local universe

What I Read This Week

I read some AWESOME fics this week and I’m so happy to share them with you! It was a long weekend in Canada so I had plenty of time to read :)

Pigeon Alley by DiAnna44, Teen, 6.8k (WIP)
What’s meant to be will always find a way. Victor and Yuuri? They’re meant to be. SO GOOD so far!! Actor AU!

clean up on aisle five by alipiee, Gen, 5.3k
“You have got to be kidding me. Please tell me you did not drag me around that shop for over an hour for you to leave without his number, but with coconut milk, four different types of pasta and gluten-free cereal - you’re not even gluten intolerant!” LOOOOOOOOVE THIS! It’s so so cute!

Love and Gelato by flowercrownyuri (elevensong), Teen, 7.6k
Victor’s life consists of three things: taking classes at the local university, figure skating on the weekends, and working at a florist shop downtown. After years upon years of monotony, he’s convinced that nothing can take him by surprise anymore. However, when a new employee begins working at Celestino’s, a gelato shop across the road, Victor’s immediately intrigued. I’M SOBBING I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

‘Cause I’m a Taker, 'Cause I’m a Giver, It’s Only Nature by ken_ichijouji (dommific), Explicit, 75k (WIP)
The story of how Yuuri Katsuki slept with, dated, fell in love with, and married Victor Nikiforov. Yes, in that order. Such a great fic! Updated today!

The Rules For Lovers by ADreamingSongbird, Teen, 142k (WIP)
Prince Yuuri Katsuki has a duty to his country, above all else (his desires, his dreams, and his happiness included), and he knows this alliance will help to ensure the safety of his people. That’s the only reason he accepts Prince Nikiforov’s hand in marriage. The pleasant surprise, of course, is the part where they fall in love along the way. The unpleasant one, well…That’s a long story. FINALLY got around to reading the whole fic and WOW I love it so much!! I can’t wait to see what happens next!

The Most Beautiful Man in the World (Who Lives in My Apartment Building) by preciousbunnynoiz, Teen, 6.4k
The Most Beautiful Man in the World lives in Yuri’s apartment building but alas Yuri only sees him when Yuri looks like a dumpster goblin. One of my new faves!! 

our doubts are traitors by astoryaboutwar, Explicit, 25k (WIP)
The powered assassins AU in which betrayal comes first, forgiveness second, and love was always somewhere in the equation. That update!!! Oh my god!!!!!!!

The Two Mr. Nikiforovs by bratinella, Mature, 15k
Secrets are normal in Viktor’s opinion. Yuuri shares his sentiments. Everyone has secrets they keep from others and he knows even Yuuri has some just as Viktor has. He is very grateful to have trust and understanding between them and Viktor allows his husband to maintain his privacy just as Yuuri gives Viktor his own. Which lies in the problem. LOVED THIS! Must read!!

We’ll Be Fireproof by Lukesnotpunk, Explicit, 26k
Yuuri is a lifeguard at his local pool, Victor is the star of the swim team that practices there, and Yuuri might spend more than a healthy amount of time watching Victor more than the other swimmers. Victor might notice. Awesome fic!! I never knew I needed a swimmer AU until now hahaha!!

(˃̶͈̀_˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾( ノ_ಠ)₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

Here’s to another week of great fic reading! Be sure to give the authors some love!

anonymous asked:

AU where Victor is a painter and he has this small gallery in a lonely part of the city, his paintings mainly express his depression and nobody actually buys his paintings but he still does them. Then someday Yuuri who is an art student at the local university comes in at his shop and is surprised by the amount of not sold paintings so he buys one of them. Victor obvs falls madly in love After that his paintings get brighter and he wishes to see that stranger again.

I LOVE THIS AU

Cool Places to Stop on a Roadtrip
  • Local Diners
  • Flea Markets
  • Museums (many university ones are free)
  • Movie Theaters/Drive-ins
  • Pet Stores
  • Animal Shelters
  • Malls
  • Hiking Trails
  • Art Galleries
  • Fairs
  • Carnivals
  • Zoos
  • Bookstores
  • Garage Sales
  • Arcades
  • Trampoline Parks
  • City Parks
  • Somewhere to see the sunset
  • Aquariums
  • Petting Zoos
  • Farmer’s Markets
  • Sporting Events
  • Thrift Stores
  • Ice Cream Parlors
  • Frozen Yogurt Shops
  • Gift Shops

Behind every person now alive stand thirty ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living. Since the dawn of time, roughly a hundred billion human beings have walked the planet Earth.

Now this is an interesting number, for by a curious coincidence there are approximately a hundred billion stars in our local universe, the Milky Way. So for every man who has ever lived, in this Universe there shines a star.

—  Arthur C Clarke
YOI Fan Rec Friday

Hi! Thanks for all your recs! A few things to mention this week:

1. I randomly select 20-25 fics to put on this list each week to keep the list manageable! If you don’t see your rec on here, please send it in again! Tumblr also eats asks, so please send in your rec again if you don’t see it!
2. Please look at my guidelines before recommending fics! I will not put fics on the list that violate my guidelines. This is to keep my blog a safe place for anyone and everyone! You can check out my guidelines here.

Without further ado, here are the recommendations this week!

