down on the coffee table, but he couldn’t quite get there with his big bloated belly so stuffed and tender, so he gave up and set it down next to him on the couch. 

“God, thanks. No wonder I’m getting so fat. Been eating like a damn fiend lately.”

My face was most definitely beet red, so I just nuzzled under his arm and put myself back into my old position. Isaac let himself be maneuvered until I was comfortable.  

“I’m…” Isaac started but then trailed off. The movie was ending, the protagonist kissing some sexy twenty-something as a pop rock song came on.

“Mmm what?” I asked drowsily. He was so warm and soft. His tummy was gurgling, trying to digest. 

“I’m not reading into things am I?” Isaac paused and I waited for him to continue. “You like this too?” He patted the side of his belly.

I leaned away from him to look at his face. It was pink, but he held my gaze unflinchingly.

I took a breath. “No, you’re not reading into things.”

Isaac broke out into his signature grin.

“Thank fuck,” he said vehemently. I smiled back, feeling relief and simultaneously immense panic.

“So, you- you are gaining weight on purpose?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Er, yeah.” Isaac scratched at his neck. “It’s like. Well. We should probably just be honest, huh?”

He looked nervous, I realized. I’d never seen him like that.

“Yeah. Honest.”

He nodded. “So, I’ve always wanted to get fat. I mean, I was a little chubby as a kid, but then I got into sports so I kind of had to stay in shape. But now that I can afford to, you know, buy tons of food and new clothes…” He laughed sheepishly. “I figured why not? So I started like, doing stuffings and. Yeah. I like it.” Isaac’s face was a little pink but he was beaming.

I didn’t quite know what to say. 

Isaac nudged me. “What about you? Is that why you didn’t go on a second date with John? Because he’s a toothpick?”

His words had some humor to them but I could sense genuine curiosity underneath.

“Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t, um, attracted to him. Or, really. Anybody. Until you.”

It felt like a huge admission. Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better. 

“So, I guess we should discuss, like what things we’re into? And what we aren’t.”

That seemed very sensible so I nodded. 

“For me,” Isaac said. “I want to keep gaining. I don’t have a goal weight or anything right now, but I know I’m not fat enough yet.” He smacked his belly for emphasis. I tracked the movement, felt my face heat. He watched me, and it was like some invisible wall was down and I knew that he knew I was hot all over at the sight. “But I’m into stuffing, obviously. I would definitely be down for you to stuff me, if that’s something you’d be into.”

“I-I would definitely be into that,” my mouth said without my consent. But Isaac thought my reaction was funny, or cute. He was smiling at me indulgently. 

“Alright. So you like watching me eat, you’d be interested in helping me eat… What else?”

I took a second to think. 

“I think maybe like, trying on old clothes? Keeping rough track of your weight. Like, maybe occasionally taking measurements, but mainly just having you weigh yourself sometimes to see your progress…” I realized as I started speaking that these desires had been brimming under the surface for such a long time. I’d never been able to imagine I’d ever get to do any of them though. 

“Alright, that’s very doable. Any hard limits?” Isaac asked. 

“I don’t want to be, you know, mean to you. I know some people are into degradation but, um. No, I won’t do that.” 

Isaac nodded. “Not a problem. I think it’s the same for me. I want to be carefree, let my gluttony run wild.”

“You seem to be doing well at that so far,” I said and patted the biggest part of his belly. 

He laughed and hugged me close to him. 

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you like me like this,” he whispered, a little serious. 

I melted into his embrace. “Me too.” 

*

CHIRS: how’s it going with ur boytoy ;)

ME: good! 

ME: I think we’re very compatible. 

CHRIS: when do i get to properly meet this man

ME: Idk i'll plan something soon and let you know

*

We planned to have a big stuffing day on the weekend. Isaac said he wanted to test his capacity at eating all day. And I suggested we keep track of the calories so we’d know how much to aim for next time.

I was freakishly excited about it. 

I got a ton of calorie-rich groceries delivered – store made cakes, frozen pizzas, premade dumplings, and tons of snack foods. And we planned to order takeout periodically depending on Isaac’s cravings.

I had a journal ready where I was going to jot down everything Isaac would be able to eat that day. Maybe it was a little Type A of me, but hey, for once my neurotic brain was working with me. 

 Isaac picked up a dozen donuts on his way to my apartment that morning, and by the time he arrived on my doorstep, he’d already eaten two. 

“Sorry,” he’d said but I shushed him.

“You’re a growing boy.” I watched Isaac’s eyes glaze over a little. I quickly ushered him to the couch where he’d spend the majority of the day. 

Now, the real fun could begin!

*

The day was off to a wonderful start. I was, possibly for the first time, truly letting myself look at Isaac the way I wanted to. 

Lustily, adoringly. 

He’d always had an imposing figure, with his height and abnormally wide shoulders. He was naturally big. And of course his new weight was extenuating these features quite nicely. His belly was the most obviously pudgey area, but I noticed that his jaw was softening and his arms, while still looking well-muscled where they poked out of his t-shirt, were looking softer as well. Likewise his chest had lost definition, but not mass. I wanted to straddle his lap and let my hands sink into those soft mounds above his belly, really feel how fluffy they were getting.

I felt surprised at my own reaction, how bad my body wanted. God, Isaac made me lose my head a little. 

Isaac got comfortable and proceeded to eat half of the dozen donuts, sipping on some whole milk to wash them down, before he took a short break.

We were watching some legal drama on TV and I rubbed his belly a little, which was jigglier than usual. Probably because it was the morning and he hadn’t eaten enough for it to be taut and full. My hand looked comically small in comparison to his big tummy. 

After a while Isaac went back to the donuts and somehow finished another three in quick succession. The last three were more of a chore. He was pretty full and the donuts were dense. 

“Just a little more,” I said, and pushed bites past his lips. 

Isaac groaned, but dutifully ate bite after bite until they were all gone. 

We kissed for a while after that, and he tasted like donuts. His hands were latched around my waist. It made me feel unreasonably hot when I realized how big his hands were on my sides; his fingertips were nearly touching where they curved around my ribs.

But after about a half an hour Isaac said he was no longer completely full and so I got him some chips and salsa.

“Hmm, this is really good,” Isaac said between bites.

“Let me try one,” I said. It was pretty good. Salty chips and sweet salsa that had a slight kick once you swallowed.

I got up and grabbed my notebook.

12 donuts

Half a bag of tortilla chips & salsa 

“It feels a bit like you’re studying me for science when you write like that.” 

I glanced up, blushing.

“Sorry,” I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“I don’t mind being a science project. At least, not when you’re doing it,” Isaac said with a shrug.

I felt warm and fuzzy inside. 

By now his belly was filling up, not really a true bloat just yet, but getting there. I put a frozen pizza in the oven. 

“Seemed like this would be easier,” Isaac said, leaning as far back as he could. His belly was pushed out and he rubbed the sides of it consolingly. “I feel like I eat a ton normally, but having so much so early in the day is making me feel like a total blimp.”

I hummed and made my way behind the couch, put my hands on his shoulders and started gently massaging them.

He sighed in contentment. 

The oven dinged and I hopped up to get the pizza out.

“You don’t have to eat it all now,” I said, handing Isaac a big plate filled with pizza.

Isaac groaned but started eating dutifully. 

“Yeah I do,” he said between bites. “Won’t taste as good reheated.”

I laughed.

I watched, transfixed, as Isaac shoved slice after slice into his mouth. His belly bloated bigger and bigger. 

Isaac paused to drink some water. “Salty,” he muttered.

“Let me,” I said as I reached to unbutton his jeans. He looked relieved as I pulled the zipper down and his belly was able to spill forward a little. It wasn’t big enough to really hang down, but Isaac spread his legs anyway. Gave himself a bit more room.

Isaac rubbed the red line where his jeans had been cutting into his belly a little, and then went back to eating.

He couldn’t possibly be hungry at all. In fact, he’d looked like he was getting to a point of overfullness where he looked a little queasy. 

“Fuck me,” Isaac groaned when he picked up the final slice.

I ran a soothing hand over the dome of his belly. 

He finished the slice.

Isaac fell asleep when I went to wash some of the dishes. He looked so cute with his shirt pulled up to his belly button, jeans open, and head tilted back against the couch.

I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest and I knew I was in trouble.

I made myself a sandwich and cleaned up a bit, trying not to be a creep and just watch Isaac sleep. But I did glance over often. He was just so cute. 

Isaac woke up around 3 and I put out some snacks, trail mix and pretzels, which Isaac grazed on a little.

For dinner, I ordered chinese. 

Isaac got crab rangoons, kung pao chicken, and lo mein. I got garlic chicken. 

“God, I’m still stuffed. Haven’t been hungry since 9 this morning,” Isaac groaned. Still, he loaded up his plate and sat back. 

“You’re doing so well,” I said supportively. “Eating a lot at once probably takes some practice. You know? Just like anything else.”

Isaac eyed me. “You’re saying we should do this more often? For training, of course?”

I blushed but nodded at him.

“Good with me,” Isaac said. 

He slowed down by the time his first entree was gone. He’d eaten about half of the crab rangoons. 

I was finished with my portion, had put the rest in the fridge for my lunch tomorrow. 

I let myself do what I wanted to do all day and swung my leg over him, got onto his lap.

Isaac seemed surprised but not at all bothered to have me in his lap.

“Let me,” I said, taking the plate from him. I filled the fork and lifted it to his lips.

“Mmm,” he mumbled into the bite. He relaxed further, let me keep putting food into his mouth until he groaned for a break. I put the plate aside, felt his bloated belly. It was thick with all of the food he’d eaten. Puffed out and stiff under my fingers. I was gentle as I ran my hands along his stomach.

He burped into his fist a few times, which I think gave him a bit more room.

“I can take more now,” he said. 

I fed him bite after bite until it was gone, until he’d eaten everything. I got up to put the dishes in the sink. When I came back, Isaac was huffing and groaning.

“Oh god,” he moaned, holding onto his belly like his hands were the only things keeping it from splitting open.

I bit my lip, felt my insides heat at the sight.

“I’m never getting up again,” he whined. “I think I’m going to live on your sofa forever. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t mind,” I said, voice like honey. He looked up at me, blushing beet red. 

Eventually Isaac wanted to get vertical, and I helped him up and into my bathroom so he could take a shower.

I used that time to update my notes.

12 donuts, 290 cal each = 3,480 total calories

Half bag of tortilla chips = 980 calories

Two cups of salsa = 134 calories

Frozen pizza = 2,269 calories

About a cup of pretzels = ~300 calories

About two cups of trail mix = 1,386 calories 

Crab rangoons = 732 calories

Kung pao chicken = 781 calories

Lo mein = 897 calories

Total =10,959

“Holy cannoli,” I murmured to myself. 

Isaac walked in shortly after, his hair was wet and he’d put on some comfy sweatpants. 

“You ate almost 11,000 calories today,” I said without preamble.

Isaac sighed, rubbed his big belly.

“Yeah, feels like it. Do you mind if I stay over?”

I’d offered when we had planned this. But it was still nice to be asked, to double check that it was alright.

“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Just, just for sleeping,” I clarified. I was suddenly very embarrassed.

But all Isaac said was, “Good with me.”

That night, when Isaac was completely passed out in a food coma in my bed, I laid wide awake. Once Isaac had fallen asleep, it was like I was alone. Even though he was a few inches from me, I felt totally alone. 

I had been so happy and present in my body while we’d been doing it, when I’d been watching Isaac eat and feeding him myself. But.

But now I felt like a black hole had opened up inside my chest. 

I found myself questioning this whole thing. Is this ethical? Feeding someone? Making them fatter? Even if they want it, there was probably more to it. Was it objectively bad? It didn’t feel like it should be bad but…

I scrolled through my phone, which ended up being a horrible idea. Because I came across some stupid click-bait article about how some young healthy guy had dropped dead after sitting still for too long. A blood clot went to his lungs after a 3 day bender of playing video games and not moving.

And that was the end of that. I threw my phone onto my side table and sat up. I paced.

 Didn’t want to wake Isaac.

But I also really wanted to wake up Isaac. Because what if he had a blood clot? What if him sitting on my couch all day, and then laying down on my bed all night, was going to kill him?

I knew I was being crazy, but I was actually about two seconds from losing it, and so I woke Isaac up. 

I shook his shoulder. 

“Mm?” Isaac mumbled, stirring a bit.

When his eyes opened I was entirely mortified. 

What was I supposed to say? I’ve been having this irrational fear that if you don't stand up and walk around for a bit you’re going to die.

No. No, I couldn’t. But now he was looking at me with concern, his brows pulling together in concern. 

“I,” I began but nothing else was forthcoming. 

“What’s wrong? Catherine?”

My ears were buzzing.

“Um,” I said. And promptly started tearing up. 

“Shit, c’mere,” Isaac said, pulling me into his arms. 

I allowed this for a moment, because being against his soft body felt nice, but the anxieties were still there, brimming under my skin.

“No,” I said, pulling away. “C-can you, yeah come,” I said, disjointedly, but Isaac allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by me. 

“Okay, what are we doing?” Isaac asked. I intertwined our arms and started dragging Isaac towards the bedroom door. He was being a remarkably good sport about all this, I noticed. If someone had woken me out of a dead sleep, started crying on me, and then 30 seconds later was tugging me around their apartment, I would probably be livid. 

“Walk with me,” I said instead of actually answering. I led him around the perimeter of the living room, like it was a track. 

“So, is there a reason I’m walking laps instead of sleeping right now?” Isaac asked. There was a lightness to his tone, but it couldn’t completely disguise his worry. 

Seeing him, up and about, acting fine, made me absolutely mortified at my overreaction. But it was also so relieving. See, brain? He’s fine. 

“I, well. I get like this sometimes,” I started. My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my pajama pants. “Like, I have stupid thoughts and I don’t know how to shut them up. So, um, we’re walking so I can prove to myself that my brain is actually wrong and you’re fine.” 

It was more than I meant to say, but Isaac hummed, kept walking with me. He seemed to be letting my words marinate. 

“Did your brain convince you that I was in fact, not fine?” Isaac asked after a moment.

I shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”

I saw Isaac nod in my periphery. “And what made your brain think that?”

It was a fair question. Isaac was taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, if he dumped me after this, I would understand. But for now, he was still walking with me. Still had my arm in his. 

“It’s, you were sitting all day. And, well. I don’t want you to get a blood clot.” I mumbled, getting quieter towards the end of my sentence. 

“I see,” Isaac said. “So next time I should get up and walk a bit when we’re doing stuffings. Do you think that’ll help ease your worries?”

I stopped walking and Isaac did too. I looked up at him. I was sure my face was red but I didn't really care.  

“You still want to do this again?” I whispered.

