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visceral-stories · 7 months

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Inheritance

I’m back! Thank you all for staying with me during my long hiatus! I truly appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the story!

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6:30 PM seemed like a rather late time for a job interview, but it had been the only option to work with Garrett Carmichael’s hectic schedule. An ambitious high school senior, his weekday afternoons were usually fully booked. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he participated on his high school’s Quiz Bowl team and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he attended meetings with his math league. Unfortunately, being a productive, ambitious scholar was not a lucrative venture, save for the college scholarships he was already applying for. Garrett’s nonexistent financials were what brought him to apply for the position of a waiter at his town’s local banquet hall.

He also needed something to balance out the drag that high school had become. He didn’t mind the schoolwork or classes as much, but none of his few close friends - or acquaintances even - shared his same classes. It felt like he was just going through the motions, forced to interact with people who he didn’t care for. The absolute worst was his fourth hour in World History where a gaggle of dim-witted football jocks made the class a living hell. They weren’t physical with him by any means, but they were the type to whisper under their breaths and mock the way he talked or his answers to questions. As a result, it made him far more apprehensive to raise his hand whenever he knew the answer in class. School sucked and on the weekends, he was free. Too free. Having abundant free time was nice, but it wasn’t like he had many hobbies outside of playing videogames with his fellow math league teammates or doing deep-dives on the internet about the multitude of scientific topics that interested him. Not only did he need money, but he just wanted to get out of the house for a few hours and not watch the Saturdays and Sundays glide past him every week.

The application process had been momentarily bewildering for Garrett who had no clue how the website worked and he had to ask his mom what the digits to his social security number were. Every other high schooler his age had gotten a job already and he felt dumb for getting daunted by the simple process, but ultimately he persevered. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he stepped out of his car and walked to the front door.

“Wow,” Garrett said with awe as he stepped into the nicest waiting room he’d ever seen. An immaculate tessellation of white and yellow rectangles adorned the ceilings accented by bold, curving polygons painted emerald green to resemble vines. The design appeared to extend far beyond the puny waiting room he was in and across the ceilings and walls of the main banquet hall, which he could see for a long distance.

“Can I help you, sir?” croaked a male voice.

Garrett looked back in front of him to see a man sitting inside a booth in the corner labeled “COAT CHECK” - the only other fixture in this small, open space. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a fancy tuxedo, nearly filling up the whole window with his width. “I-ummm,” Garrett coughed and cleared his throat, peeved at the inopportune phlegm that had formed. “I’m here for a job interview to be a waiter here.”

A warm feeling of dread filled Garrett’s body when the coat check guy just looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. Garrett remembered the man he’d been messaging in his emails. “I’m supposed to talk to a uhh…Mr. Clifford Atkinson.”

Thankfully, the man’s stoic face lit up with recognition. “Oh yes, he should be here within the next 15 minutes. His reservation starts at 6:45.”

“Oh, okay,” Garrett replied. He adjusted his glasses and wondered why the Clifford guy needed a reservation. Didn’t he work here?

“You can take a seat over there and wait for him if you’d like,” the man offered with a faint smile.

Garrett curtly nodded and quickly sat down in one of the few dark red office chairs outside the front door. He pulled out his phone and searched for that email he’d received from Mr. Atkinson. He could’ve sworn the email he’d received yesterday had told him to arrive at 6:30, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found no matter how hard he searched for it. Crud. He must’ve deleted it or something. Emails were weird.

The next ten minutes ticked slowly by, leaving Garrett with minimal entertainment besides a few men and women who intermittently came and went through the front door. They were dressed up in tuxedos just like the coat check guy. It was intimidating the way they moved to and fro. Their solid black jackets with stark white shirts bounced up and down with their movements, taunting Garrett with their sophistication. A layer of sweat formed around him as he realized he might’ve come to this thing underdressed. His casual attire of a light blue short-sleeved shirt, a Mandalorian Star Wars tie, and brown cargo shorts clashed heavily with the fashion here. He’d just gotten here and he’d already made a mistake. It was too late to go back home and change clothes so he decided to drown his fears by scrolling through social media. As he was catching up on IGN’s most recent game review, the door flung open. Garrett glanced up, expecting to see Mr. Atkinson, but instead, the last person he wanted to see stumbled inside.

A tall, muscular jock stepped inside, dressed in a light gray short-sleeve t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and of course - a signature backward cap. “Hey, what’s up man?” he announced as he swaggered up to the man in the coat check booth. “I’m here for the uh…waiter position.”

Garrett’s blood ran cold. It was Devon Kearney - one of the dumbest guys alive and unfortunately, the most prolific nuisance in his fourth-hour World History class. Every day, his deep, stupid voice filled the room as he tended to share every impulsive thought he had with the other football jocks in the class. He was a real menace, rude to everyone besides his little clique or, of course, girls in the class he found attractive.

Garrett watched the employee gesture for Devon to sit in the chair next to him and a wave of fear filled his body as the jock’s face lit up.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he boomed as he sidled over to Garrett, causing heads to turn. “You’re that kid from history class!” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Carmichael, Carmichael, Carmichael. Shit, what’s the first name?” he asked aloud as if Garrett wasn’t even there.

Garrett clenched his fists. “My name is Garrett, you big-”

“Ah! That’s right, that’s right! I knew that!” Devon roared as he sat down two chairs away from his far skinnier comrade. “You look like a Garrett too,” he snickered with a cocky sneer that made Garrett want to strangle him. Devon was so fake, trying to act all cool and friendly with him as if he hadn’t spent the last three months mocking Garrett in class. Most of the time when Garrett raised his hand to answer a question, he could hear Devon or one of his stupid friends whisper to each other and giggle. Those jerks. Garrett couldn’t wait till he graduated in May and never had to interact with those bozos ever again.

“So what the hell are you doing here, man? Are you applying for a job too?” Devon asked.

Garrett sighed. He wanted to tell Devon to screw off, but that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well at school tomorrow. It wasn’t like the jocks had ever been physical, but he didn’t want to find out. “I’m applying for a job,” he said, not even bothering to continue eye contact.

“No way! What position? Dishwasher?”

Garrett held his ground as he felt the spit in the back of his throat dry up. “Waiter.”

“You? A waiter? No way, that’s the role I’m training for too!” Devon let out a boisterous laugh that made Garrett’s skin crawl. “Hey, I support it man, but no offense, I…uh….I don’t see you being super social. Being a waiter means like…talking to people a bunch and making ‘em your friends to get stacks of tip money! And at a real fancy place like this, they’re gonna have fat bank accounts! No cap!”

“Whatever,” Garrett huffed quietly, cringing at the “no cap” comment the most. He turned his phone back on and released an embittered breath.

“It is what it is, man,” Devon snarkily added. He began talking, mostly to himself, again as he pulled out his phone. “Oh man, wait till I tell the boys about who I found at the banquet hall!”

An awkward silence filled the hall once more, save for Devon’s subtly obnoxious open-mouthed breathing, but moments later, the door swung open and a middle-aged man waddled inside. Garrett caught a faint glimpse of his massive torso out of the corner of his eye. His silver-haired head looked like a snow-covered peak nestled in between the two mountains that were his massive shoulders. Even more shocking was the fact that his pecs were even larger than his bodybuilder-level deltoids. They had entered the room before he did and only drew more attention as they were thinly veiled beneath the strained white dress shirt he was wearing. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a scandalous amount of male cleavage complemented by a light dusting of silver chest hair.

Garrett noticed that even Devon was also gawking at this colossal guy as he trudged over to the coat check. He leaned over on the desk as he talked with the attendant and Garrett’s cheeks turned pink as he gazed at the man’s massive, imperious figure. Especially his round butt. The dude was absolutely caked up! The buttons of the back pockets of his blue dress pants looked ready to snap. He’d never even considered the idea that men could have butts that big.

All of a sudden, the hefty stranger spun around on his heels and made direct eye contact with the two teenagers who were obviously gawking at his size. His jaw was the size of a lantern and his eyes had a piercing sapphire coloration to them. He looked like he was plucked straight from Hollywood or something. “Ah, Gentlemen, welcome! It’s nice to see you!” he boomed, the volume of his bassy voice sending a shockwave through Garrett and Devon.

“Nice to see you too, man!” Devon replied, clearly in awe of the massive male specimen in front of him

“Sorry about the outfit, boys. These tits of mine have been fighting me to get dressed today,” Cliff said with a playful jiggle of his partially-exposed pecs. “Getting dressed up is quite the hassle isn’t it?”

“Yeah for sure!” Devon said, intentionally lowering his voice to match the other man’s volume. What a kiss-ass. Garrett didn’t even know how to react. He just watched as the other young man hopped to his feet and extended his arm out for a handshake to which the man obliged. “I’m Devon.”

“Cliff Atkinson,” the man boomed as he shook Devon’s hand. Garrett promptly hopped to his feet as the man turned to him. “And who might you be?” he asked. “Just kidding, Garrett. I know who you are. Bring it in. I’m so proud of you.”

Before Garrett could even process what was happening, the man had pulled him in for a bear hug. It was unbelievably awkward, considering he had to hunch over to get down to Garrett’s 5’6” height. As Cliff gave him a firm, tender beat hug as tight as a vice, Garrett swore he could feel his lungs compressing from the immense pressure. It wasn’t like he knew what to say anyway. He had never seen this man before and now he was talking to him so intimately. It was so weird. When Cliff released him and gave him a tender pat on the back, he was nothing short of disoriented.

Garrett was gasping for breath. Before he could voice his confusion, the mountainous man stood straight up again and clapped his dumbbell-sized hands together with a smile. “I am quite glad to see you both, but I must say both of your outfits are quite unbecoming. The guests should be showing within a half hour. Maybe even earlier.” He turned to Devon. “I’m sure you are new here so all is forgiven, but this is a high-class banquet hall and we take attire very seriously here. Not to worry though, we have some proper clothes for you! Do you know where the dressing rooms are?”

“No sir,” Devon replied. Garrett peered over and locked eyes with a very sour-faced Devon, whose eyes were still boggling wide with disbelief.

Cliff smiled. “Not a problem, I’m happy to show you.” He turned to Garrett. “Garrett can go with you too. We must get you out of those dreadful street clothes. It’s your very special day after all.”

Garrett’s throat was dry from how shocked he was, but Cliff had already started leading the way before he could ask him a question - and he certainly had many options! Like “why the hell did you say you’re proud of me?” Or “what do you mean by special day?” But just the thought of questioning this hulking beast of man seemed way too daunting, no matter how tame he seemed.

Cliff turned and led the two boys into the banquet hall, which was far more capacious than Garrett had expected. The place must’ve been at least three-thousand square feet, with every inch of it decorated with Italian Renaissance artwork similar to what was in the lobby. Intricate geometric patterns lined the walls and surrounded the various paintings around the hall, which were also complemented by beige accents around the perimeters. There also had to be around fifty or so round tables all spread out in the open area. Some of the chairs were so close together that Cliff had to walk sideways just to get his broad figure past.

“So how the hell does a guy like you know a guy like that?” Devon whispered as the two traveled through the array of round tables, his voice rife with envy.

“I have no clue,” Garrett replied - the exact same question was on his mind.

“Whatever,” Devon snarled, his tone rich with vicious envy. “I’m a better fit for the job than you anyway. You don’t even know how to talk to girls.”

