#i added some of the other characters to it as well!

[weirdlandtv]

How to depict blinking in a comic? Oh hello, by the way. Yes, I'm still alive. I'm fine and how are you and all that but—how to depict blinking in a comic strip? Carl Barks used this method—

The ducks' huge eyes are split in two, with one set of slightly faded pupils in the top half (see image 1), and another of solid black pupils in the lower half, both sets cut off in such a way that the “stacked” pupils don't appear like one large elongated pupil (a thin white horizontal line separates the two states as well); and that, with the added "Blink! Blink!" gets the job done perfectly. Here’s another slightly different blink:

(Now that I'm writing this stuff about top half, bottom half I'm suddenly reminded of a Barks gag I came across: a file cabinet in the background of a panel with one drawer saying TOP SECRET and the one below it saying BOTTOM SECRET.)

Really though, Barks's brilliant stories are en endless source of great ideas, gags, splash pages, twists, visual tricks, pacing, phrasing, suspense building, the whole proverbial "shebang", whatever a shebang is: I've said it before on this blog but any budding artist or writer—heck, even a professional one—could learn a lot from Barks's best work. Fireworks of creativity.

Re-reading some of Barks's stories, as I sometimes do by way of therapy, it struck me that many panels consist of three main elements: a foreground element, a middle section where the action takes place, and a background:

This foreground element can really be anything. It can be a bush, a tree, a rock, even a wave:

It can be a chair, a table, or any other piece of interior:

It can be a character, or just their silhouette:

And of course it's also a good way to hide snooping villains:

In the Gyro Gearloose stories the foreground element is often Little Helper having a kind of silent slapstick adventure of his own (in Dutch here as it’s from my own copy):

…Also, how is this for dark:

#carl barks #donald duck #disney #comics #comic books #comic strip #comic panels #walt disney #ducks #blinking

[alwayscorvus]

A hug for a precious teammate

A hug for a precious teammate

malereader x Jiyan, fluff;

i already have an idea for a longer post ("normal" 4 my acc) but for now just a quick short. Jiyan can be a little out of character

He stood alone in the middle of a field, surrounded by emortia flowers. His green robes blew gently on the wind. With his back turned to you, he looked into a distance. Onto a horizon where an outline of Jinzhou city painted itself.

You approached him at a distance of few steps.

-I knew I would find you here.

Hearing your voice, chills went through Jiyan. But not the unpleasant ones, rather those of excitement.

He turned his head back, looking at you over his shoulder. Warm rays of setting sun gushed on both sides of his face, trying to escape past his figure. As a result, his face shimmered with a bright, yellowish glow of light. Messy strands of his hair (which, as always, managed to break out from not-so-perfect ponytail) flew in all directions. His facial expression represented surprise. You saw him taking a sudden gasp of breath after a spin. Yet, at sight of you, corners of his lips lifted slightly upward.

Even though an image in front of you was breathtaking, you put your focus on his eyes. They showed so many emotions. Sadness, grief, suffering. But also some sort of gratitude and relief.

A desire for touch, for warmth of another person.

You involuntarily spread your arms in an inviting gesture. And Jiyan instantly spun on his heel.

It took just a seconds. Jiyan immediately seized an opportunity. He ran into your embrace.

Before you had time to realize, your body was being squeezed tightly by a man's strong arms.

You looked down. Jiyan was stubbornly snuggling his head into your chest, avoiding eye contact.

-I'm sorry. I should be there with you.

You said with a genuine remorse. Now you deeply regretted not accompanying him today.

You knew that returning to the past by experiencing Riverside Games could be painful for your man. However, you hoped that if you let him go alone, he wouldn't be limited to only your company. And that he might be able to reintegrate with other rangers. On a different level -not only restricted to work and duties. Besides, this wasn't your festival.

That's why you decided to go to work.

However, after that decision, for a few good hours, you suffered with great guilt. You couldn't concentrate on your job. Especially after you found out that the festival got suspended. You were unable to complete any task properly. You were basically useless. To the point where your supervisor - Mortefi ordered you to leave.

Jiyan rapidly shook his head in denial. He didn't loosen his grip even slightly. You were slowly running out of breath. But you knew it was the only thing you could do for him at that moment.

-I planted a seed - he said quietly, slowly choosing his words - With Rover

-But I want to plant one with you as well - he added quickly, this time lifting his face up and looking directly into your eyes.

His golden orbs sparkled slightly with hope. Somehow like with an anticipation of approval.

-I know I know -you changed your voice to as calm and tenderful as possible- We are gonna do this

You placed your hands gently on his back and slowly began to make a circles on them. Trying as much as possible to soothe his nerves after today's events.

Jiyan dropped his head again and tightened his grip more. Even though, a second before you hardly believed that it was possible.

However, that gesture did awaken you. You looked around. And your eyes caught a glimpse of midnight rangers. Standing in the distance, guarding Knell Square. They weren't looking in your direction, not paying attention to you at all. Whether out of respect or ignorance.

But still, if this were to change, you had to do something.

Jiyan wouldn't want anyone to see him in such state. Especially his subordinates, to whom, as a general, he looked like a pure perfection. An example of someone unbreakable and with an unbelievable courage.

You were the first and last one to whom he deliberately showed his vulnerable side.

It wasn't often, because he mostly tried to play tough. Even outside of work, he felt a sense of responsibility. Though in this case, for the two of you. For your prosperity and well-being.

That just how his character was.

Sometimes, however, emotions took over him. Just like now. And Jiyan allowed himself to seek for a support in your presence.

With your right hand, you delicately grabbed his jaw and lifted his head up. His eyes were no longer glowing with ordinary sparkle. Shine came from a liquid that had accumulated inside them. Tears that he struggled hard to not let out.

-But we will get home first, okay?

Jiyan nodded and you leaned down to lovingly kiss his other cheek.

-Let's go - you said, moving away from him slightly and secondly putting one arm around his waist.

Jiyan tiredly laid his head on your shoulder and let you lead the way to your house. To your safe space.

#fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #tmr #x reader #x male reader #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x male reader #wuthering waves x reader #x top male reader #jiyan #wuthering waves imagines #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #jiyan x male reader #mxm #wuwa jiyan #top male reader #male reader

[pansexualkiba]

i forgot i have this person blocked but to answer a question no one was asking about.

the "1000 year old underage girl" thing is forgetting that for, like, super-long-lived races like that, those characters are aging ridiculously slowly. the point isn't that some girls just look absurdly youthful, the point is to give someone a character who is underage in their own race's timeframe and going "well by human standpoints she's over 18 ;)". its scummy. if 6000 is young adult age why are we talking to a six year old like that. why is she dressed like that.

chilchuck is from a race with an average life span of 60, compared to tallman (human) als of 80. he has an age of majority of 14 (and had a kid at 13, meaning he's a teen dad), and is currently 29 years old. he is, by literal definition, a middle-aged man. he dresses pretty modestly as well, and was going grey before the artist just stopped adding that to make him easier to draw. not only that, long-lived races are often shown to infantalize the short-lived races, which is a major contributor to why the shapeshifter part turned out the way it did. there's also a character who (among other things) only dates short-lived races despite being long-lived, and other characters make fun of her for it because, while 25-30 is mature for short-lived races, those are adolescent ages for long-lived races.

the point here is chilchuck is fine to lust over because. he's an adult. by both human and half-foot standards. unlike the nebulous "1000 year loli", who is only an adult by human standards, NOT the girl's standards. also he's got three adult daughters, a drinking problem, a union job, and a divorce. the girl ain't even wearing shoes.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #Chilchuck Tims #stay AWAY from my man <3

[rainbowsky]

DD's Official Fan Club has made a (rare) statement on the upset over the Magnolia Awards.

Good works rely on the joint achievements of all members of the crew. As actors, they also devote their full energy to each work. I hope that fans can pay more attention to each work and the characters themselves, feel the charm and positive meaning of each character, and support each work with more warm love. As a young actor, Wang Yibo has always focused on performing and accumulating works, using his influence to drive more people to actively spread positive energy. A good star-chasing atmosphere requires everyone’s joint efforts. Let’s look forward to more outstanding works in the future.

This is very aligned with how I view DD as an actor and as a person. He is not an awards-chaser. He's a very humble, hardworking person who is gracious and always happy to show respect for others. I don't believe that he would be happy to see his fans behaving the way they are, in his name.

Some fans have been taking the studio's silence on the nominations (the drama was nominated for 5 awards) as evidence of their 'guilt' over how all this went down. I disagree.

As fans of Chinese stars we should be well aware of the climate GG and DD work within, and of the Clear and Bright internet campaign put forth by the government. This campaign holds stars responsible for fan behavior, and metes out penalties for disruption or disorder caused by fans.

It is my view that those involved with the drama are probably trying to avoid adding fuel to the fire right now. It is in no one's interest - least of all DD's - for this outrage to burn out of control.

I hope things settle down soon, and that DD doesn't face consequences for what's happening. Whether we agree with Clear and Bright or not, we should be conscious of protecting DD.

#ggdd controversies #brotherhood and stuff #personal #bjyx #yizhan

[its-a-me-mango]

HI!!

I really like how you draw smg4 and 3 and was wondering if you have any tips that could help someone like me who can't seen to get it to look right? Its alr if not, i'm just curious! :D

(*Consumes your art aggressively but respectfully*)

Hi, thank you for asking me! I'm not the best at giving art advice/help but I can try my best! :'D

I guess my general advice for both of them is that there is no "right" way for them to look, both of them have fairly simple designs in comparison to other characters in the series, which in turn gives a lot of legroom for stylisation and stuff like that! All you really need to do is pick out their key features (which can be hard with simple characters since... there ain't a lot of obvious ones) and the rest will fall into place!