Rec’d by @sacchariwrites :
I Want It All by venoms, Teen, 5k (WIP)
When Katsuki Yuuri misses the podium by half a point and finds himself in fourth place during the 2015 Grand Prix Final, he is ready to give up, but Yakov Feltsman sees something in him and offers to coach him the following season in Russia alongside his idol, Viktor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky, whose next season is his senior debut.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Whenever I Fall at Your Feet by thesleepingsatellite, Explicit, 4.8k
Victor would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t find feet erotic. Feet were the primary tools of his and Yuuri’s profession, the instruments they used to dance across the ice, the supporting foundation of their performances. They were simultaneously punished and treasured. Finally, Yuuri was allowing him to cherish his feet the way that Victor had wanted to for months.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
if this city will bloom by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus), Gen, 8.9k
The story where Viktor accidentally brings home a cherry blossom spirit from Japan, and his life and heart are turned upside-down.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @mixberkaan :
The Rules For Lovers by ADreamingSongbird, Teen, 128k (WIP)
Prince Yuuri Katsuki has a duty to his country, above all else (his desires, his dreams, and his happiness included), and he knows this alliance will help to ensure the safety of his people. That’s the only reason he accepts Prince Nikiforov’s hand in marriage. The pleasant surprise, of course, is the part where they fall in love along the way. The unpleasant one, well…That’s a long story.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
Love and Gelato by flowercrownyuri (elevensong), Teen, 7.6k
Victor’s life consists of three things: taking classes at the local university, figure skating on the weekends, and working at a florist shop downtown. After years upon years of monotony, he’s convinced that nothing can take him by surprise anymore. However, when a new employee begins working at Celestino’s, a gelato shop across the road, Victor’s immediately intrigued. 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Just Hold On (We’re Going Home) by kiaronna, Teen, 10k (WIP)
Where Yuuri remembers the banquet, Viktor forgets, and Yakov Feltsman has his own plans.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
A Political Affair by ChibiFoxx, Mature, 85k (WIP)
As a young Omega, Yuuri had wanted nothing more than to be able to live freely and pursue his dreams. But with the crushing reality of having an Alpha-dominated government, Omegas were forced to live the life society wanted them to have, even if it meant selling their lives to an Alpha suitor at a young age.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
I can be your devil or your angel, baby by hinatella, Teen, 5.1k
Yuuri Katsuki didn’t ask for any of this, and he’s starting to question all of his life choices that lead up to this cursed moment.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
do something pretty (while you can) by renaissance, Teen, 14k (WIP)
Everything is going wrong, and it’s all Viktor’s fault. It all started when he got Christophe involved. That was a mistake. But no, it started before then. It started with Georgi and Anya. Even earlier, it started with one small victory that gave Viktor a lot of big ideas. It started when Lilia arrived with her ballet students on the very first day of term. Really, if Viktor’s being honest, it started the moment he met Yuuri.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
you think my bruised knees are sort of pretty by fireblazie, Teen, 4.7k (WIP)
In which Yuuri gets drunk at a con, earns the nickname Cake Boy, and promptly forgets all about it.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @sentwithcitation :
The Boy Who Watched by Rosie_Rues, Teen, 12k
In which Victor pines, everybody drinks too much, and Yakov deserves a sainthood for putting up with these idiots. Basically, it’s a decade’s worth of near misses, misunderstandings, and pure obliviousness.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
you are the best thing that’s ever been mine by JMonCheri, Mature, 4.9k (WIP)
Wherein famous actors Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are forced to fake a relationship for mere reasons such as fame, money, and for teenage girls to make thesis long rants about them on Tumblr. A pact is made, then things snowball into a complete mess, and ya’ll already get the idea where this is going…

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @dragondoodle0268 :
Painting by Homosexualrussian, TwinDragons0268, Teen, 1.3k (WIP)
After Victor Nikiforov settles into his comfy new Barcelona apartment while taking a break from skating, he goes to many new places, he experiences many new experiences. However, out of all of them, his favorite hang-outs is the art gallery near his residence (as he goes nearly every day). Everyone there knows him by name, he knows each painting, sculpture, collage by heart, but after an overly angry guest leaves, Victor slowly begins to discover that change can be for the better.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
will lose my desire for you (never my love) by ken_ichijouji (dommific), Mature, 16k ***Major Character Death
Victor is ten when he leaves home to fine tune his alchemy, nineteen when he meets Katsuki Yuuri, twenty when he becomes a State Alchemist and a husband, and twenty-two when a teen named Yuri Plisetsky begins to report to him. 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
That April (you were knowable) by llythl, Teen, 10k (WIP)
“He said there were dead bodies buried beneath the tree,” Victor explains, eyes wide. Yuuri remembers his sister telling him in passing that Victor could not be more typical as a tourist - possessing a charming naivete that was really only charming when it was not doing any harm.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @flyingsuits-blog-blog
You Have Witchcraft in Your Lips by RememberingEmbers, Teen, 4.8k
Victor falls in love with the new cheesecake-on-a-stick vendor at the Renaissance Faire.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Fontaine de jouvence by EdosianOrchid, Teen, 4.7k
Maybe he should have chosen a different place to spend his eternity, calmer and less eccentric than San Junipero but Yuuri has promised himself that he will overcome his anxiety to catch up here all the missed opportunities from his previous life. Besides, it is what his best friend Phichit would have wanted for him.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
more than three quarters by alykapedia, Teen, 9.8k (WIP)
“No fair, I wanted to do a review for your new book too!”
Pulling the phone away from his ear, Yuuri Katsuki—New York Times best-selling author and winner of the Akutagawa and Naoki Prizes—squinted at the screen bearing his best friend’s grinning face. 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Take Hold by LavenderProse, Mature, 20k
“I believe…” Yuuri says, pensive. “I believe that when you’re connected to another person so closely that you share a soul, it’s stupid to think that you wouldn’t feel it. How can you not recognize part of yourself when they’re standing right in front of you?” / “That's…I…yes.” Viktor tries to untie his tongue, mouth suddenly arid. “You—I think you would know, yes.” / Yuuri skates onto the ice and Viktor’s soul screams after him, Do you know? Can you see me? I’m here, I’m here.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
I’ll be loving you for quite some time by Singittome, Teen, 1.8k
Twenty-eight little stories from Saint Petersburg.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
i never could’ve asked for more by flowerbolt, Explicit, 3.1k (WIP)
It’s like having a genie in a lamp.Or such were the tales on the worn-out books he used to have as a child, anyway. Always containing a wondrous spell he never quite understood—though it seems a little unfair on him to have to give something in return, and inevitably even less fair on his benefactor to not have a wish limit in the first place.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Cherry Wood and Golden Robes by Skowronek, Not Rated, 8k (WIP)
When the up-and coming Japanese wizard Yuuri Katsuki arrives in Sochi for his most important duelling competition so far, he expects to flub his duel, embarrass himself, and panic. He doesn’t expect to exceed his own expectations and gain a rival in the process.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Force Is Strong in My Family by explanationintime, Teen, 1.8k
“The force is strong in my family. My father has it, I have it, and…my brother has it.”

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @hystericblue:
Found Myself in a House I’ve Never Been Before by QueenofFennoscandia, Mature, 9.4k (WIP)
Yuuri was almost sure that this was reality. His favorite tea blend could be found in the kitchen cabinet on left, and the teapot was on the top shelf, exactly as he favored. Two important thoughts went through his head. Could he even skate anymore, and more importantly, did any of the people he knew exist?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Unsinkable by terra_incognita, Teen, 18k (WIP)
Victor is a wealthy heir with a lonely soul. Yuuri is a poor dancer with a tender heart. The deck of the Titanic might be a very romantic place to meet your one true love, but it’s not exactly a fortuitous one.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @exile-wrath :
On Our High Horses by Bad_Wolf, Teen, 11k (WIP)
Sara Crispino loves her job, riding the broad flats and hills of her adopted planet on her beloved horse. She doesn’t have to talk to anyone for days, just the cows and horses she herds. Usually the only other person she interacts with is the landowner of half the planet, Yurui Katsuki, and he’s just plain shy. Sara would have been happy to go on like that, one day flowing into the next, seamless and unvaried; except when a group of uppity nobles decide to invest money into the Katsukis’ business. Now while Yuuri is off schmoozing the money, Sara has to play host to an infuriating rich lady who wouldn’t know hard work if it bit her in the ass.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @nagoyadelay :
Setting Sun by LittleLostStar, Explicit, 52k (WIP)
With the world watching their every move, Victor and Yuuri begin trading lyrics in a secret conversation; from playful rivalry to intense seduction, through Savage Garden and San Fermin, their virtual affair unfolds, hidden in plain sight. But the Grand Prix approaches, bringing with it newfound opportunities for Yuuri’s career, and his new life hinges on two things: winning the gold, and staying away from Victor.


Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

The amazing “YOI Fan Rec Friday” banner was created by @omgkatsudonplease! I love them a lot, check out their blog!

Stories

never submitted anything to a blog like this before and it’s not going to be near as good as everyone else’s but I couldn’t get rid of the idea

Back home, you used to be known for storytelling. Not the wild and unbridled force of creation that builds and destroys entire worlds in moments, that fearsome superpower – though you have that too, but that is for you and you alone thus far, and you haven’t gotten the courage to share it – but rather the ability to retell a memory in the most entertaining way possible.

People seemed to like it when you took your memories, pieces of yourself, and told them as a story. Back home they did, at least.
At school, your roommate mutters something about not sharing so much personal information as she turns her socks inside out. In the classroom – where you can never quite remember what you’ve learned, but you always leave with more stories creeping about in your mind – occasionally students listen with a gaze just a little too sharp, the feeling of more eyes than you can see on your back.

But storytelling is in your blood, it’s part of who you are, and so you tell your stories. Happy ones, funny ones, tales of adventure and mischief that you thought were mundane until you grew older. Actually, compared to Elsewhere, they are mundane.

There’s one story you haven’t told yet, one that everyone in your family pretends not to know. It’s the tale of why you came to Elsewhere, the tale of the Thing you saw as a child, that took your cousin when the two of you played in a forest, and promised to return for you. Why you decided to go to college upstate and not attend the local university. You thought you were escaping the madness. (Sometimes you see the shadows at the corner of the stairwell and hear horns on the quad at night and wonder if you leapt from the frying pan to the fire)

It’s why you twine iron wire through your curls in decorative spires and carry salt packets sewn into your clothes, and carry old things from your grandmothers that you aren’t sure will help you (but grandmothers can be so very stubborn)

You’ve started to hear things on campus. Students who disappear and come back Different, if they come back at all, or other students who make the brave but foolish journey Underhill to rescue one of their own. Everything you’ve learned since coming here suggests that asking about it is pointless, if not outright dangerous, but at the same time you can’t help wondering if they’d know anything about the Thing that took your cousin. You know that one day you’ll find one of the students who made it There and Back Again, and when you do, you’ll tell your story.

Close to autumn you find yourself in one of the thin places on campus. It was an accident, you were simply too preoccupied with an upcoming exam to notice the air turn unseasonably warm and humid, and before you know it, you’ve walked three times the length of what the hall should’ve been, and each time you find yourself back at the lockers, the air is warmer, heavier, and the ground is softer. Somehow you instinctively understand that you must keep moving. To stop here would be a grave mistake. So you keep walking, and the air feels like the breath of something huge and moist, and you’re pretty sure there’s mud squelching beneath your feet now but you really don’t want to look.

It’s when you do look that the tiles, soft as mud and unyielding as stone, swallow your feet to the ankles and you are trapped. You curse your foolishness in three different languages – two of which are fictional and one of which was invented by you. This one feels stronger, and when you say “Flames take it!” you can almost feel a spark of phantom heat by your legs – and hear something laugh in the darkness.

“You are stuck,” it says.

You demand to be set free, even as you twine a strand of iron-wrapped around your hair and clutch your necklace – from your grandmother, a tiny bottle filled with salt and mustard seeds. You’re not sure if mustard seeds have any significance or if she just liked them – and try to look anywhere but shifting, oily shadows that smell of dust and moss. You suspect that demanding anything from one of Them will be a fruitless endeavor, but you’re frightened now and the liquid tile is sucking you down further. It’s up to your knees here. It occurs to you that you might die like this, that you might disappear just like your cousin and all those other students disappeared.

“What will you give me?” It asks.

Before you can think, you answer, “A story.”

There’s a bubbling silence before It makes a hiss that sounds too pleased to mean anything good. “Yes,” It says, “A story. But I’ve heard all yours. Make it one I haven’t heard before.”

This is tricky. The wrong story could mean death, and when It says It’s heard all your stories It probably wasn’t exaggeration. You could tell It one of your original tales, the stories of pirates and dragons and giants, but those feel too personal. There is too much of you in those stories, and that is your world, with your characters. You can’t help feeling a bit protective of them.
That just leaves The Story.

So you tell It a story about two children playing in a wood. About a thing like a skinless horse with the torso of a man grafted into its back. About fleeing in terror as the Thing chased you both through the trees, and your cousin’s squeal of fright as it grabbed him, just missing you as you splashed across the shallow creek. You go into greater detail than you ever have before, telling It things you didn’t even tell your family before they called the police.
You remember the color of the Thing’s rolling eyes and glistening muscle.
You remember the way its head seemed to wobble back and forth like it was attached to the wrong body.
You remember it promising that water would not always save you.
You remember knowing that running water might be the answer, even if you don’t have the question it goes to yet.
You didn’t want to tell this story, but you can’t stop the words now no matter how hard you try.

All is silent when you finish your tale, and for a moment you fear you were talking to the air. Then, with a slurp, the tiles spit you back out again and you’re standing on solid ground.

“That is a good story,” It says, “I think I’ll keep it.” with these cryptic words and directions to simply follow the hallway, he leaves you and you find yourself running all the way to the stairwell. You thank your lucky stars that you got out none the worse for wear and you are astonished that you managed it at all.

When you tell your roommate, she is concerned. “What did you give Them in exchange for Their help?” she asks you.

“Just a story,” You answer.

Which story? You have a million.”

“It was the one about-” and you stop. Not because you never decided whether or not to tell your roommate. Not because you’re preoccupied or distracted.
No.
The words wedge in your throat, sticking to the back of your tongue, coating your tonsils like thick dust. They won’t come out. For a moment you’re afraid that you might not be able to speak at all. So you try to tell a different story, and that comes out loud and clear. But when you try to explain again that you told the story of how Something took your cousin away – presumably Underhill if not someplace worse – your tongue seems to shrivel in your mouth and the words lodge in the soft parts of your throat like little needles.

