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feeder86 · 1 year

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Acting Out

Cam could definitely say he’d given it his best shot. After years of dreaming about being a star, he’d packed up his things and headed straight to Los Angeles at the age of eighteen. He’d been convinced that he could make it; that he had what it took - even his high school Yearbook had said so. When he got the commercial job, he’d been sure that it was the start of big things for him. But that was six years ago now.

Fed up of living in a dump and barely making enough from working in a trashy downtown bar, Cam had finally decided that enough was enough. There was always going to be someone better looking than he was; someone more talented and versatile. It was time to admit defeat and head home.

Cam had been surprised by how many of his old high school buddies had wanted to meet up for a drink upon his return. Everyone had seen the commercial he’d done and, for a small town like this, Cam realised that, in their eyes at least, he’d made something of himself during those awkward early years of adulthood.

“So what’s your plan now you’re back home?” Fin asked, as the conversation remained steadily focused on Cam.

Cam shrugged. “Get a job, I guess. Start trying to work my way out of my folk’s place.” It was something that was easier said than done. He’d not paid all that much attention in school and had since breezed from one bar job to another, never picking up much in the way of experience or skills.

“That home decor place by the old quarry is looking for someone,” Daz jumped in. “I saw a sign up in their window.”

“I hardly think Cam wants to spend his time just selling bathroom tiles,” Fin countered, as if he was trying to protect Cam’s imaginary celebrity status.

“Isn’t that where Kirk Ploughman works now?” Bill asked with a smirk.

Cam’s mind whirred into life at the mention of the name. He hadn’t thought about Kirk in years. The guy had been high school royalty, with his tall frame and built, lean, muscular body that seemed a biological impossibility for someone who was just eighteen. When he’d run with the football, guys didn’t want to go in for that tackle. But he hadn’t been all that interested in school and, consequently, Kirk had shared many of the same classes with Cam; though neither of them had ever really taken the time to get to know each other. Still, he’d been great eye-candy back then. “Kirk Ploughman?” Cam asked, feeling the familiarity of that name as it rolled off his tongue. “He still lives in town? I thought he’d have been signed up for some big football club by now?”

Cam had no idea what it was about what he’d said that had been so funny, but suddenly everyone around him had burst into fits of laughter. “Kirk Ploughman?” Bill echoed, chuckling. “A professional athlete? Geez! You can tell you haven’t been back here for some time!”

“Why?” Cam asked, feeling completely lost as the laughter continued rolling around the room. “Did something happen?”

“Kirk started to put on a little weight after high school,” Fin explained over the chorus of laughter.

“A little weight?” Bill retorted. “Now that’s a fucking understatement! Every time I see the guy he’s gained about fifty pounds of fresh blubber!”

Cam blushed. He both loved and hated tales such as these; ones where high school jocks became consumed by their own gluttonous appetites and started to balloon. There was something so erotic about it. They were fantasies he’d jacked off to his whole life and developed into a kink that he just couldn’t seem to shake off. Even now he could feel his dick hardening.

“Oh, I see him all the time down the supermarket,” Vinny added, pulling a face of utter disgust. “You only need to take one look in his shopping cart to see why he’s probably close to five hundred pounds now.”

Now Cam’s dick really did pulse and stiffen. Kirk Ploughman, a five hundred pound superchub? It was like the ultimate fantasy. It was all he could do to resist the urge to ask if anyone had a picture.

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to be stuck working with Kirk,” Bill finally summarised. “I don’t think the fat fuck gets off his ass much to do anything around that place. You’d probably have to do his job as well as your own.”

The seed had been sown. Cam knew he’d need to go and enquire about the job tomorrow; even just for curiosity’s sake. The erotic images he had of Kirk in his mind right then were just too enticing to ignore.

The store was every bit the small town cliché. A little bell rang as Cam opened the door and he had the sense that the place was waking up from a late morning nap. He looked around, spotting an older guy at the counter and headed straight over. He’d begun by asking about the job, and the man, calling himself Bob, had seemed so relieved that someone was in there asking about the position. Cam soon found himself agreeing to a paid trial shift right there and then. For the next two hours, he’d learned almost everything there was to know, while only a handful of customers came in to interrupt them.

“Our busiest days are at the weekend,” the older man explained. “The other regular guy who works here is… Well, you get used to him. I sold him part of the business a couple of years ago when I wanted to step back from it. However, I’m not quite sure how up for it he really is. Anyway, you’ll be working with him a lot.”

“You mean, Kirk?” Cam asked. “I knew him in high school.”

Bob seemed relieved that he didn’t need to go on explaining about Kirk. He’d taken an obvious amount of care with the words he had chosen to desscibe Kirk and tried to phrase things with such diplomacy, it was like he had been put on trial. With that done, he simply shook Cam’s hand. “Welcome to the team!”

As Cam started work early the next day, he found the vibe of the store very much changed. Rock music was blasting from the back room and, with only half the lights switched on, the store seemed oddly disorientating. He shouted to the back, not wanting to progress behind the counter right away and potentially startle whoever was on the shift with him that day, but there really was no choice. He stepped gingerly into the little room at the back, where the loud music was coming from, only to see a very large, spherically shaped guy snacking from a tall stack of buttery toast he’d just made himself and slurping on a can of soda.

So engrossed was he in his breakfast, the guy had yet to notice him and Cam simply watched as the enormously fat man demolished a slice of toast in seconds. It was Kirk, even under all that fat, there was no doubting it. He’d grown a thick, stubbly beard that failed to conceal the fact that his neck was no longer visible. All traces of the jock physique had gone and Cam found himself almost swooning as he surveyed the size of the guy’s blubbery chest and nipples. Still, it was his gut that was the main event. So round and ball-like, it sat in his lap, filling most of it with ease. And those ginormous, doughy arms, that had once been so strong and muscular, now strained the fit of the already tight work shirt Kirk was having to wear.

“Hello,” Cam waved, using his arms to grab Kirk’s attention, realising that he had to stop silently standing there like some sort of creepy stalker.

Kirk raised his eyebrows and looked over. He nodded and pushed the remaining half of one of his slices of toast into his greedy mouth, put his plate down, and then carefully lowered the volume of the speaker.

“You’re the new guy?” Kirk asked. Already his tongue was licking his lips like he wanted another slice of his toast. Still, he squinted at Cam and then finally raised his gigantic body up. “It’s… Cam, right?” he considered, as if he had lifted the name up from the bottom of a very deep well.

Cam outstretched his hand and reintroduced himself, surprised at how buttery the palm of Kirk’s large hands actually felt. It hadn’t taken long for them to get the small talk over with and it was immediately clear that Kirk didn’t have the same fascination about his life in LA as everyone else he had met so far. Cam knew he’d gone a little far, choosing a job simply because he’d been turned on by the thought of working with such a superb specimen of ‘ex-jock’. But now that he was here and Kirk was standing in front of him in all his lardy, five hundred pound glory, he realised that he really didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Oof! Check her out!” Kirk whispered slyly, later that day. He nodded his head towards a very large woman, probably twenty years older than both of them, pulling a face that immediately spoke of his attraction to her.

Cam looked over at the big woman, hardly believing that Kirk, the sexiest guy in their high school, who had dated every hot girl in their class, was now checking out such a plain, obese woman in her late forties. “I take it you’re an ass man then?” Cam simply replied, seeing the enormous butt on the lady as she turned around.

“I do like some junk in the trunk,” Kirk nodded, fixated at the sight of the massive glutes. Then, for the first time in at least three hours, the man picked himself off his extra large chair and started striding over, his chest puffed out, ready to help the new customer.

Cam felt his dick harden for the hundredth time that day. Kirk’s own ass was so wide and thick as he headed over to the big lady. But something about seeing Kirk getting aroused had also turned Cam on; like it was an enticing window into the ex-jock’s mind.

“She’s married,” Cam grunted as he returned a couple of minutes later. “I saw the wedding ring. Lucky bastard!” he went on, throwing himself back down into the aching, tortured chair. Then, he simply reached under the counter to the mini-fridge he’d set himself up with, and took out another can of soda to crack open.

Cam slowly started to realise why everyone he had spoken to about Kirk regarded him with such disdain. The guy simply had no matters at all. He was a slave to his own appetite, constantly grazing throughout the day and throwing out large, guttural burps, no matter how many customers were wandering about in the store. Cam could also have counted on a single hand how many times the man had gotten up off his chair; lazily sending Cam as often as he could.

Not for the first time, Cam found himself wishing that he could rid himself of his strange infatuation. Why did he find Kirk’s gluttony, slobbishness and lazy work ethic to be such a turn on? It wasn’t normal! Yet, he knew for certain, there hadn’t been anyone in his entire life he’d had a crush on like this. Five days into his new job and Cam knew he was absolutely lost to it. The amount of calories he’d seen Kirk take down had been out of this world, and he came, thinking about just that, within five minutes of getting home each night.

It was easy to see why Kirk kept a plentiful stash of soda cans in his little fridge at work; with faulty air conditioning, the place could start to feel uncomfortable very quickly. But he was also generous to share them out with Cam. The days could be long and boring when fewer people came into the store. Kirk’s interests lay more with the online aspect of the business, which he himself had initiated; explaining that there was a surprising amount of cash to be made in selling on discontinued lines that were hard to come by. Kirk could buy and sell thousands of dollars worth of tiles without even having to get up off his wide rear; it was an enterprise that was bound to keep the business afloat for many years to come; even on those slow days in the store.

“Here,” called Kirk, sliding a can of soda down the counter to Cam. “Have another one. You need a sugar boost. You’re looking tired.”

Cam nodded and popped the can open, taking a long slurp. Kirk was right; hot, stuffy days like this tended to leech all the energy from his body as he looked at his watch and saw that he still had another four hours to go. There was just something about the building; the enormity of it and the stale air inside. Kirk offered him one of his doughnuts and Cam took it gratefully, already starting to feel a little perkier. “Any collections you need me to get ready?” he asked Kirk, checking on the online orders, desperate for something to do.

“Maybe later,” Kirk replied dismissively, taking a large slurp from his own soda and then cracking out another, after a long, drain-like burp. “You should listen to this…” he went on enthusiastically, clicking for a song to play on the computer. Kirk was passionate about his rock music and Cam was slowly acquiring quite an education about it all; especially after Kirk had downloaded some tracks for him to listen to at home. “Pretty good, huh?” he smiled as the heavy drums came into their own.

Cam had to admit that he quite liked Kirk’s taste in music and the pair of them sat there for the next hour, playing track after track as the large box of donuts slowly diminished.

“So, what’s it like working with Kirk?” Bill asked a few weeks later, as Cam met up with some of the guys once again.

“Well, Kirk pretty much runs the place; so it’s more like I’m the one working for him,” Cam clarified.

“I bet it’s a complete shit show if Kirk’s in charge!” Vinny joked. “My sister had to coach him through algebra back in high school. He’s not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, is he?”

Everyone laughed, happy to mock Kirk, just like last time. It made Cam’s jaws clench and his teeth start to grind in frustration. Kirk’s rapid weight gain since high school had left him exposed to unjustified assumptions about his intelligence from everyone else. “Actually, Kirk’s business model is very successful,” he countered. “Some days, Kirk can make more cash sat on his butt than you guys make in a month. He’s even buying more of a stake in the business, so he’ll be the majority owner.”

It was hard for the guys to think of a witty retort to the revelation that Kirk did have some business sense after all, but they soon managed it. Cam was relieved when the conversation finally turned away from the subject of his new boss. He swallowed down his third beer and burped to relieve the gas that had quickly built up in his stomach. The others laughed, but looked at each other, seeming perplexed to see their suave LA buddy showing such a blatant lack of manners. It made Cam blush slightly, thinking to himself: had he been spending too much time in Kirk’s company?

Cam had received more shifts at the store than he had been expecting. During the week, it was pretty quiet, but Kirk seemed to like the fact that he could concentrate on the online sales, without customers getting to him. For the most part, it was easy money; despite the long hours. Kirk was decent company and he didn’t mind closing up for an hour or so as they went for lunch somewhere. Kirk always paid, as his way of knocking off some tax for the business. It meant that Cam was slowly building up a little pot of savings, ready for him to rent his own place. Living with his folks had been a welcome relief after struggling for years in LA; but now he was more than ready to move on. Not least because of the tightness he was starting to feel in his clothes as he dressed for work each day. His mother’s home cooking had always been a comfort, but without a gym subscription or the metabolism of a teenager, Cam slowly felt like he was constantly bloated. It was mortifying. He’d met up for some fun with a guy a few nights earlier who had directly called him out on it, claiming that he looked much ‘chubbier’ in real life. Chubbier! Really? Back in LA, he’d had to work hard to maintain his image, always waiting for that big break just around the corner. Had he really let things slide that badly since he’d come home?

“There’re some fresh pastries in the back,” Kirk pointed as Cam arrived at work the next morning.

Cam had bought some more relaxed pants for work but his mom had obviously shrunk them, trying to help him with his washing even though he had asked her not to. They pinched into his hips, making him grumpy as he helped himself to a couple of the pastries. What a waste of money buying these pants had been!

“What’s got you in a mood this morning?” Kirk asked, spotting Cam’s frustration as he wriggled to get comfortable in his restrictive pants.

“I need to get out of my parents’ place,” Cam huffed. “They mean well but… fuck! I need my own space!” he sighed, reaching under the counter to help himself to a cool soda from the small refrigerator. He cracked it open and chugged it like an ice cold beer after a long day of hard labour.

“I know that feeling!” Kirk nodded. “I moved out not long after high school. I just needed to feel more in control of my own life,” he went on, placing both of his hands on the shelf of his giant stomach and watching as Cam took large bites out of his pastries.

“Do you still do much with your family?” Cam asked, realising now that Kirk had never mentioned them before.

“Not really,” Kirk replied. “My dad really wanted me to take the football thing more seriously and when I told him I was bored of it and preferred eating cheeseburgers instead, he never quite forgave me. I knew I had to get out of there if I was ever going to have the sort of life I really wanted for myself. They actually moved out of town about four years ago.”

“Ouch!” Cam responded, feeling bad for his friend. “That must have been rough?”

“Nah,” Kirk replied dismissively. “It’s awesome, not having to worry about their looks of disapproval, seeing them around town.” One hand rubbed against his belly as if it comforted him. He stood, getting the box of pastries from the back room and plopping them down on the counter between them as the two men prepared for another quiet day.

“Hey, Bob, do you have any more work shirts in your van? My mom has done my washing again and…” he raised his arms to show how short and tight it had become, “...she has a tendency to shrink stuff.”