You can see this with the way SMG4 is shown in official merch, while yes he's more stylised compared to his official model, they all still read as being SMG4! It's through these as well that you can see what aspects of his design stay consistent throughout different drawings of him, namely his wider eye shape, short stature, bold eyebrows, etc. You get the idea, picking up on these and referencing them can help if you're struggling to get them to look right with your own art!

If you're still struggling to stylise them for your own style, I find it helps to heavily reference/trace the original design first, just to get as close to their intended design as possible, parts of your own style will already start to show through from that (I normally don’t condone tracing others' work unless it’s for stuff like this). 

From there it's just a case of refining them and practising, adding/taking away parts as you go until you get to a style that you're happy with! It doesn't matter if they're not 100% accurate, as long as it's easy and consistent enough for you to replicate them, then it's fine!

You'll have much better results and an easier time drawing them if you let yourself be more experimental with their designs and learn as you go, rather than trying to get them perfect right away. I know it can be frustrating to not get them right the first time, but you'll find it much easier to adapt them to your style and get them how you want them to look if you just learn and adapt as you go.

I hope this helps in some way! I'm not the best at explaining stuff like this because my main method is just to say "fuck it we ballin" and then draw a character over and over again until I can do it in my sleep, so I hope my ramblings help in some way! You can apply this to any character by the way, not just SMG4, if in doubt just go back to the original reference and keep at it until it looks how you want it to.

Don't be afraid to make drawings that don't turn out right or ones that you're not happy with, it's all part of learning as an artist! You will get there in the end if you put in the effort to learn! <3

Also no one will tell you this so I will but, SMG3 is just SMG4 with a beard, so if you can draw SMG4 you can draw SMG3 no problem LMAO.

#mangos mystery ask box #... OOPS!!!! RAMBLED!!!!!!!!!! I'm so bad at giving advice sorryyyyyyy #THANK YOU FOR ENJOYING MY ART AS WELL!!! Means a lot I prommy ;w;

[goodqueenaly]

After the long night ends and Jon (possibly) dies for good. Will everyone throughout Westeros know that Jon is not the son of Ned, or will most people still think that Jon is his bastard?

Do I think there will be multiple characters in-universe who may very well survive the looming apocalyptic crisis and will likely learn that Jon was the biological son of Rhaegar Targaryen (and Lyanna Stark)? Yes, I think that’s almost certainly going to be the case. It is perhaps no coincidence that two of the people who were made aware of Robb’s will regarding Jon - that is, Maege Mormont and Galbart Glover - are also currently with Howland Reed, one of the few people alive who were all but definitely present for Jon’s birth at the tower of joy. With the Stark children I think set to convene at Winterfell, and various factions in favor of their respective claims with them, I very much anticipate that the bombshell news regarding Jon’s biological paternity will come up as the dynastic question of House Stark’s leadership is debated. Too, Dany’s prophesied, metaphorical vision of Jon - the blue rose blooming at the Wall - connects him with Lyanna, and by extension Rhaegar. If, and I think when, Jon rides a dragon, his Targaryen heritage may seem confirmed (which is not to say dragonriding necessitates Targaryen parentage - as indeed I think will be the case with the draconically scholastic Tyrion). (And this is without any knowledge to be potentially conveyed by either Benjen, notably not confirmed as dead and almost certainly aware to some extent of the relationship between Rhaegar and Lyanna, or Wylla/any other individuals at Starfall, where I think extremely likely Gerold Dayne, and by extension Areo Hotah, are headed.)

Do I think that “everyone throughout Westeros [will] know” that Jon’s biological father was Rhaegar Targaryen? I’m not sure what “everyone throughout Westeros” will even understand about the eventual defeat of the Others generally, much less be aware of the specifics regarding those responsible for this defeat. One idea GRRM has returned to again and again throughout ASOIAF is a story whose particulars are exaggerated, twisted, and/or lost through the passage of space and/or time: think of, to give just a few examples, the news of Oxcross reaching King’s Landing with a lycanthropic element added, or the confused rumors of Dany’s dragons serving as a conversation piece for the Citadel’s students, or the myth of Hukko the Pentoshi hero perhaps stemming from a corruption of the Andalish religious figure Hugor. To whatever extent the rest of Westeros becomes aware of the defeat of the Others - and I think that the final showdown against the Others will happen at Winterfell, relatively far from much of Westeros - it’s entirely possible that Jon’s biological parentage gets lost in the shuffle of translating the story to other peoples and regions. Was the dragonriding hero who bravely sacrificed himself to rid the world of demonic supernatural slavers Jon Snow, the bastard son of Lord Eddard, or Jon Stark, legitimized/legitimate brother of the Young Wolf (and perhaps would-be King in the North in his own right), or Jon, son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, or even a figure with another supposed backstory completely? The truth may become obscured as distance, physical and chronological, passes from both the large (or larger) scale revelation of Jon’s biological parentage and the ultimate defeat of the Others.

Also, I have to say it - Jon not being the biological child of Eddard Stark does not at all erase the fact that Jon was (and is) very much Ned’s son. Where Tywin did everything possible to hurt, humiliate, and demean his biological son Tyrion, Ned did everything possible to embrace a boy he knew was not his biological son; Ned was willing to go above and beyond social expectations, even permanently sacrificing some part of his relationship with the wife he loved, to hold out Jon as his son. Consequently, it’s Ned Jon looks to as his father and paternal example; even if Jon eventually learns that half of his DNA came from Rhaegar (and I think he will), I don’t think that knowledge will replace the love Ned and Jon had (and the latter has) for one another.

#asoiaf meta #jon snow #speculation #r plus l equals j

[dozyrogue]

I brought it up and now I can't not think about it so I'm going to Yap some more,, block me now

I don't understand how people can't tell the difference that is adding tommy to a fic an suddenly tubbo is not a well thought out character instead he will always ever be tommys side kick.

Maybe I'm crazy lol

Like think of it this way, you're watching an anime or a show where yes we have an enticing main character but we get a couple episodes about the side characters. These episodes about the side characters can be really different and fun and they put details into that side character they really flesh them out.

But then we get back to the main story and suddenly all the fleshing out of the character that was created in the side episodes is completely deleted and this side character is now ........ empty. Or the only drive they have is around the mc.

The moment tommy is added into a fic suddenly tubbo doesnt get to have his own thoughts outside of being the tommy support squad. Same goes for ranboo.

And if you tell me that you don't recognize this or you've never seen this before either, you were the luckiest person alive oooorr YOUR JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM.

And actually I think it's even worse if it's like a qsmp based fic because qtubbo is very fleshed out and the total opposite of how most write tubbo. A lot of people still write him as the calm chaos that's only ever evolving around and for tommy. Which iss fine but not fine, iiiii-

Qtubbo, been to jail for a consering amount of crimes, is a boy kisser, created multiple basically sentient machines, im gonna say he created or was apart of some secret order. Literally evil scientist, epic builder. When on multiple death rampages, literally fucked with a fed organization for funnies.

Now don't get me wrong ctubbo is also very good character. But the only people who get it are other ctubbo fans who pay attention to him.

but dude it was so hard having to fight tooth and nail defending him because he was only EVER seen as tommys sidekick or his best friend. HES SO MUCH MOOORRE

#tubbo #qsmp tubbo #dsmp tubbo #ctubbo #I feel like I should clarify that I don't hate Tommy or his characters #i do hate when characters r mischaracterized #especially around other characters #like you guys can go ahead and Mischaracterized whatever character you want........ but not around me #btw this is about a twitter post and then a different blog post i made #i shouldve mentioned that 🧍🏾‍♂🧍🏾‍♂

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt1)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt1 Summary: Reader returns to the townhouse to see that Lucien has gone to the Spring Court. Per Ruhn, he asked him to make sure that Reader is okay. The emotions of the day hit her in an unexpected way. A week later Reader, Lucien, and Mor go to Day Court. It quickly becomes apparent that the Inner Circle likes to meddle. Well, so does the High Lord of the Day Court.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warning(s): Nightmares

A/N: This chapter will be split into two sections, mainly due to the similar themes throughout, but it was becoming a bit of an overload. A very special thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! There is a lot going on in this chapter, and I promise we are getting closer to actually moving some of the plot forward. But character and relationship development is also important for what I have instore.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 8

Nyx had fallen asleep rather quickly after the start of your personal one-woman rendition of Frozen 2. After tucking him in and saying your goodbye to Feyre and Elain, you opted to walk on your own back to the town house. You’ve walked along this route a few times and it didn’t pass by any of the pubs, so you didn’t have to worry about possibly running into any drunk males. Even if you did, you had been seen walking along the route with various members of the “Inner Circle'' and even the High Lord himself on more than one occasion. Someone would have to have a death wish to mess with you knowing that you worked directly for the High Lord and Lady. 

The walk was just the thing you needed to help clear your mind of the emotionally taxing day. This morning had started off much differently than where your day had ended. Your good humor from the surprise offering of that apple to Azriel had long since disappeared. As the day went on the positive energy had been slowly drained out of you. Instead, it was replaced with irritation, a hairpin trigger temper, and resurfacing memories you longed to be forgotten. Today felt like the longest day in existence as you slowly trudged back to the town house. 

The cold breeze off the Sidra flitted over your skin, hurrying you along. The day’s events added up and you couldn’t wait to see Lucien to discuss everything that happened. Well, almost everything. You still had a promise to keep to Nesta, even though you were certain that the other females would be telling their mates about your little ability to walk through the Prison wards without issue. Once Cassian knew something, it meant that it wouldn’t be long before Rhysand knew as well. 