Isaac smiled. “Course. But I would like to make sure you don’t get so worried next time.” He ran his hands down the sides of my arms reverently.

I felt my eyes water, with exhaustion or emotion, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just leaned in to hug him. 

“Okay. Do you feel better? Think you can get some sleep now?” Isaac asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded into his chest.

He ushered me back into bed, pulled the covers over me, pulled me into his arms. 

“You still like me, even though I’m sort of crazy?” I asked in the dark. It was easier when I wasn’t able to see his face.

Isaac exhaled a soft laugh.

“You’re not crazy.” I huffed in disbelief and he amended, “Not actually crazy. An understandable sort of crazy. And why would that make not like you? Have you seen you?” Isaac tsked and I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Isaac was attracted to me, but it still left me a little breathless to hear him mention it.

“I guess that’s understandable,” I huffed.

I felt Isaac kiss my forehead.

“Go to sleep.”

So I did. 

*

Isaac had told me in college he’d been about 170 lbs. He’d gotten a little fluffier over the years, putting his best estimate at being around 190 when he’d been first introduced to me. But since then, he’d started gaining on purpose, putting on almost 40 pounds from October to December. I recalled how noticeable that gain was, how it seemed like so much difference in such a small amount of time. It had been evident in his big belly, how it rounded out in front of him. But still, at 6’3, 227 lbs wasn’t all that much. He’d just looked beefy. A sort of imposing figure softened with a pudgy middle. 

But that wasn’t the case any longer. Isaac had graduated from dad bod firmly into chubby territory. By March, Isaac was sitting at a solid 269. And boy did it show. 

Ever since my mortifying spiral, Isaac had been so insanely accommodating of my illogical worries, it made me feel simultaneously like crap and also feel so amazingly warm. And he’d talked me down from a few freakouts since then. Mostly it had to do with me thinking that Isaac was going to get sick and die (he did neither). And Isaac reassured me by getting a checkup (he had a clean bill of health) and eating lots of vegetables (because I remembered scurvy existed). 

We still hadn’t had sex. 

But at this point, I was waiting for Isaac to bring it up. It felt like I’d let it go too long without saying anything and now it would be awkward to bring it up… 

Still, I had never even thought that I could find someone who would like me once they got to know me. Or more accurately, that I would be able to feel attraction for someone who felt the same about me. And so really, sex with Isaac was as terrifying as it was exciting to think about. I would be alright if we held off a little longer.

*

“And then Isaac made me watch this movie with him, oh gosh, it’s so funny, I can’t even remember the name of it, but you’d love it. I’ll ask him later and text you the title.” I was rambling about Isaac. Had been for the last 10 minutes, I knew, but as I was folding my laundry before 6 in the morning, I was too tired to care.

“So I take it you and Isaac are doing pretty well?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” I hummed rather dreamily. “We’re exclusive now, did I tell you that?”

“Um, no you certainly did not!” Chris gave me his best disappointed dad look.

I laughed. “Well, we are. An item that is. I should be like, carving our initials into a tree at this point.” 

Chris barked a laugh. “You really like him don’t you?” Chris teased, but his gaze was far too knowing for comfort. I don’t know what my face did, but it only spurred Chris on. “Oh my god, you’re falling in loveeee.” He sang, clutching boxer briefs to his chest dramatically. At least they were fresh out of the dryer.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but I couldn't keep a grin off my face. 

“I need to meet this guy. Like, meet him as your partner. Because, I know I met him. But. Really, it’s gone on long enough, I need to give him the shovel talk. You should take him out this weekend, I have a gig at Celia’s.”

It was tempting, if only because Chris, or Moxie, as was his stage name, was a really good performer. And I sort of did want Isaac to meet my friends. Who all happened to be gay in some way. Huh, I wonder if that factored into my ability to connect with other people somehow. I was weird as heck, a girl whose sexuality was basically ‘bellies’. But well, the LGBT+ community had always been a kind of haven for whomever society deemed to be outcasts or weirdos…

“Yeah, I’ll ask him today,” I said, and Chris squealed in delight. He was way too chipper for 5:47 am if you asked me. But, he also hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“Ask him,” Chris said, giving me a warning finger pointed my way. He stuffed all his clothes into his basket without folding them. Ugh, such a guy. 

*

After almost 3 months of dating, Isaac and I attended our first work banquet together. You know, as a couple. 

“Does this tie make me look like an asshole?” Isaac asked. 

I watched as Isaac fiddled with his collar in my bathroom mirror. It was a bit tight where his neck was getting thicker, a double chin imminent. I focused my attention on the tie. It had four leaf clovers on it. 

“I think it’s fun,” I said. I was straightening my hair, trying to get my hair to lay flat, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. I probably needed an actual silk press, but who had time for that?

“Well, if Catherine thinks it’s fun, it must be,” Isaac said.  

I shoved Isaac’s chest playfully. My hand sunk a little bit into his plushy flesh and I bit my lip. 

“Almost ready?” he asked. Isaac’s eyes were dark, and his arm wound around my waist. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We arrived at the banquet on time. 

The banquet was a lot more fun with Isaac at my side. I never realized how isolated I had made myself at these events. I thought it was because I didn't want to make small talk, but I don’t think that was true. I just didn’t feel comfortable. But with Isaac there, it was easy. He knew everybody. Everyone seemed to like him. And by proxy, they liked me because I’m Isaac’s girlfriend. As the night went on, I talked more, opening up and chatting with new people. I hardly talked to Layla at all, and I honestly didn't miss it. 

Dinner was another mediocre affair, roasted potatoes and a small filet of salmon. But Isaac had hit the appetizer tables pretty hard before, so I figured it would do.

“God, this belt is killing me,” Isaac whispered to me once his plate was clear. I glanced at his belt, and sure enough, it looked tight. Tighter than it had earlier this evening.

“Can’t you loosen it?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “It’s on its last notch.” Isaac’s face was a little proud.

“Oh,” I muttered. My face was probably pink, so I took a sip of water. Isaac laughed a little and placed a big hand on my back. 

I was relieved when we left, though I noticed Isaac had been avoiding John all night. I didn’t want to pry, but they were close friends. I wondered if they’d fought again. But Isaac didn’t tell me those sorts of things. The only reason I suspected it was because of my accidental eavesdropping. Maybe Isaac thought knowing he and his friend were arguing over his weight would make me worry unnecessarily. 

“How far is Celia’s from here?” Isaac asked once we’d started walking. The March air was brisk, but it felt sort of nice. 

“Five blocks,” I said. “Did you eat too much?” It hadn't seemed like it.

Isaac shook his head. “Hardly. It’s this fucking belt. Feel like it’s cutting me in half.”

I pulled us to the side of the walk way. 

“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked when I reached for his pants. I said nothing but smiled in a way I hoped was attractive. 

Though it wasn’t easy, eventually I was able to unhook the belt and pull it off.

Isaac laughed. “What, I’m supposed to carry that all night now?”

I shook my head. “It won’t fit ever again, right?” I asked. His eyes glazed over a bit, and he shook his head. “Right,” I said, and tossed the belt into a trash bin. 

“Ready to go?” I asked innocently. Isaac kissed me hard.

The bar called Celia’s was disgusting. But also very very cool. The floor probably contained diseases unknown to modern medicine, but the atmosphere was so fun and energetic, it hardly even mattered.

“PEACH!!!” I had hardly made it through the threshold, but somehow Sid had already spotted us. I gave Isaac a sympathetic glance and tugged him towards the bar where Sid and our friends were standing.

I could hardly hear over the music, but somehow Sid’s voice still boomed.

“Oh my god, Peach I’ve missed you! You get a boyfriend and all the sudden you’re not free every weekend to hang out. It’s so sad! Oh, and you’re the boyfriend,” Sid shouted, looking from me to Isaac. He wasn’t slurring but he was most definitely drunk.

“That would be me,” Isaac said. He was taller than mostly everyone, and he just seemed to take up so much space in the crowded bar. It was hot, I had to admit.

“Awww, he’s so cute! Guys, look how cute Peach and her boyfriend are,” Sid cooed.

Amy, Ty, and Jinx all mumbled their agreement in their various stages of intoxication. 

“How long until Moxie comes on?” I asked Sid.

Sid checked the time on his phone. “Like, two minutes ago!”

We both cackled. These gigs never stayed on schedule. 

“Do you want a drink?” Isaac whispered in my ear. His hand hovered protectively over my hip, and I leaned into him.

“Just a coke?” I said.

Sid scoffed. “Our Peach is so responsible. I always try to get her drunk at a bar but she refuses.”

Isaac glanced down at me, amused. I huffed, indignant. 

“Who wants to waste $9 on some fancy shot when I could make my own for a fraction of the price. And I could drink it at home where I know I won’t get knapped!”

Sid full on cackled at me. 

“You’re the best Peach, oh wow. I love you!” Sid breathed, pulling me in for a sticky hug.

Isaac returned a few minutes later with my coke and a beer for himself. 

Jinx leaned over to me and drunk-whispered (meaning everyone in a ten mile radius could probably hear them), “You’re dating like, the hottest bear I’ve ever seen.” The way they said it suggested they were well versed on the subject. 

I felt my cheeks turn bright red. 

“Shut up, you’re the worst!” They just laughed at me.

“Ohmyygod, everyone stop, here she comes!” Sid said, grabbing anyone he could reach. This happened to include Isaac’s arm. 

I shrugged in apology, but Isaac seemed only charmed by it.

The lights on the small stage came on and Moxie was there in all her glory. 

She had on a leotard and fishnets, seven inch heels, and a wig big enough to be seen from outer space.

Then a Brittany Spears song came on and Moxie started dancing and lip syncing. She was strutting around the stage like she owned it, and whipping her wig all around. It was so fun to watch. The crowd screamed anytime she looked their way. Sid was the loudest, yelling, “THAT’S MY BABY!” so loud it made me wince.

Moxie ended up doing five songs before introducing the next queen and exiting. 

“What’d you think?” I shouted to Isaac. He had to bend over to hear me over the music.

“She slayed,” Isaac said stone-faced. 

There was something absolutely hilarious about someone as heterosexual and male as Isaac saying ‘slay’ that it made me absolutely weak in the knees. I nearly fell over laughing.

Moxie came out from backstage to mingle with us after a little while. It was fun seeing Isaac have to look up at Moxie, since her heels gave her a height advantage over someone as tall as Isaac. 

“You’re an incredible performer. Um, you have a lot of stage presence,” Isaac was saying.

Moxie absolutely ate it up. 

 She turned to me, pleadingly. 

“Cath, please keep this one? Pretty please?? I like him so much.”

Isaac gave me a smug look, like yes I charmed your friends, of course they love me. 

“Wasn’t planning on getting rid of him,” I said, snuggling up under his arm. 

A chorus of, “Ahh, look at them, they’re so cute! Babies!!!” followed. 

*

“Your friends are way cooler than mine,” Isaac said on the way home. We were huddled in close as we walked to Isaac’s apartment.

I giggled and leaned into his side. 

The air was charged when we reached Isaac’s building. 

I felt a pull from the pit of my stomach. Isaac seemed to feel it too in the way he was avoiding looking at me. His cheeks were pink but I didn't think it was from the cold. 

“Um, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked once I’d gotten my shoes off. Isaac was unbuttoning his collar and it was unreasonably attractive. He nodded and I watched his chin double with the movement. 

“You’re gonna swim in it but here,” Isaac said, handing me a t-shirt. I peeled off my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh. 

“Thanks.”

A loaded silence followed. 

“You tired?” Isaac asked. It was after 2 a.m. 

“No.”

Time seemed to be moving very fast, but it also felt a bit like it was moving slow. Like pouring molasses in January, and also like watching a YouTube video at 1.75 speed. 

Isaac pulled me flush against him, and his belly pressed against my small torso. He cupped my head in his big hands and tilted his face down towards mine. Our lips touched, like they had many times before. 

Nothing about this kiss felt like those though. 

Isaac’s tongue invaded my mouth and I couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper. 

“Cath…”

I pushed my face against his chest, breathing hard. My face felt like it was on fire. 

“Do you…?” Isaac asked. 

Now or never, I thought. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I said. Isaac pulled me to his room so fast we almost fell over.

*

Sex was different than I’d imagined it. I don’t know what I thought it’d be like. Maybe some kind of childish delusion was coloring my expectations. ‘True love or stars colliding. But the real version was better. It was flesh on flesh, sweaty and hot. It was laughing when your bodies made a weird squelching noise. It was seeing pores and moles and other imperfections. 

It made me appreciate that I was physically here. That I was with Isaac carnally and he still wanted me. He wanted me so much we went at it twice before dawn. 

We ate leftover Chinese food as the sun came up and it was so perfect. So absolutely astoundingly perfect.

I had the most awful, terrifying thought as I watched the sun shine onto Isaac’s curls. I love him. 

It was horrible and gross and awe-inspiring and amazing and disturbing and great. I felt like my chest was full to bursting. 

After that, Isaac and I grew closer in a lot of ways. For one, we started having sex a lot. Like four or five times a week. Sometimes more. 

For two, Isaac and I got closer emotionally. I learned lots about him as we lay together at night, cuddling naked in the dark.

Isaac’s mom is Catholic and his dad is Jewish. Isaac’s grandma makes the best lemon bars. Isaac doesn't have siblings but his cousin Tyler is basically like a brother to him. 

And Isaac learned about me as well. That my sister Ciara is sort of a mess even though she pretends she’s not. That my dad left when I was 7. That my mom is the nicest person in the world and she deserves everything. 

That I love Isaac.

His face was awe-struck. 

“I love you too, Catherine,” Isaac said. And I had already sort of known that. But it still lit me up inside. 

Isaac hit 300 lbs in June.

It was a huge milestone, and he’d worked hard for it, eating loads to try and put on weight faster. 

“I think I finally got my metabolism to slow down a bit,” Isaac confessed to me. And it was true that he was gaining faster as of late. He’d had to get new clothes. His build was decidedly top-heavy, with his belly easily being the largest feature. It stuck out in front of him, wide and thick and when he sat, it rested on his thighs. His sides started to acquire rolls where his love handles melted into his sides. His face was puffier, with the most kissable cheeks.

It was endlessly attractive to me.

It seemed like everything was going really well for me. At work, I got a promotion that came with a nice raise. I was happier than I’d ever remembered being. 

Maybe I should have figured that it couldn’t last. 

*

“Cath, hey! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately!” 

I knew that voice even though I didn’t look up from the bathroom sink where I was washing my hands.

“Hey Layla. Yeah, it’s been a busy few months,” I said, plastering on a smile. When I glanced up, I saw her in the mirror a few sinks down. 

“Oh sure, sure!” Layla dried her hands on a paper towel. “I was meaning to ask you, how are things with Isaac?”