Bob didn’t do many shifts, and even fewer where he was paired up with Cam, but he looked at the fit of Cam’s shirt without any hint of humour. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you about Kirk,” he sighed. “He has a habit of doing this.”

“Doing what?” Cam asked, starting to search for the box of shirts himself.

“If Kirk offers you food, just say no,” Bob stated with absolute certainty. “I’ll find you a new shirt for now, but…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “He does this every time. He starts putting a little gut on all the guys who come work here,” the older man grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval. “Kirk is a lovely guy, don’t get me wrong, but his sense of humor is warped. Just be aware that he’s more than likely getting some sort of weird thrill out of playing with you.”

Cam’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not quite sure what you mean?” he asked, despite already starting to feel his heart racing with inexplicable adrenaline.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think the world of Kirk. I was friends with his grandfather back in the day and I’ve known him since he was a little boy. But how does a strapping football athlete from a good family suddenly get a giant, fat belly like that on him?” he asked, pointing at the enormous, empty chair where Kirk usually sat during his shifts; the lower cushion flattened into a dish shape by the huge heavy rear. “We watched it happen when he was nineteen. He was such a good-looking boy, but folks in town said he was stuffing himself like he actually wanted to get fat! And he was dating these really fat… and I mean FAT women,” he repeated for emphasis, holding his short arms out almost as wide as they would go. “Believe it or not, that massive chair was what he asked his family to get for him for his twenty-first birthday. And he’s spent the last few years eating as if he’s actively trying to outgrow it. Have you heard the way it creaks now?” he asked, shaking the tortured frame of the chair. “Before he went into a home, his grandfather asked me to take him on here; see if I could sort him out a bit and give him some stability. But…” he pointed again at the empty chair, “...I think what the people in town said was true: he wants to be fat. And I think he gets off on seeing it happen to other people as well.”

Cam’s dick was tingling in his pants and he knew that he’d need to sit down pretty fast. The idea that Kirk enjoyed being fat wasn’t a complete surprise, but the thought of him getting some sort of erotic thrill out of pushing extra calories on Cam was a strangely arousing prospect. He snuck off to the bathroom fairly soon afterwards and just gazed at himself in the privacy of the mirror. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to properly appraise his reflection like this? But now that he was looking, it was obvious how much his middle had been thickening. Was it Kirk who had convinced him that it was his mom shrinking his clothes in the wash? Cam hadn’t given that idea any consideration at all. It had been a lie; a cunning lie, implanted into his head as Kirk brought in more and more delicious treats as the weeks had gone on. Had Cam… had he actually been… fattened up on purpose?

The next day, Kirk was already back in his seat, with the early morning radio blasting out before the doors officially opened. “I was in the mood for muffins this morning,” he stated casually. “Help yourself.”

Despite how foolish Cam felt, the sight of Kirk never failed to take his breath away. That handsome face, all bloated with the lard he had packed on since high school. Thinking about Kirk deliberately fattening himself had supercharged Cam’s libido yesterday and he had come five times, alone in his bedroom, just imagining it.

“Aren’t you going to have a muffin?” Kirk pressed a few minutes later when Cam had simply sat himself down without heading into the back room. “I’ll get them for you,” he offered helpfully, picking up his gigantic body and squeezing by, into the backroom. “Enjoy!” he smiled, throwing the box down by Cam’s side.

Had it not been for the conversation with Bob the day before, Cam knew he would have picked up at least two muffins without a second thought. Now, he knew he needed to sort himself out and not be taken in by Kirk any more. But his mouth had been filling with saliva since the moment Kirk had mentioned them and now that the muffins were glistening in front of him, he felt genuinely hungry. Turned on by the sight of his biggest crush, Cam found his resolve wavering. He knew that he was attracted enough to Kirk that he would have shot up off his chair, climbed into the man’s crotch and sucked that massive fatty off until closing time. So, why wouldn’t he just eat a little muffin for him? After all, Bob seemed to believe that there was some sort of thrill in it for Kirk.

Cam heard the refrigerator door opening and the crack of a soda can opening and then being placed next to him. It was all true; Kirk really was trying to deliberately fatten him up! “I think it’s going to get pretty stuffy in here soon,” the fat man stated; his chosen casual excuse for serving a sweet, sugary calorie bomb to his work coleague.

It was the idea of playing to Kirk’s supposed kinks that finally made Cam pick up his first muffin and slurp on the soda. He wondered what it was about this whole scenario that did it for the big man. After all, now that Cam thought about it, Kirk must have spent a fair amount of money on all those casual treats and snacks for him over the last few months. Perhaps there was a slight submissive side to Cam’s sexuality; suddenly wondering how he could play his part in Kirk’s twisted games; to entertain and arouse him. Just the thought of creating even the tiniest twitch in Kirk’s dick sent Cam into a tailspin of longing. He’d been so aroused since his conversation with Bob and he felt that same breathless lust within him as he took a second large bite out of the muffin, already finding his other hand preloading the next sugary treat. “These are good!” he exclaimed, speaking with a full mouth, just as Kirk always did. He noticed now that Kirk was watching keenly as he ate. Had he always done that? The sensation of being watched now seemed to ignite a spark of sexual energy in Cam and he soon found himself taking down that second muffin, followed by a third and, inexplicably, a fourth as well; all washed down with a second fresh soda, supplied to him by Kirk. He burped, letting it all out and enjoying the fact that Kirk didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Are we closing at lunch again today?” Kirk asked. “It’s Friday and I’m sort of in the mood for burgers and fries.”

Cam glanced down at himself, suddenly finding that that tight pinch of his pants and strange fit of his work shirt had become a source of a strange eroticism for him. He nodded. The way he was feeling right then, he would have eaten anything Kirk asked him to.

Getting out of the shower a few weeks later, Cam wiped off the steam from the mirror and took a hard look at himself. He’d spent years developing his chest muscles in LA, but even with all the protein shakes and supplements, he’d never had a thick little tummy like he had now. He could see the build up of fat, deepening his belly button and swelling around his waist, creating love handles for the first time in his life. He thought about what his LA friends would have said if they saw him like this, or the notes he would have received from casting directors if he went into an audition looking like this. He probably could have allowed that shame to have spurred him on to do something about it, were it not for the immediate levitation of his dick, knowing exactly who was doing this to him. He spun around, looking in the mirror at how his love handles pitched and bulged as he did so. He stared at his glutes, once so pert and beefy, but now oversized and obviously swollen with fresh blubber and jiggly from the lack of exercise. Was the weight spreading into his thighs too? That was new. What would they have described this as in LA? The dad-bod? He definitely now looked like a guy who was more into his food and sitting on the couch, rather than one who frequented the gym. He took his hand to his dick, knowing that he’d never get any peace until he drained it again; staring with a mixture of shock, disgust and awe at his own reflection.

The comments soon started cropping up as Cam entered his eighth month of being back home. Despite multiple payments he had made, the interest rates on Cam’s credit cards were starting to bite and, despite all the hours he was working, Cam felt like he had very little to show for it. Cheap sweatshorts became his new best friend for work, but he didn’t have much cash to replace anything else. His old shirts still hugged nicely against his arms and chest, but their tight fit left him exposed to criticism about how rounded his middle had become. His dad had even offered to pay for a gym subscription for him, but when would he ever have the time for that? It seemed like a good compromise; still getting to overeat for Kirk, but at least maintaining a bit of control about how he looked by working out at the gym. Yet, Cam resisted, simply getting harder and harder the longer he allowed his current sloth-like lifestyle to continue.

Cam got very used to seeing those faces from high school he’d long forgotten about. He was surprised how fast their full names came back to him. He saw a young couple coming in and recognised the girl as being one of the cheerleaders from back in the day: Sadie Parry. She walked hand in hand with a strapping, athletic-looking guy, wandering the aisles.

“Didn’t you used to date her?” Cam asked, turning to Kirk, sitting engrossed in the computer screen.

Kirk looked across the store, making his old chair scream, just as the couple came back into view for a brief moment. A vague recognition then relaxed Kirk’s face of concentration. “Probably,” he shrugged. “I dated a lot of that crowd in high school.”

“You don’t even remember?” Cam laughed.

Kirk shrugged. “I was with a lot of girls in high school. It was the expected thing in the football team.”

“Oh, how awful for you!” Cam joked. “All those hot girls lining up for you like that!”

Kirk looked over at the couple with disapproval. “Well, it made me realise one thing: I knew I didn’t want to be stuck the rest of my life with girls like Sadie Parry. I bet she makes that guy absolutely miserable if ever he misses a gym session. Appearances are everything to girls like that. Check out the handbag and shoes.” With that, he picked up a doughnut from the tray in front of them and bit into a full half of it. “No thanks!” he finally huffed.

“I know what you mean,” Cam agreed. “LA was completely superficial like that as well. Everyone had to look a certain way and, in the end, you just get so sick of it. Coming back here has really helped me see that.” He too picked up a doughnut and took a bite, but had to put it down when Sadie and her boyfriend came wandering over.

“Do you do these in another colour?” she questioned, holding a tile sample. “Oh.. wait. Cam?” she asked, taking in his face. Her eyes travelled up and down his body. “I saw you in that commercial a few years ago. I hardly recognised you,” she stated, with her eyes fixed on his budding paunch.

“Yeah, I moved back here a few months ago,” Cam mumbled as he saw Sadie’s eyes find the half-eaten doughnut on the desk beside him.

“We all thought you were going to be a real movie star,” she went on, in that slyly obnoxious way that was all coming back to Cam now. “Now you’re here, obviously eating far too many crappy doughnuts and working in a dump like this.” Her boyfriend was standing beside her, but she clearly didn’t think enough of Cam now to introduce him. As for Kirk, she didn’t even bother looking at him. “So, do you do this in another colour then?” she repeated, holding the tile up once more.

Incensed, Cam picked up the sugary snack beside him and took a giant bite. “No,” he simply stated, ending the conversation flat and staring at her as he chewed.

Seeming to sense the slight, Sadie turned, put the tile down on the nearest shelf and led her hapless boyfriend out of the store.

Kirk broke into a roar of laughter as the door closed behind them.

“Your exes are bitches!” Cam joked, still standing up from the subtle confrontation. “I think I just got fat shamed!” he chuckled in disbelief.

“I think you might be right!” Kirk agreed, sliding over in his chair to give Cam’s think rump a pat. It was an odd thing to do, but the sensation of being touched, however innocently by Kirk, made Cam’s heart race. “You handled her perfectly though. I was so proud!”

“Yeah?” Cam asked, enjoying Kirk’s praise.

“Of course!” he smiled. “I’m delighted with my little apprentice.” They held a stare for a moment, then as Cam sat himself back down, he saw the tray of doughnuts being gently pushed in his direction; letting Cam know that it wasn’t the running of the store that he was being trained in.

Cam’s supposed Holywood status had long since worn off in town, which had been a welcome relief. He didn’t really have the cash to go out drinking when the guys asked and it eased his finances when the invitations became fewer and farther between. Kirk had given him one of his old games consoles and was lending him a few titles. Having never really been much of a gamer growing up, Cam found his new hobby strangely addictive. Sometimes, on the days he was not working, he could go the entire time without leaving the house. Shamefully, he could feel his ass spreading as he sat up in his bed, snacking on whatever he had found in the refrigerator. His body shape was changing yet again. Another layer of fat seemed to be spreading across this body, softening him up a lot more than before. He could feel the blubber on his pecs and arms, and was becoming quite used to the mass of a small gut starting to creep out in front of him. He’d had no choice but to use some of his pay on some larger clothes; with the elastic on his old underwear finding the changes to his body particularly stressful. His family didn’t waste time trying to be subtle about how fat he was getting. His mother had even stuck pictures of him from a couple of years earlier on the refrigerator; a tip she had picked up from daytime tv that was supposed to make Cam think twice before he went raiding in there. She couldn’t possibly have realised that the actual effect was the complete opposite. Just like the memory of how fit and muscular Kirk had once been added to Cam’s attraction to him, so did the thrill of being reminded about his own transformation, building into an arousal that he couldn’t quite put into words. He’d certainly never imagined himself getting to two hundred and forty pounds after maintaining a sleek one sixty-five his entire adult life.

Cam put on his new favourite shirt and stared hard at the little round belly it still showed underneath. Having been invited round to play games at Kirk’s place that night, he knew that he wanted to look good. He’d pictured Kirk’s apartment for so long and he was genuinely surprised when the reality matched up almost entirely with that vision in his head. Kirk cared little about tidiness. Clothes and junk littered the floor and the big man had to add even more to it as he cleared a space on the couch for Cam to sit down. Forgetting the pizza they would be ordering later, everything they could possibly want was on the coffee table: beers, chips, doughnuts, candy bars. It was exactly the sort of life Cam had pictured Kirk settling into. They’d often ordered pizza into the store at lunchtime, so it was no surprise to see the way Kirk stacked the slices up and gorged; however, it was no less erotic to see each time.

“You can see why I haven’t invited you her until now,” Kirk pointed around at his apartment. I moved in when I was nineteen and never really got into the idea of keeping the place tidy. I need a new chair as well,” he grumbled, reaching forward for another beer and hearing his tortured armchair groan underneath his heavy form. “I fritter most of my cash away each month, on takeout, music and games.”

Cam tried to ignore how turned on he felt, sat next to a bundle of enormous Kirk’s dirty clothes. He wanted to hold them and marvel at the great expanse of material that was needed to clothe the ex-football star’s body. “Have you always lived her alone?” he asked, knowing that Kirk had had at least a few girlfriends in the last few years.

“A couple of girlfriends lived here in the past,” Kirk nodded in a noncommittal manner. “Never for very long. Those abs I had in high school disappeared pretty quickly once I moved in here.” He sat up more, as if he was energised by the conversation. “The girl I was with at the time couldn’t quite believe it. One minute she was dating this muscular athlete and the next, I was this doughy little pig. I gained one hundred pounds in the first year I was living on my own!”

Cam nodded knowingly. He knew the feeling, having gained almost eighty pounds in the last fourteen months. He pictured Kirk in those early days of getting fat and his dick pulsed down in his crotch.

“I tried dating some larger women in my early twenties. Some people don’t mind that I’m fat now,” Kirk went on. “I was in a long-distance relationship with a girl from New York a few years ago. She was really into me, but the attraction wasn’t quite there for me, unfortunately. If she’d have gained a few pounds with me, I think she would have looked a lot better. But she was dead against that idea and, in the end, the distance got the better of us.”

“So, you’re just into chubby girls?” Cam asked him, having always been intrigued by Kirk’s sexual tastes.