In what felt like record time, you found yourself walking up the steps leading to the front door. Your heart sputtered with the thought of not being able to tell Lucien what you had discovered. So far, you shared practically everything with the Autumn Court male. While he didn’t know everything about you or your past, you had made sure to keep him apprised of the inner workings of your mind and any event that happened while he was not directly next to you. That was something the two of you had agreed upon since your fight prior to moving to Velaris. 

The door had been unlocked, which was something that you felt you’d never quite get used to. The interior of the town house was warm, a fire dancing in the parlor’s fireplace. You poked your head into the room expecting to see the near crimson shade of Lucien’s long hair hanging over the armrest of the couch. However, you were instead greeted by the infectious smile and vivid blue eyes of Ruhn. 

“Hey there sweetness,” He called out. You felt your shoulders slump ever so slightly and hesitated on whether to fully enter the room. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around Ruhn, but all you really wanted to do was talk to Lucien. You needed to decompress with your best friend from this emotional rollercoaster that was today. 

“Hey,” Your voice was softer than you intended. Maybe Lucien was already in your room waiting for you. A book in his lap as he leaned against the headboard of the bed you both practically shared.  

“That’s all I get? A simple ‘Hey’.” Ruhn teased, standing up from the couch. 

“Sorry,” You tried to hide your own smile by pressing your lips into a thin line. “But is Lucien here?

“Ah, about that,” Ruhn took a few steps across the room, and you tried your best not to tense your shoulders again. “He…wanted me to tell you that he was called away. He had to go…check in on those allies in the south.”  

“Oh,” Your chest felt heavy. “Okay.” A part of you couldn’t help but wonder at the truth of the statement. 

“Is there…” He paused, his hand outstretched. Ultimately it came to rest on your shoulder before that violet stare looked you over. You fidgeted in place, picking at your nails. It wasn’t exactly like Lucien not to tell you himself if he was leaving. Sure, he’d left the Night Court without warning before, but he had always left you a note. “Can I help with anything?” 

You met Ruhn’s gaze and hesitated. He and the others from Midgard were perfectly aware of your ongoing issues. They had all been at the Moonstone Palace in those early days. And while Bryce and Hunt would occasionally stay in a room at the House of Wind, Ruhn stayed at the town house full time with you. He knew all too well that the occasional nights away from Lucien still led to difficulty sleeping. But you never asked for any help from him or anyone else before. Lucien was the only one and those nights had just become routine. He was your safe space. Though the guilt had been lessening, you didn’t want to be a burden to anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Ruhn to step in, even if you knew he would without question. 

“I should be okay,” You forced a smile to your lips. Taking his hand off your shoulder, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you though.” With that you turned and headed up the stairs to your room.

Sure enough, you were greeted by a cold and empty room. Lucien would typically use his magic to light the fire in the small hearth and have it blazing before you fell asleep. Tonight, you would have to go without. You knew how to get one going on your own, but you didn’t have the tools readily available tonight. Closing the curtains, you changed into your night clothes and readied for bed. You prayed that your sleep tonic tonight would be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Blackness. Deep and penetrating. The surrounding darkness filled your vision. The color was so dense it swallowed any light that dared linger. The dark was followed by a bitter cold that seeped into your bones. Your hands stretched out in front of you, trying to guide you through the depths. The tips of your fingers were numb, giving way to a minor sensation in your palms. What should have felt like frozen air was instead slippery and oily. Something slithered across your forearm. 

You opened your mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Another unknown thing wound up your leg. Still no sound could be heard past your lips. Up and up your thigh the scaly creature traveled. You tried to brush it away, but another wrapped around your wrist, pulling it back. The silence of the space around you was deafening. You kicked against the creature, trying your best to shake it off. You could feel the frozen tears along your cheeks. The creature coiled its way up slowly, a trail of black oil in its wake staining your skin. You pulled at your restrained wrist and continued to kick. Finally breaking free, you began to run. Getting no more than a few feet, your steps slowed. The ground beneath you turned into thick molasses. The sticky and slimy substance reeked of festering meat. Gagging at the stench you pulled your hands up to your mouth, only for the reek to become stronger. Looking down you saw your hands were covered in the same unknown substance. Suddenly your movements stopped altogether. 

The stinking black ooze fully covered your feet and was rapidly rising; filling up the space that you were in. Panic latched itself onto you. With each attempt to free your limbs the world around you seemed to slow. Not that you could see much beyond your own body. The silver glow it emitted was immediately swallowed by the darkness. A deep rumbling caused the light to flicker. 

“No!” You cried, but again the sound died instantly. The ooze continued to rise. The creature from before had wound its way around your waist. Your wrists were bound a second time above your head. You tried to kick again, but the ooze was nearly at your hips. How did it get so high? A bright flash of blue nearly blinded you. 

“No!” You tried to scream a second time. The ooze was now at your neck, and the tears streamed down faster. The creature around you constricted tighter and you felt that deep rumbling at your back. You opened your mouth again to scream, but air was quickly replaced with that reeking oily darkness. You were going to die. 

“(Y/N)! WAKE UP!” Your eyes snapped open. Tears clung to your eyelashes and blurred your vision. You tried to move your arms, but something kept them pinned down at your sides. Taking large gulps of air, you blinked and whipped your head around, desperately trying to find why the blackness had suddenly disappeared. The rushing of your blood pounded against your ears. Slowly, the sound subsided, and the tears dried up. A blast of cold wind snapped along your front. It was a stark contrast to the dull warmth at your back. You turned your head to look behind you. Moonlight drenched panic was visible in Ruhn’s features. Slowly you turned around, his arms never leaving you.

“R-Ruhn?” Your throat burned, hoarse from the screams you let out in your sleep. The male stood before you now, one arm wrapped around your middle while the other cradled your face. His thumb brushed at a tear that slipped down your cheek. You looked around, finally taking in your surroundings. You were on the roof of the town house. The Night Court sky, black speckled in deep blues and purples, twinkled with starlight. A nearly full moon hung low on the western horizon. Ruhn’s thumb continued to stroke along your cheek. The movement allowed you to slowly reorient yourself in your body.   

“How…” You looked back at the male.

“You were sleepwalking,” His touch was so gentle, and his voice held the slightest tremble.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized. Ruhn chuckled.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” He pulled you towards his chest. Your feet stumbled as they came off the ledge. The stone of the building felt like ice under your bare feet. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

You nodded along and he guided you back to the roof entrance. You had only been up here a few times, so you were surprised that you found the door on your own. Especially since you had been asleep. Sleepwalking. You had never sleep walked before, and you could feel your body shake with the thought of what would have happened had Ruhn not been in the town house with you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you were already at your bedroom door.

“Did you take your tonic tonight?” Ruhn asked, leading you into the room.

“Yes,” You whispered, staring at your empty bed. The dark sheets were crumpled and half hanging off the side. Almost as if you had been in the fight of your life within the silk fabric.

“Then you’re not sleeping alone,” His tone was resolute. And if you hadn’t been in near shock, you may have fought against him. You watched in silence at the foot of the bed as he tucked the corners of the bottom sheet underneath the mattress. Once it was all set, he motioned for you to climb back in. You complied wordlessly, pulling the blankets back over yourself. He then sat in the armchair next to the bed and spread out the copper throw blanket over his legs.

“Take the rest of your tonic,” He instructed, “I’ll let the others know that you need the morning off.” His smile was gentle, and you genuinely felt safe. You again did as he instructed, and slumber claimed you again as soon as your head hit the pillow.

If you could only use a single word to sum up the Day Court, it was brilliant. The sun itself almost seemed to shine brighter than within the Night Court skies. The air certainly held a warmer quality that wasn’t solely because it was further south on the large island. No, the air almost reminded you of your own home in the fall. Just like the warm breeze flowing across your skin now, you didn’t get the crisp and cool Autumn winds in your hometown. A slight pang of nostalgia flooded through you.

The Autumn based holidays were always important to your family. You made a mental note to ask Lucien when the Autumn Equinox was set to occur. You could then use that as a base to count down the days to Samhain. Maybe this year you could celebrate the Wheel of Year in your own way. If you were going to be stuck here, you may as well continue your personal practice. You had been able to gather that Prythian followed a solar calendar and celebrated many similar holidays to your own Celtic roots. Maybe if everything worked out in your visit with Helion, you’d be able to study some of their holidays and mythology. You always loved reading about that in your own world.

You wondered if the libraries held the same level of grandeur as the High Lord’s palace. The hall that you found yourself walking along with Mor, who had firmly planted herself between you and Lucien, was nothing short of opulent. Large stone columns lined the hall, holding the ceiling aloft. To your best guess it would have been at least 20 feet high. Your eyes darted from pillar to pillar, each filled with various images. It reminded you of the temples and other sacred sites in ancient Egypt.

The hall eventually ended, sectioning off into two open air walkways that surrounded an open courtyard oasis. A large reflection pool with deep teal water took up half of the expansive space. An occasional floating lily pad was the only disruption to the smooth surface. The other half was walled off by a luscious garden. Your eyes lit up at the vivid greens ranging from deep emerald to olive to dusty sage in plants of all sizes. The few flowering plants all held buds and blossoms of a white hue. You could recognize only a scant few on sight. Roses, Calla Lilies, and Magnolia. It was breath-taking to say the least. You would have loved to lounge on one of the cushioned benches that were scattered throughout the area. A good book in one hand and a margarita in the other.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Morrigan walked up to your side. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped to stare at the beautiful garden. She gently pulled your elbow encouraging you to continue moving. Rubbing the top of your left ear you followed suit. Rhysand requested that Lucien place a glamor on your ears to give them a pointed appearance. Mor gently clasped your wrist and pulled your hand away.

You weren’t entirely sure why Rhysand had insisted that she tag along on this journey. Really, you only needed one babysitter. So, having two seemed a bit overkill. But as much as Rhysand tried to pretend that you were more than just a thorn in his side, you knew that the only reason you even required an entourage was because he didn’t trust you to be alone with anyone outside of the Night Court.