Garrett coiled his fists. He wanted to retaliate, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. Imagining the five other football players targeting him would be a living hell. He decided to voice a general comment anyway. “Well Devon, it appears that we may have both gotten the job. I mean he never said otherwise.”

“Bullshit, sir,” Devon hissed before his eyes widened with confusion after a few moments. “Wait, why did I just call you, sir? I-”

Before Garrett could respond, Cliff’s roaring bass silenced the boys’ tiff. “Downstairs is the staff apparel room,” he boomed as they reached a locked door on the opposite end of the hall and twisted a key in the lock. “Devon, was it? We have freshly laundered uniforms listed by size and you can find what best correlates with your size. We will meet you back here when you are dressed.”

“Okay. Yes sir! Sounds good, sir!” Devon replied, raising his voice to feign confidence. Garrett grunted in frustration. He wanted to wipe that stupid smug grin off that suck-up’s face.

Garrett winced as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’d best follow him too,” Cliff added. “You know better than to dress like that. I’d expect that out of Devon because he’s just showing up to work, but your apparel is usually not this…pedestrian.”

Garrett’s heart leapt into his throat. Why on earth was this man commenting on his apparel of all things? He just got here! And why was he talking to him like he’d already gotten the job? Yet at the same time, Cliff was talking to him like he’d known him for years. “Oh, I uh…okay,” Garrett meekly apologized, acquiescing to the man’s strange claims. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ask the man about his inappropriate hug earlier. “Say, when you said you were proud of me earlier, what did you-”

A marimba ringtone suddenly blared from Cliff’s pocket. He held up his index finger and produced an iPhone from his pocket although his meaty hands made it look like a toy.

“Sorry Garrett, it’s the caterers,” Cliff barked. “I’ll meetcha back here in 15, alright?”

“Oh um..I just-”

Cliff had already answered the phone and started walking away, revealing another glimpse at his broad backside. Garrett readjusted his big glasses and sulked. As he watched the burly stranger depart, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of attachment to him: a benevolence of sorts. It was almost eerie how overly-nice he was being, but it seemed earnest. Perhaps he could tell that Garrett was internally sweating bullets just to be here and was being accommodating. At least it appeared that he’d gotten the job without question? Both he and Devon. God, he didn’t wanna work with that doofus, but it appeared he had no choice. He also didn’t want to let Cliff down after all. The man had been generous enough to hire him on the spot.

Descending down the old, stone staircase, Garrett entered a far less decorated area of the banquet hall. It smelled ancient down here. The air had a decadent, musty odor of men’s colognes mixed with a faint hint of mildew. As he rounded the corner, he noticed Devon was already sifting through a cabinet full of what appeared to be black uniforms. This room looked quite old and was rather charmless, save for a few photos of past galas and smiling well-dressed people on the walls. Something about this place was giving Garrett the creeps, but he couldn’t quite place it.

There was something different about Devon too. Even though his back was to Garrett, his entire outfit seemed a lot more…faded somehow? Maybe the light was playing tricks on him because the jock’s light denim jeans looked much silkier…and greyer in this light for some reason. Unfortunately, the poor basement lighting could not explain the shirt collar that had materialized around the jock’s neck.

“How do they not have my size?” Devon griped, his back still to Garrett.

As Garrett walked closer to his acquaintance, a hazy feeling filled his head, as if he’d inhaled way too much of the dust down here. The ground started to feel farther away for some reason. “Wait, why are you shorter…than me?” he asked aloud.

“Shorter?” Devon snorted, now spinning around to face Garrett. “I’m not-”

The two boys stared at each other with unspoken shock as Devon’s tall figure began to squash down. He looked down in horror as the tall, muscular legs he used to score touchdowns were quickly reduced to two chubbier-looking nubs. The dramatic truncation left him at a condensed height of 5’8”, six inches shorter than before. His athletic torso appeared virtually unchanged, but his height - one of his most defining attributes - had been cruelly taken from him in an instant. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?” Devon roared, his composure gone in a flash.

“I-I-I didn’t do this!” Garrett squeaked. If he wasn’t so terrified from Devon’s uproar, he would’ve giggled at his puny height. The jock’s muscular stature looked a lot cuter with his height condensed down - like he was a junior version of himself. “I…promise I didn’t. I don’t even-WHOA!”

Garrett’s plea was cut short as he promptly shot up like a weed. At one point he’d been eye-level with Devon, but his legs and lower torso just kept stretching taller and taller until stopping at an imposing height. He flailed his arms out for a moment as his new 6’6” body nearly toppled over. It felt like he was walking on stilts! “Whoa! What the heck is happening?” he asked as he placed a hand on his forehead. Glancing upward, the newly-minted lanky sapling of a boy realized he was now only a few inches from touching the low, old ceiling. “No, no, I c-can’t be tall,” he stuttered. From the flabbergasted look on Devon’s face, he could tell he was shocked and quite jealous. Mostly jealous.

Devon craned his neck up at Garrett and scowled with disgust. “This doesn’t even make any-DUDE, your clothes!”

“My clothes?” Garrett asked. He glimpsed down and watched as his clothes suddenly started to cascade down his body. The first thing he saw were his t-shirt sleeves gliding down from his upper arms to his elbows until they stopped at his wrists. A pair of French cuffs formed on the ends of his new flowy sleeves, accompanied by a pair of distinct “POPS!” as two golden cufflinks materialized. They were nothing short of glossy, refracting the shoddy basement lighting beautifully. Simultaneously, Garrett’s cargo shorts started shuddering all on their own. They too began to distend further and further to the floor until they rested just above his sneakers. Darkness intruded upon the brown coloration of his shorts, turning them into a maroon and then a vibrant sable. A silky fabric also enveloped the khaki of the cargo shorts, stealing away their bagginess and eradicating the oversized front pockets.

“What the hell is happening to us?” For once, Devon’s confident voice wavered, giving way to audible apprehension.

“I…I don't KNOW!” Garrett squealed as his new pair of pants was suddenly hoisted up by an invisible force. Or it wasn’t invisible, it appeared to be a pair of brown, leathery suspenders with metal clips that glistened in the light…which had magically materialized over him somehow? They locked in place and pulled Garrett’s pants up around his stomach. The movement scrunched up his t-shirt for a moment before the fabric magically levitated and gingerly tucked itself in, leaving zero wrinkles behind. “Y-you’re s-seeing this too, right?” he stuttered.

“Of course I fucking am!” Devon snarled, his face red with anger and embarrassment. Garrett’s eyes goggled incredulously as Devon’s new outfit looked even more elaborate than his. Gone forever was his grey t-shirt and blue jeans and instead he now sported a long-sleeved dress shirt fit with an array of vibrant mother-of-pearl buttons complemented by a pair of black suit pants. Devon’s new dapper attire accentuated every ripple of his body from his larger-than-average arms and legs. Most interestingly, his belly had a faint bump to it now, like he was bloated or something.

Garrett was mesmerized as he watched the jock struggle in his new, expertly-tailored clothes. Simultaneously, he couldn’t resist the urge to steal glances at himself and watch as his shirt dyed itself blue and his new dress pants dyed themselves a relaxing shade of light grey. In unison, both of their respective waterfalls of new clothing entered their final cascade. To mark its near terminus, a brand new pair of black suspenders sprung up from Devon’s dress pants. They yanked his pants up high up past his belly button. “GUH!” Devon cried in anguish as the suspenders attached around his shoulders and locked his pants in a painful-looking position. Garrett didn’t dare look for long, but he noticed that the jock’s genitals were bulged up in the pants’ fly as a result.

“This fucking hurts!” Devon cried, unable to hold in his rage “I can’t even feel my co-o--ock!”

Unlike Garrett, Devon’s clothes had a few more tricks up their sleeves. Firstly, an ocean of black stitching materialized over his pristine white dress shirt. It started at his shirt collar and promptly swallowed up his back and his pecs, until finally stopping just above his waist. Devon’s attempts to undo his tight suspenders were cruelly cut short as a brand new black suit jacket concealed his entire torso. Garrett gawked in disbelief, no longer concealing his curious glances. Devon pulled and picked at his new blazer with much ire. Three buttons appeared in the center of the boxy item of clothing and promptly fastened themselves. Devon’s abdomen and self-proclaimed “rock-hard abs” were concealed by the jacket while the top half of the blazer allowed for a triangle of view of his dress shirt. To complete his new expensive outfit, two black ribbons appeared on either side of his neck. Gracefully, they pirouetted around each other and promptly fastened a tight knot, leaving a spiffy black bowtie just under Devon’s Adam’s Apple. As a final touch, a purple strand of satin formed around the young man’s waist of all things. It wrapped around his obliques and banded over his lower back, creating a brand new indigo cumberbund and finalizing Devon’s extravagant uniform.

To finalize Garrett’s much less-invasive changes, a suit jacket of his own materialized and gently wrapped itself around his upper body. A checkerboard of green and white squares covered the illustrious, new fabric. He moved his arms around in it and was surprised to find that it felt light and breathable. Garrett’s eyes fell back onto Devon, who looked like a deer in headlights. Neither knew what to say. The strangest part was the fact that Devon’s pants were so tight - tight enough that Garrett could even see his balls all bunched up in the front. What was that called again? A camel toe? A moose-knuckle? Devon Kearney, one of the douchiest jocks in school, had an actual moose-knuckle. Before Garrett could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Devon snarled before immediately placing a hand on Garrett’s chest and forcefully shoving him into the wall. For a body three-quarters as tall as it once was, he still retained quite a lot of strength.

Garrett was petrified. “No, no, Devon, I-”

“This is all your fault somehow!” Devon roared, now inches from Garrett’s face. “Of course, being paired with Garrett Carmicheal of all people would result in some fucking weird nerdy black magic shit!” He tugged at his dapper uniform in disgust. The only remnant of his street clothes was the baseball cap still on his head. “I look like such a fucking dork!”

Devon was speechless. It was disturbing to see the jock’s unflappable, cocky exterior completely shattered, replaced by flagrant rage. “Devon, I-”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't pound the shit out of you!”

“Devon, no…stop!” Garrett stuttered, overcome with fear.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Instantly, Devon obeyed the command. He released his tight grip on Garrett’s sternum and stepped back in an almost robotic fashion. “Huh?”

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Devon replied, placing his muscular arms to his side and standing up as straight as possible. He shook his head. “Wuh, why did I…do that?”

Garrett wasn’t sure how to react. Instead, he just focused on catching his breath and peering down at his disoriented comrade. It was wild to think that Devon, the 6’4” tall linebacker who towered over Garrett in history class, had been reduced to a meager 5’8” height. Even crazier was the fact that he actually obeyed a command.

POP! POP!

It took a moment for Garrett to realize that the two sharp pings had actually been his top two shirt buttons flying loose. “My shirt…” was all he could say as he wordlessly glanced down at his now, partially-exposed chest. Instead of seeing a flat chest and distinct collar bone, he was surprised to see that his pecs were actually protruding out? And they were still inflating!

“Goodness gracious!” Devon exclaimed before putting a hand over his mouth.