I paused, hands still wet. “Good, we’re. We’re good.”

Layla smiled easily. “That’s great. Really, I am happy for you. You know, it was strange when John and I started seeing one another, but I’m so glad you found someone. And John’s best friend no less! Why haven’t we done a double date?”

I felt something twist in my stomach. “I-I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask John and Isaac.”

Layla nodded sagely. “Between us, I don’t think they’ve been getting on very well lately.”

I knew this, on some level. Isaac hasn’t been going to the gym with John like he used to. He hadn’t even brought John up in weeks. 

“Oh?” I asked because with Layla, playing dumb usually meant getting the scoop. 

“Yes, it’s quite sad really. Apparently John was worried about Isaac’s weight. Well, you know, he has gotten rather uh portly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that,” Layla said with a knowing smile. I shot a strained one back at her so she’d continue. “And I know John maybe went about it the wrong way, but he does have a point. It can’t be healthy, gaining so much weight so fast.”

My eyes burned.

“It’s not really John’s business.”

Layla seemed surprised by the surliness of my tone. 

“Of course not.” Her tone was placating. I left the bathroom without a goodbye. 

All throughout the rest of the work day, I tried putting Layla’s comments out of my mind. She was just saying that to justify John’s judgmental comments. 

But there was probably some kind of truth to what she was saying. Isaac was gaining loads of weight in a short amount of time. It was over 100 lbs at this point in about a year. But Isaac was keeping his strength up with weights. He was building muscle too. He was a big guy to begin with, and his frame could carry the extra weight without issue. 

I tried to think rationally about it, but my brain, as usual, wanted to sabotage these efforts. 

Later, Isaac and I went back to my place. We picked up middle eastern food and I watched Isaac eat two entrees and an impressive amount of pita bread. 

I tried not to let it bother me, but I guess it was showing on my face because Isaac asked, “What’s wrong?”

I pushed a piece of shish tawook around my plate. 

“Uh, well. Layla said something to me earlier and it’s just… you know how I get,” I said with a self-deprecating smile. 

Isaac frowned. 

“What did she say? Exactly?” Isaac’s voice was hard. Not angry exactly, but close. 

I shrugged a little. “Just, you know. That you’d gained a lot and that it couldn’t be, er healthy.” I glanced down at my lap where my hands were picking at my pants nervously.

“Catherine. Come ‘ere.”

I looked up and Isaac was pushing his seat back from the table and gesturing to his open lap. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and let him pull me onto his lap.

“You know I’m healthy. I got a clean bill of health at my checkup.”

I nodded because I did know that. I just needed reminding.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

 Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better almost immediately. I was like a cat; if I could purr, I probably would be right then.

“So it doesn't matter what Layla says. Because you know that I’m healthy. And we both like how I look now.” 

I felt a wash of self-hatred at that moment. I was constantly needing Isaac’s reassurances. He was the one gaining weight. He was the one who’d have to deal with the judgment of others. Not me. And yet her I was, needy and sad after one comment. It was horribly pathetic. 

“I’m sorry,” I said into his neck. Isaac sighed.

“Don’t apologize. I sort of like that you care so much about it,” Isaac said, a little lighter.

I smiled despite myself. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You actually give a damn about my health. Some people would probably get off on me eating like a fatass and then run for the hills if I got a health scare. So, yes. I’m glad you’re like this.”

I felt myself grin and I swatted his arm lightly.

“Shut up.”

Isaac’s laugh made his belly shake a little against me and god it felt so nice. 

*

Everything fell apart one weekend in July. 

“Come on, it’ll still be here on Monday,” Isaac said from the chair beside me. Our office was empty but for us and the custodian. 

“The report’s supposed to be in before 8:00 am on Monday,” I whined. I rubbed my eyes freely since I hadn’t even put on makeup. It was horrendous that I’d received the data sheets so late, but some of the higher ups were always putting off their work until the last minute. Meaning I usually ended up staying after hours to get things done. Vienna had offered to help, but since she had plans with her family this weekend, I waved her off. I was sort of regretting it now, though.

Isaac stood slowly. He’d gained another 15 pounds and it showed. His belly jiggled more, his face was rounder, and his arms were feeling flabbier than ever. He put his chunky hands on my shoulders and rubbed a little to ease their tenseness. 

“How much more do you think? It’s almost 7.”

I glanced at the report, which was about 80% done, and back at the clock. 

“Maybe another hour?” I said. “You don’t have to stay, obviously.” 

Isaac smiled like what I’d said was funny. “Okay, how’s this? I’m going to run across the street to that Italian place we like. I’ll get a mountain of takeaway. And by the time I get back, if you’re done with the report, I’ll let you feed it to me.”

I felt my cheeks heat. 

“You’re bribing me with feeding sessions now?”

Isaac laughed, a deep, unself-conscious sound. “No, I’m incentivizing you. Do we have a deal or what?”

I glanced at his belly, imagining how swollen it’d look after three huge entree portions. 

“Deal.”

Once Isaac had kissed the top of my head and left, I got to work. 

I took a deep breath and focused on my report. I tried not to rush myself, because that might cause me to make mistakes, and fixing mistakes would take longer than doing it correctly from the start. 

I worked, hyper focused, more intently tuned in on my report than I had been able to be all day, for the next forty minutes. 

The custodian told me he was leaving and then asked me to set the alarm on my way out, and then I was alone. I finished the document, attached it to an email and was cc-ing my boss when Isaac walked in. He was carrying three heaping bags full of steaming-hot food, which he put down on a nearby desk with a heavy thunk.

“Done?” he asked with an excited eyebrow raise. I finished typing out the address, looked over the email one last time, and hit send. 

Yep!” I leaned back in the office chair, pushing away from my desk and getting enough momentum to send my chain spinning in a lazy circle. I smiled at the ceiling in relief. My body felt boneless, as if the stress was the only thing that had been keeping me together all day. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Isaac said suggestively. I caught myself with a hand on my desk to keep my chair in place so I could meet Isaac’s eyes.

“What’d you get?”

Isaac tore the first bag open and started pulling out styrofoam containers. 

“Cheese ravioli for Catherine,” he said with a wink. “Mushroom risotto, piselli e guanciale,” Isaac said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation. I laughed at him but he ignored me. “Aaaaaand, veal parmesan.” 

I glanced at the last bag, which was unopened. “What’s that?”

“Garlic bread and antipasto salad,” Isaac said. “Where should we start?”

I squirmed in my seat. I was actually quite hungry, since it was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I figured I should eat my food before I got carried away with feeding Isaac. And salad was a bit hard to feed another person. I didn’t want to get lettuce and cheese and salami all over the place. 

“Eat the antipasto first while I eat my ravioli,” I said. 

Isaac smirked. “Aye aye, captain.”

It was a little weird to be sitting in an empty office building on a Friday night. It was one of those places where nothing seemed real. Most of the lights were off, just the blue glow of the computer homescreens and the security lights near the door gave the room an odd aura of timelessness. 

While we got started on eating, it was quiet to the point of awkwardness with TV playing in the background like we’d normally have on at one of our apartments, and so I put some music on my phone for some ambience. I inhaled my ravioli with single-minded focus, and ate a piece of garlic bread to sop up the sauce leftover. Isaac seemed as hungry as me, as he’d nearly finished his entire salad by the time I ate my food.

“What do you want next?” I asked, standing up and stretching a bit. My back was sore from hunching over in my desk chair all day. 

“Hmm,” Isaac considered, glancing at the spread of containers littered all over the available desk space in my cubicle. “Risotto. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”

I nodded and got it opened. Isaac was scooping the last of the antipasto into his mouth and I waited until he’d finished before taking the empty container and tossing it in the trash.

Then I started to climb into Isaac’s lap. It was a tight fit, since his love handles were brushing the armrests of the chair, but I shoved my knees in and settled myself over him.

“This feels scandalous,” Isaac said with a playful smile. I shrugged. Our office security cameras were only faced towards the doors, and rarely did they even get checked. 

“It’s sorta hot though, right? Me feeding you at work?”

Isaac nodded and opened his mouth when I held up a forkful of risotto. His hands were on my hips, not doing anything suggestive, just resting there, but for some reason the feeling of being caged in by his hands had me blushing. 

He ate the risotto quickly, and I patted his tummy, which was getting a bit bloated, as he finished off the last of it. 

“How old is this shirt?” I asked, teasing at the buttons which looked a bit strained. Not indecent, but they were pulled tight enough across his gut that the fabric between was puckered. 

“Uh, about two months?”

Isaac was blushing now. 

“I like it,” I said. “Veal next?”

Isaac nodded and so I stood to grab the next container. Thankfully the meat was cut. It would have been hard to slice with plastic cutlery. 

“Getting full?” I asked when this entree was about halfway done. 

Isaac hummed, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I still have room though, don’t worry.”

He did have room. He ate the rest of the veal and then had a break where he ate some bread and drank water. Then he decided he was ready for the pasta. 

The peas and the pancetta in the piselli e guanciale were a little cold, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. I forked up heaping mouthfuls and Isaac ate them dutifully. 

He was really getting stuffed by the end, but he still had a solid ¼ of the meal left. He was making those adorable little grunts and moans that indicated his stuffed state. I put the container down to rub his sore belly.

“That feels amazing, Catherine,” Isaac murmured. I kissed the top shelf of his belly over his shirt. It was bloated and thick-looking. He’d indulged a lot in the last hour. 

“More?”

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded. 

I fed him a little more, but then he begged for a break. 

“Fuck, I’m… shit I’m so full,” Isaac grunted. His belly was looking huge, and god I loved it.

“Just a little more. Come on, you can do it,” I said. Isaac opened his mouth. “That’s it, eat a little more. You know you want it,” I teased, knowing Isaac did want it. He loved to push past his limits. I was getting turned on, which was loosening my tongue a bit. “Yeah, eat more. I know you can. I know you want it. Just two more bites.”

“So full,” Isaac moaned.

I pushed another forkful into his mouth.

“Good, you’re doing so good. One more and then you’ll be done.” 

Isaac opened his mouth again for me, and as I was putting the fork past his lips, I heard a smacking sound that nearly had me falling off of his lap in surprise. 

Standing in the doorway was Layla. 

I had no idea how long she’d been standing there. My music was still playing, and I’d been so focused on feeding Isaac and talking him through his fullness that I hadn’t heard her come in. 

I was mortified.

It was so obvious what we’d been doing. I was sitting in Isaac’s lap, where he looked absolutely stuffed. We were surrounded by empty food containers. If she’d heard what I’d just been saying….

“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I wanted to sink through the floor. 

“Layla, wha-what are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His chubby cheeks were bright red, and he was still out of breath from fullness. Belatedly I realized I should be getting up off his lap. This was unprofessional enough as it was. 

“I left my planner here earlier, I just stopped by to grab it,” I saw the planner at her feet which she must have dropped, which explained the smack sound I’d heard, “but Cath, what the–what were you… I thought he was on a diet.” Layla said, her nasally voice accusatory. I felt sick just hearing her tone. “Isaac, you’re letting her do—-whatever this is—to you?”

Isaac took my hand in his. “I wanted her to.” His voice left little room for disagreement.

Layla sputtered. “Catherine, you are enabling his binge eating disorder! Don’t you realize that! I thought you of all people would care about his health.”

I instantly felt nauseous as her words took root. 

This was what normal people thought of what we’d been doing. I’d let Isaac lull me into thinking this was normal when it clearly wasn’t. It wasn’t just strange, it was disordered. Layla had just said it was. And how hadn’t I seen it sooner? Isaac wanted to eat as much as he could in one sitting because it scratched some type of itch inside of him? Because he felt compelled to binge? 

And I had been enabling it.

“Catherine, don’t listen to her,” Isaac was saying, but blood was rushing in my ears. I was going to throw up. This was all of my worst fears. Being caught, being outed as a freak, putting someone I loved in danger because of my weird fetish. I wasn’t putting his health first like I’d been trying to do. I was getting off on his messed up eating habits. 

I pushed off of Isaac’s lap. He tried to hold onto me, but I didn’t let him. He was too full to get up after me anyway, and that made me feel even more sick.

I grabbed my purse and booked it past Layla, who was talking to me, but I tuned her out. I got on the elevator, shaking and numb all over. 

I made it to my apartment like a zombie, and I collapsed on my bed in my clothes. Only then did I let myself cry. 

*

CHRIS: have u talked to isaac yet??

I glanced at my phone from my spot on my bed, burrowed into the blankets like a burrito, before locking my phone and putting my comforter over my head like a dramatic 12 year old. 

I had called Christ last night after I’d cried out my embarrassment, my panic. And it’d been, well… an awkward conversation to say the least. 

Chris had been worried (obviously) as I’d called him crying, so I started trying and failing to explain what Layla had interrupted without mentioning the feeding situation. 

But well. It made no sense. We weren’t having sex in the office, or anything like that. Really, there was no reason for it to have been a big deal. So what I got caught sitting on my boyfriend’s lap? It was awkward, sure, but there was no reason for my reaction if I didn’t explain the–the food stuff. The health stuff. My anxiety stuff.

And so with my censoring, Chris was totally lost. 

But this was, well, Chris. My best friend, the most accepting non-judgmental person I knew. If I couldn’t tell Chris about my preferences, I couldn’t tell anyone. 

So after a few minutes of his voice in my ear calming me down, I had to bite the bullet and explain, yeah so remember how I never used to like anyone? It’s because I only like fat people. Fat guys, actually. Which Isaac is one. In case you hadn’t realized. Um. Oh and that awkward encounter Layla walked in on? I was actually just sitting on his lap feeding him Italian food. Because I’m a freak. And my insane brain was already on the cusp of breaking down at any given moment over the fact that Isaac could possibly be sick, or hurt, or… or something. And so when Layla insinuated that I was enabling an eating disorder I.. well. I believed her.

Chris had been quiet while brokenly explained that Isaac liked eating and getting fatter and I liked watching it happen. 

Chris was silent for a moment but he accepted the information without any fuss, which I appreciated.

That was last night. His reassurances no longer had much effect. 

And so now, those dark thoughts had time to grow and festered over the course of a day. 

I was even more reluctant to reach out to Isaac today seeing as he hadn’t even attempted to call me. Obviously it wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d ran off and left him there. And the guilt was eating at me a bit, to be honest. But still. I was used to Isaac constantly wanting to comfort me. Coddle me. And now that he… wasn’t, I found myself unable to cope.

So I continued to ignore Chris’ message and wallowed in self-pity some more until I heard a knock on my apartment door in the early evening. 

I had migrated to the couch with a cup of tea by then, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blotchy from crying, and I hadn’t showered. My pajamas were oversized and worn in. Surely my hair was a mess as well, but. 

I stood up and looked out my peephole anyway. Part of me had expected Chris to come do a wellness check before he left for the club that night, but a secret, smaller part thought maybe Isaac would be there. 