That’s a good story. I think I’ll keep it.

It isn’t your story to tell anymore. For once, words do not obey you. Your roommate sees your rising panic, sees the tears welling up in your eyes, and takes pity on you.

“Tell me a different story,” she says, “A made-up one.”

She used to scold you about telling stories all the time, so at first you don’t understand what she’s doing. Then she asks, “What story didn’t you tell?”
The rather obvious wink when she says this gives you and idea.

Words are your tools and they always have been. Until today, they have always obeyed you. You know how to make a truth sound like a lie and a lie like truth. And so you carefully craft a lie so close to the truth, using characters so close to being you and your cousin, that you are sure your roommate understands.

Forever after this, you season your stories with lies in case you must trade them, so that the truth remains yours to tell. You learn say nearly anything and keep it just close enough to fact to fool someone.

You don’t realize that you’re learning to talk like Them until you find one trapped in the snare an upperclassman set near the library, all salt and iron. It yowls like a cat and screams like a child and its three hands scrabble for purchase. It wants out, you know this.
You cock your head and say, “What will you give me if I release you?

It’s only fair, you think. A story for a story.
You’re playing a dangerous game.

[x]

3

First of a series I’m doing. “Fleshed out” snapping turtle based on a skeleton I articulated. Painting was done with gouache paint and some watercolor, and is around 8x10″. The skeleton was completely apart to begin with, and everything is drilled and wired or pinned. As you can see it can stand up, supporting the shell, on it’s own. Really like how that one came out. Both are for a local university. 
(Note if you’re using the skeleton as a reference, the smallest toe is missing on every foot)

TalesFromYourServer: Last night I had the worst table of my serving career

Real quick backstory: I’ve been a server for about 3 years, and I also go to college at a local 4 year university. My serving job has been my only means of paying tuition and my cost of living.

Last night I was working a closing shift, and about 30 minutes before we closed a group of 7 middle aged men and women walk in rather loudly. I could instantly tell that some of them had been drinking, but since I’m technically working at Tavern we get people like this every once in a while so I still served them. They asked me when we closed and I said in about 25 minutes. “That’s plenty of time!” So they began ordering bud lights, ladies got cheap wine, the whole 9 yards. So about 3 rounds in and a good hour later I notice the women can barely finish a sentence and the men aren’t doing much better. I try, as politely as I can, to tell them if they’d like to order another round that they need to get a safe way to get home since they are noticeably intoxicated. Then all hell breaks loose. They get up and yell in my face “that’s bullshit!” “You aren’t even liable for us!” “you’re just cutting us off because you want to go home!” I explained that I am in fact liable if they get pulled over, and not only can I lose my job but I can be directly fined. The man closest to me gets right in my face and says “I’m a fucking lawyer and I’ll sue your ass for how you’ve been talking to us you little shit, go get your manager” to which I respond by walking away to do exactly that. As I’m walking the women (who are hammered) are calling me a “special snowflake” and “lazy kid who wants to go home.

I lost it. I turned around and yelled "look around you! You are berating a 22 year old kid for not giving you more alcohol in a restaurant that’s been closed for 45 minutes. How am I the special snowflake here?!” By that point my manager heard yelling from the back and came up to intervene. She told me not to talk to them anymore and that she’d handle it. About 10 minutes and a huge amount of cursing later they leave, no tip on $90, shocker.

End rant.

By: grant47

Hey so in Steven Universe, Earth has been invaded lots. Where is the National Guard? The Army? There’s lots of aliens, disturbance of the world, ocean being sucked up into the sky, hostile unidentified aircraft entering out atmosphere and causing chaos, destruction of property, all that good science fiction action stuff. So where in all of the fifty blessings are the boys and girls who protect us?

Okay this doesn’t count. He’s just a blogger. But he’s dressed like a soldier, so they clearly exist in this universe? What’s going on here? Beach City had a mass evacuation awhile ago, didn’t see a single uniformed soul there. In fact, sure you could argue Beach City is pretty isolated, doesn’t make sense, but after all the craziness going on in this one spot of the coast, you’d think the Army or the FBI would send someone to deal with the situation, or investigate. You’re not seriously telling me Ronaldo is the only person who cares about destructive aliens fighting their wars on our planet? How is this not the biggest news? Did the entire world disband all military forces in a huge peace agreement? What about the nations who obviously wouldn’t, like North Korea? They would steam roll the rest of the defenseless world. And yeah, armies are a thing in this world.

Even the WATERMELONS form an army when a major threat arises. Are you telling me actual human beings, seven billion of them, can’t figure out what it takes a measly island full of watermelons to figure out? An armed defense?

And even though they’re shitty, Mayor Dewey has bodyguards! So clearly threats exist among humans on Earth still, danger between fellow people, citizens even. So again, where is any semblance of an Earth Defense Force? Or are the Crystal Gems the only army left on the whole planet? Five rebels and a kid. Either this world is the same one as Invader Zim’s Earth, or its bad writing.

Mad Science

Finally, it was done. 8 years of research, months of preparation, and a menagerie of deceased mice, but at last he held in his hand the formula that he had sought for most of his adult life. Dr. Walker felt an incredible excitement building within him as he inspected the tiny vial. He was so close to realizing his dream that he could almost taste it, taking all his willpower to stop himself from downing the vial’s contents right then and there. No, mad scientist he may be, however he was not so mad as to administer a still as of yet unproven cocktail to himself without any kind of human testing.

Unfortunately for him, this formula was being done off the books, without any knowledge of the university, so he couldn’t just announce his findings to the world and start human trials. Jon also knew he couldn’t simply spike someone’s drink with the formula to observe the results. If it proved toxic he’d have to hide a body, a subject he had skipped in his mad scientist studies and had no idea how to handle. If it proved effective, the unwitting dupe would likely be largely upset at the outcome, and he wasn’t so sure he would be able to remove all evidence that would lead back to him anyway. He would have to find a guinea pig that was as enthused about his results as he was, but also willing to sacrifice some safety to achieve his goal.

Fortunately, the internet was a vast place, and home to many, many diverse interests.


Mikey was sauntering home after morning classes. The fall leaves were just beginning to turn red and brown, and he was already feeling slightly overwhelmed as assignments piled up at the beginning of his sophomore year. Things like cooking and eating healthy had long since gone out the window, as the freshly punched notches on his belt could attest. However, Mikey wasn’t exactly distressed at these developments, and he made his way back to his dorm already salivating at the thought of a frozen pizza lunch. Maybe even two pizzas, he thought, giving his small belly a pat.