The two boys could only watch helplessly while Garrett’s chest continued inflating. His pecs were a statement now - two growing muscular slabs, as sturdy as bricks, that tempted with their masculinity. Short, spindly dark chest hairs sprouted up in the center, which had now formed a small chasm. Although Garrett was enticed, he was unbelievably confused. A scrawny geek like him wasn’t supposed to have tits like this! He’d never even set foot in a gym. Or maybe he had? After all, it must’ve taken a decade’s worth of vigorous exercise to get pecs this round and supple. They were so huge that even his nipples had been pushed to the side and had puffed out, now each closely resembling the tip of a baby’s bottle. They were so sensitive too. He could imagine them tensing up every time his French cuffs grazed them or whenever he would give them loving squeezes in private. In fact, he could recall they gave him some kind of unorthodox pride - seeing them perked up in every formal picture he’d ever taken. His bros would even joke and call him Kate Upton because of it.

Garrett’s cock ascended, and noticeably tented his wool dress pants. Absent-mindedly, he ran a hand through his thick, long hair and parted it to one side - something he’d never done before. Of course, the hair didn’t stick due to the lack of product and instead, it just hung there as a gnarled mess with most of it flattened down and the other half sticking straight up like a porcupine’s quills. “God, what is happening to me,” Garrett huffed as he impulsively grabbed at his bulge.

“It appears you’re changing, sir,” Devon aptly replied, his voice sounding a lot more monotone.

“I…I really am,” Garrett replied, his voice nearly crescendoing into a moan as he gave his bulge a shake. “I look different, don’t I? More cleaned up, eh? More prim and proper. More mature, even.”

“T-that you do,” Devon confirmed, stuttering his words as he was forced to swallow a snarky rebuttal. He was losing his will to be a contrarian. Instead, his disposition was becoming far more accommodating and congenial, accompanied by an enhancing vocabulary. “Me too!” he pouted, his monotone voice once again possessing his familiar churlishness. “I hate this tux thing I’m dressed in. I don’t want to look mature! Although spectacular, my regalia is quite oleaginous, isn’t it? GAHH! What am I saying?!”

Garrett gazed back up at Devon, or rather peered down at him - the fear and frustration was evident on the other teen’s distraught face. He also appeared to have put on a few more pounds somehow. His growing arms and pec muscles took on a far more squishy shape and his tight stomach crafted by years of high school football had a much pudgier contour to it.

“GUHH!” Garrett roared, at a low register, similar to Devon’s voice, realizing the changes were far from over. Two shockwaves of blood surged through his arms, immediately filling them with volatility. A pair of massive, bodybuilder-sized biceps gradually inflated within the confines of the bespoke twill shirt. Garrett could only watch transfixed as his skinny, noodle arms - the things he’d hated the most about himself - became nothing of the sort. The muscles in his forearms followed suit as they pulled apart and tightened up with protein-laden muscle, becoming permanent, cylindrical-shaped obtrusions in every shirt he would ever wear. Around fifteen seconds later, Garrett’s barrel-sized arms were now tastefully concealed beneath the tight, stretchy fabric of his dress shirt. Mercifully, his golden cufflinks remained intact and undisturbed, their dazzling opulence a necessary accentuation of his rigid wrists. Garrett was in awe. Even his hands looked manlier - they looked more plump and more formidable somehow. His nails were perfectly manicured and his digits must’ve doubled in size, dropping their nimble slimness in favor of a more boxing glove-like shape.

A wave of growth undulated through his abdomen as it began to slowly extend forward to a similar breadth of his mighty pecs. With it came two distinct pops, but this time it came from deep within his abs. It felt like he was flexing abdominal muscles that had never made themselves known before. To confirm his suspicion, the two pops multiplied into four and then six until concluding on eight square-shaped indentations etched into his abdomen. Bespoke twill felt incredible against his brand new eight-pack. “God, I’m really filling out, huh?” Garrett smirked as an impulsive affirmation to himself.

“Yes, I am too,” Devon answered nervously.

Garrett glanced down and the first thing he noticed about Devon was the bulbous sphere that his belly had become. It wasn’t like he was obese or anything, but to call Devon a jock would be laughably inaccurate. This stomach of his had to be at least fifty pounds and it jutted straight out like a boulder. It didn’t sag low like a belly normally would, it hung high and tall, suspended by hidden, rigid muscle. Something told Garrett it would only get bigger.

“AGH!” Garrett yelped as he felt two muscles viciously tingle each of his shoulders before they began to stretch upward. A pair of glorious trapezius muscles flared out, giving him a menacing hood of muscle around his neck similar to a king cobra. Quickly, their immensity made his small, boyish head and mop of brown, unkempt bowl cut look extremely out of place. As Garrett’s trap muscles finished their transition into ones that a bodybuilder would envy, he attempted to turn his head 90 degrees, but found that to be quite a challenge. His neck too had also stretched wider to compete with the overgrown atoll of his trap muscles. Eliminating the soreness in his new muscular neck, Garrett rocked it back and forth and felt his bones and veins snap into place. The process sent a giant tear through the back of his Star Wars tie, whose lopsided Windsor knot had also fared no match for Garrett’s expanding, meaty neck and shoulder. It now hung loosely, dangling precariously over his massive tits about to plop to the ground.

“Pardon me sir, your tie is askew,” Devon piped up.

Before Garrett could react, his portly acquaintance gingerly removed the tie from his figure and was running it through his hands. He blinked and all of a sudden, Devon’s hands were concealed beneath a pair of satin white gloves. Paired with that, his hands looked larger too - like two baseball mitts.

“What is with this tie?” Devon added, staring at the Star Wars Mandalorian emblems on the tie. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, it’s my good luck tie,” Garrett replied. “I wore it for…the interview…” He trailed off for a moment as his memories of an interview grew a little hazier. They were both here for some reason, but this seemed like a strange situation for an interview. “Have you always been wearing gloves?” It was a straightforward thing for him to ask, but he genuinely was curious.

“Yeah, it’s a part of the uniform,” Devon nodded although his brow furrowed with confusion over his own comment. It was as if he didn’t know what he was going to say next.

“Okay,” Garrett replied intently, giving Devon a snide smirk. His cock bobbed in his trousers as he thought of the idea of a football player bending to his whim and being involuntarily supportive.

Devon’s face didn’t show much more emotion. Instead, he was putting his new man-hands to work some magic on the tattered tie. As he rolled up the tie, the array of Mandalorian emblems began to fade. First, the helmet’s outline faded before diffusing in all directions and melting into the navy blue coloration of the tie. In some miraculous animation, Garrett watched as the colors danced into each other before brightening until they reached a divine, subdued seafoam green. With a firm shake from Devon’s hands, the tie fattened up and lost any trace of its former self.

“What did you do?” Garrett asked, his heart sunk as his favorite tie from one of his favorite movies was gone forever.

“Hermés,” Devon said, answering a question never asked. “Mint is quite the nice touch for the outfit too.” He handed it to Garrett who just looked at it dumbly. “You know how to tie a tie don’t you?” Devon asked smugly, his voice sounding much more…posh and preppy. “We don’t want that Cliff fellow to be mad.”

“Yeah for sure,” Garrett replied as he unconsciously wrapped the tie around his collar. In only a few seconds and a few deft maneuvers, his hands nimbly created a Windsor knot.

“I taught you well,” Devon applauded, his eyebrow crooked as he dissected his statement. Still, his mouth continued its whimsical dialogue. “You can tie a tie as fast as I can tie my shoes. Or at least as fast as I used to be able to tie them.” He gestured at his bass drum of a belly and chuckled at himself.

Garrett couldn’t help but snicker too. Devon’s bubbly nature was somewhat infectious. It was kind of hot - imagining the portly ex-jock catering to his needs, but also being a genuinely nice person. That would be a nice change.

“Isn’t that better?” Devon asked. A faint panic still permeated his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he was asking these questions and indulging Garrett like this.

“Yeah,” Garrett smiled with a conceited grin as he ran a hand through his floppy, greasy mop of crumpled hair. The movement caused more strands to flop down successfully, causing them to be quaffed straight back as if they were drenched in gel. Garrett didn’t pay it any mind. He just enjoyed how perfectly his mint tie complemented the checkered pattern of his blazer. This nearly-gaudy attire - he wanted to hate it - but he couldn’t. It accentuated his muscles perfectly! Oh yeah. His muscles. “I feel like a million bucks!” Garrett said with an honorary flex.

“Good, good,” Devon jovially replied. In accordance with his jolliness, a new layer of fat formed around his stomach and stretched out his resplendent tuxedo even further. A wave of compassion and maturity overcame him, replacing his adolescent panic. Looking at a burgeoning young stud like Garrett made him feel…proud in a way? It made him feel oddly paternal, as if their ages were different or something? “You have to look your best for your special day,” Devon added, before grimacing at how cringe he sounded. Still, it felt eerily correct to assist Garrett with his newfound sartorial knowledge.

“My special day?” Garrett asked before smirking once more. “That’s right. It…is my special day. I just can’t remember why.”

“Me neither,” Devon admitted. His adolescent rage towards Garrett had faded completely. It was impossible to get mad a young, promising stud like him. Instead, he glared down at his new rotund body ruefully. “I look like a fucking gumdrop,” he pouted as he poked and prodded at his round belly and pecs. He craned his stubby neck to see that even his broad, hulking thighs made his dress pants look vacuum-sealed. It reminded him of wearing padded football pants. His chest was ridiculously huge too - his pecs were like two airbags resting atop a giant, protrusive boulder. Thankfully, his pecs didn’t sag like other older men’s man-boobs often did. They just hung there, taunting Devon with their undeniable stoutness. It was enthralling in a way - the idea of his cannonball-shaped stomach on display in every shirt he ever wore. That made him feel so…mature, like a father figure of sorts. His corpulence, unapologetically masculine, equally disgusted and excited him. At least his plump body looked well-dressed and concealed perfectly by this uniform. Devon could picture so many men his age, or…his father’s age, who didn’t know how to dress themselves - the type to have the undersides of their bellies exposed in public and who wore thin, ill-fitting t-shirts with visible, nasty sweat stains. Devon felt some strange pleasure in the fact that his clothes were tailored just for him. It made him feel much more…powerful that way. This well-dressed, paunchy body of his was an extension of his own masculinity.

Garrett was lost in his own self-indulgent thoughts as he inspected his own chest. He gave his nipples a tweak and winced at how sensitive they were. Rubbing the back of his meaty hand against the expensive fabric, he could feel a God, he loved being a man. A huge, hunky, muscular, young, confident man. One whose body jutted out in every direction in his formal clothes - kinda like Devon’s did, only Garrett’s were far more perky and traditionally attractive. He’d never clamored over his body like that before. It was quite the rush - a premonition of his constantly evolving virility and an extension of his own masculinity.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Garrett asked abruptly, causing Devon to return back to reality. The two of them froze and sure enough, they realized that there was now an abundance of noise emanating above them. A faint bassline and drums could be heard accompanied by a moderately-loud chatter of people conversing. “There’s people upstairs.”

Devon turned white as a ghost. “Oh no, oh shit dude, people can’t see me like…like this!” he cried, holding up his pudgy, balloon-shaped belly in rife disgust.

“Yeah, you look like a blimp,” Garrett chuckled. For a moment, he almost regretted saying it, but his fear of Devon was dissipating. They were equals now - no longer bound by archaic notions of a teenage hierarchy.

“Manners please,” Devon retorted, primping his suit. He didn’t appear to be that offended by the comment though, considering he didn't give Garrett any vicious retaliation. In fact, he seemed to be captivated by his tuxedo jacket. “My coattails. They nearly stretch to the floor!” he said with dopey astonishment, stretching his neck to inspect the way the coat draped over his pot-bellied frame. “They kinda look like a superhero’s cape. It’s quite…marvelous, isn’t it?”