But when I looked out into the hallway, it was neither of them.

John stood outside my door, awkwardly shifting his weight and fiddling with his wrist watch.

I yanked the door open.

“John?”

John looked startled.

“Catherine. Hi, um, I was hoping I could speak with you,” John said. I kept my body in front of my partially-open door.

I frowned. “Why?” I asked.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Look, I… I talked to Isaac. And Layla, and I just. I know this situation is fucked and I know you might not be wanting company right now but,” John left the sentence unfinished, but turned a more pleading expression at me.

I swallowed heavily. John fidgeted under my stare for a moment.

“Um. Okay, come in,” I said, sliding out of the way so he could come inside. Luckily my neat-freak tendencies had kept my apartment from looking too rough. Aside from the pile of blankets on the couch, my place looked the same as it normally would.

I was the only thing that looked like a mess.

I sat down in my blanket nest and John took a seat in the chair.

“So.” I kicked my leg absent-mindedly. “Why are you…?”

“Here?” John guessed. I guested in confirmation, only feeling a little rude to be asking. He took a deep breath. “Catherine, I came here because I needed to say, well. I know we went on a date. And you weren’t into it.” His smile was self-deprecating. I started to protest but he didn’t let me. Which was fine, it’s fine. But surely I ignored some red flags when Layla asked me out directly after setting me up with you, her supposed friend. I mean, at the time I didn’t know she was like…” John searched for a word. “Like that.”

I nodded because I did know that Layla was in fact ‘like that’.

“And when Isaac asked me how I would feel if he started pursuing you, I was honestly skeptical. I thought.. I thought you’d go out with him once and never again. Like you had with me.” John smiled wistfully. “But when you kept seeing each other, I was happy for him. Truly.”

I felt myself blushing for some reason. 

“Are you and Layla, um, broken up?” I asked tentatively.

John nodded, scratched at his thighs nervously. “I broke it off with her after I spoke with Isaac, but it. It was a long time coming,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said dumbly.

“But, Catherine, I’m not here to talk about my breakup. I,” he scrubbed his face with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you because I think you need to hear this from someone who isn’t Isaac.”

His words made my eyes snap to his. He was stiff, serious, but clearly sincere. 

John took a breath. “Isaac told me a while ago that he wanted to, erm, to gain weight,” John said. 

I instantly regretted having this conversation. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“And I didn’t understand. Still don’t really. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s his life, it’s his choice how he wants to live it. And that misunderstanding, my lack of acceptance, put a wedge between us. I hardly saw Issac this past year. And you’ve got to know, Catherine. I love Isaac. He’s one of my closest friends. To not have him in my life was. It was awful,” John said. “And so when Isaac called me last night, I.” John paused. I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. His voice was raw, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. But I continued listening. “He called me and told me what happened. And then I heard the same story from Layla. And you want to know something, Catherine?”

I reluctantly met his gaze.

“Isaac told me that he’d screwed things up with you. Because he wanted to protect you from getting hurt. And he thought he’d failed at that. He was beating himself up about it.” John scoffed. “Isaac is one of a kind, isn’t he? You want to know what he didn’t tell me, but Layla did?”

I didn’t really, but I figured John wouldn’t have come all the way to my apartment for no reason, so I nodded anyway.

“She said that after you left, Isaac kept eating, shoving all the remaining food in his mouth like it was some act of defiance,” John said. He smiled fondly. “Isaac wanted her to know that it wasn’t you forcing him to do anything. Because you weren’t. You might already know that, but in case you need reminding, Isaac wanted to get fat with or without you. And I honestly don’t understand it. But it makes him happy, so,” John shrugged. “Isaac thinks he f**ked this up between you two, but Catherine… It’s no one’s fault. Maybe Layla’s for opening her big mouth but.”

I swallowed heavily.

“Thank you for, for saying all that,” I said.

John nodded. It was odd, how one conversation, one honest conversation with John, could make me understand why he and Isaac were friends. John was considered, reserved, but ultimately he cared about things. Cared enough to come all the way to my place just to make sure I wasn’t going to spiral so hard that I’d hurt Isaac forreal.

That was a good friend.

*

Isaac opened the door slowly. His t-shirt was ill-fitting, clinging to his tubby belly in a way that made me want to reach out and feel that supple flesh between my fingers. His brown curls were a mess, like he’d been running his hands through them, or maybe he’d just recently lost a pillow fight.

His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the hallway.

“Catherine?” he mumbled, surprised.

“Hi. Can I come in?” I asked. After John had left I showered and put on some real clothes, still comfortable ones, but an outfit that was suitable for outdoor wear. 

Isaac stepped aside so I could walk in. His apartment was a mess, but I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t as neat as me anyway. 

We stood there in the foyer staring at each other for a few seconds. Isaac bit his lip, so I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry. For running away,” I said.

Isaac frowned. “No, no it’s, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac said. I smiled but shook my head slowly.

“It is. I’ve realized just how much you’ve done to-to help me. With my issues. You’re, god, you’re freakishly accommodating,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “It’s like, you’re perfect. For me, at least.” 

Isaac’s eyes were very wide. 

“Do you know why I don’t like when people touch me?” I asked.

Isaac shook his head.

“I avoid being touched because I’m scared of being a real person. I’m always so scared that if someone touches me with-with any kind of tenderness, then I’ll simply fall apart. I-I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I always knew that if I ever let anyone in, that I would crumble. I’m not, I’m not good at this, Isaac. I’m,” I put the heel of my hands into my eyes. “I’m terrible at being in a relationship because I never let myself be vulnerable with anyone before. Not my family, not my friends, not. Not anyone. Until you.”

I pulled my hands away to glance up at Isaac. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Catherine, can I…?” Isaac’s hands were hovering, like they wanted to pull me in for a hug, but he waited until I nodded before he did.

Being hugged by him was. It was. 

I felt so safe.

“You’re not bad at being in a relationship,” Isaac mumbled into my hair. “Whoever told you that is stupid. You’re, god, you’re everything to me,” Isaac said. 

I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

“I think I should go to therapy,” I whispered. It was a thought that I’d avoided for years. I was scared of anyone ever getting close enough to know me. I didn’t like thinking about myself, my childhood. I actively pretended that I was normal, that I was fine when I clearly was not. 

“Whatever you want,” Isaac said. 

Epilogue: Three months later

“Mom, you’ll see me for Thanksgiving….Yes, I’m bringing Isaac….I know….I love you too…. Oka, bye.”

I hung up and sighed. 

“How’re things back home?” Isaac asked from the kitchen. He was making a bowl of cereal even though he’d had lunch only an hour ago. His appetite was impressive, and as of yesterday, he was tipping the scales at 356 lbs. 

“Fine. My family is just. They’re a little too excited to meet you,” I said exasperatedly.

“Well I’m excited to meet them too. Especially the famous mee-maw,” Isaac teased. I rolled my eyes. 

Isaac and I were planning to move in together after Isaac’s lease ended, but he practically lived here already. 

I watched Isaac devour his cereal and pour himself a second bowl. 

“You’re gonna spoil dinner,” I complained, knowing that it was not possible. We were going to a new restaurant tonight with John and his new girlfriend Grace. Isaac was bound to be ravenous by then even if he ate the whole box.

A few months ago I might’ve worried about the amount of sugar Isaac was eating, but after starting therapy and being prescribed antidepressants, my cycle of worrying was less intense. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen. But well. It was more manageable. It helped that Isaac was willing to get checkups frequently, and he’d resumed going to the gym to keep up his health while he gained. 

 I stared at Isaac as he ate. He really was so handsome. With those shiny brown curls, those dimples when he smiled, his chubby cheeks and double chin… 

“See something you like?” Isaac asked when he noticed my staring.

“Maybe,” I said with a grin. 

The end

[italoniponic]

May i request hcs for lilia, riddle, and epel with a lover or crush if you want, who is shorter than them? Like about 150 cm short? From what i remember riddle is 160, lilia 158, and epel 156.

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi, anon!

*Short kings supremacy*

Okay so… most of these turned out to just mention the height sometimes but I think they’re still good. It’s just a general relationship hcs with a reader that is actually short too. But at least it looks more like hcs this time lol Hope it’s good enough. The short jokes might be, for sure!

Thanks for the request <3 |

Epel Felmier, Lilia Vanrouge, Riddle Rosehearts x g!n short reader with 150m / fluff / crush and lovers / headcanons / bow-tie trio

Cherry's Harvesting event 🍒 Masterlist

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

It goes without saying that since you have the closest height to his, Epel understands you on an almost spiritual level. The difficulties, the disadvantages and even some joys of being short. Of course, sometimes some classmates call you “kindergarten couple” and you have to hold Epel before he get on a fight and everything ends in confusion, but it's just the ups and downs of life;

Epel will always defend you from troublemakers, no matter how tall they are or if you know how to handle things yourself. A real man helps his friends in all situations and he wants you to know that you can always count on him;

When Epel realized that he was in love with you, the world seemed to change around him. It started to make more sense. You understand him better than anyone and whenever he is sad or down about something, you are there to cheer him up and make him regain his strength. He doesn’t have to sit still and stand tall, like a beautiful apple in a shop window. You are strong enough to endure the sweetness and poison inside him;

He needs to be honest: being the “tall one” of the couple makes him happy. No happier than necessary, he always assures you — and makes you laugh in the process. But there is something in the way that he can hug you and give you a shoulder to rest in the perfect position, give a cute kiss on your forehead without having to stretch all over to reach you and be able to support you in anything, literally or figuratively;

But Epel likes to look at your relationship beyond the heights. You always support each other's hobbies and engage in a real competition of compliments. You love each other so much that your friends don't even know what to do with you anymore;

Because you show him what you do as a hobby, Epel likes to gift you with carved apples — some he even made in front of you — and invites you to attend the Magift club workouts if you have time left. As if you were going to miss watching your little man put effort and give his all in his favorite sport!;

You don’t manifest yourself too loudly at such moments, keeping your cheer to yourself. But Leona and Ruggie can hear even your motivational whispers to Epel, which they like to use to tease him a bit. Despite the frowns he gives to his veterans, he couldn't be more grateful for your presence there;

Epel keeps telling you about Harveston’s stuff and his family. You know of stories even from the fifth generation of Felmier’s past. He has a photo album and once let slip that he couldn’t wait for you to be there either, sharing a story with him. Such words that made him blush furiously;

One of the things you do to cheer up Epel when he is sad is to prepare fried meat for him. You've searched for several recipes for seasoning meat and Epel is always prepared — and satisfied — to be your taste tester. To prevent Vil from noticing, you prepare a small portion of salad at the end and Epel brushes his teeth before returning to the Pomefiore. “It's two birds with one stone,” as he would say in his strong accent, chuckling;

Epel has always liked the sound and practicality of the concertina, more so because it was easy for him to play an instrument that isn’t bigger than him. He wrote a song for you but no matter how hard you try, he won't show you at all. Not until the right time, at least. You found this out because of a paper he was writing in but he held it up high so you wouldn't reach and take it from him — it was a pretty funny scene to watch, according to Ace;

Once you were distracted and Epel wanted to surprise you. So one minute you were walking and the next you were spinning in Epel's arms. The courtyard of the apple trees in the school had become a blur for you. You laughed out loud, amused by the surprise, and Epel’s heart was beating fast. He managed to hold you without difficulty, the result of his exercises. “Never forget this, ya see? I love you.”

Being a little gremlin catalyst for chaos is an ancient art and passed on to a few, but Lilia knew, the moment he looked at you, that he wanted to teach you everything he knew. Which became a problem because one part of his techniques had the magical abilities of his own kind as a basis and the other part was refined thanks to videogames — and he didn't even know how to explain what he learned;

Lilia is not much taller than you but he likes to float by your side because you complain about him “cheating” his height and your angry expression is funny. When you get used to Lilia's quirky humor, you end up laughing at these situations too;

Perhaps one of the most natural consequences in the experience of you falling in love with Lilia and vice versa, was that you became more involved with the Diasomnia family. And to find out that, in the most unusual way possible, yes, they were a family and that Lilia was older than he appeared. That was a shock. Did that mean you were going out with a family man?;

Once, Lilia showed you his wardrobe — “or at least,” his words, “what could fit in his suitcase to bring to school.” His bedroom itself was a war zone but, the wardrobe was an unknown whirlwind that could only take you to the fantastic adventure that was Lilia's aesthetic sense: being a wizard of the Middle Ages, a punk-rock teenager and a child who likes to wear literally everything;

Lilia ends up taking pleasure and initiative in teaching you various fencing techniques and  use of other weapons to compensate for your height in any fight you end up meeting by accident. You also train in hand-to-hand fighting, which usually ends in a tickling attack and endless hugs. Silver doesn't know what to do with you two;

Lilia always talks about you at the Pop Music Club, a simple part of the process of falling in love that he never got to go through. You were his first love, to be honest. Kalim is very fond of hearing Lilia comment on the things you do together. Cater once joked that you could pretend to be kids and pay half the price of tickets to the movies — and that was one of your most memorable dates;

You always cheer and support Lilia at the small club concerts. And when I say “small concerts”, they are mostly samples that the club is required to do once a month to prove that they are actually working. Usually you, Silver, Sebek and some other curious are present. Everyone fears Lilia's ability to play guitar with just his teeth but, you find your little man just amazing;

They say that the best couples are those who inspire each other to improve and you, following this course, decided to accompany Lilia in the kitchen. Whether it’s for disaster — because you might be worse than him, maybe — or whether it’s to improve him, you lean on each other to pick up difficult ingredients and have fun making recipes;

Lilia always tells you a lot about the Valley of Thorns and his past. They are stories about a place you never expected to know, a life that seemed to have gone through hundreds of experiences. Lilia regrets many things he did during the war and knows that since his family came from a time when human-faerie relations were thorny, his entire ancestry must have been mortified to see that he was reveling in human creations. And worse — better, in his view — his heart now belonged to a human;

You commented on your hobbies to Lilia and now, you can add one more: becoming the “mother” of Silver and Malleus. For Silver and Malleus, it's natural to treat you like a second relative, even if you don't have the same emotional maturity. Well, considering Lilia, the parenting parameters were confusing from the start. But it's nice to show the things you do to someone and see them simply in awe of the things you like. Sebek is that step-youngest-son who is still getting used to your presence but, little by little, you are gaining his respect and admiration;

Honestly? Your best dates are when Lilia picks you up to fly over the school. Or sometimes to literally dance in the air between Night Raven College’s towers and the clouds of the sky. It looks like something out of a movie and more like a dream. Your days in the future hold many more surprises and fantastic adventures, you assume. “I lived for a long time and saw several things. But you really make me have this human feeling of wanting to live much longer.”