“Fat, not chubby,” Kirk corrected him, as if that distinction was of the utmost importance to him. “Someone like me.”

“I’m not sure that exists. I think you’re just one of a kind,” Cam joked.

“I don’t know about that…” Kirk grinned. “I can think of at least one person who is very similar to me.”

Cam blushed, sensing that Kirk was actually talking about him. They’d finished gaming and sat, nursing their beers contemplatively. The beer was giving Cam a little courage, so that when a question popped into his head, he suddenly found it rolling off his tongue. “Did you get fat on purpose?” he asked. “Because, that’s what some people in town think.”

A massive, wicked grin filled Kirk’s face. “You really want to know?” he asked teasingly.

Cam thought for a moment, sensing that the answer could alter the way he saw Kirk forever. He nodded.

“It was the whole reason why I moved out of home,” Kirk stated frankly, sliding a hand over the bulk of his ginormous gut. “I hated my abs in high school. I hated the expectation that I had to play football just cause I was taller and more built than everyone else. I used to gorge myself all the time, but the pounds never stuck in the way I wanted. Once I moved out I was free to just stuff myself on everything I needed to grow a belly. And it worked! I quit working out and started looking chubby really fast. It felt amazing!” He lifted the bottom of his shirt and grabbed a wedge of his soft flesh, jiggling it for emphasis. “The fact that my girlfriend at the time hated it just seemed to spur me on even more.”

“Was she a big girl too?” Cam asked, not sure what to say, but desperate to keep this surprisingly kinky ramble going.

“No,” Kirk replied. “She was just like every other person I’d dated up to that point. But, like I said, it’s FAT that gets me going more than anything else. And in those days, I was riding the most erotic wave of my life. It was only after that, when I began to feel confident as an overweight guy, that I started to look at dating other fatties. Some I was with just because I was into how much excess weight they carried, but others, the ones I was really interested in, I’d test them; see how much of a glutton like me they could be under the right circumstances.”

“And did it work?” Cam chimed in, again to keep the conversation going. He already remembered Bob telling him that Kirk had a strange fascination with overfeeding people.

“Yeah, it did,” Kirk nodded with a smug grin on his face. “I’ve gained almost three hundred pounds since high school. I know how to get someone to fatten up and push a belly on them.”

Now it was Cam’s turn to feel under the spotlight. What Kirk had said was innocent enough, but the way he looked at him and kept looking at him, it was obvious who had been the focus of his attention all these months.

“You’re welcome by the way,” Kirk smirked, taking another sip of his beer and chuckling to himself. Cam didn’t even know what to say. He sat there, dumbfounded that Kirk had practically just admitted to fattening him up on purpose. “Stand up for me,” the big man ordered; beer starting to course through his veins. “I want to see all my hard work.”

Cam chuckled, not quite believing that any of this was actually happening. But, curious to know what Kirk’s next move would be, he stood up and waited.

“Over here,” Kirk ordered, beckoning Cam closer with just a rock of his head.

Stepping over the mess, Cam did as he was told, surprised to find Kirk’s large hand slipping straight onto his butt the moment he was within reach. But he stood there, enjoying the feeling of being touched, despite not understanding exactly what was going on.

“Ah!” Kirk marvelled, sliding one hand, then two once lowering his beer, right over Cam’s glutes. “Remember how tight and pert these things used to be before you started working with me?” he sighed with joy. “Now they’re getting so fucking doughy!”

The beer was clearly getting the better of Kirk; rather surprising considering the sheer scale of him. He slouched more in his chair and smiled mischievously.

“Yeah, well, all we do is eat at work…” Cam replied, stepping away and trying to keep things light hearted. After all, despite the odd sexual chemistry between them, Cam had to remind himself that Kirk was straight.

“Get back here!” Kirk grunted. “I want to check out the rest of you.” Then, seeing how obedient Cam was, stepping straight back, he pushed things a little further. “Take off your shirt too.”

Cam followed the instruction, only realising as he pulled the shirt over his head that Kirk was probably getting a full view of his raging hard-on pressing up against his pants. Even so, he suddenly felt the sweaty palm of Kirk rubbing the great mass of stomach fat.

“Beautiful!” Kirk simply marvelled. “Absolutely fucking beautiful!”

Cam felt the button of his pants being released and that big, chubby hand sliding down his shaft as the fly was lowered.

“Do you know how lucky you are? How much I would have loved to have been fattened up like this by someone when I was younger?” Kirk smirked, freely showing how much all of this turned him on.

“I’ve loved it,” Cam tried, finding his heartbeat racing as Kirk’s hand started working his shaft.

“I thought so,” Kirk agreed, slipping down in the chair even more and reaching another hand down his own sweatshorts, trying to reach his dick at the same time. “You’re turning into such a fat pig!”

Cam shuddered with lust. He’d never been sure about how he felt about being called a pig, but coming out of Kirk’s mouth, he’d never heard anything more arousing. Caught by the lust of it all, he found himself giving two little snorts before his brain even had the chance to think about it.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Kirk groaned with arousal; his enormous double chin suddenly amplified as he squinted his eyes and pulled his head back, tugging himself off under his shorts.

Cam came. He hadn’t meant to let it happen so fast, but it was all too much for him. Fast, energetic shots sprayed over Kirk’s skin tight t-shirt, all over his gigantic gut. Kirk didn’t even open his eyes, but moaned at the feeling of it hitting him, redoubling his efforts and making himself come about ten seconds later.

The five-hundred pound man sat up with a huge grin, and a little trickle of sweat travelled down his forehead. He didn’t seem to care that he had made such a mess inside his pants, but lunged for Cam’s empty shirt and used that to wipe up the fresh stains all over his own clothing.

“Hey!” Cam laughed, shirtless before the giant fat man in the chair. “What am I supposed to wear to go home now?” he asked.

Kirk scoffed at the question. “We both know you’re not going home to your parents’ place again,” he stated. “Now sit your fat ass down so we can play another game.” He cracked open a fresh bottle of beer and passed it over to Cam, keeping one for himself. They drank, eyeing each other greedily, silently competing for the longest chug. Kirk won, of course, burping like a drain afterwards and throwing Cam a pack of chips as if it was his consolation prize. Then they both sat back, settling into their futures.

Cam recalled the look of horror on his parents’ faces as he told them he’d moved in with Kirk. They knew of the great fallen football star, just like most people in town, and they didn’t approve in the slightest. But, like everyone else, they had underestimated him. Kirk’s savvy business skills had provided them with a good income, and once Bob had been bought out entirely, Kirk swiftly closed the store down, shifting the business to being online-only. Together with Cam, he’d negotiated a handsome sale price for the land and instead bought a much more generously sized warehouse, nestled within the suburbs of the new, better-connected city they would call home.

Despite the lavish style of the penthouse apartment the two men now occupied, it was still just as messy as Kirk’s old place had been. They’d lost count of how many cleaners they’d tried to hire over the years, but it was a futile task. Who wanted to clean up after two enormously fat guys only to come back a couple of days later and see the place was in an even worse mess than before?

“Are these grey sweatshorts yours, or mine?” Cam shouted through to the living area, holding up the mass of material that had been discarded on the bedroom floor. Only as he said the words did he realise the enormity of the moment. Despite Kirk’s fifty pound lead on him, to the average viewer, Cam probably looked no less obese than his lover. He’d become so used to the contrast between them, he’d hardly noticed the gradual dimishment of their size difference. His ass was just as wide and out of shape, his gut only slightly smaller. Sure, he didn’t quite have the flabby arms and tits that Kirk had, but he sensed the twelve cartons of ice cream the man had picked up that morning were probably part of a larger plan to solve that problem.

Realising that he was holding Kirk’s sweatshorts after all, Cam slipped them on, feeling a wave of arousal as the material fitted like a glove around his enormous hips and glutes. Not bothering with a shirt, he trotted out of the bedroom and into the living area, where a similarly shirtless Kirk was playing a game with his headphones on. So that was why the fat man hadn’t replied, Cam thought, chuckling to himself as he sat down on the couch to watch.

“Nice shorts, Fatty!” Kirk joked, clocking Cam’s new attire in the corner of his eye without even moving his head away from the screen. Once the level was over, he threw the controller down and switched the channel. “A movie and a few pizzas tonight?” he asked, knowing that Cam always went along with whatever he wanted to do.

“Sure,” Cam nodded, mindlessly stroking the huge belly infront of him and not being able to shift the semi he had from being inside Kirk’s shorts. As he watched his lover scrolling through their movie options on the screen, he thought back to his teenage years, when he would imagine himself in those huge blockbusters and the glamorous lifestyle that he thought he had wanted. He also pictured an eighteen year old Kirk in his mind; his athleticism and perfect, muscular physique; a pretty, popular girl under his strong arm. There wouldn’t have been a single person who could have guessed that Kirk had actually wanted to give it all up for a life of gluttony and sloth. And, best of all, that he would wind up taking Cam along for the ride with him.

“Pizza’s going to be here in thirty minutes,” the former football star grunted, lowering his enormous rear onto the couch next to Cam; only ever leaving his giant chair for the couch when they were both ready to settle in for the night. It had become a tighter squeeze for them in recent months and, even now, the fatty flesh of their bodies pressed erotically up against each other.

Both men smiled wickedly as they sensed this ever decreasing space on their couch; both so proud to be able to share this strange, unconventional love that worked so well for them both. They kissed, not needing to say a word as their hands began to reach out and touch the others’ giant belly; jiggling and massaging it.

“I’ve left a couple of tubs of ice cream out to melt so that we can drink it when the pizzas arrive,” Kirk explained a moment later.

“Just a couple?” Cam joked, loving how much of a bad influence Kirk was.

The larger man laughed. “You clearly haven’t seen how much food I’ve ordered you then!” He leaned in for another kiss. “In about an hour’s time, your gut is going to be tighter than ever before, and my dick is going to be so fucking hard!”

Cam smiled. Putting on a show for Kirk had always been his undoing. Seeing Kirk get more and more aroused with the greater quantities he could stuff himself with, Cam had inadvertently developed an appetite that could rival even Kirk’s insatiable lust for food. He didn’t reply to the kinky man who had fattened him to such extremes. All he did was simply give two short, quiet little pig snorts.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Kirk moaned with arousal, suddenly losing interest in watching a movie altogether.

For both of the men, those pizzas couldn’t arrive fast enough.

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azaliyas · 8 months

Note

Hi! I saw this cute tik tok where Alhaitham is autistic and his weighted blanket was being washed so he was very grumpy snd couldn’t fall asleep so like kaveh decided to lay on top of him to try and emulate the blanket.

If it’s ok can you do that but alhaitham x reader, romantic and established relationship? Sorry if it’s confusing 😭

summary : alhaitham is a man of simple requests and simple needs, but when they're not met, like his precious blanket not being on him for the night, it can become quite the problem. luckily for him you, his amazing lover, have a solution that he will gladly enjoy (but he will never admit it).

word count : [ to be added later ]

genre : fluff.

cw / tw : none.

characters : alhaitham.

note : omg me?? posting?? what a rare occasion 💀 yes i'm not dead and i'm still writing! i just forget to post '^' anyway anon i'm sorry for the delay 😭 you have the right to bonk me if you want, i deserve it anyway ;-; this idea was so cute tho, i need to see that tiktok even if i don't ship haikaveh lol // i have more pieces ready they just need proofreading (if i can find the will to, otherwise to hell with that :D). on a serious note 1) i didn't understand much about weighted blankets so if this piece is off eeeeehhhh i tried 2) internet said that habibti was the right word, but if habibi is the one let me know please! hope you can enjoy this, sorry my sporadic appearances 🫠❤️

a few years into your relationship with alhaitham you learned quite the number of curious facts about the scribe that many didn't know — not because alhaitham kept them a secret, but only because of his reserved personality that didn't make him open up to the first person that was in front of him.

the scribe liked his coffee burning hot with no sugar and just a little sip of milk, enjoying it sitting at the same spot of the kitchen table every morning. he also liked working out mostly in the evening and take a shower right after. alhaitham loved sleeping on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

speaking of sleeping habits, alhaitham could only sleep with his weighted blanket wrapped around his body. because of this, the scribe was very attentive in washing it during the day so it would be dry for the evening. that was one of the first things you taught yourself to do in order to help your boyfriend, a gesture that had the dendro user fall harder for you.

at least, that's what you succeeded to do until today. the rain didn't allow the blanket to dry during the whole day, and so by the evening it was still dump. impossible to let it be used, even when you had hung out the blanket before starting cooking dinner for tonight. by the time you and alhaitham had to turn in for the night, it was still wet. and cold. defeated, you had to put the weighted blanket aside.

you found alhaitham standing near the mattress in your shared bedroom, pyjama on and ready to crash the bed and fall asleep. that was, but his blanket was amiss.

your groan came out sounding more like a whine noticing this scene. you cursed the rain while scrambling your thoughts trying to find a solution.

«it's fine.» alhaitham said, turning on his feet to look at you. you knew he was lying.

«it's not! how are you supposed to fall asleep without your blanket?!» you whined again, a sound of exasperation leaving your throat right after.

«i can put more blankets on top of each other. it's not a problem.» your boyfriend rebutted, walking toward the wardrobe.

alhaitham pulled out some blankets and started laying them on the bed one after the other. deep down the scribe knew it wasn't the exact same thing, but a weighted blanket had its purpose in the deep-pressure touch that brought calmness and comfort. and that deep-pressure touch was given by the heavy weight. by logic, more blankets on top of each other had to be enough heavy.

but for once in his life, alhaitham was wrong. it was a weird feeling, but not as weird as tossing around back and forth, incapable of sleeping for more than five minutes before waking up again. his movements and his grumbling had you waking up.

you turned on your side and faced your boyfriend, just in time to meet his gaze. he furrowed his brows as soon as he noticed you staring at him.

«sorry for waking you up.» he murmured, annoyance clear in his voice. not at you, of course, but at his incapacity of falling asleep.

you looked at him, eyes focused, and alhaitham knew you were thinking hard about something, but what that something was he didn't know.

without a word you dragged yourself on top of alhaitham, who laid on his back as you took place on his chest, your blanket wrapping around both your bodies. your head rested in the crook of his neck, your hands gently pressed on his chest, right above where his heart was.

«habibti... what are you doing?» alhaitham looked at you like you just grew a second head on your shoulders.

«well, the comfort of a weighted blanket is in its weight, right?» you asked, raising your head to look at him. alhaitham slowly nodded. «hence my position: i will act as your blanket for the night.»

to say the scribe was flabbergasted was an euphemism. he didn't mind your wonderful mind and colorful ideas, after all it was one of the reasons why he fell in love with you, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if you the hamster running on your wheel wasn't actually high on something.