“Whoa, your voice! It sounds British!” Garrett laughed. “Would you like some tea and crumpets, governor?”

Devon was not amused. “Sir, please,” he huffed, far more displeased than angry. “I don’t think it’s quite appropriate to make fun of my accent. I surely don't mock you for your deep voice.”

A twinge of guilt pulsed through Garrett. If a jerk like Devon could learn politeness, surely he could too. “Right, right, I’m sorry,” he said, completely oblivious while his voice lost its teenage squeak in favor of a commanding, baritone register. “I guess I never expected a football player to act so formal.” The voice that Garrett now had sounded like it belonged to a male country singer rather than a raspy 18 year old.

“Football?” Devon gasped. He could recall playing it for a brief moment, but the memories of it all came crashing down instantly. Like a piece of paper being incinerated to ash. A man of his rotund stature certainly wouldn’t be the greatest at the sport unless he was an offensive lineman. “I have…never played football before,” Devon said, almost in a state of shock as the words left his lips. “I wouldn’t be too fast on the field. Not with a belly like…OOOFF…like this.” Without warning, fifty more pounds were piled onto Devon’s stomach, causing him to look like even more of a portly freak. This monster gut looked ready to rip free from his uniform at any moment, but thankfully it had swiftly stretched with his beastly proportions to prevent that.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s not called soccer where you’re from.”

“Huh? I…oh yes, that’s quite correct.” Devon’s head was spinning. His definition of the sport was changing. Football was nothing like it was here in the States. It was a far less violent and barbaric sport in the U.K. but most importantly, it was an excuse to get a pint with the lads and watch his favorite team whenever he went back home. Or wait, wasn’t this home? Everything was getting fuzzy.

Garrett was feeling the same way as he zoned out for a moment, gazing down at his sophisticated clothes. Or rather hunky, sophisticated body - the clothes were just an extension of himself. “Well, I think we should head upstairs and talk to that Cliff guy and maybe he can help us.”

“Ah Cliff, what a fine gentleman!” Devon perked up, like a robot coming to life. His deep, Welsh accent teeming with merriment. “Yes, let’s!”

Garrett tried his hardest not to snicker as Devon led the way. His bouncy, blubbery figure certainly didn’t move the way it once did. At first, he clearly was trying to move at the speed of a highschool quarterback, but his gait was reduced to a sluggish waddle. Something else had also changed about Devon. It was his back - which looked quite broader for some reason. Paired with his angular shoulders, his upper body was turning into quite an imposing-shaped rectangle. For a man of smaller stature, his figure was still quite imposing.

“I’m sure everyone is waiting to see you.” Devon said merrily as he reached the wooden stairs.

“Ah that’s right,” Garrett replied and a burst of dopamine suddenly hit his brain, promptly inhibiting any more questioning of their predicament. It was his special day. Being the center of attention was something he craved - people all gathered around him, listening to him talk in length - it was like adrenaline to him : a formative adrenaline. He cherished all the accolades his hulking muscles would receive. From friends, from family members, from romantic partners. After all, he’d put in years of hard work!

Garrett was aghast as he walked up the steps behind his paunchy companion. Devon already had the tight, muscle butt of a high school quarterback, but the ascent up the staircase immediately began shaping it into an enormous cushion that was impossible to ignore. With each step upward, his glutes flared outward in all directions, stretching his wool dress pants like lycra. Inflating like balloons, Devon’s mountainous asscheeks lost some of their muscled firmness. They rhymically bobbed up and down over and over, indicative of their increased fat concentration. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, two mounds the size of basketballs and as wide as pillows had replaced Devon’s former ass. He appeared to be none the wiser as he turned sideways for a moment and readjusted his cummerbund.

Garrett froze. His cock had risen to full mast and he hated it. Illuminated by a single overhead light, Devon’s mammoth figure cast a marvelous silhouette. The equal breadth of his glorious, distended stomach and protruding suited buttocks were so oddly compelling. And stupidly erotic. Then again, Garrett had been hard since the changes started…or for the past hour while he’d been getting ready. Yeah. That was right. Dressing up always got his hormones firing.

“It seems like only yesterday you had gotten into college,” Devon reminisced as he turned his stubby neck up to Garrett who climbed to the top step.

“College?” Garrett asked. He hadn’t even graduated high school. “I don’t think-”

“Look at yourself, Garrett, ” Devon boomed. The newfound sagacity in his voice sent a shiver up Garrett’s spine. “You’ve really changed from the small, precocious lad you once were. You heed advice and apply it into your own life. In university and in bodybuilding. Why, I remember when I used to be larger than you. Hah hah hah! That’s not quite the case anymore, is it?”

“Bodybuilding? College?” Garrett was dumbfounded. Two retrospections ran parallel in his brain. In one, he was a teenage misanthrope who would much rather keep to himself and his hobbies while another, more forceful side of him savored the attention of being a heartthrob, junior bodybuilder. He craved it, actually. He wanted to loathe the feeling, but he couldn’t. Everything around him was spinning out of control so beautifully, but something told him that this was a very good thing.

“Why yes,” Devon replied, “We’re all so proud of you. You have that ambition that’s going to get you very far in life.” His voice cracked a bit. “I wish I had more of that when I was a lad.”

Before Garrett could stop himself, he’d already wrapped his arms around the portly man. Given their height difference, he’d had to lean down slightly, but he didn’t even realize he’d done that. Devon quickly reciprocated and a mutual wave of growth radiated through the two of them. It was a weird burst of unbridled sympathy the two had never felt for each other once. But it was real.

Firstly, Devon’s belly gained a final thirty more pounds, swelling larger than a yoga ball and tight as a bass drum. At one point, he’d competed in bodybuilding competitions just like Garrett was…or was going to. But now, a stout aging man like Devon much preferred to possess a distended, glorious muscle gut formed from decades of hard work and newfound relaxation. His body type was truly one of a kind - he had to make his own custom clothes for it too - and nothing made him more enthusiastic that Garrett appeared to be following the same fate of growing gigantic. Finishing its inflation, Devon’s belly pressed tightly against Garrett’s abdomen, which was starting to shrink in exchange. Any remaining pudge Garrett had was trimmed away and repurposed into a lean, X-shaped of a competition-ready bodybuilder. His nonexistent butt also began to change, promptly losing its shapelessness as it inflated into two boulders. His rear was only around three-quarters the size of Devon’s, but it had equal strength. Garrett had an enormous, perky muscle butt formed by nearly a decade of strenuous squatting and consistent training. In tandem, Garrett’s slender thighs beefed up, becoming a set of poles that could effortlessly support his hulking frame. Subconsciously, he rocked back and forth on them and the new muscles tightened into pillars as thick as stone.

“Thank you,” Devon replied as the two pulled apart. His eyes were glassy and his face had a myriad of more pronounced lines on it now. He was so happy now, happier than he had ever been from his life as a football player. Being a British butler, a man of superlative etiquette, and passing eclectic style and machismo onto a man like Garrett - that was his new purpose. “You’ve become the man deep down that I knew you always could be.”

“Of course,” Garrett smiled. He felt like his heart was going to explode. While studying Devon’s new venerable face and more mature sunken eyes, he blinked and all of a sudden, his baseball cap disappeared! Not only that, Devon’s head of vibrant blonde hair had vanished too, leaving behind a faint horseshoe of hair. He pictured Devon as having a younger, boyish face in his head, but those memories were crinkling away as he looked into this new, mature man.“Your…your hat,” was all Garrett could say.

Faint wrinkles texturized themselves around Devon’s face as he smiled. “Yes, the bowler hat felt a little unfitting on a very formal occasion like this.”

“No, you were wearing a…” Garrett trailed off, immediately forgetting that a bald, astute gentleman like Devon would ever wear a baseball cap. That seemed too…juvenile for him. Whenever he did wear a hat, it was usually a top hat or something. Even more paralyzing to Garrett was the fact that this man in front of him didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like a family member. Like a mentor of sorts. It made sense. After all, he’d known Devon his entire life. A hazy memory traveled through Garrett’s brain. He could remember being young, back when Devon had a full head of hair and he’d wanted so badly to impress him. Now he had and the family butler couldn’t be more proud. Wait, family butler? That seemed correct for some reason, but it make any-

“Have a fun night, kid,” Devon smiled, uniquely giving the words a staccato affectation with his charming British accent, as he opened up the wooden door to the banquet hall.

Bright lights inundated Garrett’s corneas, like he’d stepped into heaven. When his eyes adjusted, he could make out around what appeared to be one hundred or so people occupying the previously vacant hall. Their attire was ritzy - like nothing Garrett had ever seen. Women adorned with beautiful, stylish dresses paired next to men dressed up in bespoke three-piece suits of various colors. A multitude of tuxedoed waitstaff were maneuvering in between the crowd of affluent guests. All parties involved seemed to be engrossed in pleasant, light-hearted conversation.

Seeing them all sent a tidal wave of fear through Garrett and the same teenage nerves he thought he’d banished inundated his brain. “Devon, there are so many-”

He turned, but Devon had already begun conversing with a crowd of five male waiters nearby who were dressed in identical tuxedos. He wanted to chuckle at how Devon’s cartoonishly massive butt eclipsed his view of the men he was talking to, but he couldn’t. In his peripheral vision, he could see people start noticing him. All the confidence he’d once had vanished instantly replaced by his familiar teenage nerves. He hated crowds - hated them so much. And now here he was trapped in the middle of one of the largest ones he’d ever seen.

Just as Garrett took his first step forward to try and slink towards the wall, he nearly collided with the silhouette of a huge, imposing man who nearly knocked him to his feet. Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he jumped back on his heels.

“Vince, there you are!” thundered the familiar, lofty stranger. It was Cliff - his interviewer of all people? He also looked more put together than before. His massive pecs were thinly concealed by a tight dress shirt preventing any chest hair from peeking through. At his side was a breathtaking entourage of beautiful guests, a group of men wearing flashy, velvety suits and a group of women wearing extravagant, ruched dresses. “We were wondering what was taking you so long!”

“Huh? My name’s not-” Garrett stopped. His deep voice, almost as low as Cliff’s, startled him and reminded him how manly he sounded. Before he could analyze it, two new heels abruptly shot out of Garrett’s sneakers, launching him a half-inch higher into the air - allowing him to become eye level with Cliff - the man who’d previously towered over him. He wanted to tremble, but there was something so comforting about the older man’s face. It made him feel seen. There was a broad, beaming smile on Cliff’s brick-shaped jaw, emanating the same sage-like reverence as Devon had.

“There’s the man of the hour!” another well-dressed man around three-quarters the size of Garrett exclaimed. By this point, the group of guests had swarmed all around him, rendering any chance of escape impossible. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of chest, from stress and a weird, weird sense of familiarity with these people, especially one of the men in front of him. His face was devoid of wrinkles and his forehead devoid of furrows. Must’ve been a lot of Botox. Even his hairline mirrored Garrett’s, which was impressive given he looked to be in his sixties or so. “Put ‘err there, Vince!” the dapper stranger exclaimed, extending out his hand.

Garrett acquiesced, not wanting to be rude. He didn’t realize how clammy his hands were until they were against this man’s dry ones. “Thanks, Uncle James. It’s so good to see you,” he replied before flinching at his weird, automatic response.

The man didn’t seem to care about being Garrett’s uncle. It did seem to make sense though. He looked like Cliff, only a few years older. “Look at that! He already got himself a Rolex! Lookin’ sharp, son!”