The fact that Riddle can finally rest his neck and not look up so much to talk to you is a terribly guilty pleasure. Every time Riddle thinks about it, he gets into a dichotomy of laughing at his luck and feeling sorry for your bad luck. But you guys are literally ten inches apart and you're just adorable in his eyes;

There was this time that Riddle was being pestered by Floyd and being called “goldfish” as always, so you showed up and defended him from this great merman threat. Did you make it? No. The two of you had to run away from Floyd who became even more interested in teasing you and taking you both in his arms as if  you were two squishable teddy bears. But Riddle will never forget this day;

In fact, when it's your turn to fall victim of Floyd’s humor, Riddle comes to you and rescues you like a knight. All in the name of his love for you. He would face the Leech twins at the same time for you. He would reach for you the book from the highest bookshelves — which is difficult and time-consuming but not impossible — and help you with whatever you needed most;

Riddle loves your presence in his life. From studies to dorm leader work, from wonderful to bad times. You’re always there for him and that means a lot. You don’t require him to be perfect, without mistakes. In fact, you love those rare and even precious moments where Riddle does something weird or says something wrong and you laugh a little. “It's okay,” you assure him with genuine kindness;

Library dates are the best. Well, all your dates are the best, but there's something about the silence of the library, the comfort of bookshelves, the dust of old books and the sound of Riddle making pen notes that are really special to you. And he really tries to reach for you the most difficult books until you suggest using a chair as a support;

Speaking of support: this is one of the most beautiful parts of your relationship. Every ruler needs a consort, a precious and beloved right-hand man, the one who listens to your concerns and is one of the people who helps the ruler move forward, with advice, consolation and respect. The Queen of Hearts had her King and Riddle has you;

Riddle is your number one option to ask for help with studies. Just because you're both short in this endless valley of giants you call high school, it doesn't mean you shouldn't strive to have a good future going forward. If you have any questions, Riddle will always know how to solve them;

Riddle has never been allowed to have many hobbies, especially if they aren’t useful for studies, so when you talk about yours, he gets really interested. You basically teach him to relax most of the time. In these moments, Riddle takes you to the garden of Heartslabyul and you both take care of the hedgehogs — one of the few playful hobbies that Riddle has and he is happy to see you interested too;

When you have time available, most of the time you end up stopping at the school stables or at the Equestrian Club field. Everything to see Riddle ride a horse. He always takes time to notice your presence there, especially because you motivate him to maintain a more role model posture for the other students in the club. And if you ask nicely, he even takes you for a horse ride;

Riddle doesn't know how or if he would be able to introduce you to his parents for a number of reasons, not only the fact that his mother might not approve of you or the fact that he lost touch with his father thanks to her. It's all very difficult. A terrible baggage that he doesn’t want to throw on your shoulders, even if you insist on wanting to help him in what you can;

When no one is watching, Riddle and you hide in the garden where the dorm has the Unbirthday parties — because, as you once well noted, it didn't go against any rules. Riddle sits on his throne and you pull out a chair to stand near him. The throne is too small to fit two people, even those that aren’t taller than one mile. You don't do anything scandalous there, you both just talk privately in the open air, away from the worries and confusions of the world. It is logically ideal. “I know it's too early to say that, but I want to have you by my side for my whole life.”

[kata4a]

I'm smart enough that I'm really good at rationalizing my emotions, and articulate enough that I'm really good at expressing (at the very least to myself) those rationalizations in terms that make them seem significantly subtler than they actually are

which means that a lot of time, personal growth for me means sitting with like, the most basic, kindergarten-level ethics, and just working really hard on those

because it's actually really easy to spin, say, a dialectical narrative where my behavior is a careful synthesis of tact and honesty, when what's actually going on is that apologizing is just hard

(in the same way that it's really easy to affect a deep theoretical understanding of the game of chess when I still regularly lose games bc I don't notice that I've left a piece undefended)

like, toying with theoretical ideas is both fun and easy. actual kindness on a really basic level is hard and, often at least in the short term, unrewarding

but the way you get good at stuff is by developing a strong foundation in the basics, not by talking yourself into thinking you're above it all

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: September

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: August

Note: I really liked writing this part so please let me know your thoughts!

-----

September 2020

Before the pandemic hit, we'd planned to send Grayson to preschool in the fall after he turned three. However, with the state of the world when the time arrived, it became a more complicated decision. We knew the benefits - we knew it would give him the opportunity to make friends and jumpstart his learning - but after many long, anxiety filled discussions, we decided to keep him home for another year. We didn't need it for childcare as neither of us had any work on the horizon and he still had another year before kindergarten so he wouldn't be missing out on preschool education completely. The risks just seemed to outweigh the benefits at that point in time given the case numbers in our area.

But not everyone had such an easy choice to make. People with older children had to educate them somehow - whether that be in person or online. In person classes had a much higher risk of exposure to the virus, but online classes were harder for children to focus on and required much more participation from the parents.

Carly had made the difficult choice to keep her kids at home and continue their online education, but it was proving to be harder than she'd anticipated. The kids were tired of learning through a computer and they missed their friends. Despite the risk of in person learning, they wanted to go back to school and were dragging their heels when it came to doing their work at home.

They started in August and by the middle of September, Carly was quickly losing her patience with all three of her children and, after a tearful phone call from his sister, Chris and I agreed to take them for an afternoon. They had some homework that we had to make sure they did, but Chris' goal was more related to sending them home with a renewed appreciation for their parents and a promise to keep working hard.

He'd picked them up just after lunch and given them a stern - but understanding - talking to on the way over to our place, but once they arrived he was back to being fun Uncle Chris and started their afternoon of school with gym class in the form of a soccer game. He ran them around the yard for over an hour before they wrapped up the game and came in for a snack. Then, the real school work started.

"So," Chris clapped. "What homework does everyone have?"

"Math..."

Ethan wrinkled his nose in disgust as he answered and his siblings nodded their heads in agreement.

"Well, it's your lucky day!" Chris grinned. "Whitney happens to be a math whiz! She went to university to be an accountant."

It was hard not to laugh at the disgust on their faces and I was tempted to inform them of the fact that I had dropped out just to retain my status as their uncle's 'cool' girlfriend. I thought that information might not help inspire them to work though so I kept it to myself.

"Why did you do that?" Miles questioned. "That's so boring!"

"It doesn't have to be," I insisted. "Chris, why don't you take Gray to do a puzzle or something and we'll get this work out of the way?"

"Sure," Chris nodded, plucking Grayson off the stool he was sitting on and throwing the giggling child over his shoulder. "And remember, the faster the homework gets done, the faster we can get back to doing fun stuff!"

I waited until Chris had left the room before shooting a smile at the little students that I was left with.

"Okay, now that he's gone, I can show you the secret to making math fun," I told them, stretching up to grab a big jar of jelly beans from the top shelf of a cupboard. It was Chris' secret stash, but I was sure he wouldn't be too mad if I borrowed it. "You just need to find some motivation."

The kid's eyes went wide.

"Are those Uncle Chris'?" Ethan asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Yep," I smiled. "So, let's hurry and get to work before he comes back and catches us."

I shot them a wink and they all scurried off to get their notebooks.

-

It was easier to incorporate the candy into Miles and Stella's math homework as in the younger grades, they were mostly doing addition and subtraction. I helped them use the jelly beans as counters and let them eat them after every few questions. For Ethan, it was a bit trickier. In sixth grade, he was getting more into the start of algebra and some harder level fractions which jelly beans were less useful in. Instead, we used them as motivation and he got to eat a couple of jelly beans for every row of questions he finished.

We almost got away with our jelly bean thievery, but just as the kids were packing up their books, I heard a gasp come from the doorway.

"Are those my jelly beans?!"

The kids all burst out laughing as I shot Chris a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry. They needed some encouragement..."

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really that upset.

"I trusted you," he scolded me. "Now I'll have to find a new hiding spot and you won't be informed of its whereabouts."

I pouted at that as Grayson scrambled up onto the stool beside me to get his hands in the candy before it was moved.

"You could just be nice and share," I pointed out. "Making them forbidden just makes them more tempting."

"Yeah, Uncle Chris," Ethan nodded in agreement. "Plus, you're always telling us that we have to share stuff."

"You're getting too smart, kid," Chris smiled at him. "But unfortunately for you, I'm still in charge which means you have to do as I say, not as I do."

Ethan rolled his eyes at that as Stella frowned.

"That's not fair!"

"That's life," Chris shrugged. "Now, who's going to help me make some dinner?"

Grayson and Stella threw their hands up in the air as I popped another jelly bean into my mouth.

"What are we having?"

"Pasketti!" Grayson enthusiastically informed me, earning a laugh from Chris as he ruffled his hair.

"Spaghetti," he clarified. "With Ma's recipe for the sauce."

"Ooh, yum!"

I stole one last jelly bean before putting the lid back on the jar. The kids all whined in protest, but if Chris was making dinner then I knew it was time for me to stop stuffing them with sugar.

We all stayed in the kitchen as Chris started getting things ready, giving the kids simple jobs to do like opening jars and the occasional stirring. Dinner was about halfway ready when Miles got a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Uncle Chris?" He questioned, getting Chris' attention. "Aren't you going to sing the spaghetti song?"

That piqued my interest and I raised an eyebrow at Chris whose cheeks were slightly pinker than they'd been moments before.

"What's the spaghetti song?"

"On Top of Spaghetti," Chris informed me as if I should know what he was talking about. I didn't and my face must have shown him that. "C'mon! You have to know it!"

"I can't say that I do," I shrugged. "You'll have to enlighten me."

"Daddy sings it every time we have pasketti!" Grayson informed me, still mispronouncing the word.

"Well, I think I need to learn it then," I smiled. "Go on, Chris. Let's hear it."

The kids all agreed with me, hassling him to start the song.

"Alright, alright," he agreed after a moment of resistance. His cheeks were still looking a little rosy with embarrassment as he took a deep breath and then began. "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed..."

I watched - filled with an almost overwhelming sense of affection for him - as he sang through all the verses of the song. The kids joined in where they could and all of them were giggling by the time he was done.

"Again, again!"

Grayson started the chant, but they all joined in and with a smirk, I did too.

"Yes, Chris! Again, again!" I teased. "So I can film it for Instagram!"

"Ha-ha," Chris laughed sarcastically. "You're so funny, Whitney. There will be no filming of this performance."

"But just think how much your fans would love it," I smiled. "You'd melt the hearts of women all over the world."

Chris let out a laugh at that comment, but didn't have time to respond before the kids took over again, demanding another performance. Once he was sure that my phone was safely out of reach, he launched into another round of song.

-

By the time dinner was done and the kids were all settled in front of the TV watching a movie, my heart was feeling rather full. Seeing Chris with all the children and enjoying the afternoon of a house full of their joy and laughter had me feeling things I hadn't been entirely sure I was ready to contemplate yet.

As I sat at the island in the kitchen, sipping my second glass of wine as Chris finished loading the dishwasher, I broached the subject.

"Today has been really nice," I told him, my voice catching his attention in the quiet room. "Having a house full of kids."

That thought clearly gripped his interest as he spun around to face me, still drying his hands.

"Yeah?" The excitement in his voice was palpable. "We haven't talked about that, have we? Do you want more kids?"

"I do," I smiled at his overzealous reaction. "At least one more. I'd like Grayson to have a sibling. It seems lonely to make him grow up all alone."

"It does," he agreed. "I can't imagine growing up without siblings."

"What about you?" I asked. "I mean, I know you've mentioned in interviews that you want a big family, but is that real? Or just for the family man image that your fans love so much?"

Chris chuckled and shrugged, but there was something sheepish about the way he was looking at me.

"Honestly?" He paused as if waiting for a response, but it seemed unnecessary. We both knew I wouldn't want anything other than the truth in a moment like this. "I want at least two more, maybe even three. Hell, I'd have another one right now if you were willing."

I almost choked on the wine I was sipping as those words left his mouth, but as I placed my glass safely back on the counter, the coughing shifted into laughter.

"We can't have another one now," I protested. "We've only been together for like four months!"

"Five," he corrected with a soft smile. "And we were only together for one night before we had Gray and I think he's turned out alright."

He was right about that and I would have been lying if I said that the thought of another little baby didn't stir something inside me, but the more rational side of me came through.

"We can't just rush into another baby," I insisted. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but that's a big decision."

"I know it is," Chris assured me. "I'm half-kidding. I know it's not something we can rush into, but another part of me thinks it would be nice to have one now while we've got nothing else going on."

"That's true, but this pandemic won't last forever," I pointed out. "Even if you got me pregnant right now, you'll hopefully be working again before it would even be born. I'm not sure I could deal with Grayson and a newborn all by myself."

"Yeah, but some experts think this mess is gonna last for a few years still which would make this the perfect time to have a baby."

I shot him a look and he shrugged with a smirk.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I warned him. "Let's just see how this whole pandemic situation goes for a bit longer before we make any massive life plans."

"Alright, alright," Chris chuckled, coming around to my side of the island. He rested his chin on my shoulder and slid his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my stomach. "It would be nice though, wouldn't it? Having another little baby around. Another little mix of the two of us."

I could feel his breath on my neck as his voice was low in my ear and I had to admit that he was right. I was one of the lucky women who actually loved being pregnant and, despite how exhausting and stressful the newborn phase was, I did miss having a little baby around.

But my worries about our ability to co-parent if we split up were still lingering in my mind. They'd been eased slightly by how solid our relationship had been so far, but if it all fell apart, I was still worried about how we would cope. Adding another baby to that so soon seemed like a foolish thing to do.

"It would be nice," I agreed, letting my hands rest on top of his. "It will be nice, one day."

"Well, whenever you're ready," Chris paused to place a kiss on my neck. "Just let me know."

I smiled at his eagerness and turned my head to kiss his cheek.

"I will," I assured him. "And maybe, once the kids have gone home and Grayson's in bed, we could practice. Just so we know what we're doing when the time comes..."

"Oh, I know what I'm doing," Chris practically growled, his grip tightening around me to pull me closer against him. "Don't you worry about that."

I giggled at his confidence before wiggling out of his grasp and standing up from the stool I'd been sitting on.

"I'm not worried, but practice makes perfect, right?"

With a wink, I grabbed my wine and turned to leave the room and check on the kids. Our conversation had given me plenty to think about, but it was comforting as well. I had no doubts that one day I wanted to expand our little family and even if I wasn't quite ready yet, it was nice to know that Chris was on board.

The man was born to be a father, he excelled in every aspect of parenting, and I was grateful that I was the one who got to help him find that role and that I got to share the experience with him.

-

October + November [part one]

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

[applesauce365]

How I study Korean

I don't attend any language school for Korean but I can't take all the credit either because I have resources which help me, a lot.

Learning Spanish for two months helped me understand the key points about learning a foreign language. I started with the basics, 한글.

Reading & Writing: I made sure I knew the correct stroke order and pronunciation of the 한글 characters. I wrote 한글 everyday for about a month while reading aloud the character I was writing. Just like in kindergarten, when I was learning my first language, English.

I used Duolingo to practice the 한글 characters. Repetition is the key.

With Korean, the new part was - syllable blocks.

Even Bengali or Hindi didn't have them. So I dived into the concept of syllable blocks. I wrote words which were one or two syllables long in order to get used to the writing system.

I wasn't happy about my handwriting though. It looked very blocky and un-native-like. So I practiced writing Korean like a native.

My initial handwriting

Practicing how to write like a native

During the transition I might've been trying too hard. (and that's a lot of 박보검 and 오빠)

This is my steady Korean handwriting. It's not pretty but it's legit. (None of my handwritings are pretty)

This is my English handwriting and I've been writing English ever since I was a baby. I just don't have very good penmanship, I guess. (this is actually a random chemistry question. All I write these days are science stuff for NEET, so.)

Pronunciation: Now that I knew how to read and write 한글, I moved on to the phonetics. Here's an order I follow and I think you should too, when learning a language from scratch.

Gotta start from the core

Vowels are cool, but consonants? Man, did I struggle. Voiced, unvoiced, unaspirated, aspirated, tense... WTF? I got through it.

Next in line for Korean pronunciation were 받침 and nasal assimilation/ nasalization.

Speech levels: English doesn't have speech levels but Bengali and Hindi do, so it was comparatively easier for me to understand that. Bengali and Hindi both have 3 speech levels. On the whole, Korean has 2 반말 and 존댓말. But on a more precise level, it has 7. You need to know 4 and you're good to go.

Basic Vocabulary: I have books in Korean for beginners and apps like EPS TOPIK Korean and Eggbun are also a fun way of learning new and useful words. I don't bother getting premium, the free version does a pretty good job.

Conjugation: Korean conjugation is pretty easy. All you have to care about is the tense, as it doesn't depend on number (singular/plural) or person (I/you/it). Also, Korean nouns are gender neutral. I consult Hanji whenever I'm in doubt.

Sentence Construction: Korean sentences have a Subject+Object+Verb order unlike English sentences which have a Subject+Verb+Object order. Bengali, however, has an order similar to that of Korean.

Counters: This is something which is much more common in Bengali than in English. Counters or counting words are classifiers. In English it is "two sheets of paper", not "two papers". Analogously, in Korean 장 is used to count sheets.

Numbers: There are two different number systems in Korean. Native Korean and Sino-Korean.

Resources

Books : There are tons of ebooks for learning Korean in these websites z-library, pdfdrive and epdf.

YouTube : Channels that I use include TTMIK, 한국언니, Minji Teaches Korean, KoreanClass101, BillyGo, The World of Dave, 빅키샘.

Websites : 90DAYKOREAN, How to study Korean, Key to Korean, Koreanly

Translator : I would not recommend Google translator for Korean. It's lousy. I use Naver Papago.

Forums : Trust no translator! Translators can get your message across but there's no guarantee that it sounds natural. Get help from natives, use language forums like Korean Language Stack Exchange and HiNative.

Comprehensive Input

Reading : Read in Korean- literature, articles, essays, magazines, comics, news

Listening : Listen to podcasts, music or audiobooks in Korean

Writing : Write in Korean, if you can't write anything creative, journal in Korean

Watching movies or TV shows in Korean help significantly improve listening skills. Playing word games in Korean will improve your vocabulary. Try to understand jokes and memes in Korean.

I'm an ARMY, Jin's dad jokes immensely help me improve my Korean.

I also have (native) Korean friends who proofread what I write and help me use more natural Korean expressions.

I actually tried to learn Hanja (Chinese characters) because they said it would help. It's frigging difficult! I quit. I'm doing just fine without Hanja.

Here's my Pinterest board for Korean

I think not having a teacher kind of worked in my favour. I've problems with authority, you see. I don't like someone telling me what to do. It's like I have to be in charge at all times.

[jjk-biased]

yoongi x reader

requested by @ughtear​ ( Hi! I was just able to see your post and I was wondering if I could request prompt 3+1 (three times he proposes and the one time you say yes) with Yoongi? The idea of it makes me so soft! Also, I’m new at requesting so I don’t know what format is 🥺)

genre: fluff

words: 1.8k of cute stuff!!

synopsis: 3+1 (Three times Yoongi proposes and the one time you say yes)

masterlist | events masterlist

Kindergarten was such a hassle for young Yoongi. Coloring within the lines and connecting the dots were too exhausting and all he wanted was for nap time to come. He should be at home sleeping with his blanket in hand. Hatred for school aside, Yoongi wasn’t very social. He was a shy boy who would rather listen to some tunes even if he didn’t understand the lyrics that well. 

Well, he couldn’t exactly hate school.

There was this girl who always approached him, someone he could say was his friend. During recess, when the noisy kids stumble their way towards the outside, he could be seen sluggishly lagging behind as he talks (well, listens) to this girl in messy pigtails and pink overalls share her entire life story. 

Y/N Y/L/N.

You were a very cheerful kid who, despite the very young age, could easily detect and adapt to people’s attitudes. Unlike the ever-bratty Sohee who cried because Yoongi wasn’t giving her the compliments she wanted about her new Sailor Moon bag from mommy or the annoying Taka who demanded he play heroes with Yoongi, you knew your limits.

Whatever that meant to two toddlers. 

Yoongi liked you the most. You were a fun person to be with. You would let him nap when he wanted to and you always gave him the dog stickers from the prizes you get for being a good kid. You would give him some of your snacks (except for the juice boxes, he knew you loved those so much) and would wait for him when recess starts.

So one day, little Yoongi asked his parents what it meant to like a friend so much and what he should do about it (well of course, he messily relayed his story because he would get off track and tell them about the dog he saw). His dad wanted to poke fun and tell him something he didn’t understand anyway.

“What’s marriage?”

“Well, Yoongi, it’s when you like your friend so much that you want to be friends with them for life!” His dad replied, earning a smack on the head from his mother because that was wrong on many levels. 

“I’m gonna marriage n/n!!” Little Yoongi cheered, or rather grinned but that was already the most he could express before going back to watching his favorite show. 

The next day, without his mother knowing, Yoongi’s father told him to give you flowers if he wanted to “marriage” you. Yoongi giggled as he pocketed the little rose that his dad handed over before skipping to school. 

He liked being friends with you so much that he wanted to “marriage” you. But he wasn’t expecting the news he’d received that day. 

You had to move to Seoul with your father after your parents separated, leaving little Yoongi in Daegu with a crumpled little rose. 

The next time he saw you was in high school. Obviously, you weren’t the messy pigtails and pink overalls n/n anymore but that was the latest memory of you that Yoongi could remember. To see you, nimbly looking at your fingers as the teacher introduced you to the class as the transferee -- it overwhelmed him. A good kind of overwhelming he supposed. 

But with Yoongi being Yoongi, he didn’t want to approach you first. For all he knew, you could’ve forgotten the little Yoongi who usually wore blue shirts and loved dogs. He wanted to approach you, he really does, but with his reputation as one of the quiet basketball players of Daegu High and the possibility of you being questioned by his so-called fans, he couldn’t.

To his surprise, you approached him the same way you did when you were little. With a “Is that you Yoon?” from you and a rare gummy smile from him, the two best friends were once again joined by the hip. 

“I can’t believe Min ‘I hate moving’ Yoongi is a basketball player,” You snorted, staying close to your only friend in your high school as he goes to the gym. 

“Well I can’t believe Y/L/N ‘I’m never taking my pigtails off’ Y/N isn’t wearing pigtails anymore,” Yoongi replied, chuckling a bit at your embarrassment. 

“Sh-Shut up!” 

Your friendship was easily built again, it was stronger even. You didn’t mind the occasional “You’re my love rival but Yoongi will be mine” declarations that you got once a week (surprisingly, more than half of the female population loved the quiet, basket-ball loving types. )

They should see Yoongi in a pet store, you snickered. 

“Hey! Why are you laughing at me?! You think you’re better than me!?” 

Ah right… You forgot… Sohee, you remembered her as the girl who seemed to like Yoongi in kindergarten, was also issuing a “love war” with you for your best friend’s heart. 

“Not really, darling. I just think you’re stupid… But you didn’t hear that from me,” You cackled just as Yoongi arrived to get your ass out of there. 

That morning aside, the school had finally opened their festival. Your class prepared a cafe-like service where everyone cosplayed (you had no say in it) and you were sadly and unwillingly put in a maid costume. Perhaps it was karma for calling Sohee stupid. Yoongi got lucky and was just put in a simple prince costume.

“I don’t think this is fair,” You sighed, tugging at your skirt so it could cover more skin. Yoongi grunted, somehow also unhappy that he had to dress up as some lame ass prince. 

“Stop whining, short-stack. At least your legs are covered. Now let’s go around to check the other booths,” You huffed, dragging a reluctant Yoongi around. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. 

Class 3-A and 3-B somehow agreed to combine their booths. It would’ve been a harmonious unification had their booths been something other than the ones they had: A marriage and a jail booth. 

The little shits changed their rules and made it into something you thought was so funny. Some idiots from 3-B would “jail” and handcuff you to some poor victim that would also get caught and from there, you had two choices: pay 5,000 won to be set free or get married for only 500won. It was genius and you would’ve made a lot of moola because you’re also a little shit. But you were one of the victims. Fuck.

So here you were now, being dragged by Taka, another someone from your childhood, to 3-A’s marriage booth for your very unfortunate fate. 

“Why is she alone, you idiot? You gotta handcuff two people for it to work,” 3-A’s president chided upon noticing you were the only one handcuffed. Luckily, Yoongi trailed along (to laugh at you or use this as blackmail, you weren’t sure). He seemed so ticked off when Taka dragged you though. 

“Well,” Taka smirked as he raised his free arm, “it can always be me.”

Horrified at his very forward advances, you cringed and silently cried for Yoongi’s help. Before you could voice out your dislike, however, Yoongi had already pulled you from Taka’s hold. 

“Marry me, Y/N.”

Your face immediately turned into different shades of red. You were too speechless to even respond to him shoving Taka away and handcuffing himself to you. Some of the people who were in 3-A’s room gasped because even they couldn’t believe that this was happening. Yoongi was nervous, it was embarrassing after all, but it wasn’t obvious in any way. You were about to give him his answer but then...

“NO!!” 

Sohee crashed the wedding before it could even start and 3-A’s president let you guys go as an apology for the commotion. 

You couldn’t forget that day… especially when you almost answered yes. 

Perhaps it was inevitable. Your friends and their mothers seem to have already known what was ahead before you two got there. But eventually, you and Yoongi got together. You already knew he wanted to pursue a music career and were more than supportive when he decided to sign under a small company named BigHit.

While together, you two worked your best to pay your rent and debts. You two ran away from Daegu after none of your parents approved of your career choices, with him and his dream to be a producer and you and your dream of arts. It was hard having to leave your comfortable life in your little hometown but having Yoongi with you helped a lot.

A few years later, your boyfriend (now changed into the rapper and producer of the idol group BTS) found out that his company loosened its strict ban on dating and he was finally able to introduce you to his friends. (though they knew Yoongi had someone in his heart, they were never able to put a face to it)

Your favorite member (shh don’t tell anyone) had to be Hoseok. He can easily lift everyone’s spirits up and he displayed so much warmth when Yoongi introduced you to the guys.

There was a reason why Hoseok was so easy to hang out with. He was the first to know that Yoongi had someone in his life and would often come to him when he wanted to talk about you (there were times he was so excited about you that he wanted to tell everyone,,, thankfully he had hobi to talk to). So it was like Hoseok already knew you before he could meet you. Because of that, Hoseok was the middleman. The person who would be the voice of reason if you two fought. You also went to Hoseok about Yoongi, especially because you still weren’t allowed to tell the world that you were with Min “BTS’ Rapper and Producer” Yoongi. 

Hoseok was also the first one to know when Yoongi had plans of proposing. He was aware of your history and would always laugh whenever you’d describe a jealous high schooler Yoongi yanking you away from some random named Taka. 

It had to be one of the most painful things for Hoseok when he was told to keep quiet of the surprise. He was bubbling with excitement that day and was mirroring Yoongi’s eagerness to finally ask you the question you’ve been denied of answering since. 

After a simple dinner out, you both decided to walk in a quiet park (it was quite late so no one was around). Yoongi inhaled, unconsciously gripping your hand quite tightly, and looked for the velvet box with his other. 

You stopped at some point to gaze at the comforting contrast of the night with the city lights but you felt Yoongi halt in his tracks so you turned around. 

There he was, one knee on the ground as he grinned that gummy smile of his that you’ll never get tired seeing, with the question you’ve been wanting to answer for your whole life. 

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

It took Yoongi three times to propose to you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

[langernameohnebedeutung]

„Middle schoolers“ is like starting from year 7 or so right?

In my school Latin was the first ‚foreign language‘ we learnt (in year 5) even before learning English (in year 6) so would that mean we were , in american school system terms, elementary schoolers when we started learning Latin? Because that’s so funny to me somehow

I mean...I don’t really understand the American education system and at this point I’m afraid to ask, but we have to face facts: For a country that was never part of the (actual, original, non-knock-off) Roman Empire, Germany is a bit obsessed with Latin. Like, other than Trier, Cologne and the rest of those west-rhine-ian chumps, people here were hanging out in the forests while the Romans were doing their thing. 

I know, I know, language of science, scholarly tradition, the influence of the catholic church on academia and all that - but sometimes I still feel like we’re kinda still compensating from the millennium we spent cosplaying as Rome or at least the fact that we were not part of one of the Ancient ‘Hochkulturen’. 

Like, I actually wanted to know what the guys up in Northern Europe are doing and I found this in a Swedish paper:

“I Tyskland, som ju är ett land mycket nära oss, har latinämnet en helt annan ställning. Mitt kusinbarn på 11 år har just börjat läsa latin jämte de första meningarna engelska, något som inte är ovanligt på det tyska gymnasiet (som är nioårigt). För dem som väljer att studera vidare vid universitet är det därför inte heller ovanligt att man har ett latinstudium bakom sig – det är på många utbildningar nämligen ett krav. Detta medför att det finns fler personer i Tyskland än i Sverige som besitter baskunskaper i latin.”

“In Germany, which is a country very close to us, the Latin subject has a completely different standing. My 11-year-old cousin has just started reading Latin as well the first sentences in English, something not uncommon in German Gymasium (that is nine years). For those who choose to study further at university, it is therefore not unusual at all to have the learning of Latin behind you - it is in many programmes listed as an (entry-)requirement. This means that there are more people in Germany than in Sweden who own basic knowledge of Latin.” 