«it doesn't make sense.» he rebutted.

«this is where you're wrong, haitham. it does. weighted blankets have their purpose in their weight, that brings comfort thanks to the fact they mimic a hug, helping you release serotonin and dopamine, hormones that soothe you and help you sleep.»

you concluded your explanation with a satisfied smile, chin resting on your knuckles while you looked at your speechless boyfriend. it was a very rare occurrence to leave the scribe without anything to say, and almost all of the times it was because of you.

sighing and subtly rolling his eyes, alhaitham decided at last to try your idea and sleep like that — although, your chest was a much better pillow than the feather ones his head was currently laying on.

...

oh what a delight was to see your boyfriend's stunned face the next morning, the heaviness of sleep still clinging to his god-touched features as he was blinking away from the sun rays pouring from the window.

«don't.» he grumbled.

your smile turned into a knowing smirk.

«told ya!» you happily chimed.

#✧༄ཾ┊ azaliyas #✧༄ཾ┊ azaliya's breaks #genshin fic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader

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izzyhandswhore · 7 months

Note

Would love to see your hcs of reader taking Izzy out on a date at the beach! :3

((What a cute idea!! Poor man needs to relax a bit. Also is anyone going absolutely FERAL at that new clip?? Because sdbaekfasjfd)) Taking Izzy for a date at the beach!

So after arguing with Stede that pirates don't actually take vacations and time spent docked at a beach is time wasted, Izzy turns to you for backup.. Only to find you've already swapped your weapons for one of Stede's lace parasols. With a heavy sigh, he's defeated.

You take him by the hand and happily drag him away from the rest of the crew to have a private beach day away from the explosives testing, quite public make out sessions and makeshift, boisterous games (not naming any names). You even bring along some sandwiches Roach made, a bottle of rum and some other beachy supplies all carried in a little bucket (that's a secret mousketool we'll use later).

He still tries to argue that this is pointless and the two of you have seen a million beaches over the years, but you still point out how nice the sunshine is, how beautiful the sea looks and generally how peaceful it all is. He'd usually find relentless optimism annoying, but it's different with you. Eventually you get him to admit that the quiet is nice at least.

The two of you sit on the sand and look out at the horizon, hand in hand, letting him have his peace and quiet for a while. You toe your boots off and dig your feet in the sand, just enjoying the feeling. Izzy argues that him taking his shoes off would give him a disadvantage if an ambush or something was to occur but of course he can never really say no to you. If you pay close attention you can see him visibly relax as his feet sink into the sand. He squeezes your hand just that little bit tighter.

After some rest, food/drink and light conversation it's like Izzy is a completely different person in the best way. You didn't realise how much you missed his laugh and smile until now... He laughs at you even more when you take the bucket and start teaching him how to make sandcastles.

Okay hear me out. At first Izzy is laughing at you and insisting that this is completely childish and affectionately calling you mad.. And then you lose him to the sandcastle. The man is running back and forth to the sea to get water for better structure. He's digging moats. You hunt down seashells and driftwood and he makes little windows and defenses from them. He has such an intense look of concentration on his face but you can tell that he's so happy.. This is probably the first time he's allowed himself to "play" since he was a child, though of course you don't point this out to him or he'd probably stop.

By the time you're done you've built an entire sand fortress which is pretty impressive considering your lack of tools. You've both also got yourselves hot and sweaty, especially Izzy with his leather. So next stop is a quick dip in the sea. He may also need a bit of coaxing for this one, but it's a lot easier than it was at the start of the day. You take him by the hand again and the two of you step into the cold water, taking the piss out of each other for any gasps or hesitations, daring each other to go further and further..

Once he's up to about his knees he insists he's not going any further until you go beyond his reach and "lose your footing". Immediately he's by your side and pulling you up, seriously worried until he sees that you're laughing. You think he's going to be angry with you but instead he initiates what becomes a full-blown water fight. You're both splashing each other and hurling stupid affectionate insults and eventually it devolves into just wrestling each other into the water. He wins every time of course, but he never actually hurts you. Eventually you call a breathless truce and are left just holding each other in the water as the sun starts to set.

Izzy looks at you like you're his whole world then. He touches your face so gently and thanks you for the day, telling you he knows what he's like and how it's been worse since joining the Revenge and everything. He tells you he's not ungrateful for you and everything you do for him. He knows. You just smile and shut him up with a kiss that tastes like salt and rum. He only pulls away when the sea breeze finally makes you shiver and he realises he should get you home.

The two of you leave your sandcastle standing and return to the crew. You notice him sneaking glances at you in your wet clothing and the way it clings to your skin.. He stammers and gets all flustered if you or the crew point it out though. He takes you back aboard the ship to change clothes and get you all warmed up.. How you guys go about that is up to you <3

The night ends with a big bonfire on the beach with the whole crew. Frenchie starts a sing-along, rum is shared around and all in all it's just good vibes.

#izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #ofmd #our flag means death

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violetsandfluff · 1 year

Text

She Can See We’re Lonely Down Here 🛰️

summary: maybe curiosity knows where y/n is

tw: loss and sadness??

a/n: i did sob while writing this…

wc: 938 🪐

•••

“Look up, Stomper,” Harry breathed wistfully. Even after months of coming out to the field, the sight of the stars illuminating the night sky took his breath away. He didn’t need to tell Stomper to look up. “She’s up there somewhere,” he continued. “She knows we’re lonely down here, but she’s watching over us from above.”

A soft breeze rustled the tall grasses the duo lay in, bringing Harry back to reality for a split second. “It’s pretty late,” he admitted reluctantly, “and I’m sure your battery is getting low. Let’s go home.”

Stomper revved his wheels defiantly, but Harry picked him up anyway, bringing him to his car and setting him down in the front seat. “You really like the stars, don’t you, buddy?”

The small robot nodded, unable to divert his gaze from the glistening pieces of art floating above the ground.

Harry’s night progressed as usual. He poured himself a glass of milk and downed it before plugging Stomper in, allowing him to take a few laps around the house to get out his last bits of energy. Then Harry brushed his teeth and turned on the living room television, to produce a little bit of noise in an otherwise silent house. He ducked into his bedroom just before midnight every night, only for another restless sleep to begin.

Since Y/N had vanished, Stomper had watched Harry fall into a pit. He found it hard to eat for weeks after the fact, and he still barely slept. The few grey hairs which Y/N so loved had multiplied exponentially. Every night as Stomper charged in the kitchen, he could hear Harry’s pleading, mournful, heaving breaths as he wished back the one thing he couldn’t have.

It broke Stomper’s heart to see Harry, his person, incessently distressed. He remembered a time when Harry spoke to him with a glimmer in his eye and a smirk on his dimpled cheeks. When Y/N vanished, she took the dimples from his cheeks and the glimmer from his eyes.

Stomper lowered his head in defeat, feeling helpless towards fixing Harry. Just as he was about to fall asleep, something on the television caught his attention. His head snapped up to see a video of the Curiosity Rover navigating an alien terrain. Stomper was instantly captivated as his mind began to whir with ideas. Could he escape to Harry’s meadow and ask the rover to bring Y/N home before dawn?

As soon as the charger beeped, signifying he was fully charged, Stomper set out. The first obstacle in his way was the charging cord, but that was easily conquered. After he broke free, he pushed his way out of the front door and began his journey. Feeling the pavement beneath his wheels wasn’t something he experienced often.

Even though it was night, the streets were riddled with cars. The small, naive robot navigated the danger-ridden streets tensely, only relaxing when he turned down the final side street. It was no problem for him to get to the meadow. The final part of his mission was to communicate with Curiosity and beg him to find Y/N.

The sky began to glow a dusky pink in the east as Stomper tried fruitlessly to communicate with Curiosity. The sun rose over the horizon before Curiosity responded.

Stomper spent the day rolling around in the grass as if pacing back and forth. His wheels left matted down tracks behind him. While he rolled, he brainstormed ways to communicate with Curiosity. He could make audible sounds such as beeps and whirs, or he could try telepathy. Either way, he had to get his signal to the rover.

That night, he was ready. As soon as the evening star rose and the sun sank back beneath the horizon, the robot’s about face was on. He stared up at the sky, spattered with stars galore and located Mars. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, he attempted to communicate with the rover with every ounce of his being. His concentration never broke for a second.

Harry never came to the meadow that night. When he woke up, there was no Stomper to greet him. Upon further examination, Stomper’s charging cord was wedged in the door that he had exited through.

By the end of the night, Stomper knew his battery was running dangerously low. He spent the day, cowering in the shade, using as little energy as possible. By the time the stars came out, he rolled slowly back into the open field and gazed up at the star he assumed to be Mars and attempted to connect with it one final time.

He didn’t notice Harry’s car pulling up in the distance. His battery was running too low for him to focus. He lowered his head to the ground in defeat until he sensed footsteps approaching through the long, wispy grass. Harry laid down on his back in the grass, feeling the familiar texture on the back of his neck. Stomper could hear the heartbroken sobs he wasn’t bothering to muffle anymore. He felt guilty because he had failed for three continuous nights to bring Y/N back where she belonged; with Harry.

Without lifting his head from the ground, Stomper spun his wheels once, hoping that the sound would startle Harry into recognizing his presence, but the sound was drowned out by a heaved breath. Using every last ounce of his being, Stomper whirred to life.

Harry looked over at the robot speechlessly.

Stomper tried to roll over to him, but he lowered his head one final time, sapped of all of his strength.

taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @daisyharry @madeintheniamh

#Harry styles #Harry styles blurb #Harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles fic #Harry styles fanfic #satellite #satellite mv #stomper #Harry and stomper #Harry styles satellite #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #Harry styles sad #harry styles fake instagram #satellite au #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 1 year

Note

idea for thou:

Weems x reader, R plans a date, which ends up going horridly wrong. like, so wrong, it's funny. R is crushed, but Larissa just laughs, and its all fluffy and cute at the end :)

it's the thought that counts

masterlist

larissa weems x reader

a/n - lawd, i hope this is alright, it kinda didn't turn out as well as i wanted but idk

When you woke up this morning the space in the bed beside you was empty, just an indent in the sheets and the lingering scent of rose perfume. You knew Larissa had errands to run but the lack of her still made you frown slightly; the whisper of a kiss you felt on your temple whilst half asleep wasn’t enough.

You longed for her. You always do. Whether she’s near or far, Larissa Weems is all you need. You smiled at the mere thought of her, porcelain skin against her pillow with soft breaths creeping past her lips with her dreams and her hair falling loosely on her cheeks.

Even after all of this time your belly still fills with a giddy warmth when you think of her, the way her touch feels and the smoothness of her voice. So you roll out of your bed with a smile, knowing just what you’re going to spend your day planning.

Though the graciousness is much stronger on Larissa’s part, she left the unfortunate clumsiness to you and it seemed desperate to showcase itself today. Today of all days.

Your first step was to buy her flowers, walking your way into town to find the shop closed for renovations. You didn’t let yourself be discouraged so early into your mission however, wandering into the woods where you know some wild flowers grow. Perhaps she’ll appreciate the hand picked touch.

You spotted the ones you wanted, paying little attention to your surroundings until a piercing sting flooded through your thumb. You winced at the pain with a hiss through your teeth, quickly retreating your hand away from the stem with the buzz of a wasp getting further away.

“Ow, shit.” You muttered to yourself, noticing the swelling of your thumb already. Step two, go to the pharmacy. When you stepped out of there with the bell on the door sounding behind you your thumb had been cleaned and wrapped in a bandage for protection, not ideal but your next course of action was to buy the ingredients for a recipe you’d found online.

You weren’t the best at cooking, blame it on your impatience, so trying a recipe this complex was a stretch. But how hard could it be, right?

Some of the ingredients weren’t easy to find, leaving you wandering the aisles in annoyance. You’re sure you were peering through every single thing on every single shelf for over an hour and you’re not even sure what you bought. You constantly checked your phone, scrolling through the tediously long recipe description to make sure you had everything in your basket.

You checked the clock when you got back home, mentally planning out your time before Larissa would return before setting to work. It was tedious. The exact reason you avoid cooking when you can; Larissa made it look easy, you’d watch her add ingredients to pans as she’d leisurely sip from a glass of red wine as though cooking was second nature. And everything she created tasted perfect.

It felt as though there were a million steps to the recipe and the injury to your hand didn’t do much to help, you wouldn’t admit defeat though, no matter how close to tears you were. Your forehead was decorated with droplets of sweat from all the steam, the heat that would billow from the oven at each opening of the door and your clothes were splattered with ingredients.

You truly hope the concoction on the oven shelf will be edible, especially considering how long it’d taken you. Time was running out and you still needed to lay the table in the ornate fashion you’d imagined, a table cloth draped over the surface and a candle sat in the centre.

Nothing else can go wrong, can it? The hard part was done, you just need to wait for the timer to buzz. You set one, right?

You could’ve screamed, you almost did, instead spewing more swear words in a few minutes than you think you have your entire life. Your clumsiness will prevail, always, it’s your worst enemy just constantly waiting to rear its head. The rough swiping of a matchstick against the box sounded in the room, a near silent hiss as the flame took to the wick.You turned your back to head to the bedroom to get changed but not without an accidental tug to the tablecloth.

A metal thump muffled by the material and an instant smoky scent whipped your head around, your eyes widened at the sight, orange flames licking at the fabric. You stumbled in your hurried steps to the kitchen, repeated mutterings of ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ along with the fury coated stomps through the apartment.

The dishcloth was enough to pat the fire away and you sighed with relief, fingers rubbing at a tense forehead with a smudge of ash left in its wake. The heavy pounding of your heartbeat fuelled by stress and unwanted adrenaline wasn’t given time to dull before even more smoke wafted towards you.

“Fucking hell.” You grumbled, darting into the kitchen to pull oven mitts over your hands before pulling a charcoal mess out of the oven. You let it crash onto the kitchen counter with your eyes glazing over with tears when you heard the front door squeak closed, followed by the clicking of heels against wood.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hi.” You breathed, looking a mess with your clothes stained and a smudge of grey across your cheek. Everything about you screamed stressed and she softened at the view.

“Hi, love. Uh - what’s going on here?” Larissa asked you, nearing where you stood with a gesture to the charred table behind you.