“A…what?” Garrett looked down at his right wrist and sure enough, there was a watch with a rich, emerald hue that looked nothing short of expensive. Upon further inspection, he realized it was the same green shade as his preppy checkered blazer and it had the same eye-catching shimmer of his cufflinks. Fuck. That turned him on for some reason. Luxury. Power. Being all dressed up. “Yeah, doesn’t it have a marvelous sparkle to it?” Garrett added, unable to contain his excitement. His voice sounded different now - a little more pompous. He was really holding the vowels of words in his mouth for longer now. It reminded him of the rich kids from his high school. Wait, where did he go to school again?

A lady in a lavender velvet dress holding a bubbling glass of champagne spoke next. She used big gestures to the group, as if she was showing Garrett off like a trophy. “Our son - the Yale graduate,” she declared, her voice sounding as proud as Cliff’s and as proud as Devon’s. “I can’t believe he finally did it.”

“Top of his class too!” Cliff added, sipping on a glass of scotch. “Don’t forget about that, Pauline.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “We never doubted our son for a second.”

“Graduated? From Yale? No, I’m…” Garrett sputtered as the final realization hit him. This was a party. All for him. And Cliff and Pauline. They were…his parents? That didn’t seem right, but Garrett had trouble recalling any other alternative. He could recall glimpses of his upbringing in opulent rooms, going to high-class events and developing a sartorial affinity. He now truly felt like an adult just like them. His parents’ positive words echoed in his head, filling him up with joy. For the first time in a long time, Garrett felt proud of himself. His memories of a recluse were fading while recollections of being a valedictorian and relaxed, sociable young athlete took their place.

“Looks like he’s been hitting the gym at the same time!” Uncle James piped in. “What’s your current weight?”

“280,” Garrett replied and instinctively performed a front lat spread to the group who all laughed pompously.

“Don’t get him started,” Pauline replied with a playful tap on Garrett’s shoulder.

Another man spoke up who looked muscular too, although not as muscular as Garrett. “Even during football, you were never half this size. You really took to bodybuilding during college! I can’t believe I’m looking at the same kid!”

Garrett beamed with pride and his posh accent swallowed up his old one completely. “Once I knew football wasn’t in the cards for me, I decided to take weightlifting more seriously and it really helped me.”

“Isn’t that great,” one of the ladies in the crowd smiled.

“He sure takes after his old man!” Cliff smiled, wrapping his arm around his equally-strapping son.

Garrett froze as he fully took in the breadth of his alleged father. For lack of a better word, he was just so manly. Even being a man in his fifties, he still had some incredible size to him. He must’ve been sixty pounds heavier than Garrett, which was nothing short of impressive. Cliff’s cerulean three-piece suit looked ready to rip off. Garrett could recall some strong feelings about that: the idea of getting to a massive size where all of his suits had to be custom-made to contain his sheer width. He could faintly recall a short, plump man measuring him with yellow tape as he crafted measurements for him.

Holy shit. That man was his family butler. The one he’d just seen earlier. What was his name again? Acrid guilt pulsed through Garrett’s head. This butler had been with his family his entire life and he couldn’t even remember his name. Even Garrett’s own name was growing harder to remember, but he knew one thing for sure. His name certainly wasn’t Vincent.

“Any refills on champagne?” chirped a familiar ebullient voice.

“Yes please, thank you Reginald,” one of the ladies chirped back as the butler filled up her tall glass.

Garrett turned and sure enough, his family butler was right there: Reginald Chapman - a 400 pound intimidating colossus who was actually a kind-hearted giant.

Garrett tried not to laugh. This whole situation was so far-fetched. It reminded him of that one Rick & Morty episode where the family in the show had gained memories of a butler who they thought had always been part of their family. But this situation was different from a silly cartoon like that. It wasn’t like Reginald lived with them although he was over at the house working full-time. Hell, he’d even gone on family vacations with the Atkinsons. He’d even brought his husband along. It had been a strange sight - seeing the family butler and his equally-large middle-aged husband on the beach, but it had been illuminating. But still, Reginald had his own life. He was simply the Atkinsons’ staff member. A lifelong, steadfast one at that. Happy to cater to Garrett’s needs whenever necessary and give him advice on life and bodybuilding. It seemed weird to have a private butler, but not for a family like the Atkinsons who were filthy rich.

For a moment, Garrett found that somewhat exciting - the idea of a massive man catering to his needs, but it wasn’t weird like that. Even with his portly figure, Reginald had been quite an inspiration for Garrett to take bodybuilding seriously. He’d wanted to grow - to get as big as one of his idols - a kind-hearted Englishman who was like his second father. In fact, it had been a conversation on a Bahamian beach with Reginald and his burly partner Oliver that had made Garrett realize he was bisexual - a whole separate epiphany.

“I assume the college grad over here needs a fresh glass too!” Reginald piped up, producing a clean wine glass for Garrett. He poured the perfect amount of the liquid into it and smiled. “He’s truly one of a kind isn’t he?”

The group smiled and laughed in agreement. Garrett took notice of the other patrons in the background who were also turning his way. Reginald had the volume of a foghorn after all. In the crowd, Garrett could make out a few guys and girls his age - some of the friends from college. Some of them were really attractive. This really was quite the celebration. And it was all for him.

“Dom perignon, sir,” Reginald smiled, handing Garrett the glass, his fifty-six year old face glowing with adulation.

Garrett took a sip and smiled - the expensive liquor tasted incredible. He swore he could feel the bubbles fizzing in his mouth after he swallowed.

“Raise your glasses, please!” Reginald boomed. The guests immediately obeyed, all with smiles on their faces as they stared warmly at Garrett. “To Vincent Atkinson!” Reginald thundered as the background chatter quieted down. “A young man who has changed my life as much as I hope I’ve changed his!”

There was that name again. Garrett wanted to reply, but instead a warm, compassionate feeling overcame him. He was touched by the sweetness of the family butler - a man who inspired him every day.

A cheer from all of the guests echoed through the banquet hall. They all took a sip except for Reginald who just warmly smiled. “Have a glorious night you all,” he said with a bow of his head before swiftly walking away to tend to other patrons. That’s right. Reginald was on the clock. That enthusiastic, diligent butler. Garrett watched as his plump body bounced within the confines of his long, dangling coattails as as he sidled over to another crowd.

“Vince has grown up so fast!” chimed in a male patron as the chatter started back up. “He’s sure got that Atkinson family chin!”

“Wait until he gets those Atkinson family veneers!” chimed in another who received a chastising shove from his wife.

“Family…chin?” Garrett mumbled as he felt a bubbling sensation emanating from the bottom of his face. It was the weirdest feeling, like someone was popping bubble wrap under his chin. The final piece of him was changing - his face. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see it happen in real time. He just had to. “Excuse me, please,” Garrett said before promptly darting away before any patron could stop him. With each distinct footstep, his dress shoes grew more and more glossy, echoing throughout the opulent hall. Luckily, he located a bathroom nearby and promptly slunk inside, but not before feeling his broad shoulders scrape against the sides of the old, wooden doorframe. Garrett skulked to the mirror a panicked, breathy mess and promptly froze with disbelief at his strapping reflection.

Everything about him was huge. Unbelievably huge.

He turned to his side and ogled over his humongous chest and back jutting out in either direction. Even his biceps looked prime to rip right out of his checkered suit jacket. Lower on his body, his bulge and tight, muscle ass also jutted out from his midsection, quivering with his movements, both exuding undoubtable manliness. Now in complete privacy, Garrett’s cock rose back up to full mast. His body - it reminded him of Cliff’s - his new father - unyieldingly masculine and provocative. He was burning up under this sexy yet stifling outfit his butler had picked out.

“I’m an Atkninson,” he said to himself, eager to look like just his father - his idol.

With a distinct set of cracks, his stubby chin erupted forward, immediately doubling its width and acquiring a brand new shovel-shape. Any awkward half-grown teenage facial hair vanished with it, endowing Garrett with a clean-shaven, spotless chin accompanied by the subtle aroma of expensive aftershave. Next his lips inflated like two balloons, puffing out to an extremely kissable level. His teeth straightened and became a pure shade of white. Transfixed by his reflection, Garrett watched in wonder as his unsightly pimples and zits were eradicated from his face. In one swift blink, his eyes changed from hazel to a bright blue accompanied by a slightly thicker yet attractive nose. Propelled down by an invisible wave, Garrett’s unkempt bowl cut was finally subdued and all of the long, strands shortened to a preppy, professional length. An expertly-placed layer of gel coated the young man’s greasy brown hair, slicking it back in an instant, taking off a few inches with it.

“Mmm fuck,” Garrett huffed as he swore he felt a gust of air rush over his head. A glorious tidal wave of bright blond hair came next, swallowing up his old bushy brunette forever. He wanted to be mad at how preppy he looked, but it didn’t make sense why. This was how he’d dressed his whole life.

“I’m an Atkinson,” Garrett repeated, hard as a rock while he watched his boyish features mature ever so slightly, eradicating anyone ever mistaking him for a teenager ever again and aging him up in a man in his early 20s. That wasn’t who he was after all. Everyone was here tonight for his college graduation.

Garrett was treated to a final, illustrious animation of his altering face in the mirror as any remaining “Garrett-hood” he had was eliminated. His hairline pulled down slightly making his forehead less prominent, his eyes grew a little closer together, and his ears shrunk ever so slightly. And then as if Garrett had been staring at some magic-eye poster, it all clicked into place. His handsome face looked just like a younger version of his father. “Fuck yeah, I’m…Vincent Atkinson,” he trembled, his voice rife with anticipation.

That utterance - it sent a shockwave through Vincent. In an instant, an invisible sonic boom erupted through the room. It forced down his eyes and locked all of his handsome new attributes in place - never to be taken from him. Simultaneously, his rock-hard cock became flaccid. When Vincent reopened his eyes, he was left staring at his reflection in the mirror and there was a watery sheen over his aquamarine-shaded eyes. He was on the verge of crying for some reason? He blinked a few times and the tears only welled up further in his eyes. The lifetime of Garrett Carmicheal disappeared, replaced by a brand new handsome stud. Forever.

The instant Vincent’s mind transformed, the bathroom door flung open and in stepped a familiar, enormous man.

He flinched. His eyes were still watering. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why did he feel so sentimental all of a sudden?

Vincent’s father’s stern face immediately softened as he sidled up to his son. “Hey, hey, it’s alright to cry at these things, Vince,” he soothed his father as he wrapped his tree trunk of an arm around his son’s shoulders.

Vincent sighed and a single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. The emotions were so much. He couldn’t believe what he’d been through. All of the schooling and now this - a graduation: which felt like the destruction of his youth. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he admitted, his voice hardly trembling. “It’s just so much. I can’t believe I’m like…like a real adult now.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes the emotions can be too much to endure. Come on, bring it in,” Vincent’s dad said, pulling his son in close for a mighty bear hug, which was immediately reciprocated. Immense strength radiated between the Atkinson men as they squeezed each other tenderly as hard as they could. The immeasurable comfort of his father - the man who had helped shape him into the confident, buff specimen he was meant to be - was so much to bear. An involuntary whimper escaped Vincent’s lips as he rested his head on top of one of his father’s strong shoulders. “I love you, kid. I’m so proud of you. We all are!” Vincent’s father added as the two released each other. He wiped a tear of his own from his own face and exhaled.