You had nothing against Mor being here, and she was certainly a better option than some of the other members of the Inner Circle. For the most part you got along with her, but you also didn’t spend much time together to be more than cordial in each other’s presence. She often traveled to and from the continent for some reason or other. You weren’t privy to that information, nor did you really care. The internal workings of the Night Court held no real interest of yours.

You just wanted the opportunity to figure out a way home. The sooner you could do that, the sooner you could leave and return to the place where you knew you were wanted. Something deep in your gut told you that the longer you spent in this strange world the more likely you would get caught up in drama or events that frankly you’d rather not have to deal with. You had been perfectly comfortable with your life back home and you were eager to return before too much time had passed. You still had so many things you wished to accomplish.

Your mind was brought out of its wandering when Mor looped her arm with yours. She began to chatter about the marble sculptures that lined the walkway your group had taken on its way to wherever Helion was waiting. The Fae male escorting your group took you down another hallway, this one leading to a veranda. Nervously you reached towards your ear again, but Mor stopped you.

Helion sat on an ornately carved pine chaise with cream upholstery. Before him was a table lined with various meats, cheeses, fruits, and bread. A carafe filled with pale wine was in his hands. He had just finished filling a glass with the liquid when he looked up to see his visitors.

“Ah-ha!” His deep voice reverberated off the white marble walls. “I was beginning to think that you had gotten lost.” The High Lord set down the wine glass and stood. His arms outstretched as Mor’s arm slipped from where it encircled yours. The two embraced like the old friends they were.

Just as his home was an aesthetic vision of whites, so was the High Lord himself. The robe he wore hung from one shoulder and draped across his broad and toned chest, tucking into a golden belt. The rest of the fabric cascaded to the floor. Your eyes roved over his form. His golden-brown skin was perfectly sun-kissed, half of his thick black hair swept and pinned up accentuating his sharp jawline. The male was nothing short of godlike in appearance.

Next to you Lucien cleared his throat, before placing his index finger under your chin and closing your mouth for you.

“What?” You swatted his hand away.

“Really?” He leveled you with a look that was halfway between amused and exasperated. Heat flared on your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to gawk at the High Lord, but honestly no one should have expected any different. You opened your mouth to try and save your pride at having been caught so blatantly when Helion called out to Lucien.

“How are you?” The two males clasped their forearms together in greeting. “I’m thrilled that you were able to make it. I hear you and that brother of yours have been working tirelessly to help maintain…boundaries as of late. Hopefully this isn’t the only break Rhysand has given you?”

“I can safely say that this is a much-welcomed change of pace,” Lucien smiled. “Shall I introduce you to (Y/N)? Rhys and Mor’s cousin from the continent.” You tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear, a shy smile forming on your lips. You had nearly forgotten the cover story that had been provided to Helion. It struck you as ironic that Rhysand had come up with the idea, especially when he gave no indication of knowing how close to the truth it was.   

“It’s very nice to meet you um…” You still weren’t certain of the best way to address him.

“Helion,” He smiled, and it seemed as if the room brightened along with it. “No need for formalities for such an informal situation wouldn’t you agree?” He took your hand and brought the back of your knuckles to his lips. You nodded in agreement, the ability to speak completely vacating your mind. You felt like a middle schooler again trying to talk to the dashingly handsome teacher. While you had been warned of the High Lord’s flirtatious nature, you didn’t fully realize how dangerous his looks would be on their own. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Lucien’s own mismatched eyes roll.

The High Lord stepped away and returned his attention to Mor, who had made herself comfortable on one of the plush chairs surrounding what was certainly to be your lunch. Lucien playfully poked you in the ribs. Suppressing a giggle, you pushed his hands away only for him to keep one on your waist.

“I’ve had my people prepare two rooms for you,” Helion began. “Per your request Lucien, you and-”

“Only two rooms?” Mor questioned, casually sipping from her wine glass. “Not that I mind sharing a room with my cousin.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. You felt Lucien tense as you continued towards the table. You had been under the impression that you and Lucien would share a room per your routine. Was that not the case? Had the concern of the time you and Lucien spent together spread beyond just Azriel and Nesta?

“Not exactly,” Helion’s smile almost seemed forced. You glanced at Lucien out of the corner of your eye. He appeared just as hesitant and uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going as you.

“So, a third room will be prepared as well then?” She picked a strawberry and brought it to her lips. Your heartrate kicked up. Would you really be forced to sleep by yourself for your short stay here? You had had nightmares all week, even after taking your tonic and Ruhn staying with you as promised. You had your tonic, but you were not prepared to be alone. From the looks on Lucien and Helion’s faces neither had they.

“No, Mor,” Helion stated simply. The High Lord motioned for you and Lucien to take your seats on the small couch. “Lucien and (Y/N) will share a room as I have discussed with him.”

“Even though he’s mated to another female?” You couldn’t suppress the surprise on your features fast enough. “His High Lady’s sister to be exact.” You half expected a satisfied smirk or even feigned concern on Elain’s behalf given her tone, but her expression gave nothing away. It suddenly clicked that this was the reason that Mor was present. She was to run interference between Lucien and you. To keep you separated, regardless of what that meant for you.

Her statement only confirmed your recent anxieties. Those outside of your bedroom believe your friendship with Lucien was crossing into a questionable realm. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Surly Morrigan, whose power was somehow related to seeing the truth, would know that your relationship with Lucien was strictly platonic. Your friendship was the only thing that kept you stable. Did they all really expect you to have completely healed by now?

That must be the case, since it appeared everyone around you believed it was high time that you learned to manage your issues on your own. It didn’t matter that others had been given the time and resources and social support they all ultimately needed to heal. You had been granted time and Lu was your support. So…maybe they were right. Despite Lucien saying that everything was fine, maybe you depended on him too much. And if an effort to separate you was being made, maybe you had inadvertently prevented Elain from seeking out her mate. Maybe-

“It seems that there is a misunderstanding regarding my relationship with (Y/N),” Lucien cut in, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. “I help her with her nightmares, which have recently escalated to include sleepwalking. She nearly-” You looked at him. Did Ruhn tell him about that first night he was away? About how you nearly walked off the rooftop.

“Then maybe we should seek the assistance of Thesan regarding a stronger tonic to help her get the restful sleep she needs,” Mor’s interjection was quick. This discussion had the potential to quickly get out of hand.

“Helion,” Your voice was soft, and again you played with your ear. “Perhaps, if its not too much trouble, a separate room for myself would be best.” The warmth supporting your back vanished as you looked to the High Lord. For a split second you could have sworn that sadness flickered in his eyes. The male held your gaze for a moment, before slowly nodding. Helion called over one of the males that stood by the entrance to the veranda instructing him to advise that a third room would be needed.

“Given the concerns of your sleepwalking,” He looked to Lucien briefly before returning his gaze to you. “I will personally see to it that the appropriate wards are set so that you can rest easy and walk about the room without getting hurt.” Lucien’s hand returned to your lower back as you took a deep breath.

“Thank you.” You dipped your chin in acknowledgement and apology. The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly. The conversation switched to various topics, most of which your brain couldn’t seem to focus on. You answered questions that Helion directed towards you, but you kept your responses short.

When the room was prepared, the High Lord himself showed you the way, setting up the wards as promised. He allowed you to have some time alone before reuniting for dinner. You didn’t have the heart to tell him or any of your companions that all you could manage to do while alone was stare out the doorless entrance to the balcony overlooking the large palace grounds. Instead, you lied, claiming to have taken a nap.

At dinner, Mor insisted on sitting between you and Lucien. Her reasoning was that it would allow you to focus on a conversation with Helion. Again, your focus on the conversation was strained. By the time you returned to your designated room you felt like a zombie just going through the motions. You bathed and changed into a set of night clothes you reserved for warmer weather. Holding one of the four bottles of the sleep tonic that you brought with you, you sat on the foot of the massive bed. You had been so lost in your dissociation that you had yet to take in its splendor. You stared at the bottle, debating on drinking half or the entire thing. Even with the shields in place you didn’t want to risk your body having the energy to physically get up. So, popping the cork you downed the entire contents. Within seconds your vision faded, and the world went black.  

A couple days had passed since you, Lucien, and Morrigan arrived in the Day Court. Throughout that time, Mor had rarely left your side and it was grating on your nerves. You had hoped that you would have the opportunity to talk with Lucien regarding everything that had happened since the day you went to the Prison. Unfortunately, that opportunity was thwarted at every turn. Her presence made you feel on edge.

You had terrible dreams that first night here, the sleeping tonic proving to be of no real use. You wondered if your body was starting to become more tolerant of whatever ingredients went into making it, or if you were being given something else entirely. While insomnia wasn’t new to you, it certainly was much more irritating to deal with when you had no access to the heavy drugs of Western medicine. So, instead of continuing to drink shit that did nothing you decided that you just weren’t going to sleep. By your count, you had foregone sleep for nearly 40 hours now. The longer you stayed in your room, the more the shadows started to play tricks on you. Which is why you found yourself wandering the halls of Helion’s palace just before dawn.

“I do not make my decision lightly Morrigan,” Your body jumped in surprise as Helion’s deep voice rumbled through hall. “Had you not been so preoccupied with your…companion that night, I’m certain that you would have heard her screams. The rest of my estate certainly did.” 

You scurried behind one of the large pillars as their voices grew. You could hear Mor respond, but the words themselves were difficult for your human ears to pick up on. Your face flushed at the realization that he was talking about you. You had screamed yourself hoars in those early morning hours after your first night. Lucien had practically broken down the door to get to you, Helion hot on his heels. As soon as you managed to stop crying you apologized profusely to the pair. Lucien offered to stay with you after that, but you knew that with Mor around it wouldn’t be wise. So begrudgingly he left you to get ready for the day.