“I was trying to do something nice for you.” You pouted with your cheek leaning into the touch of her palm as she swiped the tear that tried to roll down your cheek. “I set the table on fire. And almost the kitchen. And I got attacked by a wasp.” You lifted your bandaged hand up for her to see and she pressed her lips together to quell a laugh. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, no. It isn’t, sweetheart.” She responded with a vehement shake of her head, though she wasn’t overly skilled at hiding her amusement. She walked towards the kitchen as a way to hide her face as she laughed. “Oh - wow.”

“It’s bad, I know.” It was a mess, sauce splashed onto the counters and cutlery strewn around haphazardly. You’d hoped the untidiness would at least be worth it with the reward of a delicious meal. The piece de resistance was the charred mess in a ceramic dish, you noticed the widening of her eyes when she saw it as well as the upwards curving of her lips she tried to conceal.

“It’s the thought that counts.” She cooed, nudging your face up to face hers with her finger beneath your chin. “I love it. I’d honestly be more concerned if it’d gone ahead without a hitch - you are rather clumsy.”

She grinned when you finally laughed, smiling against one another when she pressed a kiss to your lips.

“How about I run us a bath? We can clean this up in the morning.” She asked you to which you instantly nodded. “And I’ll leave dinner to you. I suggest looking in the kitchen drawer for the takeaway menus.” She smirked, winking to you teasingly before making her way to the bathroom with her laughter echoing behind her.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x fem!reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa weems fluff #wednesday

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lilpuffyart · 4 months

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Posting this here just bc I doubt I'll finish this ever

It probably has a lot of writing mistakes and I wrote this months ago instead of sleeping so don't expect anything good :p

Forneus had a simple life. While she was traveling, she would look for food, be it fruits, vegetables or fishes. When she made her stop in her habitual spot from each realm, she would knit something. Be it toys for a few kids she would find on her journeys, or be it some piece of clothing.

And since she was just a friendly traveler, she wouldn't have many issues with each place she went, having sold items for the bishops of the old faith before, and her appearance gave the old Gods some kind of comfort for knowing she wouldn’t do anything drastic. But now, with the bishops gone and the anxiety of who would now rule each place, she sometimes found it hard to travel, especially now.

Forneus wasn't a fool, she was aware that she was aging, but the black cat had her most precious gifts back.

Her children.

When The Lamb and Narinder had brought them back to her, the old cat felt like she was dreaming, touching their faces in an attempt to be reassured that it was real, that she wasn't, yet again, dreaming they were there. Forneus felt alive again that day.

With her kittens back, however, she had to teach them all the things that her mother had taught her once.

And that was what she was doing at the moment.

"Sweetheart, you're going to hurt yourself that way", Forneus said softly to her son, Baal, who was so focused on the yarn that he attempted to turn into some kind of garment. While not looking at her, the gray kitten still paid attention to her words, moving his ears in her direction to show that.

Baal took a quick liking for knitting and sewing, something that impressed his mother. And the interest in it started just as fast, she remembered fondly. The tall cat had awakened before his brother one day, and made his way to their mother, who sat outside their comfortable caravan while knitting. Forneus was sitting comfortable there, stitching the yarn to later turn it into a sweater for one of the children. His eyes followed the object, picking every small detail and curve she was doing with the needles.

He, however, still had a long way on it.

“I can’t make this knot”, he huffed sadly, admitting defeat when he put the yarn and needle on the ground. “You make it seem so easy…”, the young cat sighed and brought his legs close to his chest. Baal felt bad for letting his mom down. After being away for so long, he wanted to desperately make her proud.

But he heard a soft chuckle coming from his side and Baal looked at his mother.

“Oh, sweetie, there’s no need to feel frustrated over this”, she purred softly and rested her paw over his. “You have a lot of time to learn how to do it. Take your time”.

He moved his ears a little bit and he blinked while staring at the ground. Baal was always used to memorizing and then getting things right. Unlike his master and his brother, he never had much patience for these things. He moved his tail back and forth and looked away.

“Let me help you, Baal”, Forneus said while reaching for the needles that were in her son’s paws. His soft dark eyes lighted up with the idea of his mother teaching him something that was so important to her. “First, you

“Oh, sweetie”, she meowed and brought him close to her chest. Even though he was taller than her, Forneus’ hugs always made him feel like a kitten all over again. “I’m already proud of you”.

Baal hugged his mother back, letting her warmth embrace him. He then closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the summer sun on his back. Baal huffed and lowered his ears.

“Still”, he murmured. “I’m going to finish this scarf for you”, the black she-cat laughed warmly at her kitten’s stubbornness.

—

Aym was different from his brother, for he liked to be on his own, away from everyone. Not that he disliked the company of his family; he loved it, but he easily felt overwhelmed around others and would wander off for a while.

It didn’t take him long to get to Pilgrim’s Passage in these walks and to take fishing as a hobby. His family needed to eat anyway, so he assumed it would be a useful hobby to have anyway.

Once a week, Aym would make his way there and sit on the small and old deck. Normally people wouldn’t bother him much there either because he was fishing or because he seemed to never like to be bothered. He never minded the company of his mother, she seemed to always understand his boundaries well and would always have a big smile and a few encouraging words to say to Aym whenever he caught something. It was contagious.

“Aym”, she called from behind him, broughting him back from his thoughts. “Did ye catch something?”, she said softly, a small basket was being held by her big paws. The sweet smell of strawberries that was coming from the basket was enough to make his mouth water.

“No”, he simply murmured. He sounded disappointed at himself and Forneus was quick to pick the hints of it.

“We could go back, my heart”, Forneus meowed softly to him, moving her basket to be held by only her left arm. “And come back tomorrow in the morning when the fishes are fresher”.

“No”, Aym inhaled and then exhaled heavily, feeling the pilgrim’s soft breeze enter and leave his lungs. “I’m going to wait longer”, he said softly and flicked his ear.

The old maine coon looked around. It wasn’t late, and the sun hadn’t even started to set yet. She figured that keeping her child company wouldn’t hurt her old body. And even if it did, she would never trade a change to stay by his side.

So she gave a tired sigh and made her way to the end of the dock and sat down next to Aym. The black cat could feel the soft and salty waves hit her feet and she found herself surprised that she wasn’t as against the feeling of it as she thought she would. It was relaxing.

“You should eat something then”, she said as she gently brought the basket close to him. The cat smiled softly at the other cat that slowly picked the basket, as if waiting for some kind of approval from his mother. Aym was careful to put it on his side

#i remember it had another part but too lazy to look it up rip #anyway #cult of the lamb #forneus cotl #ah sorry for any mistake btw when im 2riting sometimes i make up words when i cant remember them #or i qrite a really weird word bc i get them mixed up #aym cotl #baal cotl #puffy writes

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phantomrose96 · 2 years

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Chrissy help how do you keep motivation for such huge writing projects?? I've seen you posting about abot for a long time but I just clicked it and it's got like 360k words. My guy you are incredible and if you've got secrets to share I'd be very interested. Major props to you

(ABoT)

I'm hoping to resurrect Dickinsonian-era "paid by the word" writing gigs and retire off ABoT Kidding! kidding! I make 0 dollars and 0 cents off ABoT do not sue me IP holders.

More genuinely it's a couple things I guess. One big and simple one being just--I really like the story. It's long because there are a lot of parts I like and wanted to tell. Another is spite, because for a long period of time between 2017-2020 I thought I would never be able to come back to the story so it's something of a "fuck you look what I made anyway."

But I really REALLY think the biggest part to this all was the (tough, but doable) process of learning to be okay with this story taking however long it's gonna take, and being however long it's gonna be.

Back in the days when Tumblr was really a hub for fandom, fandom attention was extremely fleeting, and when you had any of it, it felt like it was always moments away from vanishing. Tourmaline, my 80k Steven Universe fic, I wrote in the span of just over 2 months. I had a chapter out roughly every 2-3 days for that entire sprint. I'm proud of pulling that off. But my main motivation for doing that was absolutely the fear of losing people's attention and interest if I dawdled even a little.

Early-days ABoT was like that too. The first 9 or 10 chapters were all posted in intervals of about 2-3 days apart. I was staying up extremely late to do this which wasn't good for me and I was doing it because I was afraid of losing people's interest and I was getting more intimidated the more I realized how long ABoT would likely be. And then for school and life reasons, my update schedule absolutely had to slow. And I was having a bad time because it was like I could feel myself losing readers and losing relevance, and the backlash was growing, and even when I was finding the time to write I'd started burning out hard on my passion for the story. I'd get frustrated with my own plot and characters, and you can't write a good passion project while frustrated with the characters.

And then I kinda quietly admitted defeat because the stress and the backlash were too much to handle and I couldn't wring anymore of this from myself. After a 1 year, 2 years, I was pretty much sure my readership was long gone. I still thought about the story constantly! I still cared. I just figured I'd missed my window and would never be able to come back except to backlash.

Then just shy of 3 years, I said "fuck it, actually" and wrote the next chapter (okay it was a lot more complicated than "fuck it" but that would take too long to explain.) And in FACT, a ton of the readership came back! It was an extremely warm reception! And new readers, too. Just a lot of really warm, positive feedback. Which absolutely blew my mind because it was completely at odds with my feeling that things needed constant updates to cling to relevance. And the idea of "well if they waited 3 years..." has helped me a lot with allowing time and breaks between chapters. I don't burn out on them. I edit them more. My update schedule's been more like 2-6 weeks between chapters, rather than days.

Allowing that down time, letting ABoT be a steady jog instead of an all-out sprint, has been absolutely crucial to getting as far through it as I am. Even right now, it's been pretty long since chapter 45. I dove super deep into putting ch45 together and I kinda needed some time off after to decompress and step away to not risk burn out. Which was very needed and helpful and now I'm back to chugging through ch46.

There was an old comment, I think on Reddit, that I read years ago which has stuck with me ever since. Someone was recounting a conversation with a single mother who was considering going back to college to get her degree, but was hesitant to do so because she would be 40 by the time she graduated. To which the other person responded "You'll be 40 anyway."

And "you'll be 40 anyway" plays in my head a lot. Like, ABoT's been going for almost 6 years. Well 6 years were going to pass anyway. ABoT might not be done for x-many more months. X-many more months are gonna pass anyway. Time's gonna happen anyway. So I'm not worried about whether this thing is still going by then or not. I'm just keeping at it until it's done.

#ask #abot #a breach of trust

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

Text

Part 2 of Eddie and his bats

Eddie and Steve disagreed on a lot of things. It came with the territory of being so different. Most of the time it showed in flirtatious bickering. Now that they were dating, it had a 99% chance of ending with their tongues down each other's throats.

But there was still that 1% that was an honest disagreement which brought them to their current situation. One where they were standing across from each other, five feet too far for Eddie's usual liking, opposing forces.

"I'm not backing down on this", Eddie said. "Steve, I can feel him. He's gaining his strength again."

"All the more reason we need to tell everyone and we need to go", Steve argued.

"I didn't tell you just so you could go blab to everyone. I told you so you could cover for me while I take this guy down."

Steve's face hardened. "You? Take down Vecna all by yourself? Eddie, I get that you're like a vampire now but-"

"Not like a vampire. I am one. Blood and all babe."

"You still can't do this alone. You shouldn't."

Eddie tried giving him a pleading look that conveyed all he was thinking without saying it. But Steve wasn't moved.

"Steve...." He took a step forward. "I don't know if I can lose you again."

"....Eddie..." Steve looked broken for a moment before he got angry. "You didn't lose me! I lost you! Or did you forget me telling you not to be a hero and then dying immediately after?!"

Eddie was at a loss for how to respond at first because that's exactly what happened but in his defense, he got better.

"I got...better?", he said, less confidently than in his head.

"I'm not losing you again", Steve was soft in his voice but firm in his will. "And I think you'll find you're outnumbered."

Eddie was about to ask what he meant when he looked down and saw three fiercely loyal bats standing at attention on Steve's side. It looked like if Steve said "jump" they'd ask "how high?" and if he said "attack" they'd leap to action.

"It's four to one", Steve grinned. "You wanna call on more or are you ready to admit defeat?"

With a huge sigh, Eddie dropped to his knees, then scooted over and hugged Steve around the waist. "I yield."

Steve patted his head and then stroked his curls. "Good boy."

At those words, Eddie looked up at him in such a way that Steve's stroking turned from that of simple adoration to something more meaningful.

"You know when you look at me like that it gives me ideas."

Eddie didn't stop looking.

Their argument ended there.

Obviously Steve won but that night Eddie counted himself as a victor as well.

---------------------

Now Eddie had control over a lot of bats. Like, a lot of bats. So even though he was connected to all of them, it wasn't like he was able to keep exact tabs on each and every one of them. He felt odd things sometimes. Little nips that didn't make sense but he didn't think about for long after feeling them.

Not until he noticed a couple of bats with shiny little trinkets. One night, Eddie was standing underneath the stars, blanket ready for some stargazing when he saw the new twinkles and called the bats to them.

".....Who gave my bats piercings?"

"Do you like them?", Steve asked.

Some bats had earrings, others had eyebrow piercings, or others. Eddie had questions. How? Where? When? But none of those reasons were as important as why. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him close. At this point about a dozen demobats had some sort of decoration.

"It's so metal, babe."

Steve looked pleased as peach at that. And while Eddie had no clue where he'd gotten the idea to adorn the demobats, or even how he could've done it, he absolutely loved it.

Tag Team:

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @cherixxx69

#apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie #kas!eddie

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vaniloqu3nce · 1 year

Text

I hyper fixated, and I wrote a small scene for a Spider-Wolf Au. Enid just wants everyone to like her. <3

WC: 700

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Enid was desperate for a shred of dialogue from her roommate. Every other attempt to build a blooming friendship had been shut down by the psychic at every turn. Dreams of having a best friend who lived with her were quickly slipping away with every interaction. It became more than apparent that Wednesday, miss ‘allergic to color’, didn’t like her, or anyone.

But everyone in Jericho loved Spider-Wolf, (besides cops and anyone interested in legalities, but honestly that’s nobody important) who doesn’t love a badass superhero? And if Wednesday didn’t know who that was, she could tell her! It was a full proof plan. Then they could have a conversation, then it would lead to an unlikely friendship, and Enid would once again be happy knowing everyone likes her.

There is a beat of silence that has Enid holding her breath and overthinking. Maybe Wednesday would throw a knife at her for speaking? Or something more subtle, poison her breakfast when she oversleeps. The werewolf wracked her mind for possible ways the macabre girl could react until she was surprised.

“Spider-Wolf? Why would I concern myself with the likes of a coward who hides behind responsibility with a mask?” Wednesday’s voice was flat as she crushed any hope Enid had of trying to connect with the Addams in two short seconds. Apparently Wednesday Addams doesn’t love a badass superhero. There goes that full proof plan.