“Thanks dad,” Vincent replied before coughing and standing up straight again. He sighed and re-flattened one of his French cuffs - obsessed with the idea that his clothes were just an extension of his masculinity. Formalwear was always such a confidence-booster. Reginald had helped inspire that in him. “I think I’m alright now,” Vincent smiled. “I really needed that.”

“Anytime,” Vincent’s dad replied and the two of them headed back to the bathroom door, their two muscular butts both wider than the doorway. “How’s it feel to be a graduate?”

“Incredible,” Vincent smiled. “Like the world is at my fingertips.”

#male tf story #age progression #mental change #reality change #age progression tf #male transformation #muscle growth tf #businessman #male transformtaion #sartorial #weight gain tf #weight gain #wealthy #jock #preppy #socialite #butler

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 8 months

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Tolerate It II

"What would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins?"

Read Part I here

Quite frankly, Harry isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. He listens to Y/N’s request for space for all of 4 days.

On Sunday, Harry finds the whiskey he put away when Elle was born. He finishes the bottle.

On Monday, he works himself into a frenzy looking at pictures of Y/N at their wedding. The smile on her face sends him spiralling as he realises he hasn’t seen her smile like that in a while.

On Tuesday, Anne calls him and boy does she let him have it. She doesn’t yell but she knocks some sense into him and Harry’s heart breaks. She tells him Y/N has barely said two words since she arrived and if he doesn’t act soon, he’s going to lose the two things that are supposed to be most important to him.

So he breaks out his rock records, blasting the music as loud as he can to drown out the screaming voices in his head telling him that he’s lost his wife forever. Oh and he also drinks himself into oblivion. Again.

On Wednesday afternoon he’s hungover and slightly delirious. And so naturally, he texts her.

Harry: Y/N I’m so sorry my love. I hope you and Elle are ok at mum’s. She told me you were there. I know you might not be ready but I’m here when you want to talk. I’ll be home for the rest of the week love. Come over when you’re ready.

He waits by the phone like a lovesick teenager for 20 minutes, almost falling off the bed when the status of the text changes from delivered to read. He waits for another 20 minutes willing for the three dots to appear and when they don’t, he turns the music back on, quieter this time, ignores the pounding in his head and closes his eyes.

He sleeps the rest of the day away, waking around noon on Thursday, his heart jumping out of his chest when he sees a new message notification. He sighs dejectedly when he realises it’s not Y/N, his eyes widening as he realises the text is from Kendall.

Kendall: We need to talk H. I’m so sorry about the articles. I’m on my way over, hope you’re home.

Harry rubs his faces tiredly before forcing himself out of bed. Kendall is the last person he wants to see right now but he knows there isn’t any point in telling her not to come if she’s on her way.

So he cleans (barely), shaves and showers, in an effort to make it seem like he hasn’t been living on his couch and off takeout for the past few days.

There’s a knock at the door and Harry drags his feet over to the front door.

“Hi…” The woman at the door speaks in an almost whisper, timidly shifting from foot to foot.

Harry thinks his mind is playing a sick joke on him. 4 days of drinking his life away and he’s suddenly seeing visions. But the woman in front of him doesn’t seem to disappear no matter how many times he blinks and so he comes to the conclusion that she must be real.

“Y/N? I... What are you doing here?” Is all he can think to say. As soon as the words are out of his mouth he regrets them. He winces as his wife’s face contorts into a look of hurt and slight annoyance.

“What am I doing here? In my house? Good god Harry I left for space, I didn’t move out. Can I come in or are we going to keep having this conversation in the doorway?”

“I didn’t mean- Of course come in love. I just didn’t expect to see you so soon.” He steps aside to let her through and follows her as she walks to the couch and takes a seat. He sits beside her and the silence is loud.

“So…” Y/N begins, shooting a tentative look at Harry who’s looking at her intently.

“How’s Elle? I miss my little bug. I’ve missed you both.”

“She’s good. Loved the extra grandma time the last few days. I’ve missed you too H. But we need to figure this out before we keep going. I don’t know how many more chances I can give, I don’t know how many nights I can stay up waiting, hoping for you to call. I shouldn’t have to hope you’ll call, you’re my husband you should want to call.” Y/N sighs, wiping her hand over her face quickly to stop the tears from falling. Harry intertwines their fingers squeezing her hand in his. He does it twice more and Y/N gives him a watery smile. It was something they used to do when they were first married; whenever they were in public they would squeeze each others hands three times.

I. Love. You.

He lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it.

“Y/N, I fucked up. Multiple times. I haven’t been there for you and I wish I could tell you that it’s simply because work was mental but I was overwhelmed and so I looked for distractions. It’s no excuse I know that. But I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and sometimes I wish I didn’t love you so much because I need you like oxygen. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’ve been an idiot to take you for granted. I’m going to be home by 5 every day from now on I promise. We’re going to have dinner together every night. We’re going to get a nanny so that you and I can go on dates like we used to. I’m going to-“

“Slow down cowboy.” Y/N grins. A bright smile that reaches all the way to her eyes.

“We’re going to be ok?” It’s supposed to be a statement but it sounds more like a question when it comes out of Y/N’s mouth.

“We’re going to be ok.” Harry affirms. He leans in to kiss her, pulling back at the sound of the door opening.

“Harry? You home? The door was unlocked so I just came in. Oh! Y/N, hi.” Kendall’s stilettos click against the wooden floor as she walks into the living room, taking in the couple sitting on the couch.

“I just wanted to come by to-”

Y/N cuts her off.

“Did you invite her over here Harry? Is that why you were so surprised when I got here? For fucks sakes.” She looks heartbroken.

Harry is silent. It isn’t what it looks like. He knows that, Kendall knows that. Y/N… doesn’t know that. It seems he’s silent for too long because Y/N is suddenly standing and grabbing her bag off the coffee table.

“Kendall, get out. Y/N let me explain. Please love, after all we talked about you have to know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Kendall leaves, muttering a plethora of apologies as Y/N stares at him with red rimmed eyes, her bag gripped tightly in her hand as though she’s planning her escape.

“Two minutes Harry. You’ve got two minutes to explain yourself before I walk out this door and this time I won’t be coming back.”

Read Part III here

A/N: Thoughts?! All your comments and reblogs are appreciated I love youuuuu ✨🫶

Tags: @lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @harrysrockstarsgf

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles fics #harry styles fic #harry styles ceo #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #one direction #long hair harry #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine

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buniyaad · 20 days

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August 26th - September 1st, 2024

Monday, August 26th - Rescue // Doppelgänger // First Time

Tuesday, August 27th - Moving in Together // Multiverse // Sex Accidents

Wednesday, August 28th - Scars & Disabilities // Ex's // Aftercare

Thursday, August 29th - Double Date // Phobias // Secret Rendezvous

Friday, August 30th - Superfam & Flashfam // Fourth World // Control

Saturday, August 31st - Realizations & Confessions // Only Lovers Left Alive // Fuck Nasty

Sunday, September 1st - People of Manchester, Alabama & The Ravers // Nightmares // Accidental Kink Discovery

Purpose?

Continuing to celebrate the BartKon Renaissance in the modern era. Since the ship has historically been a rarepair since its conception in the 1990's, this fanweek acts as both a way to celebrate the BartKon narrative in DC Comics, as well as engage new fans in our small yet mighty collective.

Why should we participate in this?

Because you like BartKon. Because you saw fanfiction and fanart and shitposts, and decided you wanted to see what's poppin' in the BartKonosphere. All creators are welcome. Our romcom lovers, the darkfic connoisseurs, and of course, our smut specialists.

So how does it work?

The release date for fanworks is from Monday, the 26th of August through Sunday, the 1st of September, 2024.

You have four months to write, draw, and create fanworks. On top of fanfiction and fanart, we also encourage meta, essays, ship manifestos, playlists, and poetry.

This is also an opportunity for new fans to engage with an old ship with a robust body of work, hence why this fanweek is dedicated only to BartKon depicted in DC Comics from 1994-2024. This is not a YJ-centric week, nor it is a BartKon+third week, nor is it a my-ship-is-better-than-your-ship week. Please be courteous and treat each other with respect when engaging with fanworks and their creators. If you misbehave, I will be cursing you with ten thousand years of bad luck on top of car/train/transportation trouble every day for the rest of your life.

BartKon of ANY comic book universe is acceptable. If you want to spend the entire fanweek exploring Luthor-El and Bart because you love horrific love, then be my guest! If you want a crazed version of Bart to kidnap Kon from Gemworld, go for it! Let that imagination run WILD!!!

Both safe and not-safe-for-tunglr dot hell tropes are welcome. Just make sure that you post any Mature content on a landing page that doesn't restrict Mature content (like AO3). I don’t want anyone getting their blog banned. We cannot defeat our capitalist overlords, but we can definitely work around them.

This fanweek will not have a dedicated blog. These prompts are free for anyone to use. Because it is a non-traditional, non-monetized, and free-to-opt-in casual event, there will be no mods but moi, no advertising of paid services, and no ratings or participant restrictions. I will open a collection on AO3 in August for anyone who wants their work collated for this event.

In order to ensure that both creators and the audience are making informed decisions about what they engage with, all creators are encouraged to include triggers and any other squick warnings.

Please utilize the read-more function for fanworks that are longer than 250 words. We're tryna read yer stories, not get spammed with a wall of text. Please Be Courteous.

And last but not least - if you are engaging with any of the fanworks, reblog, reblog, reblog! Share the work with your followers. Send all the love to the creators for crafting their masterpieces!!

What can I contribute?

Fanart (standalones, comic strips, etc.), fanfiction (one-shots, multichapter, etc.), fanmixes, gifsets, graphics, meme collections, fanvids, ship essays and meta, songifics, playlists, poetry, whatever your heart desires! Go wild!!!

Can I create/write not-safe-for-tunglr dot hell content?

Yes!!! All creators are encouraged to include triggers warnings, sub-genre specifications, and other warnings in their posts. I will not discourage you from writing your 16k Bart Goes Insane Over Kon fic, but please... Be Courteous and tag your fanworks appropriately so people can make an informed decision about what they're comfortable with engaging with.

What does (X) prompt mean?

Each day has three prompts!! You can either pick a prompt OR you can combine prompts in different ways. Although the prompts range from The Basics, to Things That Frighten The Barts and Kons, and end with They're Fucking Nasty in Cissie's Basement Because They Can't Afford a Motel, I challenge you to let your imagination take you where you want to go with each prompt!! If you want to explore all three in the same fanwork, then be my guest!! I will not stop you :'>

Mainstream Canon, Elsewords, and AU content is acceptable! Just make sure to stay within the comicsverse. We have SO MUCH BARTKON MADNESS IN THE COMICS, SO PLAY AROUND WITH OUR BEAUTIFUL CANON!!! Creativity is key! Have fun!!!

Can I crackship/multiship/harem/OT3/polyam the characters?

No. It's literally BartKon Week, Heart & Bones Edition. There's like six active fans left on this bitch of an earth. Don't do this to me :'<

Does this have a tag?

During release week, use the general “bartkon” and "konbart" tags to share your work with the wider BartKon fandom on tunglr. You can use whatever other tags you fancy. The best way to share, however, is to directly @ me so that I may reblog it.

I didn’t read a damn thing before this, Ava.

TL;DR: Nearly four months until the fanweek!!! For all fanwork creators out there, now’s the time to start thinking about what prompts you want to utilize for your creations. There are no creative restrictions, but I do ask that you follow these posting tips:

All fanfiction should be under a read-more.