“This is not a slight against you,” He reassured the female as they came into view. You pressed yourself as close to the pillar as possible.

“It certainly feels as such since you are asking only me to leave,” She quipped. “Helion, what am I supposed to tell my cousin when I return alone?”

“If you must give him an answer then tell Rhysand this,” Helion smiled at Morrigan. “I cannot come to trust her when she does not feel comfortable around certain members of his court.” The pair halted, stopping before an insanely large looking glass.

“Let me talk to her without his ever-watchful eyes and ears,” You watched as Helion set his hand on her shoulder. “That means take the Shadowsinger back with you.” His final sentence was delivered with a coldness you had not anticipated hearing.

It took a few seconds for your brain to process what he said. Azriel was also here and lurking around. Your eyes did not play any tricks on you last night after all. Those were Azriel’s shadows peeking out behind the curtains of your room. From the reflection in the hallway mirror, you saw Mor’s eyes widen slightly before that perfected Night Court façade slipped in place. 

“Lucien and Azriel can return-”

“Lucien is the only one she is comfortable with; therefore, he will remain here in his emissary capacity,” A shiver shot down your spine at the level of authority held within the High Lord of 

Day’s voice. “I’m not trying to steal (Y/N) away after all.”

“But he’s mated-”

“And has that bond been accepted?” He challenged. “He’s a grown male and she’s a grown woman. They do not need your nor Rhysand’s interference in their lives and how they wish to live them.” You wished that you were able to see the look on Helion’s face. He didn’t even know you and yet he was fighting with Mor, someone he knew well, on your behalf.

“You saw through her glamor,” Mor kept her air of indifference.

“No,” Helion laughed. “She keeps touching the tops of her ears. I don’t know of any High Fae that touch their ears the way she has been. I merely guessed at her being human, so thank you for the confirmation.” So much for your disguise. It wasn’t your fault that the magic felt like the top of your ears had lost circulation. That pins and needles sensation was unsettling.

“It is interesting to watch them though, is it not? How when in the same space they are so unconsciously aware of each other. One shifts as the other does.” His deep voice sounded further away, as if he was remembering something.

“Then you understand the concern,” Mor pressed.

“I do not,” Helion resumed their walk. “Those in the Night Court have been blessed with finding their mates and happiness of being with them. While many place these bonds above all else, you and I both know from personal experience that finding your mate doesn’t guarantee a happy life.” Mor sighed as she followed him.

“You’re right,” She linked her arm through his. “They do have a unique relationship that the others don’t want to acknowledge.” The two walked in silence for a while, their voices growing soft in the distance.

“Has his mate made any comment?” You could barely make out his last question, and you couldn’t even hear Mor’s response. Their conversation sent your mind reeling. So many questions swarmed to the surface. Had your friendship with Lucien really crossed some unknown social taboo? If that was the case, then you certainly had a lot to think about.

Next: Chapter 9 Part 2-Coming Soon

General TAG List: @loving-and-dreaming

BHIN TAG LIST: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine @jpgtae @cheneyq

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you, or tag the correct blog.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #lucien x reader #crescent city x reader #bhinfic #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel x plus size reader #lucien vanserra x plus size reader #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan x plus size reader

[respectthepetty]

I'm gracing you inbox again, Pet, because I saw colours and of course thought of you...

Ploy's Yearbook finished this week and whilst I don't think it was necessarily colour-coded (there are a lot of characters and I didn't put much effort into tracking visual patterns) I wanted to share this moment of deliciousness at the end:

Do you see it? I'm sure you see it... (the blinding light of yellow love and the deep purple and the piiiiiiink 😍).

Anyway, the series was a generally okay het offering which mostly showed that the women at GMMTV need more opportunities to shine. But what it did do very well was the period representation (like, actual talk of bleeding), Joong looking like a whole-ass meal in the last scene (seriously, I think you'll want to go see that, it's a bit too blurry to screenshot), and the woman popping the question for once! (oops 🤭 spoilers, I guess).

#I wish there was a way of adding tags to an ask #so that I could leave a sort of post script ramble #maybe this will have to do #there isn't really any point to this ask #just that I wanted to say hi and that I thought of you #💛💙

*warning* This is going to turn into a

Cupid's Last Wish Appreciation Post

"Do you see it? I'm sure you see it…"

I thought twice about using the above image because it comes across a bit hostile, but any chance I get to insert a Big Dragon moment into the conversation, I'm taking it! Also . . .

Hopefully, we ALLLLLL see that pink = 💕love💕even when it's for the het couple (when the only het couple I've ever cheered for was this one, which oddly enough, also included Namtan).

So maybe I'm just really rooting for Namtan and the other ladies because I'm already seated for her and Film to hit me with that Blinding Light of Love in Pluto.

You already know that I agree with you that GMMTV underutilizes its women, but since I gave Namtan some love, let me turn to Earth while I give some love to Cupid's Last Wish for having good period-rep as Korn clutched every kind of tampon and pad

For his body-swapping not-yet-boyfriend!

And not only did the man buy all the pads and tampons, he bought pain relievers and chocolate based on the staff's recommendations. THEN, he gave his guy a warm water bottle to help with his cramps and held him all night!

And that as AFTER he hugged his man when he was having a breakdown about his body betraying him.

Not only did Korn exhibit the highest level of emotional intelligence every second of that show, in this specific moment, he stopped the vehicle, asked Win what was wrong, and actually took in what Win was saying without dismissing it. Then, he got out of the car, went around to hug Win properly, apologized, and waited until Win hugged him back.

I have my grudges against this show (THAT DAMN MOTHER!!!!!), but Korn was the greenest of all green flags and the way he handled his future boyfriend's period should be held up as the standard.

But one of the writers of the show was Pong who also wrote the screenplay for Cooking Crush and Only Boo! which are two shows I think epitomize care and comfort between partners.

So now that I've gone on a tangent about partners actively taking care of each other, I hope you are enjoying seeing your flowers growing and not stressing too much over things beyond your control. I also want to let you know that I thought of you when I realized Domundi played me and instead of giving me a Pink Person in Your Sky, gave me a Yellow Yal, so I'm getting another Blue x Yellow pair.

But for some *reason*, I'm less petty about it.

I hope you find comfort in that. 💙💛

#I see you played fair this time around #and didn't bring out any last minute shenanigans #so it's good that you can't have tags in an ask! #but now I'm going to rewatch the fourth and fifth episode of Cupid's Last Wish #and that's your fault too daddy

[verosikastrikerexcuser]

I’m still disappointed in the way they wrote Stella. It was so… boring. For a show that champions it’s “messy” and “morally grey” characters, Stella is turned into a one-dimensional hate sink who exists for the sole purpose of being mean to Stolas. The show never fails to consider that she was forced into this marriage too and retcon’s Octavia’s comments about them not always hating each other. Which sounds more interesting, a noblewoman forced into an arranged marriage who puts up with it for the sake of status until her husband threatens to bring it all crashing down upon both her and her daughter so she hires an assassin to prevent her life from going down the drain or a whiny brat who exists solely to torment him?

Yeup you can see how they retconned Octavia’s comments and things they established about Stella and Stolas etc. It’s really noticeable and it makes the show anger inducing. No, you can’t just go back on all that stuff you set up because it’s inconvenient now. The fact it’s done for the sake of some horrible forced ship that abuses Blitz makes it even worse.

Their attempts to dumb down Stella more and more to make her a villain actually just made my Stella sympathy even worse though, ironically. Because by adding Andrealphus they reveal they decided to write Stella as having no property rights. For some fucking reason. I guess marriage for goetia is different? But if Stolas dies it all goes to her Octavia, despite Stella being his wife. That’s how it would have operated for women irl hundreds of years ago and confirms Stella has no property ownership in the marriage (historically also why women couldn’t really vote, as voting has historically been tied to property ownership and married women, everything was automatically owned by their husband). And there’s no way Stella could have just decided to work or do something else because the marriage was arranged since childhood. The arranged marriage favours Stolas and protects him more than her so it’s even worse for her. I wish more people analysed that part and talked about it cuz it’s nuts they wrote that like it’s nothing and makes Stella even more of a bitch or something. If they do some sad arc where Stella’s horrible for expecting to be able to still live somewhere and own a home after the divorce because that’s stealing from poor Stolas and she doesn’t deserve anything at all from him!!!!!1 I will actually fucking scream. Who said it Reddit bros who don’t think women should have divorce rights or Helluva Boss lmao.

The “Why do you stay” (I don’t remember exactly how it goes) lines from Stolas boil my blood because of that too. Like what the fuck do you mean? She’s your wife which according to what we’ve seen, for goetia, means owning nothing and everything going to your husband. She’s not like you Stolas. She can’t just leave like you. She has nowhere to go as far as we know except maybe her brothers but he’s a condescending creep towards her and she still wouldn’t have any control or actually own anything. Also she had Octavia to think about too with moving and leaving. Stolas’ home is Stella’s by just as much, and it’s hers by way less choice than it is Stolas’.

Why in the fuck did they make a cheated on woman with no property rights “just a bitch” the list of reasons Stella has to be rightfully angry is actually crazy. As well as the fact she owns nothing and had no choice in marrying him, she also has Stolas cheating on her in her own fucking bed! He brings other people home and fucks them on the bed she has to sleep next to him in. He is brazen and completely unapologetic about cheating on her right in her face. His lines about finding a hotel, they’re him saying he’s just sorry he got caught, that’s it. They imply he absolutely is going to do it again since his concern is just not getting yelled at for it and he has no shame in telling her that. She also has Stolas reading smut at the dinner table, saying completely inappropriate things in front of their daughter, and him calling her a bitch to Octavia.