Enid has to remind herself not to stop smiling, and not to take it personally. But she can’t help it, what did that even mean?

Enid bites the inside of her cheek. It figures the grim girl wouldn’t be interested in superheroes either. Perhaps it was a bad idea to ask Wednesday, because now she took personal offense. Pride and hurt swelling in her chest as she stared at the back of her new roommate’s black uniform. “It’s not hiding, every hero needs a pretty costume!” Plus! Her family would kill her if they knew. The Sinclair pack was plenty of things, but open minded wasn’t one of them.

Wednesday didn’t look back, she sat perfectly straight, the repetitive clicking of her typewriter keeping the conversion from falling into complete silence. “The costume is impractical.”

Enid is slightly irritated. She put her heart and soul into that costume. Wednesday could be so difficult, but she realizes this is the closest they’ve had to a conversation since their tense encounter on Wednesday’s first night. “How so?” She doesn’t want to miss her chance to at least not be complete strangers.

“It draws attention, only an idiot would run around in an outfit that colorful if they wanted to hide who they were.”

Okay. Ouch.

Maybe Enid should feel relieved, if Wednesday had no interest in her alter ego, she wouldn’t have to work too hard to hide anything but Enid loves her costume! She’s proud of it! And so do her followers! She made it herself and it spoke her truth! “It’s–”

“No.”

Enid’s mouth clamps shut at the suddenness, almost startled, but Wednesday says nothing else. Enid waits until she does. The typewriter is the only sound she can hear for a long time. Enid hates to admit it takes her way too many silent seconds to realize Wednesday wasn’t going to say anything else. At all. The conversation had ended. Enid flops back against her pillow and pouts, defeated.

Wednesday doesn’t like her or Spider-Wolf! Or color! Or her blog. What does she like? What was wrong with her costume? Or her?

Enid’s chest twisted, she hated feeling like she wasn’t good enough. The werewolf quickly shook that thought off, brushing her mother’s echoing voice away and reaffirming herself. She will get Wednesday to be her friend. It will just take a little extra love and patience but Enid can do that. It would be awkward if they weren’t at least on positive terms, they lived together now. They were roommates. What could go wrong?

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princess-of-the-corner · 4 months

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TBaB

In a way... The Batfam and the Miraculous team have have their similarities, like it's something that we've all seen. But there's three that are very very similar in terms of how their life went.

Jason and Chloe are similar in the way that they were both manipulated and tortured (be cuz akumatization is just another way of torturing someone emotionally) by the joker/hawkmoth as a way to attack Batman/Ladybug so that they can finally win or get an advantage over them (atleast in hawkmoths case) and both of them holding resentment to the lack of action that Batman/Ladybug, the hero that they looked up to, the hero that gave them a choice, the hero that saved them in a way, had in the aftermath of their death/defeat, who are hurt about the fact that as soon as they left/died the one who was supposed to help train them and be there for them started actually being there and paying attention not for them but for their replacement, making them think that there was something wrong with them bcuz they're obviously being there for the replacement... There in the way that they (Nightwing and cat noir) never were for them. Not only that but they're also considered in some way Batmans/Ladybugs greatest mistake/failure.

Now another pair that's similar would be Tim and Zoe, Who both appeared after the previous robin and bee holder left, who both sometimes get called the name of the previous robin/bee in dire and non-dire situations, who dont know how to feel about them, they dont know whether they should feel sympathy or if they're allowed to hold resentment and anger for both, the previous holder and the one that chose them. Who are so tired and exhausted of the fact that one hero they work with is so fucking supportive that it gets to the point it's suffocating while the other one seems to do everything in their power to keep them at arms reach, not to close but also not to far.

And then you have Batman and Ladybug, who both have a great amount of guilt in them, who both think that asking for help makes them week, who both refuse to seek help when they most need it, who both can't admit when they're wrong and when they do it's very much begrudgingly. Both who's greatest regret is not being there/doing something when one of their own (Jason and Chloe) were trapped, for not doing something earlier. Who feel guilty about the fact that they died/left thinking that they didn't care about them, who even when they see them and are able to talk to them, they don't apologize, not because they think they don't need to but because they don't know how. They don't know how to broach the subject or how to even bond with who is standing in front of them because the once little sidekick they had that looked up to them in awe and amazement, that looked at them like they could save the whole world, now looks down at them with anger and resentment, with hate and pain in their eyes. Judging every move they make, criticizing every idea to come up with... Both who know... That having them (Jason and Chloe) stand right in front of them implies that if they failed once... What guarantees the fact that they won't fail again?

YEAH IT'S GREAT ACTUALLY

#to bee a bat

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leelee10898 · 11 months

Text

Hurricane: Getaway Car (12/?)

Pairing: Liam x Jenna

Book: TRR

Word count: 2,500

Warnings: violence, language, mentions of 🍋

A/N: this chapter is for @choicesflashfics weekly prompts, using the prompt: "I've been in love. It's painful, pointless, and overrated."

Hurricane is an ongoing series, you can catch up HERE

"Is it true, Liam?" She asked again.

"Jenna," Liam started to speak, reaching out for her." Let's jus-"

"No!" She cut him off, pulling away from him. "Do not touch me. I need to know if it's true."

Liam hung his head in defeat, trying to find the right thing to say. "Can you? Will you just. Jenna, can we please talk about this inside?" He lifted his head giving her a pleading look, not wanting to have this conversation outside in the hall for every single person within earshot.

She moved past him, pushing her way into his quarters. Her eyes wandered the room, his smell engulfed her senses. Nothing had changed since the last time she had been there, she pushed the thoughts from her mind and focused her attention on Liam who was standing cautiously by the now-closed door.

"Well?" She spoke, arms folded across her chest.

"I know you're upset but, you have to understand why I made that stupid pact in the first place." Liam started and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Upset? I'm more than upset Liam. How could you not tell me? Jesus Christ we had sex, you declared your love for me, telling me you would wait for me. All the while you conveniently left out one HUGE detail."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you, you shouldn't have found out from Hana." Liam reached out for her hand and Jenna snatched it away.

"You think? What did you think was going to happen? Did you just think you would go through with things exactly like the last time? I can't do that again Liam. I refuse to be the woman you love in the dark while you fake it with someone else in the light."

"That's not it, Jenna. I would never put you through that again. I love you, I want you and only you. I have no plans on going through with marrying Hana. Love, you have to believe me."

"I am having a hard time believing anything coming from your mouth right now. To stand there and act stupid, like you had no idea what I was asking." She seethed, pacing the floor. So many things went through her mind but one thing stuck out in particular, she stopped and turned her attention back towards him. "How did you know Hana was the one who told me?"

"Um. Well. About that." He chuckled nervously.

"What did you do Liam?"

"Listen, love, you have to know that everything I do is to protect you."

"Liam."

"Ah," Liam nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He had managed to work himself into a gigantic mess. "The apple pendant is a camera." He finally admitted.

Jenna's jaw dropped in shock. That's how the guards knew she was coming, they were ready for her and it was because Liam told them because he was watching her. "You. You're spying on me?"

"No. No! it's not like that. Jenna please, can we just sit down and discuss all of this? I know it looks bad. Really, really bad." Liam approached her cautiously, placing his hands on her shoulders. "If you could just hear me out."

"I. This is too much. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here." Jenna shrugged his hands off her shoulders and pushed past him and out the door.

Liam hung his head in defeat, he wanted to chase her down and explain everything to her but he didn't want to push her too far. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone dialing a number.

"I need your help."

******

Jenna pulled up out front of Ramsford and killed the engine. She spent the whole ride in utter silence, with no radio, nothing to drown out a million things racing through her mind. It took every ounce of willpower to not break down during the drive, she could feel everything bubbling to the surface, placing her hands back on top of the steering wheel she let out a shaky breath before the tears started to flow freely. She didn't come to Cordonia to win Liam back, she came for herself, but the thought was always in the back of her mind. He confessed his love, he told her he wanted to be with her, that he would wait. She should have known it was all a lie.

The outside light flicked on and she pulled herself together, wiping her tears and checking her face in the mirror for running mascara. She exited the car and walked inside, closing the door behind her. It was quiet, a little too quiet for her liking. The quiet led to thoughts and urges she didn't want to have. She made her way down the hall and into Bertrand's study approaching the bar cart. She stood in front of it, looking at the options, the bottle of whiskey seemed to be calling out to her. She reached her hand forward and then froze, "No." She said, "You're stronger than this, you're stronger than all of this." Fresh tears now stung her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"You ok Mahoney?" The gruff voice took her by surprise.

"What are you doing here Drake?" She sniffled, spinning around. "Liam called you, didn't he?"

When he didn't answer she shook her head and let out a sigh. "Of course he did. I'm going to bed." She turned and started up the stairs, Drake followed her.

"Don't be like that Mahoney, come on." He called out but she ignored him, continuing her way up the stairs. "Mahoney. Mahoney. Jenna, stop!" He shouted.

Jenna stopped at her door, twisted the knob, and walked inside. She left the door open and Drake followed her inside, closing it behind him.

"He lied to me, Drake. How could I have been so stupid? Why am I even here? Why do I care about clearing my name?" The tears flowed freely now.

"Mahoney." Drake sighed pulling her into his chest. "Look I know you're angry, hurt, confused, and more but, you're here because you love Liam and he loves you. And before you argue with me about him lying, and whatever else you'd like to just know that everything he has done is to protect you."

"Then why didn't he tell me about his pact to marry Hana?"

"Hell Mahoney I don't know. Probably because he was drunk when he did it, he also told Hana that he couldn't go through with it afterward."

"Wait, he did?"

"Yup. But knowing you, you blew up. Shut down and leave before he could explain things, didn't you?"

"Maybe.." Jenna stretched the word sitting on the side of the bed. "I'm still mad at him for lying and I'm not ready to talk to him."

"Yeah. I figured as much." Drake stood from the bed. "Just sleep on it. I'll be down the hall if you need me " Drake walked to the door, turning back to look at her. "Oh and Mahoney,"

"Yeah?"

"He was a mess when you left tonight, he's got a lot on his plate, cut him a little slack."

"I'll take that under advisement." Jenna gave him a weak smile, he nodded and closed the door behind him.

Jenna collapsed onto the bed, the events of the past few weeks heavy on her mind. She closed her eyes, the exhaustion of the day's events taking over, the next thing she knew she awoke to the sound of a loud pounding on the door. Still fully clothed she jumped up and grabbed the door.

"Jesus, it's like trying to wake the dead in here " Drake grumbled.

"Sorry. I crashed pretty hard last night." Jenna rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"I would say, it's 1:00."

"PM?!" She shouted. "Drake, why'd you let me sleep so long?" Jenna panicked, grabbing her phone. She had 37 text messages and 28 missed calls. Most from Olivia, a few from Liam begging her to call him.

"Yeah, Liv has been blowing up my phone. She's back in Lythikos, sounds like she found something."

"Then what are we still doing here?" Jenna threw her hands up in the air, before grabbing her suitcase and tossing the little bit of belongings she brought with her inside.

"Don't you want to eat or shower?" Drake arched his brow as the luggage hit the floor.

"Nope. I will worry about all that later." She stated, earning a Judgmental look from Drake. "Fine, I'll grab something from the kitchen before we go, I'll shower later."

"You're forgetting something." Drake walked over to the dresser, picking up the apple pendant Liam gave her. Jenna rolled her eyes. "Be mad all you want but, this is important Mahoney, if it wasn't for this we would have never seen Hana hand the waiter from Regina's party something."

Jenna's eyes widened, since she just learned it was a camera she hadn't even thought that it might have picked things she wasn't paying attention to. "I didn't know." She whispered. Drake held it out and she plucked it from his hand, tossing it into her bag. "Fine. Let's just go. Lythikos is three hours away, you're driving." She smirked, pushing past him.

Meanwhile at the Palace….

Liam had spent the majority of the day in and out of meetings. He had finished his last grueling meeting of the day with Neville who was petitioning the crown to invest more money into his family's golf course so the country could generate more revenue. It was a good idea, the pitch was even perfect except for the person delivering it. Liam poured himself a large glass of scotch and tossed himself into his chair. He picked up his phone, it was now 4 pm, and not a word from Jenna. Drake had texted him around 2 that he and Jenna were heading to Lythkios, but nothing after that.

"Knock. Knock." A voice came from the door, Liam looked up to see Hana standing there.

He tucked his phone into his pocket forcing a smile. Liam had grown close to Hana in the few months since he ended his engagement to Madeline and Jenna left. Now he questioned if he ever really knew her. "Hana, what a nice surprise. I wasn't expecting you today, what brings you by?" He feigned interest in her visit.

"Don't tell me you forgot?" Hana walked further inside and sat down on the couch. "We had dinner plans."

Liam looked down at his calendar realizing they had made plans weeks ago. "I'm so sorry Hana, it has been a busy couple of weeks, it completely slipped my mind."

"It has been a busy couple of weeks, what with Jenna coming back and all," Hana leaned forward closer to Liam's desk. "I have to ask because we haven't spoken about it but, how are you doing with her back?"

Liam reclined back in his chair in silence, contemplating his words. Hana had been a friend before but how much of that was real? "It stirs some feelings up." He finally spoke.

Hana let out a sigh. "You still love her don't you?" The look on Liam's face told her all she needed to know. "Liam, remember what happened before. You're king, you have to think of your country, not some girl."

"Spoken like someone who's never been in love before." He shook his head.

"I've been in love. It's painful, pointless, and overrated." Hana answered coldly.

"Well, I feel sorry for you then Hana. Because yes, love can be painful but it also brings joy, I like to think it gives life meaning."

"Liam, I am going to be blunt with you. I think you're wasting your time and energy on her. I know you loved her once, I know she broke your heart and made you a laughingstock of the court. Don't make the same mistakes again." Hana stood, walking to Liam's side. "You have the potential to become the best king this country has ever seen, you just need someone strong by your side." Hana trailed her fingertips along his arm.

"Hana," Liam warned.

"We made a pact Liam, I can help you be great." She smirked.

*****

Drake and Jenna were about an hour and a half into their drive to Lythikos. Stopping a few times for coffee and bathroom breaks. It was now inching closer to 5 pm, the sun had started to set making the twist and turns of the countryside a little darker. Drake kept glancing up in his mirror but kept a steady pace. Jenna stared out the window watching the trees and houses pass by, her mind on the events of the day before playing over and over again.

"Everything ok?" She asked, noticing Drake's constant checking of his mirror and the worry etched on his face.

"I think we're being followed." He finally spoke.

"What!? How do you know?"

"This SUV has been behind us for the past half hour, pretty sure it followed us out of that last stop."

"Ok maybe they're also going to Lythkios, maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe it's one of the Royal Guard cars, maybe Liam sent one for protection you know since he is so hell-bent on it. " Jenna began to panic.

"That doesn't look like one of their SUVs Mahoney." Drake stated, "Why don't you Text Liam and ask."

"Can you? I'm not ready to reach out." Jenna whined.

"Mahoney, I'm driving here. We may be being followed, get your head out of your ass and text Liam!" Drake barked, Jenna flinched. Drake usually kept his cool under most circumstances, the fact he did just now told her he was genuinely worried. She put on her big girl panties and fired off a text asking Liam if he sent someone to tail them. The response came back almost immediately.

"He didn't send anyone," Jenna answered quickly and a feeling of numbness came over her, fear, she was now afraid

Drake was familiar with the area, he knew there was a turn-off just up ahead, "hold on tight." He ordered and quickly took the turn, picking up speed. A minute later the same SUV quickly rounded the turn and they knew they were being followed.

At the palace…

Liam picked up his phone, his heart raced when Jenna's name popped up on the screen. He stood quickly, hiding his phone from Hanas view as he moved away from her.

Drake wants to know if you sent someone to follow us. The text read a slew of emotions filled him.

No. Is everything ok? What's going on? Where are you now?

He anxiously waited for a response.

We are being followed. Drake says we are on a back road in Flintlock, close to the safe house.

"Everything ok?" Hana pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up and then back down at the phone. "I. I'm not sure. Hana, I'm sorry but something has come up, I have to go." Liam gripped his phone tighter and headed down the hallway

"Maybe I can help?" Hana shouted after, her short legs struggling to keep up. But Liam kept walking. He dialed her number but it went straight to voicemail, he tried Drakes and the same thing.

******

Back in the truck Drake and Jenna were flying around curves and bends in the roads the suv tailing then was now maintaining speed.

"How are we going to lose them, Drake?"

"I'm trying Mahoney, they just won't let up," Drake growled.

Jenna peered out the back window watching the silver SUV gain on them. Saying a silent prayer they make it out of this. The reception on the roads was spotty, her texts or calls weren't going through.

"Hey. I think they're backing off." Jenna watched as the silver SUV slowed down, giving them space. She turned her head back towards the road "Drake look out!" She shouted as an SUV was headed straight for them. Drake swerved avoiding the other car but lost control, his truck skidding out sending them straight into a wooded area, Jenna screamed just as the truck collided with a large tree and everything went silent.

@kingliam2019 @ao719 @emichelle @annabellewynter @twinkleallnight

@tessa-liam @riseandshinelittleblossom

@blackcatkita @katedrakeohd @tinkie1973 @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @lovingchoices14 @indiana-jr @txemrn @bascmve01 @queenwalton @sfb123 @umccall71

@choicesficwriterscreations

@emersyn-in-cordonia

#trr fanfic #choices trr #trr #king liam #drake walker #hurricane trr fan fic #leelee10898writes #liam rys

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years

Note

💢⁉️⁉️pls ignore the ask i sent about like your friends yandere becoming your yandere—cause i realized that it just defeats the whole premise of a yandere😭—but happy 1000 followersss💗

Thank you sm!! And no I totally get what you mean! I love this idea and would honestly love to make like-- a full-fledged thriller off this kind of "switch." When I see these types of yanderes, I dub them as those who obsess very easily and were “made” into yanderes rather than “born” as one. (imo those are the two categories most fall into.)

But perhaps, they gain an obsession with you that’s not out of complete fondness, but rather rooted in distaste. At first, they find your cockblock behavior annoying, frustrating at most. You’re stopping them from taking what they most desire. But they grow more upset over time as you refuse to back down.

So, they plan to get rid of you. Make it look like an unfortunate accident, they think; something to get you off their back.

But the more they watch you, the more they see your little quirks and the way you live their life, they find themselves fascinated, intrigued, and maybe even a little.… obsessed. Instead of taking time to track their original obsession, they instead go to stalk you, their fascination disguised as planning your demise. But when the time comes, they can’t seem to get rid of you. Even with you tied up in their basement, begging to be set free either from the chains around your ankles or death, they just can't do it. Something about you has taken hold of them, and they loathe it. They slowly morph from one obsession to another, finding themselves captivated by you and hating it.

They hate how good it feels, how they want to make you cry and watch you unable to deny yourself of them, how they wave the things you hold dear in front of you only to watch your eyes go wide and see you curl up into yourself. They're unpredictable, one day smothering you in affection and pinning you down roughly, the next carving their name into your back to make sure you understand you’re nothing but a nuisance, nothing but their property.

They wouldn’t call their obsession “love” or even ever admit to finding you alluringly attractive, even if it's in all the wrong ways. But they’ll show their possessiveness, show how they just can’t let you go. You may hate them, but that just fuels them even more. They feel the need to make you miserable from trying to take something from them, but at the same time they want to watch you come undone underneath them, and smile because of something they've done. They want your everything, and yearn to have it. Eventually, their previous possessiveness over your friend will fade from their mind, something about you now captivating every speck of their attention.

And to them, you were right: they should let go of their obsession with your friend, but only because you’re much better prey.

#I like this idea but wish it could be fleshed out more #its like enemies to captor/victim lmao #kn1ves rants #reader insert #x reader #writing #self insert #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #female yandere #knives rants #yancore #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere community #obsessive yandere

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 11 months

Text

tti episode 11

“Last time on Total Takes Island: the teams competed in a few rounds of trust building exercises- to the death! Hah, just kidding- but most of them did get gravely injured. Ass and Courtney’s thinly veiled friendship resulted in Caesar being eliminated, leaving the Fujoshis down to only four players. Julia worked her technical magic and actually managed to hurt Max’s feelings using an edited sample of Michael’s voice. Scruffy and Scary did… whatever that was, and McLovin was sent into a brief little paralysis. Who will be poisoned this time? And what will become of the Anons? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

Julia has no worries about sleeping in late, the last out of her cabin to reach the mess hall. She beams brightly at the players as she grabs a tray, filling it with brown beans and stale toast, and then surveys the players.

Michael is sitting on one end of the table alone, Max all the way across on the other. He looks exhausted. Staci, Kelly, and Austin have formed a braid train adjacent to Michael, and Scruffy is sitting without anyone.

Julia smiles and walks over to Scruffy, setting her tray down next to them. “Good morning!”

---

JULIA: “I have Michael in the bag- there’s no way she’s going to go crawling back to Max after what happened. Now, I need to outsource a little… and Scruffy seemed all too eager to help Max yesterday. I need that kind of energy on my side.”

---

Scruffy, who was writing something down on their notepad only seconds prior, looks up. “Can I help you?”

“Help me? …No, I was just wondering if you wanted some company,”

“Um… no thanks, I’m good,” Scruffy shakes their head, leaning back and pointing under the table where Scary is curled up like a dog on their feet. “I’m trying not to move. Every time I shift they bite me.”

Julia raises an eyebrow. “So, are you two…?”

“I have no idea, she just keeps following me around and I’m too nervous to ask why,” they whisper, holding a finger to their lips.

“She’ll probably go away eventually, like a stray cat,”

“Um… thanks, I hope so,”

Julia nods. “I got your back, bestie,” and then stands from the bench and walks away.

“ATTENTION, MAGGOTS,” Chef’s voice blares over the intercom. “ALL CAMPERS REPORT TO THE DOCK OF SHAME NOW!”

---

The huddled mass of campers stands in a disorderly clump of people as Chef greets them at the docks, wearing an olive-green ensemble, complete with sunglasses, a whistle, and a military-style hat.

“Line up, maggots!” he shouts into Chris’ megaphone. “You will stand in proper formation while your sergeant is speaking! Feet together- arms down- eyes forward- head up!”

The campers scramble into formation, rigidly standing as Chef paces the docks, snapping any stragglers into proper form. “Today’s challenge will not be easy,”

“When are they ever?” Staci mutters.

“What was that, soldier?!”

They salute. “Nothing, sir!”

“Good! Now, listen up! My bootcamp is no daycare! By the end of the day, all but one of you maggots will be in the infirmary, kitchen, bathrooms, or six feet deep! Am I understood?!”

The crowd chants in unison. “Sir, yes, sir!”

“You will sleep when I tell you to sleep! And you will eat when I tell you to eat! When you’re ready to give up, you’ll go to the end of this dock and ring that bell! I want one quitter by the end of the day- that means no one’s day is over until someone admits defeat! Now- onto the beach!”

The campers hurry down the docks and the creaky wooden steps, hurrying onto the sand and forming a neat line again behind two canoes.

“Each team must hold a canoe over their heads. Anyone who takes their hands off that canoe is eliminated! No one will eat, sleep, or sit until someone drops out! Canoes up!”

The teams diverge and hold up their respective canoes, only four people on the Fujoshis’. Ass scoffs. “Is this supposed to be hard? We carried these things with like, one other person for two hours on Boner Island,”

“Shut it!” Chef yells, pointing in their face. “You will speak to me only when spoken to!”

Ass swallows a nervous lump in their throat and nods.

Courtney sighs and turns to Bonnie at the back of the chain, who looks miserable. They notice they’re being watched and stare back angrily until Courtney turns away.

The hours tick by, the sun now directly overhead the campers. A bead of sweat trickles down Ass’ face. Austin has been trying to itch his nose by wiggling his glasses down for thirty minutes now. Max yawns.

“What’s up with you, man? Couldn’t sleep?” Scruffy asks from ahead of him.

Max shakes his head. “Something like that,”

From behind the two, Michael glares.

---

MICHAEL: “Good! You know what? He SHOULD be losing sleep after how he treated me. He deserves to lose sleep! I mean, what kind of a person would string along their friend like that? Though… I guess we were never friends”

---

Max turns his head to look back at Michael, who continues glaring at him. His face shifts from tired to angry and he glares right back. Scruffy watches the ordeal with a raised eyebrow.

---

SCRUFFY: “I don’t want to jinx it, but something tells me that Max and Michael are final three material- so whatever they have going on has to be big. I gotta keep tailing them,” they nod, writing on their notepad as they speak.

---

“I’m starving,” McLovin murmurs.

“Ready to give up, soldier?” Chris asks, popping into frame out of nowhere.

Courtney cuts in. “No! It’s only been a few hours!”

“Correct, private!” Chef yells. “Now stop being a baby and hold up those boats!”

The sun begins setting in the distance, relieving the campers from the heat. “I think my fingers are a little sunburnt. Can you check?” Staci asks Julia, standing behind them.

She peeks around the edge of the boat, where Staci’s fingers resemble ten large, raw sausages. She winces. “Um… yeah, a little,”

“Guys, I don’t think I can do this much longer,” Bonnie says, arms shaking. “I-I miss Caesar.”

Ass rolls their eyes. “Oh, brother,”

“Don’t quit yet! We can do this!” Courtney insists.

Bonnie shakes their head. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Scruffy takes note of the commotion on the adjacent canoe and whistles innocently. “It is a pretty hard challenge… and, gosh, you probably haven’t even seen the original episode. This is just the beginning…”

Julia raises an eyebrow with a slight smile from the back of the canoe.

---

JULIA: “Okay, you know what? I’m kind of impressed. Maybe I chose the wrong green contestant to go after.”

---

Bonnie groans. “I’m… I can’t…”

“Bonnie,” Courtney says firmly, turning their head to look them directly in the eyes. “Don’t give up. Caesar is counting on you!”

A look of cold determination passes over Bonnie’s face and they hold the boat up, arms as strong as ever. Meanwhile, the seemingly never-ending eye contact between Max and Michael gets more and more hostile by the second. If looks could kill, everyone within a ten mile radius would be toast.

Max ends up straining himself so hard his eyes hurt, and he has to look back forward. Scruffy takes note of this and gazes behind him to where Michael quickly looks away.

“Everything okay over here?” they ask, gaze flitting between the two.

“They would be better if someone kept their eyes to themselves,” Max snaps.

Michael scoffs. “Well, excuse me, some of us don’t like being stared at all day,”

“You looked first!”

“No, I didn’t! Stop blaming everything on me! You’re being such a-”

“Don’t even get me started!”

The Anons- along with the Fujoshis- stare at the commotion with wide eyes, looking between each other as if looking for a volunteer to put a stop to the shouting. No one comes forward.

“What the hell is your problem!? You go from being my friend to ignoring me to treating me like crap! Pick a goddamned side!”

“Oh, don’t even go there. Your little “innocent small-town girl-next-door” act isn’t convincing anyone,”

“Someone must’ve hit me upside the head before I got here, cause I have no idea what I ever saw in you!”

“My intelligence, apparently!”

“Oh, please!”

Chef steps in, hands on his hips. “Is there a problem here, maggots?!”

Michael opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Max ducks under Chef and walks to the edge of the docks, looking back with a smirk before ringing the bell.

The Fujoshis cheer, tossing their canoe aside while the Anons collapse, groaning.

Chef approaches Max on the docks, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Giving up to spite someone is the most cowardly, pathetic move I’ve seen yet. Chris!”

Chris pops into frame again. “Loved it!”

---

“Alright, soldiers- you get ten minutes to eat before night training begins!”

The campers stand around the mess hall, in which the tables and benches have been removed and a line of garbage cans are lined up against the wall.

Scruffy winces, leaning to Julia. “That’s our dinner,” she shudders.

“When you’re at war, you’re grateful for eating, period! Now, dig in!”

Chris and Chef leave for craft services, and the few braver contestants walk over to the metal cans, removing the lids. Courtney sighs and leans down, digging around for something edible. They fish out a loaf of moldy bread.

“Um… toast, anyone?”

Ass sniffles. “Yeah. I am so over this,”

---

A funky, 80’s pop tune plays over Chef’s boombox as the campers recite the dance moves he’d been training them in for the past few hours. The beach is empty and chilly, a cool breeze sweeping through every few minutes.

Ass shivers and sneezes, turning to McLovin. “Is it cold, or is it just me?”

“It’s pretty chilly, but… you don’t look so good, man,” McLovin squints at them. Their skin is paler than usual, and they’re shivering. “If only my buddy Sha-Mod were here, he’d know what to do.”

“Um… yeah,”

“No talking!” Chef yells into his megaphone. “First one to drop must ring the bell, understood?!”

“Yes, sir!” The campers yell back in unison.

Julia yawns. Scruffy focuses on their breathing, already knowing the dance by heart. Staci seems to be enjoying themselves, though doesn’t bring up which relative invented boomboxes out of fear of punishment.