(Listen, Sweden, not to get on your case but I’m pretty sure there are more of everything in Germany, you might not want to argue with population size here)

United Kingdom, according to Wikipedia: “In the first half of the 20th century, Latin was taught in approximately 25% of schools.[9] However, from the 1960s, universities gradually began to abandon Latin as an entry requirement for Medicine and Law degrees. After the introduction of the Modern Language General Certificate of Secondary Education in the 1980s, Latin began to be replaced by other languages in many schools. Latin is still taught in a small number, particularly private schools.[10] Three British exam boards offer Latin, OCR, SQA and WJEC. In 2006, it was dropped by the exam board AQA.“

I’m not sure what Eastern Europe is doing, but I know Latin is less popular in East Germany because the GDR broke with the tradition and even Poland, despite being super-catholic, is only now bringing Latin back more front and centre: “ After years of being only available as an extended-level subject, Latin and classical antiquity return to the high school curriculum and pupils are to learn that “repetitio est mater studiorum” as of the upcoming school year of 2020/2021.”(x)

I know the Dutch also got the hard-on for the classics, but like...it’s honestly kinda funny to me because jokes and stereotypes about Latin class are such a cultural staple here and to see so many people go: You guys ... had Latin? In Middle-School? - is so funny to me. Our suffering is not universal. There is even material that shows that Southern Germans have a different accent in Latin than Northern Germans because they’re more church-y down there.

In all fairness, we had these ‘clubs’ in elementary school for French (third grade) and English (fourth grade), but those were optional and we just learnt a few very simple words and phrases and when I did a placement in a kindergarten for two weeks for my Sozialpraktikum they also taught the older kids English songs and phrases in little extra groups.

And then in Gymnasium, we started English in fifth grade, chose between our elective third language in 6th (we had Latin and French, because our French teachers boycotted Spanish) and then you could later on (I think in Mittelstufe?) also add the other one as your third language. And then you have those Gymnasien that specifically insist on the classic languages and also teach Ancient Greek, probably also at the expense of teaching living languages.

@zerogravitykitty also said that people got shamed for picking English as their first language at her school because it’s too easy - entirely regardless of the actual usefulness. And I feel like somewhere in this, the essentials of what is wrong with the German and the American language education system are both broken down to their bare essentials. Like you have one school system which just...barely teaches languages at all, and then you have Germany’s very classist, pretentious, very seperatist school system (which is entirely not good enough to warrant that level of snobbishness) where this is kinda symptomatic for our problems: 

At least at university level, if you don’t know the major Ancient authors and poets and some basics of Latin, you get side-eyed, and form what I hear, not just in the Humanities. But at the same time, Realschüler and Hauptschüler don’t even have access to this kind of education, because it is part of Latin-class. So not only do they have the upwards struggle of actually getting an Abitur or Fachabitur to get into university, they're also made to feel unwelcome for not knowing stuff like this. 

When I was in Ireland, when you were quoting literature or source material in your term-paper, you could do that in English - but here, even in English-class, we have to use the native languages (assuming they’re from a chosen, elitist group of European languages) and you definitely have to quote Latin in the original Latin to - I quote my tutor! - show that you read and understood the Latin. While even if you read and understood the Latin, you could still have come to the conclusion: “This will lose none of the information if I write it in German and it would fit into the text much better.” Like, one of our lecturers accepted that we were allowed to add the German quote into the text, if we out the original Latin in the footnote. Good times.

[racingtoaredlight]

Joe Pass

***2:18...fucking great shot of his right hand technique.  You fire from the knuckles in your hand, not the knuckles in your fingers...notes are more powerfully struck, more consistent, with less fatigue, and there are fewer issues with long-term wear on your hands vs. firing from your fingers’ knuckles (things like arthritis and carpal tunnel).  For some quicker lines, he’ll fire from the fingers (specifically his index finger), but for the most part he uses his bigger muscles in his forearms.

Technique like this isn’t classically orthodox, nor is it 100% efficient in terms of biomechanics...but it’s an incredibly useful, 99.9999% efficient technique that allows him to use the full scope of the instrument.  He’ll use a pick for faster songs, especially when he’s part of a band.

Guitar playing, in and of itself, is a separate beast from playing music.  Focus on any instrument and it’ll have similar dichotomies...it’s natural for musicians to focus more specifically on their own instruments’ role in music.

Now, I truly love the music of guys like Jimi, EVH, SRV, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, et al.  But most of them would slink off stage in embarrassment around guitarists like Danny Gatton or Chet Atkins.  Probably after the first song.  Without things like overdriven amps, pedalboards and sheer volume, any and all flaws in your playing are magnified many times over.

And Joe Pass is another one of these guitarist’s guitarists.  A guitarist so freakishly outstanding in nearly every aspect of guitar playing, they become a figure like Mount Everest for guitarists trying to emulate their style.

They’re not cool or charismatic or fun or popular...they’re just the best.  Any reasonably talented kid with a few hundred bucks in pedals can learn a half dozen Hendrix tunes in their first couple weeks playing.  That’s not long enough to grow the fingernails you’d need to play like these guys.

Say you want to play like Joe Pass...

Learn to solo like Charlie Parker

Learn every chord, scale and arpeggio, in every position, with every string combination all over the fretboard...and be able to instantly recall all of it without even looking at the guitar

Learn to play bass like Ray Brown

Do all of this at the same time

I don’t expect any of you guys to appreciate this type of stuff.  Especially not something as dry and clinical as Joe Pass can be.

But there’s a good litmus test for guitarists that will always stand the test of time.  Go into a guitar store, start playing, and see what happens.  If the store shuts off the music, you know you’ve got something going on.  If a crowd gathers around you, you’re fucking GOOD.

The late 80′s might be the only era in music more inhospitable to jazz than our current era.  The heyday of hair metal and shred.  This old guy comes into the store, just to check out a guitar, and the place comes to a grinding halt.  Go to like 4 mins and look at the crowd he gets around him in some cramped store, just by playing.

...or shit, listen to what an all-time brilliant guitarist has to say about him before they were about to hit the studio together.

Joe Pass was a surprisingly blue collar dude...don’t let the preposterously advanced jazz guitarin’ fool ya.  My favorite description of his was from another gruff jazz guitar great, Jimmy Bruno...”if you walked up to Joe Pass on the street, you’d think he was a truck driver.”*

When I was getting serious about guitar, I took two hours of lessons per week with this fucking drill sergeant...an hour jazz and an hour classical.  This teacher had the opportunity to take a 3 hour lesson with Joe Pass in the 70′s...a lesson my teacher said was one of the worst lessons he ever had.

I was incredulous.  How could that be?  IT’S JOE PASS!!!

My teacher wasn’t upset, and didn’t take it personally.  He illuminated me to the dynamic that sometimes occurs in the arts...where an absolute brilliant individual does it mostly naturally, with very little effort.  Joe Pass could sight read, he knew all the theory and all that...but he didn’t think much about it, rather just playing by ear most of the time.

So my teacher was asking him all this shit.  “How’d you figure out the walking basslines?” “Why did you use melodic minor over that G7?”  “Are you hungover?”  He didn’t ask that, but he told me he figured Joe Pass was hungover as shit during their lesson.

Anyways, all Joe Pass could respond with were variants of “I dunno, I just do it.”  Not smarmy or condescending or arrogant or short-tempered...just that he didn’t put that much thought into it, rather just played what he thought sounded good.  He truly loved Charlie Parker, and that’s why his solos always sound in that vein...but aside from that, Joe Pass’ music was all his own.

Go to like 0:40 and listen for 35 seconds...

Good fucking god.  British guitarist’s reaction of video below.

UPDATE:  Great insight from the British guitarist’s video...mentioning how it’s very easy to get lost when you listen to jazz, especially solo jazz, and how Joe Pass’ style of utilizing the walking bass and self-accompaniment constantly gives the listener landmarks and focus points so they know where they are.  Really good shit.

Goddamn was Joe Pass the best.

Gimme JP, Danny Gatton, Chet Atkins and Pat Metheny...I don’t think you could come up with four guitarists in history who can match those guys for pure guitarin’.

UPDATE #2:  Go to 1:54 in the video below for like 15-20 seconds...you’ll get both the “truck driver” anecdote plus an idea of what my guitar teacher’s experience was like, all in one video...and all from a luxurious palace typical of lifelong professional jazz guitarists.

UPDATE #3:  Who the hell restricts the sharing of their videos?  Goddamnit.

Just go to this link...1:54...like 20 seconds...before he switches on a fucking dime from talking shop with Joe Pass, to complaining about what’s on the news.

Anyways, you can understand why my teacher was let down after his lesson with Pass.  There’s really not much you can learn from “a little bit of this, or maybe some of that.”  Having three contrapuntal lines moving at the same time...on an instrument not designed for such things...combined with prodigious technique, a Mariana Trench-deep musical vocabulary, and an encyclopedic knowledge of jazz canon...at a level maybe a half dozen guitarists on the planet can appreciate as peers.

...to Joe Pass, all of that was simply “a little bit of this, or maybe some of that.”  My teacher is currently on the faculty of the Cleveland Institute of Music (a world renowned classical music conservatory), a professional jazz musician, and a brilliant guitarist by every possible measure...and yet Pass was so far past him, Joe might as well have thought he was teaching a kindergarten class.

[luci-cunt]

Tips for ADHD-ers (and non <3)

idk I’ve noticed during Quarantine I’ve been mega understimulated a lot and thought maybe other ppl were suffering with the same shit so here’s just some general tips to make your lives easier <3 (and I said non because idk, if they work for u make ur like easier babey! <3)

Cleaning/ Organizing/ Thriving!

Try to make everything immediately viewable: like, don’t put cans of soup behind pasta sauce--you will forget you have it. Get shelves and then mini-shelves for shelves so the stuff behind will still be visible or hang things up! Clear storage containers are your BEST friend I promise--for food leftovers, art supplies, etc, I know it might not look the nicest to some people but seriously it’ll save u from buying 1000000000 packs of glue because you can’t remember you put them in some special box.

Set up a chore schedule: I know for myself at least it’s so hard to remember (esp with quarantine) if I’ve showered recently or when the last time I washed my sheets was. Take a page out of your kindergarten and make a chore sheet!! Assign specific chores to specific days (try only assigning one chore per day also, don’t overload it’s just to make sure you do it!) and then you don’t have to worry about remembering to do things because you’ve got a schedule. 

Tacking onto that, make designated ‘tidy’ days! For example: I have Wednesday as my designated dish day, I try to do the dishes everyday, but sometimes I’m just not in the mood and just leave them in the sink, but on Wednesdays I make sure to gather everything up and clean it in one go. Doing this with dishes, pet cleanup, general tidying, working out, and fridge clean out is really good!!!

Another addition (because I will never stop talking about chore schedules they’re literally life savers) make designated meal days!! It’s really easy for me to get lost in the days and eat nothing but instant noodles for months straight, so I try to reserve a few days a week for designated meals (ex. tuesdays = dinner, fridays = lunch, sundays = breakfast) where I try to either actively make something, or just make a meal plan for the next day. It doesn’t have to be anything big, but just try to spice up these meals, aka if you’ve been eating nothing but eggs for breakfast make pancakes instead!

(btw: for all of these things you still do them off their ‘designated’ day, like if this week you’re a pro and have made dinner ever day then hell yeah!! it’s mostly just for if you’re stuck and need help pulling yourself out of a lurch <33. Just make sure you try to keep up the routine so a habit forms)

Get soap/ cleaners you like: idk about u guys but now especially that I’ve moved out I just had been using the cleaners my mom used cuz that’s all I knew, but she always used simplegreen and windex which make my head hurt like a bitch and made cleaning an actual hell--BUT!! there are other options!! Look into what you like, or try natural cleaners (vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice are honestly better than most cleaners and they don’t smell chemically)!! You have options!! make cleaning easy on yourself!

Writing/ Studying Tips

Outline as you go: open a new doc while writing that’s just for brainstorming and write 3 headings: “Characters” / “Plot” / “Snippets” then, as you’re writing if u get an idea about a character or the plot or a snippet of dialogue you want to remember, stick it in your brainstoming doc. This has saved my ass so many times, because outlining is actual hell if you don’t want to do it. This way you remember all the lil details you thought of while writing, and you can stick them somewhere and go back to writing. Plus then you have all these awesome details in one place!!

Change music depending on stress level: this one seems pretty obvious, but it’s honesty very hard to remember. If you’re trying to focus on something very difficult but you also can’t do it in silence but you can’t stop focusing on the song’s words? Find music in a language you don’t understand and vibe to that, and if even that’s too difficult listen to music without any words at all! If you dunno how to start here’s a french pop playlist and here’s an only instrumental study playlist!

Don’t force it!!! Have you been sitting there reading the same sentence seventeen times and you still have no idea what it says? Listening to a lecture but you realize suddenly you’ve been zoning out the whole time? Getting frustrated becuase you know you can understand something but you also can’t at the same time? Take a breath--stop trying to bully through it. Usually when this happens to me I’m blocked some way and I have to either take a walk or find another way to consume whatever it is I’m doing. Aka: if you’re watching a lecture, turn on subtitles and read them as you watch. If you’re reading, copy the text and paste it into this text-to-speech reader and listen to it. Here’s also a Chrome extstention that will turn your articles into podcasts for you! just change that shit up!! stop trying to force it!! be nice to yourself!

I’m so sorry this is blocks of text aljsdlkja;dkljf idk how to do it any other way but I hope some of this was helpful?

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirty One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 21st, 1987

“There, you see, Emile? It’s as easy as that,” his dad said, helping Emile stir the noodles in the pot.

“And when this is done we’ll have mac and cheese?” Emile looked up at his dad.

With a smile, his dad nodded. “We’ll have dinner, and we’ll have spent time together. And both of those things are extremely important, and good for the soul.”

Emile nodded sagely. He didn’t always understand what his dad was saying, but in this case it seemed really, really important. He hoped that one day soon, he would understand what “good for the soul” meant.

  May 26th, 2001

Remy was laughing with Emile’s dad, and Emile was watching them both fondly. He was really glad that Remy had jumped on the chance to cook. He definitely knew how to slice and dice, and Emile was impressed. Now whether he could cook the things he was cutting up was another story entirely. “You don’t think we have stuff to make half a dozen cupcakes, do you?” Remy asked.

“We might, why do you ask?” Dad replied.

“Well...we kinda forgot to celebrate Emile’s birthday due to an...unfortunate situation up in town.”

“A...situation?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, we had so much of a situation we accidentally forgot about Emile’s birthday and didn’t get to celebrate,” Remy said sheepishly. “And then it came time to pay rent and we just...never celebrated. But I really want to fix that.”