Making Stella say she sticks around just to torment Stolas is weak. All this rage and her not wanting him to cheat yet no, she definitely doesn’t love him or care or anything she’s just mean and likes being spiteful. WHAT? She puts so much energy into all the yelling and makes all the spiteful remarks “just because”? Not because she’s hurt instead? There’s not a single thing other than random spite motivating her? It’s shit. You are right anon. All these well explored, humanized morally grey characters and yet the one with a plethora of understandable reasons for being mad isn’t allowed to be mad about any of the actual reasons she has to be. Rather she’s mean just so she can be a yaoi fanfic antagonist opposing the sexy mlm relationship. It’s transparent, childish and it’s boring. Dare I say it’s misogynistic too. It’s atrocious writing plain and simple.

#helluva boss critical #stolas critical #anti stolas #Stolas hate #hb critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #critical stuff

[4str0nuts]

DEEP DIVE INTO HORROPEDIAS AUTISTIC CODING : A GIANT ANALYSIS THING

ALTERNATE TITLE IS WHY THE FANDOM SHOULD CHECK OUT HOW THEY TREAT AUTISTIC CHARACTERS

Disclaimer before I go in; i’m using the global translations and the english voice acting as I am on the global server lol. This may affect some things but hopefully not a lot! Also i’m using this video [https://youtu.be/ygAkz4L2AMo?si=elrUeXGompMKYXUJ] for my proof and will provide timestamps!

Horropedia is one of the most loved characters in Reverse:1999 (bc haha funny autistic guy) , yet I literally see no serious posts discussing his character or even going into his character— even at a basic level. I’ve kinda been off to the side observing how the fandom treats Horropedia and it makes me question if people actually like him or some alternate version of him. Yeah sure this is a problem in every fandom but I’m too attached to Horropedia and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem.

There's all sorts of mischaracterisations of him where his autism is reduced to him being an “asshole” and “uncaring”, or that he is some funny reddit meme sona when that’s the case at all! Every other character gets to have serious posts yet when it comes to a very blatant autistic coded character, suddenly no one knows how to act despite the fact the fandom (going off of the twitter fandom here) prides itself on neurodivergency; so I’m here to dump a ton of analysis on Horropedia using ingame sources as proof as well as my own knowledge (as someone who is autistic myself), whilst also debunking mischaracterisations of him. I’m also doing this as I don’t think people treat Horropedias autistic coding seriously, seeing it as silly and thus ignoring all of his character.

Jumping straight in, Horropedia is not an asshole and is actually quite a caring character, even if he doesn’t show it conventionally. To me, it’s quite obvious that he cannot understand people at an emotional level, and always relies on his logical way of thinking no matter the situation; for example, when he broke Blonneys camera, he clearly does not understand why she is mad/upset and instead tries to comfort her logically rather than emotionally. Even when Blonney is very much showing she is mad, Horropedia cannot process that and cannot understand until she actually explains it [Part 5 54:07-57:20]. I can see why people may see it as an asshole move since he tells her to be “reasonable” over the camera breaking, though it is clear that this is another one of his autistic traits as people with autism have a hard time connecting with others’ in an empathetic way(which can come off as being blunt and uncaring) yet no one seems to mention that. Despite this, he still offers her to buy her a new camera once Blonney vents out to Jessica, coming to terms with what he did and making it up to her. [Part 12 2:10:37]

Adding onto the last point, Horropedia shows concern and care multiple times throughout the story. Even if he is bad at comforting people, he still tries to acknowledge what is wrong in regards to the situation. I’m trying to keep this short as I don’t necessarily think this is due to his autism but a cool detail I found with the English voice acting is that his tone gets softer when he’s more genuine (it could be seen as masking but shrug. Not too sure on this one as I'm making this point to show he does care in his own way.) He constantly makes sure everyone is safe and goes out of his way to protect others [Part 4 51:08 , Part 6 1:16:18-1:16:39], which is a small detail I think people gloss over. It’s just nice seeing Horropedia care for others in his own way since I struggle with expressing affection / emotions like him.

Back to his way of thinking, it’s practically plastered everywhere that he thinks in a logical way and takes everything at face value no matter what, which is a trait associated with autism. At the very start of the very event, he even breaks down Vertins joke and still a conclusion was that she wasn’t the person he was looking for (knowing full well she was) [Part 1 11:06-11:50]. Horropedia also explains things at face value— in a basic and straightforward way no matter what it is, which is another example of not truly understanding things at an emotional level! [Part 9 1:42:45-1:43:09]This does not mean he does not consider the consequences of a situation, and Horropedia actively avoids situations where it poses a threat / harm to others. Mentioning this to point out how some people in the fandom treat him like he is stupid?— Despite how he is the basic definition of a nerd with references to it all over his character and voice lines! Yes, he could be seen as careless considering he goes to Green Lake just like that with no approval, but he certainly isn’t oblivious to dangers around him. Horropedia himself explains that he is into horror movies because of how illogical they are(stating how it is like a puzzle), not necessarily the fear of them; so it makes no sense for Horropedia to directly put himself or others in harm's way.

Still relating to his way of thinking, Horropedia uses his horror logic so he can understand situations around him. He directly links back to his special interest to understand things— and to an extent others— better, special interests are a trait exclusive to autistic people! By using his horror special interest, he can understand the world better from his perspective. I don't even need to get examples of this because throughout the Green Lake event he makes references and links to horror movies, basing predictions on what to do in order to survive in the stereotypical like scene of Green Lake. Horropedia is full of reasoning, and despite his “debatable manners” (thanks Sonetto),he is not always too absurd with his predictions. It baffles me that people treat Horropedia like he is some happy-go-lucky kid, running head first into danger; he takes the time to understand a given situation in a way he would understand before doing anything.

Another really obvious thing is that he can’t understand social cues, or the body languages of others at all. Essentially he cannot read the room. The whole “I know the rules of social courtesy” [Part 12 2:19:19] line doesn’t necessarily mean he understands social cues— rules are (usually) based in logic and reasoning, and not emotions. Social courtesy just means the rules of society (or the foundation in this case? eh), and Horropedia knows he HAS to abide by the rules or else he will be in trouble. Something seen as ‘basic’ and ‘simple’ to people considered ‘normal’ by society may be hard to grasp by people who do not benefit from society (autistic people). Horropedia understands the ‘logical reasoning’ of how someone acts but he can’t connect with or understand someone else’s emotional responses. Literally look at most of his interactions with the film crew and Blonney, Jessica even steps in at one point to stop him from making the fight between Jason and Blonney worse [Part 6 1:11:38]; and even then he tries to use logic to break down the situation. Horropedia can’t pick up on social cues for the life of him, including body language and tone.

Smaller point here but I have a feeling Horropedia’s tone is hard to understand to some of the characters. Tooth Fairy couldn’t tell if Horropedia was joking towards the end of the event , where he shows off his “sense of humour”. Nothing much to add here I just found that really interesting…

Ive rinsed out all the notes I’ve taken on Horropedias autistic coding so far…….. feel free to add on more….. I may have gotten some things wrong because I have been working on this for a few hours straight. Surprisingly I still have more to analyse outside of his autism so if people are interested let me know bc i’m desperate .

TLDR: horropedia is autistic thanks for reading.

#astronuts talk #horropedia #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 horropedia #green lake #nightmare at green lake #r:1999 #r1999 #i’m so nervous to post this lol #autism #autstic #analysis #horrorpedia #<— just in case……

[your-ne1ghbor]

Magnifico's "Wish Stealing form" design/some Character Dump (Disney Wish)

Oh boy ya'll in a BIG BIG Story beat plus some more information on Amaya and Magnifico in my rewrite:

The Kingdom of Roses and Thorns

Oh yeah...this is another long post and Ik @oh-shtars @chillwildwave @signed-sapphire @annymation @uva124 @rascalentertainments is gonna love this idea

For starters...

I Had this nightmare of Magnifico because of this form and now you all will see it too :3

There were also other posts that inspired this design too, so I'll link them here:

Anyways, this post is mainly an MAJIOR STORY IDEA DUMP for my sweet sweet emo Maggy- erm Magnifico (he is glaring at me guys send help please)

Soooo....

I had this terrifying idea for TKoRaT Maggy, even before I had this nightmare of him, where he legit becomes somewhat something like this, but with more vine core when he is taking the wishes/"monster in my closet" wrong vibes.

More like this for the idea I'm going for:

This is one of the ideas I had for Maggy when he is taking the wishes. This is might not be final in my final version of Maggy, hell, I might change that particular design to be Amaya's form when she takes the wishes too, since hers is more smoke which is more or not on par with her character in my rewrite/redesign. It might end up being more of Maggy's thing with Amaya helping him get into this state of transformation to take the wishes since I'd imagine it more of a whole process, but it could also just be something they both do together.

Some more design details I added was his scars from when his kingdom was attacked and almost everyone died because he showed mercy to the attackers. He doesn't really have them in his main design, probably because he covers them up with Amaya's potions or the wishes could have some form healing abilities? Idk I'm still firguring out the magic system of my story or that I just keep forgetting to put those scars in his design so awesome???💀

In my post here, I said that they don't hold ceremonies that has them granting/taking the wishes like they did in the movie. This is mainly because I wanted to do a little something original and gives me the oppertunity to take in the horror aspects of the story (because I love scaring children(not in a bad way, but to show them that there are these kinds of people in the world yk?)). This is why I am intentionally making Maggy and Amaya horrifying in their own way because well...good people can become the bad guys if pushed in the right direction. Especially in what they do to other people. Mainly inspired from Hunchback and Prince of Egypt, with subtle, but TERRIFYING pieces.