Not-safe-for-tunglr fanwork should be LINKED to whatever landing site the content is being hosted on (Twitter, AO3, etc). This includes both fanfiction and fanart. I don’t want your blog getting flagged bc tunglr hates gay people.

Provide content warnings for all triggers, squicks, and sub-genres. Unfortunately, in my ten odd years away from DC Comics, the fandom's seen a resurgence in puritanical behavior and tons of censorship and self-censorship. Please list content warnings on your work but do not be discouraged in sharing your work. If a fancop gets on your ass, block them. Please block as MANY as you can. They're like pests, they're always gonna be there, but their influence can be diminished by staunch blocking and reporting.

You can participate as much as you want!! Maybe you only wanna create for one day? Cool! Maybe you’re an overachieving corporate clown insomniac like myself, and wanna create for every day of the week? Go for it!!!

The most important thing is to have fun :)

Closing Remarks

Like all my other events I host, this event, too, is entirely selfish. I've loved BartKon since I was a child when I was first introduced to it in the form of Bart/Clark on Smallville. Although I only recently came back to reading DC's mainline comics, BartKon still holds a special place in my heart even after all these years, and the few who still create and engage in their fanworks inspired me to host a little something-something for our small community.

Take your time, look through the prompts, and get your creative juices flowing! I will be sending out reminders until the go-live date.

For the people who showed interest during the initial interest check, I hope you're able to participate. To the people who hate me, your mom's a hoe. Thank you.

#bartkon #konbart #kon el #bart allen #superboy #impulse #dc comics #bartkon week #real talk #ava's ficcing adventures #superboy 1994 #impulse 1995 #young justice 1998 #young justice

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catdotjpeg · 1 month

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Freshman Brandon Goodson wants his math teacher back. Goodson and approximately 30 other students walked out of class this morning at 9:30 to protest math teacher Kayla Thompson’s absence. “It’s not fair,” Goodson said. “We’re standing for her because she can’t do it by herself.”

On Sunday, March 17, Thompson was named Pirate Hero of the Month. Riverside [High School in Durham, North Carolina] posted a photo of her posing with the award in front of a Palestinian flag on Facebook and Instagram. In the days that followed, dozens of commenters, many of whom are not affiliated with Riverside, criticized the flag. “This kind of propaganda should not be allowed in the classroom,” one commenter who lives in Raleigh wrote. “She certainly isn’t creating a safe environment for her Jewish students.” “Why does she have a Palestinian flag in her classroom? That is highly inappropriate and awful for her Jewish students to have to deal with in the classroom,” wrote another. Thompson’s students, however, thought differently. “I didn’t view it as anti-semitic,” said junior Tiam Famet, Thompson’s second period teaching assistant. “Ms. Thompson saw that people in Palestine were hurting and she wanted to voice her support, and she did that by hanging up the flag.” “She had the flag up for a really long time,” said freshman Kyla Bannerman, a student in Thompson’s first period class. The social media posts were deleted, and on Tuesday during first period RHS administrators asked Thompson to remove the flag. She took the flag down, then left campus and has not returned. Later that day, Thompson’s third period students recreated the flag with dry erase markers on the board.

Assistant principal Greg Goble declined to comment about the week’s events. Thompson also declined an interview with The Pirates’ Hook, but said she hopes to speak about the incident soon. During the protest, several students held signs saying “Free Palestine,” “Is This Scary DPS?” and “End The Occupation.” A parent dropping off her child at school began arguing with students about a particular sign. The woman walked toward the protesters and began yelling, stating that they were “promoting suicide bombers.” In response, students chanted “Free Palestine!” Student Resource Officers (SROs) and administrators asked her to leave campus. Thompson’s students protested again during A-Lunch. “[Administration] just brushed it to the side,” Goodson said. “That’s why we stood up for the class. We were her voice.”

-- "Kayla Thompson was named Pirate Hero of the Month. She hasn’t been to work since." by Isaiah Heinz, Delia Aguilar, Taliyah Cooper and Elena Paces-Wiles for The Pirates' Hook, 22 Mar 2024

#palestine #usa #youth activism #north carolina #durham

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dumbledavisjr · 1 year

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Hello my fellow writers I have a resource to share with you!

Last year, I challenged myself to write just 200 words every day, and I ended up writing more than 80,000 words (8000 more words than the annual goal!) throughout the whole year! How did I stick to this goal considering I have ADHD and struggle with executive dysfunction? I made a spreadsheet to keep track of it.

I made a customizable spreadsheet for anyone to do the same:

(I'm not a programmer by any means, just an average spreadsheet user)

The first page is to record your word count. Off to the right, there's a box where you can change your daily goal. I have it set to 200, but you can make it whatever you want and the rest of the tracker functions should change to match it.

There are several different tracking features, such as the weekly goal tracker, a cumulative progress tracker next to it, monthly and daily trackers down at the bottom, and a tracker that adds up your yearly total.

The colors for the months are just something I added for fun and to help me make the monthly trackers. You can change the colors or get rid of them altogether. The daily trackers are also just for fun. They can help you see which days of the week you write the most on in the long run.

The second page is for you to track which projects you're working on. You can do whatever you want there. I like to color code when I start a project and when I finish one, but that's just a suggestion.

Anyway I just wanted to share because this really helped me build a habit! You don't have to write every day in order to meet your word count, and don't beat yourself up if you don't meet it.

For me, I stopped skipping days around the end of May and I started meeting my word count every single day in October because I realized that was the easiest way to meet the weekly word count.

Happy new year and happy writing :) Feel free to dm me with any questions!

#writing #writing resource #creative writing #writing challenge #writer #writers block #writers on tumblr #writer problems #writeblr

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the-moon-devi · 11 months

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𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 3 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔...

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. • ☆ . ° • ☆ . ° .• *₊° .☆•

In my opinion the world overworks certain groups of people and we barely have time to do what we want and what we love. I believe life should be spent doing what you want. But we have evolved to something totally different. I think once people realize this. This will be a small step to gaining back power and actually living a fulfilling life instead of surviving. It's kinda absurd to think if you work 4 or 5 days a week 2 days should be enough to rest. And let's not forget the busy people out there who have children and a whole family half the time they don't actually get to rest on those days. It's OK to work hard but don't work on E because then there's no substance to your work.

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☀ Sunday- Sun day:

This is the first day of the week, look at how the planets align in the cosmos.... sun rules leo. So this is about self care. Sun represents shine so you know how people say put on your Sundays best yea this is it. You express yourself and let it all out. This is the day you truly rest and start to go inwards. This may be a day where you just do what you want and your favorite hobbies!

🌕 Monday - Moon Day:

Sounds pretty similar huh?? I think Moon day is a day where you get your home back in order. You rest & reflect. You drink water & plan out the rest of the week.

Why? Because Moon is represented by cancer. This is not a working day to me. I feel like this is when you should be cooking, self care, taking care of the home, and nurturing yourself/family!

♂ Tuesday - Mars Day:

This is pretty self explanatory. Mars is energetic! Moon Day gave you all the list of things you need to do & mars day you'll be ready to do them! You are usually doing things you usually don't have the energy for. I consider this a work day!

☿ Wednesday - Mercury:

This is air energy and we know our gemini's love to start mutiple projects. They love to learn and be on the go. I also think this is a great day for kids to go to school along with Thursday.

♃ Thursday- Jupiter:

Jupiter rules over education & expansion. This planet holds a large mass of energy and people are usually just ready to push everything out and wrap projects up from Mercury day. This is the best energy to end the work week/ school week off on. Your brain can take on a lot more and you still have the capacity to get work done. This is why I say mercury & Jupiter day are good days for kids. Maybe these should be the days where you actually teach kids and let them read and study.

♀ Friday - Venus Day:

Venus day might just be my favorite day of the week! This is when we usually get our paycheck. You want to get cute. You know some businesses let you have a free dress day or wear jeans ya know stuff like that. Your just chilling on Fridays like it's not much to do. Your in this self care energy. Getting your nails & hair done. Venus is all about self love, beauty, your style, shopping, luxury, money etc. So this day is perfect to kick start. Also a good day to go shopping! Whether that be grocery or just clothing. Venus is love as well so dates are good on this day as well.

♄ Saturday - Saturn Day:

This day you really should be taking it slow. You should be doing things that take time & patience. Idk if people notice but usually on Saturn days a lot of bad stuff happens espicially at night. So that's why I think you should stay in the house and take it slow. You should be reflecting on your week and taking time to do persistent growth. Start new healthy habits. Saturn is ruled by Capricorn. I think this is sabbath day as the religious people would say.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It's very useful to use this method in order to plan your days out and distribute your energy for a successful week! The number of the day can also give you insight for what energy is at play.

Ex: Thursday October.25,2020

This is a number 3 day. The number 3 can represent a day where there is a abundance of energy. These are venusian & jupiterian energies at play. You may have be heavily in the energy of socializing and talking other people. There may be a lot of Joy on this day and spending a lot of money since. This is number seven day (25 = 7) this is all represented by Jupiter so there may be a lot of knowledge that you're accumulating a lot of spiritual attainment and luck.

Ps: Depending on the day you should also use your planet placement

ex: Sunday - Kayla has her Sun in Taurus 3rd house. So she should be talking to friends and resting. She should be studying/reading things that bring her joy & comfort. Or maybe your a leo rising and your sun falls in the 5th house. You should spend this day doing fun activities & hobbies. This persons sun might be in Sag so maybe they are researching or doing workouts this could be calming & apart of self care for them!

Also I say Mercury & Jupiter day should be days where kids are reading/ study because their brain and ability to concentrate will be more activated. Now mars day is the start of the week for them so they should be outside in nature and let all their lil energy out.

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. • ☆ . °

I would love to make a post on numerology, I have a different pov when it comes to what the numbers mean! Let me know if you guys would like to see that & your thoughts on this post! Catch ya later lovelies! Til' next time....

~𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 xx🤎💋

𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

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𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓓𝓮'𝓛𝓾𝔁𝔁𝓮 (masterlist)

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©𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 (Do not copy or steal my work)

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csuitebitches · 1 year

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The Best Workout that Changed My Body (Model Workout)

Growing up, I was a chubby kid. As a teenager, I was “skinny-fat” - I had a tummy but lean arms and legs. I have tried everything to burn that belly fat off; right from detox teas, waist clinchers, sports, Pilates, limiting my calorie intake, weight lifting, strength training, eating only health food for months, lemon water, even K-Pop stars’ diets… you name it and I’ve probably done it.

Then I finally found something that worked out for me. I stumbled across it on Reddit, and I shared it with my friends, not thinking that it would actually work.

Except that it did.

A friend who had gained 10 kgs because of her thyroid lost nearly 8 kgs in a matter of a couple of months. Another friend - who’s quite skinny and petite and struggled with weight gain - saw her body get more toned in just a couple of weeks.

So I decided to try it out as well - and I could actually see a difference in just a week’s time (as crazy as this sounds). A few pants I had that I always felt a little insecure about wearing actually felt LOOSE at the waist! I couldn’t believe it!

Now, for a little disclaimer. The person who created these workouts happens to train models. They are specialised in model training- reducing waist cm, hips is their specialty. HOWEVER. They were accused of filming their clients in their gym bathroom. Their spouse eventually took over the company. But that still doesn’t sit right with me. So that means that I will not be buying any of the company’s products, even though the work outs are really effective and require minimum equipment.