Finally reaching his dorm, he kicked off his shoes, gave a courteous hello to his dorm-mates, dropped off his pack in his room, then made his way to the shared kitchen to pop the tops on two frozen pizzas. Safely set to bake for 20 minutes, he made his way back to his room to sit down, check his email, and surf the usual sites. Homework could wait until after lunch.

He’d always loved food. He’d always loved eating, but more than that, Mikey wanted to grow, to become huge, the biggest he could ever be. Growing up in a very health-conscious household had meant there’d never really been the opportunity to truly pig out. Now that Mikey had left the nest, he was going to make the most of his new-found freedom and eat whenever and whatever he wanted, and finally realize his dream of becoming bigger. He’d already gained the freshman 15 and then some, and was well on his way to packing away the sophomore thirty. A few more weeks and he’d have to buy bigger pants.

Still, progress was too slow for his liking; he wanted to get big, now. Luckily the internet was a big place, filled with many diverse interest. After checking his email, Mikey logged into Gnosher to check his messages there. Mikey had stumbled across the gainer community some years ago, and was surprised to find out there were a lot of people that actually shared his desires. Gnosher was just one such site where people could congregate, share tips, and just generally encourage one another to grow as big as they wanted. Mikey was in touch with several inspiring individuals, and he scrolled through a few messages congratulating him on nearly outgrowing his belt.

The message that caught his eye today was something he’d never received before. There was the usual congratulations for his steady gains, but after that was the question, “How would you like to get much much bigger, much much faster?” It sounded like he was going to be given a pitch for some sort of new weight gain protein mix, something that Mikey had so far avoided on a university budget, but he was intrigued enough to at least reply back asking for the details. Already putting it out of his mind and finishing up his online perusal, he made his way back to the kitchen to begin scarfing his now cooked pizzas.

Upon re-entering his room, Mikey was surprised to see on his still open Gnosher page that he’d already gotten a reply. Curiosity won out over hunger, and he clicked the message open to read it. It turned out the writer was a local, working at the university, and he’d been working on a weight gain formula that was now ready for human testing. After reading Mikey’s profile, he thought he’d be eager to take part in trials, and was wondering if he’d like to sign up. It all seemed too good to be true, and Mikey felt a healthy dose of skepticism, but once again curiosity won out and Mikey replied with positive enthusiasm. Again, a few short minutes later, he was provided instructions to come to professor Jon Walker’s lab this afternoon and he’d be given further instructions.

Bewildered, but excited, Mikey quickly ate his pizzas, stowed his homework for later this evening, and made his way to the Biotechnology building where professor Walker’s lab was.


Now he wondered if he truly was mad. Test the formula here? Now? And with a student here at the university? What if something went wrong? What if the boy screamed and went to the authorities? Or worse, what if it killed him? How would he drag a body out of this office, in the middle of the afternoon? The more the professor fraught and fretted the more insane he thought his plan to be. How could he let his own ego get the better of him to do something so reckless?

Professor Walker sighed, and slumped back behind his desk, the image of a young sophomore still displayed on his screen. Brown hair, blue eyes, boyish looks, and a budding belly; who was he kidding? It wasn’t just his ego that made him message this boy. A life devoted to science had left the professor desperately lonely, and he had jumped at the chance of not only fulfilling his life’s work, but also actually meeting someone with the same desires as his own. He sighed again at his own folly, but at the same time there was the building fire of anticipation. What if it all worked?

“Professor Walker?”

The voice was quiet, coming from the other end of the lab adjoining his office. Steeling himself, he put on his best professor face, and walked out the door to greet his subject.


“Professor?” Mikey called out, wondering if the professor may still be on lunch, but after a few moments he heard a bustling from the small office next to the lab, and then a small, bespectacled, middle-aged man walked out to greet him.

“Ah, Michael, so good you could make it,” he said warmly, extending his hand in greeting.

Mikey took the hand and shook. “Thank you for contacting me. I was surprised that this was something the university even studied.”

“Indeed, the biotechnology laboratory has many concurrent studies being done.”

“I’m in computer sciences, so I had no idea. I’d have certainly signed up if this was a posted study! So, do I have to sign anything?”

The professor paused and them seemed to stammer nervously. “Ah, yes, well, this is something of a personal passion of mine. Off the school’s records, so to speak.”

Mikey raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So… what is it? Some sort of new protein powder?”

“No no no, nothing of the sort. What I have created is a chemical formula able to completely alter the subjects fundamental genetics in such a way that it’s almost like they’re a new person.”

“That sounds… a little dangerous? Look, I’d like to fill out, not become a totally different person.” Mikey said, taking a caution half-step back.

“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry, I misspoke. The formula doesn’t change everything, like your hair or eye colour, but actually targets and edits some very specific genes. You’ve heard of course of certain ethnicities being more prone to weight gain and obesity?”

“You mean like, Samoans?” Mikey offered, still skeptical.

“Yes, precisely, very good! Polynesian men simply have higher percentage of adipose tissue than the general population. What my formula does is take those specific genome sequences and edits them into the host, essentially changing their heritage slightly, but without changing anything else like skin or hair colour.” Mikey was about to reply, but the professor exuberantly continued, “But that’s just one example of what the formula does; obesity is a much more complex syndrome than any one gene. There is also the hereditary genetics passed from parents and especially the mother, there is epigenetics when a child is overweight and carries that weight into puberty and then adulthood - all these things are contained and subtly changed in this formula. It’s truly a marvel, if I do say so myself!” Concluded the professor, clearly proud of himself.

“But you haven’t tested it on people yet.” Mikey added flatly.

The professor seemed to shrink bank in on himself. “Well, no, not as of yet, that’s why you’re here of course. However, studies on laboratory animals have been very promising.”

“Like, how promising?”

“98% of subjects have doubled their initial mass after ingestion.”

“And the other 2%?”

“Um, well most of the rest were simply ineffective, and a statistically insignificant percentage suffered mild cardiac events.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “How insignificant?”

“It was one. Out of hundreds of subjects,” the professor grumped. “I have a defibrillator in my office. I promise you this will be perfectly safe.”

Mikey crossed his arms, but a coy smile crept into his face. “Doubled their mass, huh?”

The professor nodded. “Yes, that’s what my studies showed.”

“Alright then, how do we do this?”

The professor visibly relaxed, and then beamed enthusiasm once more. “Splendid! Well, first, we’ll take a measurement so we have a baseline comparison of course. Take off your shoes and jacket and follow me.” Professor Walker then made his way back to his office, and Mikey quickly kicked off his shoes and jacket and followed him in. “Please close the door behind you, would you?” Mikey did, and then lay his shoes and jacket on the floor near the door.