BUT, They do have a ceremony, but it is not related to the wishes, it is just there to give them some sympathetic traits to Maggy and Amaya (after all they've been through, I just feel bad, they literally wanted to good things and the world just beat them with a 90 foot pole).

This one I tried making Maggy more jagged. Although it seems like he is a different character here, thats mainly my fault since I really tried to figure out what he would say to Star Boy in this "idea" scene but my brain blanked out and couldn't think of anything so wahoo

Star Boy in this scene doesn't even know he has a desire, he just didn't think stars can form desires (ofc Maggy and Amaya is going to manipulate the hell out of him and Asha :3)

ALSO

This is also the main reason I split Star Boy's powers between what Amaya and Maggy does.

Maggy has only 1 shape-shifting form, and it is only done to steal the wishes. He can't shape shift into anything else, but it is why when he steals star's powers, he becomes more of a terrifying shapeshifter.

Amaya creates dangerous potions, and more or not lurks in the darkness in some way like a cat to bring them to their doom. Although it would make more sense if Maggy has the creation part of Star's powers, I gave it to Amaya since it works for her too, and keeps the power system balanced in some way. If I do give Amaya the ability to also shapeshift into a monster from my dreams, I could also say the same thing can work in reverse too, I just personally think the creation part of her character conflicts with Asha's ability to create/draw magic.

Power wise for this design...

This form also gives Maggy the ability to see people's desires that HE could take. He can't really take them until they are 17-18 years old and older (ruh oh, 2 of our main protagonists fall under that age gap). Plus, he cant take them from children since they are young and dont understand these kinds of things.

This form also falls under the MAIN conflict of why the hell is everyone miserable when they turn around 17/18 years old? Oh yeahhh this is going to fall under how he steals the wishes, but I'm not going to say anything here yet because I really want it to be a surprise.

Nothing that he does is not without reason. He blames the stars for not granting his wish (there is a reason why they didn't), and for not stepping in when a star, or Aster (NOT STAR BOY) went "rouge" (not Aster's fault btw, they didn't have a choice). So, this presented him with this ideology (that I personally believe Amaya first started thinking this way, out of pain and wanting to blame someone for what happened a century ago) that in order for people to not wish on stars, is for them to never wish/dream again. The story in my version is the aftermath of this. Still figuring out THE MAJIOR STORY BEATS, but this falls under Star Boy as well.

Star Boy represents the thing Magnifico hates the most. Plus, Maggy has more of a personal beef with the stars so of course he is going to make sure Star Boy dies, becauseeee he didn't do it last time, so second times the charm, am I right? (OR MAYBE THE THIRD WHO KNOWS, LETTING THE STORY WORK ITSELF OUT ;3)

ORIGINALLY, this was going to be Amaya's thing, but as I said, this might end up being mainly Maggy's thing, or it is something they both do, since they share the same goal, but here is the designs I was going to show for that:

Anywaysssss, ya'll can ask me questions regarding to this design if ya'll want to! I'll gladly answer them! I also will accept suggestions for the design/abilities for this "wish stealing..." thing. I might come up with a better name for this form later. Soo have a happy weekend as your neighbor watches some marvel movies as I work on my projects for my classes.

explodes

Edit: Okay my imagination took my to the most tragic part of his character then randomly imagined star boy getting stabbed by this guy and said "now you feel the pain I felt when everyone died" and star boy, in the worst condition says "almost everyone" then gets a another stab from him💀

#some extra notes here #star boy #is completely horrified of magnifico #especially after their first encounter with each other on a personal level #although his character conflict is based around him knowing what it is to be human #and learning that he wants to be human #it also is the pain of being human as well #especially physical pain since he never felt physical pain before since stars dont feel that form of pain since they cant really get hurt #which is why maggy opposes that since he causes physical/emotion pain to others because of his burdens #in a vague sense #he is going to get badly injured at some point #and is not going to take it well at all. this is where asha comes in and comforts him like he has been doing to her this whole time #i'm also trying to make their relationships basically what oh-shtars said about their post on star boy and asha #and I personally agree with their points as well. #its just executing that is pretty hard #disney wish #art tag #art #artwork #wish 2023 #star wish #star boy troubles #star boy wish #wish movie #wish star #wishing star #wishverse #queen amaya #king magnifico #magnifico

[mla0]

i think with me, sometimes the reasons why some people hate a character are why i love them in the first place. i love character arcs and just characters with heavy flaws in general, including characters who genuinely do heinous things while still trying to do their best and having good* intentions. i just find that so compelling and realistic. i think vinny and shaun are both in that category for me, but it certainly doesn't only apply to them; i just think their personalities and plotlines were the most interesting for me.

i liked the plot twist with vinny. loved it, actually. made me like vinny as a character way more than i did when i thought he was just some.... well, everyman. it made me see everymanhybrid so much differently than before, it recontexualized huge moments that happened before that i initially didn't even care about, because we only just learned that those were actually huge character moments and we just didn't know it yet. it added a whole new, flawed layer to the series that i adore. vinny seemed to be such an average, good-guy character who sometimes did stupid shit. then you find out that much of it wasn't accidental at all, but instead a desperate attempt to save himself and whoever else he was capable of saving, at the cost of others, and his own dignity. the lengths he went were extreme and unjustifiable to many, but that's what i liked. it showed that vinny is a human, for better and for worse. what lengths would you go to in order to survive?

i like that shaun can be a huge dick sometimes- she can be intentionally blind to the bigger situation, in denial to protect herself from something terrifying even though it hurt her family, and you can see her struggle with that. doing something like that hurts and feels terrible, but is still something she chose because she was afraid. she sided with a close friend over her family because of the comfort of familiarity, of what "makes sense." it's coping with something that is fundamentally terrifying to come to terms with. it's fucked up in the viewers eyes, but to someone in that situation you can understand why it happened. you can hate it, but still see yourself in it. then you also see moments of kindness, including between the two siblings, and you get a more full picture of her as a whole. she's chalk full of conflicting messages and i adore that. she cut off michael in one of the last few videos, but then refused to give up his location even when facing death. she gets angry, she fucks up, but she's still unwilling to doom those she seemed to hate even when it could've saved her life, even when being lied to about all that happened. getting the mix of her flaws and virtues (along with the same for the other characters) was probably my favorite part of this series.

anyways, you see multiple facets of their characters, some loveable and some hateable, but even when they do horrible things, it only makes me find them more interesting. it's not quite like a villain in how they're "evil" or have bad intentions despite sometimes being complex themselves (HABIT, for example), because they're regular people, but you watch them fuck up over and over again while still understanding where they're coming from, and recognizing that many would fall into the same trap, because nobody is without their vices, their selfishness, and their blind-spots. so many people, including ones who think they'd be better in that situation, wouldn't be if put to the test. they'd fuck up, they'd do awful things either to save themselves or for their perception of the greater good, and i love that. i like to see how people can break down and degrade in such horrible situations, while their humanity and ultimate "goodness" still exists at the same time, creating a conflict between how they're still a good person at heart but willing to do bad things if they feel it's justified. it gives a glimpse into your average person's breaking point and general morality, which is rarely strictly good or justifiable, nor purely evil or irredeemable.

also, it opens the doors for me to write compelling redemption arcs, which i've also always loved. i love seeing bad people get better, and good people get worse. like i said before, what would you be willing to do to keep yourself alive?

#og #mlandersen0 #mla0 #slenderverse #everymanhybrid #emh #vinny everyman #shaun andersen #long post #sorry this is so long i've been sitting on this for a while

[bandnerdlevel43]

Ravioli Week, Day Two- Tender Care (Sickfic, sequel to Day One)

Lu Legend x Ravio (Ravioli)

Summary: After a failed attempt to save Rulie, Hilda led Ravio and the others into hiding with nothing but a sick and injured Legend to show for their efforts. Everyone’s taking it badly- even Ravio, who’s Link is the only one free from the Shadow’s clutches, is unable to leave Legend’s side.

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: Nothing major. Legend suffers the aftereffects of his time in Dink Jail, Ravio and Shadow are a little sad, Hilda is tired of Everything, mosty light angst with fluff at the end

A/N: I’m apologizing profusely yet again for being super late. In my defense, I hit a massive writer’s block after day one, and school has been the worst lately. At the same time, I didn’t want to quit Ravioli Week after being committed to it for so long, and this is the result. This was written in the midst of my dry spell, so it was mostly a sort of “practice run” with the focus on how each character bounces off of one another. I’ll be back to writing regularly (and maybe with better quality?) now that my braincells are working and school is over. Thank you so much!

----

“How is he?” Hilda asked.

Ravio blinked up at the Queen of Lorule from his spot beside Legend. Her hair was in a loose ponytail- he'd forgotten to help her braid it- and her makeup was minimal. It had been, ever since the rescue. Ravio couldn't judge. She had been preoccupied with other matters.

“His fever is getting worse,” he mumbled, softly running his fingers through the sleeping hero's hair. “His wounds haven't healed, and he's been coughing his throat raw.”

Hilda exhaled deeply. She sat beside him, joining him in his quiet vigil. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked intently.

“Saria's taking care of it,” he said.

“I'm talking about you, Ravio, not him.”

Ravio hesitated. He looked away and shook his head. 

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ravio lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. They were tired, likely from the strain of holding the group together. She really shouldn't be worrying about him, of all people. She knew he could take care of himself. Still, she continued. “Ravio, you haven't slept in days,” she hissed under her breath. “You haven't eaten, either. What's going on?”

Ravio flinched and chewed the inside of his cheek. “I-I'm sorry, I just-” he stammered. “I've- well, I've been worried, see, and I just haven't found the time-”

Legend shifted and grunted in his sleep. Ravio froze with his mouth open. He snapped it closed and frowned, pausing for a long moment.

“Never mind,” Hilda muttered. “Just… promise you'll eat your food and get some sleep.”

Ravio nodded absently and narrowed his eyes at the rise and fall of Legend's chest, his ears flicking in amusement.

Hilda sighed impatiently and stood, walking away with her cape snapping in the air. He felt a prick of guilt in his heart for ignoring her, but it wasn't long before it was swiftly packed away into the neat little box in the back of his head where he hid the rest of his cares and worries. He was always left with some form of sorrow or another whenever he did that, as if his mind was lamenting the passing of his own emotions.

What a silly thought.

“Hmm… Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Ravio asked the trees. He chuckled. “For shame, Mister Hero.”

Silence. 

“Did you hear something you liked?” he went on, his tone light. “Or did you notice the irony in her request? One of the two, if not both, I assume.”

My, the crickets sound rather beautiful tonight.

“Bold. But justified, probably,” he reasoned. “And it's so very Hilda of her.”

“It's because she cares about you.”

One of the shadows flickered, and a blood red eye stared at him from amidst the gloom. “Idiot,” its owner added.

Ravio smiled. “Shadow. I should've guessed Hilda wasn't the only one in character today.”

“What does that mean?”

“Meaning I expected Mister Hero- who is currently faking sleep- to answer.” He shrugged. “I suppose finding another nosy hero in the bushes should've been expected as well.”

Shadow emerged from his namesake with folded arms. “Very clever.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Legend grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Look, you're both very witty, but I'd bet each rupee in Ravio's pockets right now that Saria can hear every word you two are saying.”

Shadow snorted. “Doesn't matter. She'd know what our breath smelled like without even getting close.”

“It is somewhat of an inevitability,” Ravio conceded, “even if that is an absolutely horrible metaphor.”

“The kid knows things,” Shadow said, ignoring him. “You'll just have to get used to it, Blondie.”

It was almost funny how quickly Legend's expression went sour. Ravio had to give him a stern look to keep him from saying something insulting.

On the other hand, Shadow didn't show any signs of pleasure at successfully annoying him. His cap, which was normally very expressive, didn't curl or even twitch. Instead, it hung limply from his head. He must've been more depressed than he thought, Ravio realized with a pang.

“Look, Shadow, I’m-” Ravio started.

“Don't apologize,” he interrupted sharply. “I didn't come here to talk about myself. Or you, for the matter.”

Ravio wrinkled his nose, taken aback. “Care to tell us what you did come here to talk about?”

“Nothing,” the darkling responded curtly. He reached into the shadows and said, “Frankly, I'd rather not be here at all. But Saria and Aurora send their best wishes, and I'm the poor guy who has to bring ‘em.”

With that, he gifted Ravio a rag, a canteen, and a bottle filled with a shimmering gold-colored elixir. Ravio accepted them, dipping his head towards Shadow. Thank them for me, would you?” he said.

Shadow's only answer was a flick of his cap as he turned and let himself be swallowed by darkness. He left behind a lingering sense of melancholy.

Legend seemed to sense it, too. “Just like him to dampen the mood and leave,” he muttered.

Ravio winced and pointed out, “That's not really fair.” He's suffering, just like the rest of us.

When he didn't respond, Ravio shook his head and placed his hand over the other's heart. “You need to rest,” he said gently. “Here, drink this.”

He placed the bottle of elixir that Saria had cooked up for him in his hand. Legend cast it a suspicious glance before uncorking and downing it in one go. He grimaced as it went down.

“Water?” Ravio offered.

Legend shook his head.

“Take some anyway,” he insisted.

Legend scoffed, but grabbed the canteen and took a long drink. “Anything else you want me to inhale?” he asked sarcastically.

“Nothing else,” Ravio answered simply.

“Good, ‘cause I-”

Suddenly, yet another coughing fit struck, this one particularly nasty. His throat must be so raw by now, after having this sickness tear at him for so long. Ravio wrung his hands anxiously as he worked through it. There wasn't anything he could do, and he had always hated hearing it.

Luckily, it didn't take long for the coughing to abate. Legend groaned weakly. Ravio found himself shifting closer and allowing the frail hero to lean on him.

“Are you alright?” he asked nervously.

“I'm fine, Rav, stop worrying about me,” he rasped. He pursed his torn and bitten lips and reached again for the water. 

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Ravio, really.”

Ravio bit his tongue. He couldn't help it! He was so worried- terrified, even- that his lover would do something rash to prove he was strong, or something noble and courageous like that. Heroes were prone to being stubborn idiots and getting themselves hurt because of it. Besides, fretting over these stupid heroes was one of the few things he was actually good at.

“Could you at least try to sleep for a couple more hours?” Ravio persisted. 

Legend scowled. “Sleep is all I've been doing. Sleep during the day, sleep during the night, take an elixir, repeat.” He clenched his fists. “It's driving me insane. I want to do something, Rav.”

Ravio understood, he truly did. He just wished he'd stop being so obstinate about it. “If I take you for a walk after, would you do it?” he suggested.

Legend hesitated. He mulled that over in that frustratingly beautiful head of his, pretending not to care too much, but Ravio had seen how his ears had perked at the idea. He wasn't too surprised when Legend nodded.

Ravio wasted no time in gently pushing him back down into his bedroll and tucking him into his blankets. He doused the rag that Shadow had given him in water and wrung it out so it wasn't soggy. He placed the damp cloth on Legend's forehead. He didn't miss the tiny sigh of relief that slipped from his lips as it made contact with his burning skin. 

“Hilda’s right, you know,” Legend said abruptly. “You shouldn't be starving yourself for my sake. Or keeping yourself awake all night.”

Ravio stiffened. Lolia! Why was everyone worried about him? Would he never escape?

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call irony,” announced a tiny Shadow in his head. He metaphorically swatted it away.

“I'm not going to explode if you get a snack or something,” Legend informed him.

Ravio shot him a flat look. “Thanks,” he remarked. “I feel better already.”

“Ravio, I mean it.”

“You're being just as sarcastic, Mister Hero.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not!”

“I already know you're not going to explode. That's sarcasm, Link.”

Legend rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you don't take care of yourself, I'll make you,” he warned.

“Oh?” Ravio raised a brow. “And how will you do that?”

Legend smirked. With a devious glint in his eye eerily similar to Tetra’s own, he pounced. Ravio yelped as he was tackled from his seat and wrestled into the hero's bedding. He strained to free himself, but to no avail. He was startlingly strong, even when sick! 

“Link, you're contagious!” he gasped.

“Should've thought about that during dinner last night,” he growled teasingly 

“How was I supposed to kn- ACK!”

Ravio let out an involuntary and extremely undignified squeak as Legend poked a finger into his side. Sensing weakness, Legend continued to prod him mercilessly. Ravio squealed and squirmed but Legend refused to relent. 

“Link! Stop it!” he giggled uncontrollably. “Let me go!”

Legend laughed at him! The audacity of that Hylian! He had half a mind to whack him with his own pillow.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” he panted. “I'll do it, just let me go!”

Legend let him wriggle free and stumble to his feet, grinning mischievously up at him. Ravio's face was red, but he tried to hide his embarrassment by pretending to dust off his robes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mister Hero had the gall to say. “I'm sure Saria has something you can eat.”

Oh, Goddess, Saria! She had heard everything, hadn't she? Ravio groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“If you-” Legend began.

“Not a word out of you, Mister Hero,” Ravio chided. “You resorted to tickling to coerce me. How low the Hero of Legend has sunk!”

“Stop being dramatic,” he chuckled. “Now, scram. Eat some bread or something.”

“I'll have you know,” Ravio sniffed. “I am being as dramatic as the situation calls for.”

“Hey, I told you to get lost, didn't I? Go on, now. Shoo.” Legend waved his hands at him.

Ravio stuck his tongue out at him like they had when they were kids, bickering over trivial, meaningless things like the price of a hookshot or where to put Sheerow’s cage. It was almost unbelievable how dramatically things had evolved since then, yet some things were as familiar as ever. Goddess, he loved that man, even when he acted like a constipated raccoon with cacti for droppings. Maybe that's where he found the patience to turn around, approach Saria, and ask for one of the pastries she loves making. Her overjoyed expression almost made it worth the mortification of being teased about his husband.

When he returned, Legend was nestled in his blankets, curled into himself and snoring softly. Ravio found himself smiling as he brushed his pink-tinted locks from his lover's face.

He decided to eat the pastry. Legend deserved some sleep untormented by thoughts involving Ravio's own self-care.

It was the sweetest he'd had in a long time.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #raviolink #ravioli ship #raviolishipweek #lu legend x ravio #linked universe legend x ravio #lu legend #lu ravio #linked universe legend #linked universe ravio #albw #albw ravio #loz #reverse lu #rvlu #rvlu ravio #rvlu legend #rvlu hilda #rvlu shadow #rvlu saria #mine don't steal

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer story #gainerstory #gainer fiction #gainer fic #gainerfic #fatfiction #gay feedee #gay feeder #weight gain

[scrybeofvibes]

i’ve been playing miitopia recently with the scrybes as my characters and it’s been SO MUCH FUN, could not recommend it more

#they fit into the world very well surprisingly #p03 is a thief i gave him a knife #grimora was a cleric but i made her an imp when i could #leshy is a warrior rn but i’m gonna make him an elf when i can because. woodlandy #mag is a mage. booooo #i added some of the other characters to it as well! #and somehow lonely wizard is so much stronger than magnificus it’s so funny #inscryption #p03 #inscryption p03 #magnificus #inscryption magnificus #grimora #inscryption grimora #leshy #inscryption leshy #miitopia au #my art