So I did a little bit of sleuthing - and found 5 out of 6 of their workouts for free on Reddit.

I’m going to share the link that I found on Reddit. I am NOT responsible for uploading the files. I have no role to play in it. These have been available on Reddit for literally years. I have no idea who the original distributor is, either. Also, these videos are quite old. I’m sure that the new ones are different from these.

The workouts range from 20-60 minutes (most of them are at 40 minutes though). The best part is that you can do these anywhere.

The only equipment you really need:

- yoga mat

- Slide discs/ wash cloths

- Ankle weights

- 3 pound dumbbells

Here it is (the link)

The nutrition guide:

(I have not come up with this. Do not hold me responsible if you do not agree with what the trainer says).

1. Calorie intake: 1600 calories

2. No juice, rice, pasta, potatoes, bread 2-3 hours before you workout. If you must eat, it has to be low calorie protein or lean (eggs, protein shake, lean protein, salad, vegetables).

3. No carbs after 3 pm.

4. Dinner should be protein and vegetable based.

5. No protein for 1-2 hours after workout. Fruit juice, fruits, vegetables and starchy carbs are fine.

6. Only treadmill for cardio. Slow jogs. No weights for lower body, outside of the program. No lunges, squats or deadlifts. Yoga and Pilates are fine. I personally do 12-3-30.

How I use this routine:

Monday: workout 1

Tuesday: 12-3-30

Wednesday: workout 2

Thursday: 12-3-30

Friday: workout 3

Saturday: workout 4 +12-3-30

Sunday: 12-3-30 / yoga/ rest day

I take 5 days off in a month during my period. These workouts are also not crazy intense (I’m used to playing sports and being active in general) so I’m fine doing it everyday.

What is 12-3-30?

Treadmill workout where:

12- incline

3 - speed

30 - minutes

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kataang-week · 11 months

Text

Special thanks to Mod Atarah (@penguinsledder) and our new Mod Celes (@chocomd) for the lovely gif!

What is Kataang Week?

Kataang Week is when we, as a corner of the fandom, celebrate the ship Kataang! The prompts for Kataang Week 2023 were selected through four rounds of voting over the last few weeks and all prompts were submitted by Tumblr users.

Cool, when is it?

Summer Kataang Week 2023 starts on Monday, July 24th - just over seven weeks from today - and ends on Monday, July 31st.

How do I participate?

The most common ways to participate are by creating art or writing a fic and posting it online. Some people try and create something for every day while others only fill one or two prompts.

As always, we want to reassure you that it’s perfectly okay not to do every prompt! We just hope to have lovely pieces to share on each day.

But I can’t draw or write!

That’s totally fine - there are more ways to participate! You can sing a song, create a graphic, write a poem - just about anything really. You can also show your support by reblogging and liking other people’s contributions.

What are the prompts?

The following will be the running order for Kataang Week 2023:

Wind & Rain - Monday July 24th

Injured - Tuesday July 25th

Confession / Whisper - Wednesday July 26th

Cultural Differences/Cultural Exchange - Thursday July 27th

Secretly Dating / Rivals to Lovers - Friday July 28th

Spirits - Saturday July 29th

Reunion/Meeting Again - Sunday July 30th

Free Day - Monday July 31st

Don’t forget that this year we have the Kataang Week 2023 Bingo Challenge, as well as alternative prompts for Free Day! See the bingo challenge post for more information.

* As a reminder, Cultural Differences/Cultural Exchange and Reunion/Meeting Again were combined during voting as they were very similar prompts. You can interpret them as singular or separate prompts and incorporate one or both for each day.

** Confession and Whisper, as well as Secretly Dating and Rivals to Lovers, were tied with votes, so instead of flipping a coin/deciding randomly, both tied prompts are included as options. You can incorporate one or both prompts for each day.

*** And as always, there is a Free Day at the end of the week. You can use this day to post anything you’d like! It can be a prompt that didn’t receive enough votes or something you’ve been wanting to work on, anything goes!

How should I tag my work?

The easiest way for us to find your work so we can reblog it to this blog is by using the tag “kataang week”. Using “kataang” and “kataangtag” also help. You must tag one of the three in your first five tags otherwise it doesn’t appear in the search.

Sometimes even properly tagged posts may not appear when we search the tags, so if you do not see your content reblogged, please let us know.

Once we’ve reblogged it to this blog we add our own tags (a prompt tag and a user tag) for easy organization. This means we can find all the work for one prompt or all the work from one user in one easy click (this also means that if you have changed your username since participating last year you need to let us know so we can update your tag!).

Can I post my stuff other places online too?

Of course you can!

Why seven weeks? Is that enough time?

Traditionally, we like to provide our content creators seven weeks (for the seven prompts) to create quality content. Kataang Week is also traditionally held in the last week of July.

If you are unable to complete a prompt in time, please do not fret. You can alert this blog by mentioning it in your post (ex. @kataang-week) or messaging one of the mods and your content will still be shared even if it is a week (or a month - or sometimes more!) late.

We also like to post WIP for Kataang Week and encourage everyone else to do so as well - we reblog it here for motivation!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, don’t hesitate to send an ask. Don’t forget to reblog this as well to help spread the word!

Good luck, Kataangers, and happy content creating! :) - The Mods

#Kataang Week #Kataang #Kataangtag #Katara #Aang #Kataang Week 2023

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mashficolympics · 1 year

Text

Introducing the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics!

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!

Hello everyone, and welcome to the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics, a week-long fandom-wide writing festival that aims to highlight and appreciate the amazing work of writers involved in the M*A*S*H fandom!

This festival is open to all ships (and gen work, of course), and will run Monday, July 3, through Sunday, July 9.

Your organizers are Jay (Jaybirbb on AO3 and @faggothawkeyepierce on Tumblr) and Parker (AMRV_5 on AO3 and @amrv-5 on Tumblr). Feel free to contact [email protected] with questions!

request list || prompt list

HOW IT WORKS:

Each day of the week-long festival will have a specific theme. Authors will have from now until the night before each theme to craft a fic to fit and post it to the AO3 collection M*A*S*H Fic Olympics (find it here!).

All of the posted works for a given day will fall under its theme. The fics can be submitted publicly or anonymously, and as individual works or chapters of a single piece.

Works submitted to the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics collection on Archive of Our Own will be posted across seven days (the moderators will approve each fic on its theme day!). The links to the AO3 works will then be posted to this blog, moderated by yours truly.

Each day’s theme will be provided at the bottom of this post. A list of prompts for potential inspiration will also be provided.

As another fun way to engage with the M*A*S*H writing community, we will also be accepting fic requests to be filled out during the event! Find out more here!

We encourage readers to review and share the works once they’re posted so they can be experienced by as many people as possible!

The event will begin on Monday, July 3rd and end on Sunday, July 9th. Participants should submit their fics by 5 p.m. CDT (10 p.m. GMT) the night before each relevant theme (meaning first submissions are due July 2nd, and last ones July 8th!). That said, we’ll also accept late submissions—the more fic, the better!

FAQ:

"Do I have to follow the theme?"

-Yes! This will make it a lot easier for us to organize on which day we’ll post the fics. Plus, it’s the point of the fic olympics!

"Do I have to follow a prompt?"

-No! The prompts are there for you to use as inspiration, but you can change them up or totally ignore them. As long as you follow the theme, everything’s good!

"Can I submit more than one fic?"

-Absolutely! Write and submit as many works as you want.

"How should I format my fics?"

-You can post the daily fills as chapters in a single work, or as individual works; it’s up to you!

"How do I submit to a collection?"

-When you create a new work, you’ll find a menu in the “Associations” box that allows you to post your fic to a collection. Enter “M*A*S*H Fic Olympics” in the entry box, and it should allow you to select the collection and post to it!

"How do I request a fic? How do I fill a request?"

-Everything you need to know should be in this post!

"I have more questions! Help!!"

-Do not hesitate to contact us at [email protected] if you have any other questions.

RULES:

-This challenge is open to all ships, as well as gen work.

-Canon-compliant, post-canon, pre-canon and AU are all fair game!

-Each day of the week-long challenge has an associated theme. To participate, write something incorporating that theme and post it to the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics collection on AO3.

-No maximum or minimum word count.

-Please tag your work properly, so everyone’s experience can be safe and enjoyable! The moderators may ask you to add a tag to your work after you submit it. We also reserve the right to refuse fics until they are properly tagged.

-Remember to be kind! Any participants who engage in hostile behavior to other participants may be removed from participation. We’re all friends here :)

-Have fun and be yourself <3

THEMES AND SCHEDULE:

Monday, July 3 (Due July 2): Letters

Tuesday, July 4 (Due July 3): Weather

Wednesday, July 5 (Due July 4): Horror

Thursday, July 6 (Due July 5): Orange

Friday, July 7 (Due July 6): Injury

Saturday, July 8 (Due July 7): Alternate Universe

Sunday, July 9 (Due July 8): Secrets

PROMPT LIST:

If you find yourself struggling for ideas, we have a prompt list available here!

Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts! These are totally optional, and only intended to help provide some inspiration if desired!

Have fun, and happy writing!

#mash #m*a*s*h #m*a*s*h 4077 #mashblr #mash fanfiction #mash fandom #m*a*s*h fic olympics

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merrybloomwrites · 11 months

Text

You Can Start a Family (Chapter 5)

Summary: Another few days spent with Mitch and Sarah lead to more developments in your relationship.

Previous Chapters: One ; Two ; Three ; Four

TW for this chapter: It contains smut

I did have one person mention that these posts aren't showing up for them, I'm guessing because the story now has a mature community label, so let me know if you want to be added to the taglist so you don't miss anything!

Hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you're thinking of the story so far!

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The following week is busy at work. Ryan’s mom, Beth, is a high school teacher and has been stuck working longer hours, as it was the end of a marking period as well as the week before spring break. You and Ryan had started going on more outings. You were busy taking him to baby music class, and story time at the local library.

Sarah and Mitch had also started to spend more time at the studio, often going for hours or even the whole day. You hadn’t seen them all week, and after having spent a whole weekend together, you were missing them.

Finally on Thursday you see them for the first time in days. You’re loading Ryan into his car seat as they get out of their car across the street.

They walk over to you waving hello before leaning in to say hi to Ryan.

“How are you love?” Sarah asks. “We’ve missed you,” she says as Mitch nods in agreement.

“I missed you guys too,” you say with a shy smile. “I’ve been good, crazy busy. We’re trying different activities for Ryan. His mom wants him socializing with other kids and burning some energy. Which definitely is needed. Plus, he switched to one nap a day so there’s a lot of time to fill.” You realize you’re once again rambling and turn the conversation to them, asking, “What have you been up to?”

“Mitch got some inspiration for new music, so we’ve been working on that.”

“That’s so cool! Can I hear some of it?”

“Sure kid,” Mitch replies. “Are you free anytime soon?”

“Ryan’s family is going away for Easter this Sunday and taking a long weekend, so I’ll be off next Monday and Tuesday. If you’re free, maybe we could have another sleepover? My apartment this time.” You blush, nervous that you sounded too forward.

“What are you doing for the holiday?” Sarah asks.

“Honestly, probably nothing. Maybe make a special meal or something. What about you guys?” You notice they didn’t acknowledge your invitation and grow more worried that they no longer want that aspect of their relationship with you. