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The Boy He Once Loved He looked down at the boy he once loved, lying so peacefully in the casket in front of him.
He laid his hand on the pearlescent white inner lining.
His eyes, already puffy and sore from the days of straight crying, started to water yet again. He wipes them away, still staring at the boy he had loved for over a year lying dormant for the final time.
Behind him, comes the deceased's mother father and sister.
"You know, Dom, he loved you very much." She rested her hand on his shoulder, and wept with him silently. The father stood silently on her right, with the sister in toe. She cried as well.
They all just stood there, alone in the room.
How he wanted to touch his hand
What The Heart WantsSome days I just stare into the mirror and imagine where I'll be in thirty years.
At 33, I could see myself living alone with a prissy dog.
Because, anytime I see myself with a guy, I just imagine being so uncomfortable.
When he touches me, I shy away. When he hugs me, I pull back. When he kisses me, I turn my head. Sometimes, I wonder, if I even am gay.
If I'm gay, and I do see no problem with it whatsoever, why do I imagine these thigns? Why can't I picture myself happy with another man?
I mean, I want a boyfriend deep down, but maybe that's not what I "truly" want.
Whenever an opportunity comes my way, I tend to lash out. I tend to become a jackass and drive them away. But the ones I want, tend to leave me.
And, anytime I see myself with a girl, I justno.
Not what I want.
I can't picture myself with either.
Maybe that means I'm just still unsure.
Maybe that just means I'm meant to be alone.
Maybe that mean
StalkerI look at your pictures online, view every one.
I've always wondered when you may kiss me the way you kiss her in the pictures, hug me like that.
I've often dreamed about the time you and I could spend together, on summer nights. We could just lie together in the field, caressing each other, watching the stars twinkle above us.
It's the time I want us to spend together.
It's the time we need to spend together.
If we just got to know each other; I'm sure I could make you happy, treat you better than she treats you.
That break up that you guys just had that lasted about two weeks? Yeah, hun, that won't happen with me. We could be happy.
We could be permanent.
Well, not so permanentgay marriage is still illegal in PA, Sadly.
But, I swear I could show you a better time than she ever couldI know how to have fun.
So, Alec, take me for a spin.
Gage's Final FarewellHere, before us today, lies a boy who's life was taken from us prematurely by a disease.
Without dwelling on the negative, we must focus on the lives this boy has touched. At only seventeen, he's made lots of friends. He's been there through, and helped to sort out, numerous dilemmas.
Now, as I veer off of the eulogy I prepared, I've spoken to a few of his close friends; just before the mass began, a young lady approached me and told me a story about how this young man saved her life. She was having issues. And he helped, as she says, immensely. Without him, she added, that she saw no way out. She contemplated suicide.
I had the pleasure of meeting this young man's boyfriend before this ceremony as well. He walked up, shook my hand, and told me, once again, how amazing of a boy Gage really was.
It is always tragic; the death of a child. More so, I would say, than any other kind. But,
I Miss You... I lay on his bed, I breathe in his scent silently staining his sheets with my tears. I sit in his chair, staring senselessly at his computer screen just thinking about how much he used this thing. I run my hand over his keyboard; I grip his mouse.
He was way too young to have taken his own life so senselessly. He could have gotten help he could have said something-anything- to me... maybe a bye? That may have actually soothed so many of my worries and some of my regrets that I now have...
He couldn't have even thought about the effect all of this might have on our family.
I take something to keep his memoryhis bible. As i go to pick it up off of his nightstand, i see a piece of paper tucked gently between the pages... the handwriting was jittery and the p
Secrets Maybe he won't find out this time; maybe he won't realize the smell. He sure does smell good.
My boyfriend, Nick, was waiting in the living room-we just moved in together just a few months ago, and everything was going great. "Hey, babe. Getting in kind of late?"
"Yeah, sorry hun, the meeting ran over." I kissed him on the cheek. Maybe I was just paranoid, but I heard him take a long inhale.
"Your meetings have been doing that lately, haven't they?"
"Yeah, sorry.. we're releasing a new product soon, so that shit kind of happens. I promise you it won't tomorrow." I kissed forehead and headed to bed, relieved he didn't smell his scent on me.
I go lie in bed
~ Unique Human - Izaya Orihara x Reader ~
"Oh, [Name]-chaaan~" The raven-haired informant's voice rang throughout the large room. No answer. A small grin appeared on your face as you heard him get up from his chair and approach the sofa you were currently occupying. Stopping directly in front of you, a pair of crimson eyes bore down at you.
"Hello Izaya-kuuun~" You finally answered, mocking him in a sing-song voice.
"Where is it?"
"What on Earth could you be referring to, Izaya-kun?" You asked, trying to hide a smile from your boyfriend's obviously irritated state.
"My cell phone, [Name]-chan. Where did you put it this time?"
From the very first moment you met him, Izaya took every possible opportunity he had to annoy or tease you in one way or another.
After a month or so of his relentless tactics, you decided to start giving him a taste of his own medicine by getting a certain angry, street sign wielding ex-bartender to catch the informant off-guard.
Claiming you were an 'exceptionally interesting human', you slowly d
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 1Marisa hesitated, anxious suddenly, before opening the doors. She looked down at the keys in her hand, trying to get past this nervousness, playfully pinching the meat of her fat, flabby belly with the other. She shouldn't be so nervous, she knew this club perfectly, she'd worked here for a good six months, this should be easy.
Only, it wasn't, because what was behind that door was new. It was hers now, and she had plans.
For a second, she just stood there, nervous, but all of those concerns flew away only seconds after opening the door. She just looked, wide-eyed, and excited now. It was better than she'd imagined. Not finished yet, though, it just didn't seem quite done, she couldn't tell why. Eh, she'd figure it out later. She called back out the door, "Come on in here, Gwen, check it out!"