“Um…” Courtney raises an eyebrow after turning in Ass’ direction. They’re shaking now, and sneeze every few seconds.

And, just like that, they pass out.

---

“Two maggots gone… I hope they’re setting an example for the rest you,” Chef shakes his head, pacing around the mess hall. The tables have been set back in their normal positions now, stacked high with paper and pencils. “For your next task, you must write a 300 word essay about me. Anyone who falls asleep or fails to complete the essay will fail the challenge!”

The time ticks down. Heads droop and then perk back up again. Eyes flutter closed and snap open. Max hovers in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall and smirking. Every so once in a while he’ll walk over to Michael, leaning over her shoulder and making quiet comments on her writing while she grits her teeth and attempts to remain calm. Chef steps in to shut him up at one point, but Chris stops him, enjoying the show too much.

Julia tugs at her hair, staring intently at the paper below.

---

JULIA: “For once in my life, I’m actually upset that little cretin got disqualified so early. I can do a lot of things, but essay writing? Yeah, not my B.”

---

“Time’s up!” Chef yells, patrolling the rows and snatching up papers. Julia looks up and nervously begins writing faster as he approaches. “Your paper, soldier!”

“Y-yeah, just a sec,” she mutters, writing even faster. Chef snatches the paper out from under her and reads the garbled handwriting.

“Soldier! Did a blind circus monkey teach you how to write?!”

“N-no, sir!”

“This is nothing but chicken scratch. Report to the dock now!”

Julia stands rigidly and runs out to the docks, Chef following behind. She slows to a walk as she approaches the bell.

Chef’s eyes narrow. “Ring it,”

Julia half-heartedly reaches forward and rings the bell, slumping her shoulders. Scruffy follows shortly after as Chef leaves. “Hey, you tried your best!”

“Not really,” she sighs, then smiles at them. “Thank you, though. You’re a really good friend.”

---

SCRUFFY: “I know Julia is trying to play me. What am I, Lindsay? I’m just playing along cause she makes a great case study,”

---

Chef walks next to the two, dragging a limp, asleep Austin. He grabs his wrist and uses it to ring the bell before dropping his unconscious body next to a very perplexed Julia and Scruffy.

---

A muddy, slightly smelly and newly-constructed obstacle course sits in front of the remaining campers, complete with a solid wooden climbing wall, rope swings, tire loops, and giant, swinging mallets.

Bonnie stands in front of the course, hands in their pockets and hood pulled up as Ass and Courtney stand beside them. Their gaze is focused, even if their eyes are tired.

“Listen up, maggots! You will run this course for as long as I say you should run this course, and then some! Is that understood!”

The campers salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

Chef blows an air horn and the remaining contestants start running, starting off with McLovin dashing straight into the wooden climbing wall and falling backwards, dazed. One of his bottom teeth pops out and Courtney runs to help him.

Bonnie rolls their eyes and practically runs over the duo, splashing them with mud before scaling the wall with ease.

Courtney puts McLovin’s arm over their shoulder and carries him to the bell, where he rings it weakly before a few interns with a stretcher run over and pick him up. Bonnie smirks behind them and grabs a rope, swinging onto the other side.

Courtney runs back, rejoining the frantic dash as Chef sits back and yells into his megaphone. “Run, maggots run!”

Staci slips and falls in the mud, then sighs in relief as their sunburnt fingers cool off. Michael runs by, accidentally stepping on their head and pushing it into the mud as she dashes.

Max leans against Chef’s chair, watching the array with Julia on the other side. “Can I have that for a sec?” He asks, pointing to Chef’s megaphone. He sighs and hands it to him.

“Is that the best you can do?” Max shouts, loud enough to send out feedback and cause Chef and Julia to cover their ears.

“Shut it!” Michael yells back as she runs around the course again. This time, Staci, still on the ground while coughing up mud, grabs her ankle as she passes by and pulls her into the dirt. Max laughs.

Julia nabs the megaphone, shoving him away. Michael looks up and smiles, relieved for a second before she speaks. “Come on, Scruffy!”

The smile on Michael’s face drops as she looks up and sees Scruffy dashing by.

---

MICHAEL: “What the hell is happening?!”

---

Michael manages to pull herself to her feet, weakly continuing the course. Staci follows, though walks in the opposite direction and rings the bell.

Bonnie dashes by Michael, huffing and puffing with the determination of a pro athlete, passing Scruffy, Kelly, Scary, even Courtney, who looks on with an expression of pure guilt.

---

SCRUFFY: “Ever since I watched Total Drama for the first time in the second grade, I’ve been training on obstacle courses. I’m kind of a master at this stuff. But that Bonnie… man. Last night’s elimination really got to them.”

---

Bonnie continues, using brute strength and adrenaline to push through the course, shoving players aside without a care in the world. Even Scary ducks out of their way on the climbing wall as they pass through, sweaty and covered in mud.

Courtney catches up, running alongside them. “Bonnie, it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not!” they speed up, outrunning Courtney for a moment before they catch up once again. “You’re pushing too hard!”

“What do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend! I never meant to hurt you! And… if Caesar were here, I’m sure he’d tell you I’m a massive liar and my piercings are so 2009, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was wrong for voting against him,”

Bonnie slows down to a complete stop before sitting in the mud and holding their head in their hands.

“Soldier! Up, now!” Chef yells. Bonnie doesn’t move.

Courtney circles the track again. “I’m sorry!” they yell, passing once more.

Bonnie looks up for a moment. “Then why? Why'd you do it?”

They run back. “I made a risky alliance thinking it’d help, but-” they jump through the tires, dodge the mallets and come back around. “It just complicated things even more!”

Bonnie sighs, standing from the mud to walk over to the bell and ring it. They sit on the dock, pulling their hood back up and tightening the drawstrings to obscure their face.

---

The mess hall is quiet as everyone eats their undercooked dinner (plain rice, still slightly crunchy) in relative silence. Bonnie stares blankly ahead, exhausted.

Michael sighs, ignoring her food and resting her head on the table as she watches Julia speak to Scruffy, and Max glare at her from across the table. Austin, Ass, Staci, and McLovin are nowhere to be seen, all resting up in the medical tent.

“This is hell,” Michael mutters.

“Well, you know what they say!” Scary grins devilishly, popping up out of nowhere. “Hell is other people!”

“You know, for once you’re kinda making sense,”

The Fujoshis table feels like a desolate wasteland as the two remaining players sit in dead silence, the sound of chewing preoccupying the space. Courtney fiddles with their earrings, nervously looking between the table and Bonnie every few seconds.

---

COURTNEY: “Okay, I messed up. I admit it! I was trying so hard to make peace with the enemy, I didn’t even stop to think how that’d affect my friend. Besides McLovin, Bonnie’s the only other person on the island who’s been nice to me, and I… I don’t even know...”

---

“Bonnie, I-”

Bonnie holds up a finger, silencing them. Courtney’s head hangs.

“I just wanted to let you know that… whoever you want to vote for tonight… I’ll vote with you. Even if-”

“Even if it’s McLovin?” Bonnie asks, staring intently at them.

Courtney nods. “Anyone,”

---

The inside of the medical tent is cold, the flaps still open as a few interns tend to the wounds of the fallen.

McLovin’s jaw is bandaged as he sits up, rubbing his head and looking around the tent. Austin is fast asleep, and Staci is sitting idly at the edge of her cot while an intern smears aloe over her fingers.

Ass is awake, wrapped in a blanket and shivering.

“You okay?” McLovin asks, turning to them. He struggles to talk, his mouth still sore from where the tooth was put back in a few hours prior.

“Y-y-yes,” they stammer. Their skin is ghostly pale and their eyes are heavy. “J-just a tiny cold.”

He winces. “That sucks. Are we still in the running?”

Ass shrugs, but a nearby intern nods, confirming.

McLovin pauses for a moment. “I hope we win. I really do,”

---

“What’s this for?” Julia asks, walking alongside Scruffy. “Isn’t captain Chef gonna blow his lid when he realizes you’re gone?”

Scruffy shrugs. “He won’t even notice. Besides, we are on break,”

---

SCRUFFY: “Here’s the deal: I don’t like getting played like a sucker. It’s why I prefer Max’s antagonism to hers. At least he’s open about being a jerk. But… while I have Julia on my side, I might as well play some classics on her, get her to trust me.”

---

Julia pauses as she hears Chef’s voice from the approaching tent. Scruffy pulls out a thin, discarded garbage bag and unfolds it, handing it to her. “You ready?”

“Um… what are we doing?”

Scruffy drops on all fours and crawls into the olive green tent, beckoning Julia to follow. She hesitates for a moment, and then crawls in behind them, whispering sharply. “Are you crazy?”

Chris chuckles at something from just a few feet away. Scruffy turns their head for a moment. “You know, I never took you as someone who like to play by the rules,”

“If playing by the rules means not getting gutted like a fish, then yes!”

“Relax, they won’t even know, I've seen this done before,” they respond, stopping by a gently-humming white fridge. They quietly open the door, and gesture Julia closer. “How would you like to eat food for once?”

---

Courtney kicks back, Bonnie at their side as they sit in the cabin together. The food Scruffy and Julia had taken is available for grabs, meaning any team, any rival gets a bite- they’re no longer against each other when it comes to the common enemy: the show.

“This is nice,” they sigh, offering Bonnie another cookie, which they refuse.

“Yeah, I mean…” Bonnie gets quiet for a moment. “Caesar would’ve loved this…”

Courtney places a comforting hand on their shoulder, smiling softly. “I’m sorry about all this, I really am. You two were so close, and… it wasn’t right of me to separate friends like that, especially after what happened to me…”

“Yeah, but, if you’re not being a lying, manipulative holy terror, then it wasn’t really your fault,” Bonnie smiles a little. “Mal must’ve rubbed off on that piece of work.”

“Ugh… I hate to say it, but you’re right,”

A knock on the door distracts the both of them, and the two look up to see Michael poking her head in. “Hey, room for one more?”

Courtney shrugs with a grin. “Just don’t steal any team secrets,”

“Like I’d have anyone to share them with,” she sighs, taking a seat on the rug beneath where Bonnie and Courtney are sitting on the bed. “It’s a nightmare in there. For me, at least… I mean, I thought I was doing well!”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Courtney sighs. “You’re welcome to join the Fujoshis, you know. We could use the extra players.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t think Chris would be for it,” Michael smiles. “But we’re close enough to the merge.”

“Are we?” Bonnie asks, looking between the two.

“Scruffy told Julia earlier,”

Courtney smacks their forehead. “God, how could I forget?”

“Don’t sweat it, there’s a lot going on. Just try to survive until then,”

Courtney sighs, shaking their head, though they open their eyes and smile again. Bonnie gives a faint smile, too, before lying back on the mattress. Michael turns to look out the window for a moment and the sound of crickets outside fills the room for a moment.

She turns back to Courtney. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Shoot,”

“You and McLovin… you’re…?”

“Just friends,” Courtney shrugs. “Especially with the Ass stuff going on… it’s just too complicated to even think about anything else.”

“Well, just…” Michael starts before trailing off, standing. “Just be careful, okay? He’s not all that he seems.”

She turns and walks to the cabin door.

---

Julia laughs, pushing against Scruffy’s chest playfully. Max watches the display from afar, rolling his eyes. He shoots Michael a glare as she walks back inside, and she returns the expression.

Scary scampers around the room with a sausage in their mouth. Kelly chats merrily with themselves about their nails. Michael sighs and sits on a bed near Kelly, looking between the ground and Julia and Scruffy every other second, avoiding eye contact with Max.

Chef’s voice blares over the intercom. “Attention, maggots! Your next stage of training begins at 0700 hours tomorrow! And to the funny guy who felt like recreating my least favorite Island scene… you’re in for a world of pain,”

---

The few remaining campers- Courtney, Michael, Scruffy, Scary, and Kelly- hang upside down from the branches of a large tree.

“For you few remaining souls, I’m sure you can already feel the blood rushing to your head. You will get nauseous, dizzy… eventually, you will collapse,”

The five look at each other nervously. Kelly swoons for a moment before falling, Austin (sitting on the sidelines with the rest of the non-competing campers) running to catch them.

Chef nods solemnly as Scary suddenly sits up in the tree and climbs into the canopy. “Hey! Hey! Get down here, maggot!”

Scary vanishes, leaving Michael, Scruffy, and Courtney behind.

“Come on, Court, you can do it!” McLovin cheers. Ass rolls their eyes and Bonnie glares at them.

“Go, Scruffy!” Julia cheers.

Max adds on half-heartedly: “Yeah, Scruffy!”

Michael grits her teeth and holds onto the branch tightly. Scruffy smirks and crosses their arms over their chest in mid air, clearly having practiced this before.

Courtney’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, and then snap back open. They turn to Scruffy. “Don’t suppose you have any pointers for me?”

They shake their head. “Not for the enemy,”

Courtney groans, slipping a bit. Their eyes snap open and they grab onto Scruffy’s shirt to stabilize themselves just as they fall, bringing them both to the ground. The observing campers wince, Bonnie walking over to help Courtney and Julia rushing to Scruffy.

Chef approaches the tree just as Michael drops down, landing on her knees with a thud. He grabs her shoulders and stands her up, saluting her after.

“Good work, soldier! I expect to see you in the ranks after the competition!”

Michael salutes back. “Thanks, man,” and then passes out on the ground.

---

“Fujoshis, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Chris says. “You guys have eaten more marshmallows this month than the average man does in his life. But, here we are, yet again.”

Ass shivers and scoffs, still wrapped in a blanket. Bonnie turns back to glare at them, and then looks to Courtney, who nods.

“Our first marshmallow goes to McLovin- then to Courtney,” he grins wickedly. “Bonnie… you racked up the most impressively unimpressive number of votes I’ve ever seen… one. However, Ass- you beat them with a grand total of two, earning you a premium access trip down the dock of shame!”

Ass frowns. “You know w-what?” they stand, still shivering. “Fine! I’m done with this lame show anyway.”

---

MCLOVIN: “I didn’t want to take sides… I hate taking sides, I just can’t do it. I voted myself. I deserve it, anyway…” he sulks.

---

Ass walks down the dock of shame without another word, shooting Courtney one final glare before stepping into the boat.

---

ASS: “So, I didn’t handle the drama very well, but big whoop, I’m not perfect. I tried, or something. Whatever! I don’t even care. I’m going home,”

---

Chris chuckles as the boat disappears. “Wow. Will the Fujoshis finally end their losing streak? Will the Anons ever get along? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Island!”

#tti #total takes island

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