Dad nodded. “We’ll be making cupcakes then,” he said simply.

“That’s...that’s really not necessary, Dad, we don’t have to celebrate,” Emile said.

“Of course we do, you’ve turned twenty! That’s plenty of cause to celebrate!” his dad declared. “Two whole decades on this planet!”

“You turned twenty? Not nineteen?” Remy asked.

“I was held back in kindergarten,” Emile waved off. “I hadn’t yet learned to read, believe it or not.”

“You didn’t know how to read when you were five?” Remy asked skeptically. “You?”

Emile shrugged. “Took until I was six for everything to click properly. Once I figured it out, I was quickly moving to the top of my class.”

“Ah,” Remy said. “You would have an origin story like that.”

Emile frowned. He had no clue what that was supposed to mean. “What?”

“Just...your brain seems to operate like a supercomputer, sometimes. You went from knowing virtually nothing to knowing virtually everything you asked about within the span of a year. You would. Because this is you we’re talking about, and you’re nothing if not extraordinary.”

“That’s gay, Rem,” Emile said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“We’re gay, Emile,” Remy pointed out.

“You’re gay. I’m bisexual,” Emile teased.

Remy rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Emile laughed, heart warming. He loved having little domestic moments with Remy, it made him think that they could stay together forever. He moved closer and kissed Remy’s cheek, and Remy turned red. “Stop!” he said, playfully swatting Emile’s arm. “That’s not playing fair!”

“Who said I intended to play fair?” Emile asked with a wink.

“If you’re not playing fair, you can leave the kitchen,” Remy said. “Because I need to focus on cooking.”

“Okay, boys, one of you grab a pot and fill it up with water, will you?” Dad asked.

Emile went to grab a pot, and Remy looked at the bowl they were using to mix ingredients for their meatballs with a frown. “The meatballs are missing something,” he mused.

“We added everything in the recipe,” Dad said.

“No, no, I know that,” Remy said. “But that won’t give the meatballs an extra kick in the tastebuds. It needs something else.” Remy stared at the bowl intently before saying, “Olive oil. Do you have any olive oil? I think we’ll only need like, two tablespoons.”

Dad silently passed Remy the bottle of olive oil and Remy poured in what looked to be about two tablespoons, mixing it into the meat in the bowl. Emile watched curiously. “You know, if this goes wrong, all the blame for the food tasting weird is going to land on your shoulders. Jokingly, of course, but still.”

“It won’t go wrong,” Remy said. “Let’s get these suckers in the oven and start cooking the rice.”

Emile pulled out a cookie sheet they would use to bake the meatballs on and watched in fascination as Remy near-expertly rolled the meatballs in seconds, putting them on the tray just so. Dad whistled. “You never told me your boyfriend knew his way around the kitchen, Emile.”

Remy was grinning as he worked. Emile said, “Dad, he only eats granola and instant ramen at home. I didn’t even know he knew how to cook.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Emile. I would have thought you lived by that philosophy,” Remy teased.

Emile rolled his eyes. “I never said you couldn’t cook. Cooking wasn’t brought up between us until the day you agreed to come home with me.”

“You doubted me a little,” Remy said, squinting at Emile. “You were skeptical.”

“So I was wrong, what’s the big deal?” Emile asked.

“Nothing much, I’m just happy to know you’re not perfect,” Remy said. “Lowers the bar for my expected performance just a bit.”

“You know, no one expects you to be perfect, Rem,” Emile said.

Remy scowled. “My parents do.”

“No one who matters, then,” Emile said before he could stop himself.

Remy froze and rounded on Emile, hands coated in flour still as he crossed his arms. “Are you saying my parents don’t matter?”

“Are you saying that you still want to meet their standards after they made it very clear that they’d rather have you dead than happy?” Emile asked.

Dad choked and Emile winced. “That...I would say it’s not as bad as it sounds, Dad, but I’d be lying,” Emile sighed.

“Hey, my parents may be a little controlling, but they’ll come around,” Remy said. “Once I make it clear that this makes me happy, they’ll see that I can handle myself, and they’ll be glad I’m happy.”

Emile knew that wasn’t true. In all his twenty years of existence, people who he had met that were like Remy’s parents didn’t rest until they saw you as perfect, by their standards and not anyone else’s. Emile would treat them civilly, and with respect, but to him, their opinions meant jack. Clearly, though, Remy was clinging to the hope that his parents might come around.

Emile didn’t want to dash those hopes, but he also didn’t want Remy to be let down when his parents failed him again. And they would fail him again if they didn’t get their act together. Emile doubted they would even make an attempt to fix the rift they had created. To them, everything was fine and Remy was the problem child. He didn’t know how to respond. “If you say so,” Emile said.

“You don’t believe me,” Remy huffed.

“No, I don’t,” Emile admitted. “But there is always a chance, and if you want to hold onto that infinitesimal chance, then I can’t exactly stop you.”

“Infinitesimal,” Remy repeated. “You really think...you haven’t even met my parents properly!”

“I met your mother at the police station after they put you in holding,” Emile said. “And I was not a fan.”

“I take it this is the ‘incident’ in question?” Dad asked.

“Unfortunately,” Emile said. “Remy’s mother claimed he was a runaway staying at our apartment so that she could drag him back to his parents’ house and they could continue to dictate his life.”

“You’re making it out to be way worse than it was!” Remy protested.

“You were put in a holding cell, Rem!” Emile snapped back.

“Boys, please,” Dad cut in. “Clearly, this is a touchy subject for both of you. Take a step back and regroup before you try and resolve this, okay? Shouting at each other will get you nowhere.”

Emile huffed and Remy just silently turned back to the meatballs. Dad looked at Emile and arched an eyebrow, decidedly unimpressed with Emile’s behavior, and Emile wanted to hide his face in a sweater, or else just go to his room until he cooled off. But he couldn’t leave Remy alone, so Emile scowled back at him. Dad didn’t know the context of the situation, he couldn’t understand what the big deal was!

Dad just gave him that level, thousand-yard stare back. Emile hadn’t been on the receiving end of that one for a long time. It was usually his last warning before he got a talking-to. Inwardly, he scoffed. A talking-to. Like he didn’t know Remy better than his dad or even his mom did. They had known Remy all of two hours. Emile pat Remy’s shoulder twice and left the room. He was not having this discussion. It just wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to explain why he was so angry, especially considering that he would have to go into Remy’s family life, and Remy didn’t like anyone doing that.

Emile stalked all the way to his room, and flopped down on his bed. He really wasn’t up for this as much as he thought he was. Maybe coming here for the weekend was a bad idea.

He stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of time before there was a knock on his bedroom door. He flipped over onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. “Not now, Mom.”

“Emile, you haven’t stormed out of any room since you were fourteen years old. Something is wrong, and I know you’ll feel better if you talk about it sooner rather than later,” Mom said.

“No,” Emile repeated, burying his head in his pillow further.

His mom tutted. “You know, you’re acting an awful lot like how you described Remy in the beginning of your relationship,” she said neutrally.

Emile pushed himself off the bed, pacing and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah? Well I understand where he was coming from, now, so maybe it’s normal to act like that after meeting his fu—”

“—Think carefully before you finish that sentence,” his mom warned.

“He’s clinging to a hope that’s completely unrealistic! I’ve met people like his parents before, and all they want is for you to meet their expectations, no matter how impossible it is to reach them! He’s setting himself up for failure, and I don’t want to see him get hurt!” Emile growled.

“Then tell him where you’re coming from,” his mom said.

Emile laughed incredulously. “Don’t you think I would have already tried that?! He’s completely closed off to feedback!”

“Yeah, well, given your delivery of this little rant, it’s a small wonder he listens to you at all,” his mom said. “You’re not exactly being gentle.”

Emile scoffed. “Every time I try to be gentle, he shuts me down! He hates sugarcoating, but he also won’t listen at all when it comes to those two idiots he has the misfortune to call his parents!”

His mom stepped in front of Emile, and forced him to stay still. She gazed up into his eyes and smiled softly. “Emile, you can’t save everyone. Not everyone wants to be saved. And you have a long way to go before you know almost everything about helping people through past trauma. Have you ever considered that, maybe, he doesn’t like sugarcoating because he feels lied to? Furthermore, maybe his parents are a sensitive topic, one of the few where no matter what you do, you have to be gentle. Sugarcoating might not be the way to go, but you can’t just storm in and expect him to listen to you, especially when you’re acting the way you are right now.”

“Why can’t he understand that wanting them to be there is hurting him? He’s the reason he’s setting himself up for disappointment. And if they don’t change and he lets them back in his life, he’s going to get hurt worse,” Emile said.

His mom gave him a hug. “Honey, you can’t save everyone. No one expects you to. And if Remy wants to believe his parents can change, let him for now. It means he isn’t ready to accept your view on the matter yet.”

“What if he’s never ready?” Emile asked. “What if he continuously tries to convince himself his parents will change their mind?”

“Then you let him believe that, honey,” his mom said. “And if you can’t stand to watch him get hurt, then you walk away.”

Emile swallowed, but nodded. He didn’t like that prospect, but he knew that his mom was right. If watching Remy get hurt was going to hurt Emile, then clearly he couldn’t stick around forever watching Remy get worse and worse, over and over.

[thekrawra]

Ricky, Nini, and Gina: POST EPISODE 8 DEBRIEF - plantonic vs romantic

okay so ricky and gina have stolen my heart and soul apparently and in light of the new episode here i am, talking about it again.

so first and foremost i do want to say that i think ricky and nini have potential to be a good ship, and i’m not blind to say they have no chemistry.

however - the show’s writing is painting ricky and gina in a more favourable light than ricky and nini. this was extremely evident in episode 8.

ricky and nini’s relationship has been endlessly painted in negatives for both of them. we get confirmation this episode that they were very close friends, nini was ricky’s first crush, and then they started to date. after ricky didn’t say “i love you”, they took a break, broke up, and then their friendship kinda fell with it. this is the friendliest we see nini and ricky being with each other all season, and even then it was surrounded with an awkward tension... that to me at least did read as good.

and the writing was clever for that entire part: things were awkward, uncomfortable, then ricky starts reminiscing on their past friendship starting in kindergarten and it gets less awkward and more natural and they are friendly, then ricky brings up the big “i love you” issue and it gets awkward again.

then ricky gets the message from gina, who he’s been worried about. and while being an easy prompt to lead into the next subject also reminds us that this other person ricky is very close to and potentially growing romantically closer to is still present and a factor in this situation. to fully commit to ricky and nini, it would have been more helpful to leave gina out of the conversation entirely — and it would have been easy to slip in the gina leaving a day early comment at the beginning of the ep. they didn’t HAVE to include it during the nini and ricky conversation: in doing so they allowed for a more direct comparison between the characters.

so then nini and ricky continue to talk and nini mentions the school in denver and ricky’s response is interesting because he’s happy and supportive of her. again: heavily open to interpretation, but with everything going on with his parents and with the fact that last time nini went away (during the summer) she came back with a new boyfriend, you’d think he’d at least have a mixed reaction — because yes he would want to support her, but her leaving not only a) completely ruins his chances with her and b) wrecks his support system. that being said he didn’t hesitate in supporting her.

here’s where this piece gets subjective based on my interpretation: this to me, based on what i know and understand of ricky’s character, reads as ricky has moved past nini. to an extent that i don’t think he’s consciously realized. he’s okay with her going, he doesn’t NEED her as he once did.

the entire conversation is lead by ricky reminiscing on their friendship (nini too but ricky initiated the conversation). it’s also important to note that it only gets awkward and uncomfortable when ricky brings up elements of their romantic relationship (even something with a positive connotation like having a crush on her) but they click very naturally as friends.

yes they almost kiss, but a) they don’t and b) neither seemed all that happy about it after the fact. ricky seemed almost iritated or confused - he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. and nini outright said it wouldn’t happen again. if both were still interested in getting back together in anyway, it’s a strange reaction to have.

this episode showed us a ricky and nini happy as friends, and also made sure to showcase that the romance for them just doesn’t help their relationship, in fact instead only hurts it. every time something romantic came up, they both became uncomfortable, and awkward, and could barely look at each other afterwards.

where does gina fit in? sure her or ricky haven’t really engaged in anything explicitly romantic yet, but they’ve had happy moments, and ricky spent some key moments in this episode worried about her. in an episode based around ricky and nini reminiscing on their relationship, sure she wasn’t present, but she definitely lingered as a contrast.

ricky and nini’s romantic relationship, in the writing of this series, has yet to be posed as anything but negative for the two of them. it messed up their friendship, and sure some feelings might linger but the two just have hardcore friend energy. in many technical elements of the writing: there’s not much that really pushes forward hope for a positive romantic relationship between the two of them, and it almost seems like both of them are starting to acknowledge it.

if they were just going to write gina out to have ricky and nini, they wouldn’t have mentioned gina and they wouldn’t have had ever time ricky and nini begin any sort of romantic dialogue or action have their comfort levels with each other fall entirely.

this is pretty rambly but to me, this entire episode read as very focused on proving that nini and ricky are better friends than they are romantic partners.

also that ricky is very concerned about gina and is moving past nini. she still one of his best friends, but he doesn’t read as in love with her anymore. he didn’t react positively to almost kissing her, even though she’s not dating anyone anymore, and even though she seemed to want to kiss him in the moment this time.

in fact, he lingers on their past and honestly the only interjection about the future of them is when he supports her about leaving, which inherently puts them as not together.

so you know, who knows, but a) i hope that the writing remains consistent and they continue alluding to what it seems they are alluding to. ricky and nini getting back together just doesn’t seem natural, with how negatively the idea of them being back together seems to be implied (the show hasn’t really given a reason why they should be back together other than the insulated plot arc established in episode one — but there’s no justified character reason since we haven’t seen them romantically together in a positive light and the only times they’ve been friendly have been effectively ruined by the insertion of a romantic element). as someone who has ruined friendships because of romantic feelings that didn’t play out — i’d really love to see ricky and nini realize that they are better friends than lovers before it’s too late.

and b) we’ve seen ricky and gina grow close and build up and develop around each other, each pushing the other further into their development. a romantic relationship serves to in some way help the two of them, and there’s no underlying negative connotation to the two of them being romantically linked. no friendships ruined, no disaster mistakes threatening both of their opinions and ideals concerning the relationship. gina staying and leaving the option of a potential relationship between ricky and gina leaves room for stuff in season two but also doesn’t feel like we are being forced into any relationship. id love to see gina and ricky together officially but more than anything i just want to see them happy and they seem happiest with each other.

sure a lot of this is personal interpretation, but i’d hope the the writing remains consistent and continues to defy expectation. a ricky and nini endgame just feels cheap and inconsistent at that point when so far the series has pointed to almost anything else in its implications.