Once inside the professor moved to a physician’s scale and motioned for Mikey to get on. “Now please remove your effects and we’ll weigh you in.” This brought Mikey up short, but he brought his shirt over his head, undid his belt and slid out of his jeans, and lay the pile of clothes near the door with his shoes and jacket. The professor coughed slightly and waved a hand at Mikey’s groin, “and your boxers I’m afraid.”

“What- why?”

Wringing his hands, professor Walker replied, “well, you could keep them on, but it will likely become very uncomfortable quite soon.”

This made Mikey’s eyes widen, but he obeyed and woodenly removed his boxers, standing there naked, hands over his groin. The display of modesty made professor Walker chuckle. “Now now, don’t feel embarrassed. I am a doctor, after all.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your doctorate in?” Mikey shot back.

The professor shrugged. “Molecular biology, but I’d like to think I’d bring the same level of professionalism and courtesy as an MD.”

Mikey snarked, but removed his hands and made his way to get on the scale. The professor wasn’t sure what the young man had to be ashamed of; the boy was more than adequately hung. Impressively hung, even.

Moving behind Mikey, Dr. Walker moved the scale’s weights back and forth, slowly zeroing in on the young man’s weight, while surreptitiously sneaking glances at his subject’s form. An average frame, but possessing a certain softness and a rounded middle suggesting the boy had been skipping the gym and snacking a little too much during late-night study sessions. This, along with his shyness, made him absolutely adorable. It almost made the professor regret the circumstances by which he’d found the boy naked in his office. Almost.

“About 220 pounds, or thereabouts,” the professor announced, and then marked it down on a paper on his desk. Then, he reached into a drawer in his desk, retrieved a small vial of blue liquid and grandly announced, “Now for the fun part, as they say!”

Mikey gulped. He was really doing this. If this worked, he’d put every other gainer on Gnosher to shame. If it didn’t, well, it probably wouldn’t kill him. Hopefully. “Do I just drink it?”

“Indeed, my boy, indeed,” he said handing the vial over to the young man.

Mikey sighed, “Well, here goes,” and drank the vial in one gulp. He stood there for a few moments, not sure what he was expecting to feel, before finally asking, “so how long does this stuff take?”

“Well, in mice it was metabolized in approximately 5 minutes or so. There’s no rushing science,” the professor added, waggling his finger for scholarly emphasis.

Mikey was beginning to wonder if the professor put on this much of a show during his classes, when he started to feel a wave of warmth build up inside, before gently crashing over him, only to do it again moments later. “Uh, professor? I feel something.”

“Yes? How do you feel? Describe the sensation.”

“Uh, warm? Like I have a fever, only it’s in my stomach. And something- urgh!” Mikey doubled over, clutching his stomach in pain, but while he did he found there was more stomach to clutch, and after a moment there was more still. His belly was rounding out more and more, the flesh expanding beneath his fingers like an inflating ball.

“Michael, are you alright?” Dr. Walker sounded genuinely alarmed and took a step forward, however Mikey waved him off and slowly righted himself. As he did he took a slight stumbling step backwards, causing the newly formed flesh of his belly to jiggle slightly. The completely alien sensation of a part of him moving well after he had stopped made his eyes widen in astonishment.

“Oh man, this is happening! I’m getting bigger!” Mikey exclaimed, ecstatic, all pain forgotten as he grabbed his belly to bounce and jiggle it in his hands. In moments it was large enough to have a fold over his waist, and he could lift and drop it with a faint slap of flesh meeting flesh. Then, another wave of heat, this time diffuse and all-encompassing, but without any pain at all. Mikey let it wash over him in rapt anticipation.

For his part, Dr. Walker was even more ecstatic than Mikey was. It was working! This boy was blimping up before his very eyes!  First in the gut, but he could see the rest of him was slowly catching up. His previously flat chest was budding into a pair of perky man tits, tiny areolas stretching wider as his new mammaries inflated with soft flesh. His entire chest now began to rise outwards like inflating dough, the skin softening with adipose as it accumulated beneath it. The softness then spread to his shoulders, down his arms, then up his neck and face, all of it becoming noticeably thicker with growth. In moments the boy had a double chin, round moon cheeks, and a fold of flesh at the back of his neck just where his short brown hair tapered off.

Soon It seemed as though his body was reaching capacity as folds and creases were appearing beneath his chest, arms and arm-pits, the billowing fat unable to be contained beneath the skin. It was then that the growth changed tack, now causing his frame to visibly broaden. Dr. Walker could almost hear the creak of bones as his hips, shoulders and torso enlarged and expanded, making him wide, heavy-set, and barrel chested. The folds of flesh disappeared momentarily as the fat spread out to cover the enlarging canvas, but soon reappeared as the expansion of his skeleton slowed, only now much further apart. With wider hips, Mikey was forced to shuffle his feet and widen his stance, thicker feet now splayed diagonally in order to balance the heavier load.

Mikey could not have been happier feeling each new curve and roll, each new bounce and jiggle as his frame packed on more and more and more. He rubbed his hands over his torso over and over, each time the sensation bringing something new, and becoming intensely erotic. He could tell between his much wider set thighs and beneath his protruding middle he was becoming aroused in front of an audience, but he was too turned on to care. He was getting everything he’d ever wanted all at once, and he was more than happy to ignore a spectator and simply enjoy each new sensation as he grew.

As incredibly erotic as the whole scene was for Mikey, it was even more so for Dr. Walker. The adorable young man was becoming the hunk of his dreams right in front of him, and it was becoming increasingly obvious as the well hung cock began to stiffen and rise to it’s full length, almost slapping the belly hanging above it. It really was impressive, and the sight of this hulking tank blissfully rubbing his chest and belly while his huge cock bounced beneath was more than enough to get the good professor hard as steel in his slacks.

“Oh god, this feels sooo goood,” Mikey moaned, hands never leaving his torso, and the professor could see a drop of pre began to form at the tip of his now turgid member. Doctor Walker was working up the nerve to reach out and touch the leaking organ, when he noticed Mikey’s growth was now redirecting south, his legs, ass and feet puffing up and filling out. Within moments each of his thunder thighs were the size of a normal man’s waist, but unlike the billowy flab of his torso each lower limb was a near solid ham as Mikey’s musculature became better able to handle the heavy burden he’d be carrying from now on. The only exception to this seemed to be his glutes, which not only blew up to this size of two basketballs but also retained a certain wobbliness, the massive globes fighting for space on Mikey’s backside.