A few seconds later, Gwen came in, bigger than ever, looking positively massive as she playfully dragged the giggling mass of the helpless, struggling former manager of Porker's, Jo
Cheryl's Night ClubbingCheryl smiled when she accepted her third drink, a long island iced tea, her favorite, from a lusty young man passing her by, but winced when she sat back down, accutely aware of how close these shorts were coming to non-existance.
Her rump, overfed and under-worked, fattened up through a consistent theme of overindulgence and relaxation, was terrorizing the seams of these soft, fabric boyshort panties she let masquerade as club attire. She could feel her overfed stomach, fat and well-tended, pressing in front of her, sagging down just a bit more than she was okay with.
She clutched the drink to her chest tightly, pressing it between the plump, generous globes of her chest, resting the bottom of the glass on the convenient swell of her soft stomach, shivering a bit as the cold, icy glass came in contact with the exposed area of her cleavage. She set her back against the wall behind the bench, sliding down, slowly, praying the stitches would stay together, until she felt her cheeks maki
Good Ol' Days - TGThings were getting rather tough for Nick Kellins. At the ripe old age of 49, the big fifty was looming over his head. A bad construction injury left him rather immobile and confined to a wheelchair. His four kids had all but abandoned him due to the constant attention he needed; at least that’s what he told himself to ease the pain. Nick’s once thick blonde hair had faded to a dull gray, mostly from stress and the meds he was taking to help with said stress.
He let out a cough as he wheeled himself over to the dining room table which had the mornings newspaper sprawled over it. The old college he had attended was celebrating their recent football championship win and was headlining the news.
“What I wouldn’t do to go back in time and do it all over again…” he sighed while reading over the article.
Nick kept reading while sipping at his mug of fresh brewed coffee. The more he read into the article the more he wished he could be there-- as one of the
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 4And so the girls went, in a slightly different order than they were announced.
Lexi went first, her routine little changed from her older one, Aerosmith blaring, her fat, fleshy body writhing, flab jiggling in time to the sounds of guitar, more gymnastically at the beginning of her set, less so as the songs played on. It was getting difficult by the end, and the reason was clear, it was because of those little pauses she'd take every few seconds, grabbing food from the conveyor belt, working it into her act as smoothly as she could, eating more and more, and letting her fullness be seen by everyone, her belly proudly bulging forward, her hands rubbing across it, massaging it, looking for relief, and finding a bit as she made herself belch, audible even over Steven Tyler's wailing. There was no pause in the act there, she reached immediately to the conveyor belt, looking to fill what space the air had just vacated, cramming a cookie into the space between her breasts, leaning her head c
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 2The girls spent an extra forty minutes in The Cheesecake Factory before they were recovered enough to get back to Marisa's car, both of them groaning in unison as they collapsed backwards into Marisa's Mini Cooper, their combined weight lowering the car dramatically.
They spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling around, trying to find some measure of comfort in the hopelessly cramped space, and failing miserably. Marisa was fine, the car had been altered to fit her, but Gwen was struggling, her thunderous thighs spreading wide under the pressure of her almost perfectly spherical stomach and proud, heavy bosom, too wide for the passenger's seat. She didn't seem able to accept this fact, though, trying everything she could to get the door closed, with all of her massive, fleshy rump contained within the car, repeatedly trying to pull it closed, until Marisa spoke up, “Hey... Gwen? Yeaaaaaaah, maybe you should just get in the back seat?”
Gwen tried a few more times, wincing i
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 7Marisa didn't sleep well that night.
She tossed and turned all night, trying to settle her mind, to make all the little pieces fit nicely next to each other, but it didn't seem to happen. She was angry, at John, at Miracle, at herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. She couldn't sleep, not restfully, at least.
Nine thirty rolled around, and she was where she was supposed to be, in her office, ready for Miracle to walk in, but she looked rough. Her hair and make-up were askew, her outfit wasn't co-ordinated the way it usually was. She looked less like a domineering matriarch, and more like a stressed secretary, four years deep into a fast food binge.
And this was what Miracle saw when she came in, sitting on the other side of the desk, her eyes wide in terror as a fat, serious-looking woman stared back at her.
Miracle reflexively shrank back, "I-I'm sorry..."
Marisa shook her head, "It's not important. So. What happened to you yesterday?"
"I-I panicked." M
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 5Two months after that fantastic opening night, all good feelings Marisa had ever had about where she was going with Porker's had officially evaporated.
She rolled over in bed, slapping her alarm clock as she did so. She didn't want to go to work, she just didn't. Work meant not knowing what to do, or how to talk about it, even. Gwen knew the situation, that conversation happened yesterday.
She rolled over in her covers, remembering back to how that had gone...
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It was 10 AM, the restaurant didn't open for another hour and a half, and Gwen had come bursting into her office, wanting to know about... something.
She couldn't remember why Gwen had come in, and Gwen hadn't either, forgetting the instant she'd seen her friend looking a mess, all disheveled and half asleep on a desk scattered with papers.
Gwen had been worried, “'Rissa? Are you... okay? Did you sleep here?”
She'd woken up, but she was a long way from alert, mumbling as Gwen moved towards her, waddl
Writing Practice: DescriptionI lifted the rock in the corner, and took the half-empty pack of Marlboros into my hand. My fingers trembled as I took a cigarette from the pack. I havent smoked in months I light up, the smoke floats from the blackening tip. I raise the filter to my lips, and breathe in. I feel the smoke engulf my lungs, my throat goes dry. I exhale, releasing every bit of the gray cloud, before taking another drag.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
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