Another moan brought the professor’s attention back to the young man’s groin. As each thigh grew thicker they began to press together, leaving less and less space for Mikey’s nuts. Each ball was now stretching the scrotum so thin the veins were clearly visible, and the professor was concerned if he didn’t do something the skin might tear. However, his concerns were expunged as just like the rest of his skin it stretched and grew, letting each teste rest lower and lower until they dangled halfway to his knees. It was then the professor noticed each teste not only sagged lower in a far more loose and dangly scrotum, but seemed larger than before, having gone from quail eggs to those of large chickens. This was certainly not something he had programmed into the formula, however he wasn’t complaining.

Fat began to accumulate in the boy’s groin, swallowing up more and more of the leaking spire, making it appear inches shorter than when he had walked into the office earlier. Yet as the professor leaned in to better observe the changes, he noticed he’d been wrong. Not only had the fat of the man’s pubis swallowed much of his length, his cock had indeed lost a fair bit of circumference, seeming much less massive than before. In moments the young man’s member was much more modest in size, and with the rest of him having grown so large it seemed seemed almost small. Mikey’s burgeoning middle prevented him from seeing this new development, and judging by the blissed out expression still painted all over his face he didn’t seem to notice, or care, about his loss in manhood. The professor hoped the expansion of the boy’s testicles would make up for it.

The complete alteration in frame, shape and the arrangement of fat on the body was all expected and shown in previous testing on laboratory mice, but the changes in his genitalia were never something the professor investigated in his previous trials. With these unexpected developments, the professor began to look out for other unintended side effects of the formula. Stepping back, he took stock of the much larger man Mikey was becoming. He was easily over 350 pounds, and while the growth of his skeletal structure and musculature seemed to have stopped, he could see the accumulation of adipose was still going strong. The boy’s face was nearly circular, chubby cheeks rounding out into a prominent double chin, that seemed to flow into the inflating chest, the young man’s neck having been swallowed up by the expanding tides of flesh. His chest had expanded from perky breasts to much larger man-mammaries, now sagging under their own weight, each eraser-head capped peak propped up by the tremendous tank below it. And what a tank it was, having gone from mere cask to barrel in the intervening period. Framed by love handles as thick as bread loafs and beginning to surge over the boy’s waist, it was a sight to behold. Mikey was more than enamoured with it as he jiggled and grabbed his wobbling middle, oblivious to the world and all that was happening around him.

“Eyes up here, professor.”

Or so Dr. Walker thought, but now Mikey was staring right at him, hands cupping each breast so they would squish into a provocative bosom. Above them the round, boyish face was just as provocative, a sly smile painted on his lips. “I see you’re enjoying the show,” he remarked, eyes pointedly looking at the obvious tent in the professor’s slacks.

For the first time that afternoon it was the professor who felt embarrassed, like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. He floundered, mouth moving but no words coming out, only stopping once Mikey swayed much larger hips. He gulped, frozen, his entire being overcome by lust. Finally Mikey walked towards him, his gait now an odd swagger as each titanic thigh was forced to move circularly around the other with every step. His entire body shook with each lumbering foot fall, an earthquake of flesh growing larger with each passing moment.

Mikey reached him and just stood there, belly mere inches from bumping the professor backward, seductive eyes still staring into his. Then the professor felt something soft and warm pressing into his torso and groin; it was Mikey’s belly. It had surged forward in the few seconds he’d been standing in front of him, and now his belly sagged enough that the lowest portions were rubbing against the professor’s hardon. Mikey tittered and then swayed his hips again, the soft flesh seeming to caress his aching cock.

“Why don’t you touch it?” He asked, grasping the professor’s arm to bring it to the warm flesh of his side. It was so soft, so smooth, his hand sinking in as he pressed further, encouraged by the now colossal college student. After sinking in an inch the two moaned simultaneously, the professor unable to hold himself back any longer. He brought his mouth down to smash into the young man’s chest, lips and tongue seeking the enormous nipple atop the pendulous moobs, slathering saliva all over the pale expanse before finally latching on to suckle with abandon. The professor’s free hands grasped and fondled the yielding fat of Mikey’s belly while he stood there, an unmoving edifice, moaning appreciatively as the older man worshipped his voluminous form.

Had the professor been paying attention he may have noticed the change in tone that had come over Mikey. His manner towards Dr. Walker was mostly ambivalent earlier, but now he was gratefully accepting his unbridled lust with eager enthusiasm. However the professor was beyond thinking rationally at this point. He licked and nibbled and bit the meat of Mikey’s chest, groping at his belly and love-handles as far as he could reach, noticing how hard it was to reach the entire circumference of his waist. He licked lower and lower on the mountainous middle, mashing his face as far into the yielding fat as it would go, eventually descending to his knees, a worshipper having reached mecca. Finally, he reached up to lift the tremendous belly to view the prize now hidden beneath the cascading tide of flesh.

Mikey was already hard as a rock from the professor’s attention, however even at full mast, and even considering the exorbitant flesh that surrounded it, he could tell that Mikey had lost much of his impressive length and girth. Even with his hand pressing against his now impressive fat pad, Mikey extended perhaps 4 inches at best. Resting the behemoth belly on his forehead, the professor leaned into the hot, humid groin to swallow Mikey whole.

He wasn’t sure how the professor was able to deep-throat him, but Mikey couldn’t deny it felt amazing. While the professor eagerly took his entire length over and over, Mikey stood with legs splayed, playing with each doughy breast and the huge nipples at their ends. He knew he was enormous now, larger than he’d ever thought he could gain naturally, and it felt so good to push and fondle and mold his own body, the feeling of size and weight and power. He began to thrust into the professor’s mouth, each movement causing his entire body to quake while sending his pendulous balls to slap into the professor’s chin.

For Mikey each thrust was the barest jerk forward, but for Dr. Walker it had the momentum of over 450 pounds of man bearing down on his face. The first thrust nearly knocked him over, causing him to lose his grip on the colossal belly, smothering him in a tidal wave of fat. He recovered though, and redoubled his efforts, both hands now holding up the prodigious paunch while meeting the next thrust with his open and accepting mouth.

The slap of Mikey’s balls on the professor’s chin filled the office, and while Mikey found he was able to thrust as easily as he could when he was thin, he was working up a substantial sweat after only a few minutes. Liquid dripped on his nose and forehead to gather into rivulets formed on the vast expanse of chest and belly, and he could only imagine how the pressor felt beneath the horizon of his middle.

The professor was more concerned with simply holding on, and only noticed the taste of precum on his lips as Mikey’s thrusting picked up pace. Each battering of balls and groin meat left him covered in the fat man’s sweat. However, the enormous, dangling orbs (that would surely leave bruises once this was over) were beginning to pull upward, and he knew Mikey’s climax was imminent.

Mikey knew he couldn’t last. The professor’s magic mouth took him to the root with each thrust, and the feeling of his entire body jiggling in tune with his lovemaking was simply beyond words. With a bellowing moan, Mikey squeezed each of his love-handles as hard as he could and came.

Even though he could feel the twitching of the dick in his mouth and the ascent of the gigantic balls, the professor was completely unprepared for the torrent of cum that gushed forth from Mikey’s diminished manhood. The first gush filled his mouth completely, while the second overfilled it, and the third made jizz come sputtering out comically from his nose and mouth. The sound of Mikey’s seed splattering on the linoleum floor of the professor’s office was more akin to a dropped cup of coffee than the missed remnants of an impromptu blowjob, and the professor wondered if this was yet another side effect of the formula or if the young man had possessed this ability all along.

After what seemed an eternity, the gushing of Mikey’s geyser slowed to a trickle, giving the professor time to swallow and, more importantly, breathe. He fell backward on his ass, the propped-up belly falling forward and jiggling Mikey’s front while the last drops of his orgasm fell to join the small puddle that had formed beneath him. He calmed down and took stock of his enormity once more, and sighed a deep, satisfied sound.

“Looks like your formula worked, professor.”

Still catching his breath, the good doctor could only manage, “Evidently.”

Mikey wobbled back to the professor’s desk, his lumbering gait somewhat more awkward than a man of his size already would be as he was getting used to his vastness. Noticing something, he bent sideways and picked up a distinct blue vial. “You know professor, there seems to be enough formula left for one more.”

The professor thought about it for a moment, acknowledging mentally that neither he nor his young charge had any clothes that would fit and would have to trundle home, jiggling and naked. He’d have to provide some sort of explanation to his friends and colleagues, and he could even be subjecting himself to the same sort of bizarre mental changes and even possible alterations of his genitalia as the deity of excess that was beckoning him onward.

He downed the vial without a second thought, and as he grew and burst from his clothes, Mikey fondling and groping each new roll as it appeared on his body, he knew without doubt that this was the climax of his professional career.

Free Speech (Update)

Coulter is back. Today (Thursday), officials at the University of California, Berkeley, changed their mind about cancelling a planned speech by Ann Coulter. They say they found a safe venue.

Yesterday, in a letter to a campus Republican group that invited Coulter to speak, university officials said that they made the decision to cancel Coulter’s appearance after assessing the violence that flared on campus in February, when the same college Republican group invited right-wing provocateur and Breitbart editor Milo Yiannopoulos to speak.

It was a grave mistake. I’m glad the university has reversed course.

How can students understand the vapidity of Coulter’s arguments without being allowed to hear her make them, and question her about them?

It’s one thing to cancel an address at the last moment because university and local police are not prepared to contain violence – as occurred, sadly, with Yiannopoulos. It’s another thing entirely to cancel an address before it is given, when police have adequate time to prepare for such eventualities.

Free speech is what universities are all about. If universities don’t do everything possible to foster and protect it, they aren’t universities. They’re playpens.

love and gelato

Victor’s life consists of three things: taking classes at the local university, figure skating on the weekends, and working at a florist shop downtown. After years upon years of monotony, he’s convinced that nothing can take him by surprise anymore. However, when a new employee begins working at Celestino’s, a gelato shop across the road, Victor’s immediately intrigued. Something about watching “gelato boy” work, or laugh, or dance when he thinks no one is watching ignites emotions within Victor that he thought long buried, and soon enough he finds himself longing to meet the boy behind the counter.

In order to fulfill his wish, Victor begins leaving flowers with flirty notes attached to them outside Celestino’s, knowing gelato boy will find them the next morning. It becomes a routine, another expected part of his day, but what happens when notes written on cups begin appearing in return?

[AO3 Link]

Victor’s never been in love.

Sure, he’s had flings over the years, short, temperate relationships that fizzled out before they really began, but he’s never felt anything close to what all those sappy, romantic songs talk about. No butterflies in the pit of his stomach, no talking on the phone into the early hours of the morning, no pining for someone he can’t have. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been on a second date, and he’s never been on a third.

Ultimately, Victor’s decided that people are simply boring, and that’s the last thing he needs when his life is already an ocean of monotony. Every day is the same, a cycle of going to class, working at Yakov’s Flower Emporium, and skating whenever he’s able. He can wake up in the morning and know exactly what he’s going to do and who he’s going to see. Nothing’s exciting anymore and hasn’t been for a long time. The last thing he needs is a bland romantic life to match, and after years of messy one night stands and unfulfilling coffee dates, Victor’s resigned himself to the fact that for now, at least, he’s better off alone.

But then gelato boy comes along and Victor suddenly finds himself questioning everything.

It was three months ago when Victor saw gelato boy for the first time. He’s fixing the arrangements for the flower shop’s front counter display when he glances up and sees a guy who takes his breath away. The boy is casually standing in Celestino’s, the gelato shop that popped up about a year ago, looking out of place behind the counter. His black hair is unruly, swooping across his forehead and falling in front of a pair of half-rimmed, blue glasses. His hip is cocked out to the side and he’s wringing his hands together, only stopping when Celestino appears from the back room and hands him one of the shop’s obnoxious, lime green aprons to wear. The boy takes it with a devastatingly beautiful smile then loops it over his head, laughing when it catches on his ear.

Adorable, Victor thinks.

He ends up discreetly watching the boy for the rest of his shift. When Yakov asks for a volunteer to water the window boxes, Victor raises his hand before anyone else can get a word in edgewise, because he knows he can sneak glances at the boy while he does it. When he is assigned desk duty, Victor finds himself more entertained by the boy taking notes on gelato flavors than doing his own work. And when he is closing up for the day, Victor nearly burns down the building when he knocks a candle over and sets a pile of business cards on fire, too distracted by the boy swaying his hips to a song Victor can’t hear.

Needless to say, Victor is one-hundred percent smitten, and the following weeks are filled with his pathetic, lovelorn pining. It seems like nobody can escape his bemoaning over “gelato boy,” as they’ve all come to refer to Celestino’s mystery worker. If Victor isn’t talking about gelato boy, then he’s doodling pictures of him on discarded receipts. If he’s not doodling, then he’s making heart eyes at him through the window. And if he’s not making heart eyes, then he’s finding any excuse to work by front desk where he can have clear view of Celestino’s.

It’s ridiculous, enough that his coworkers intervene.

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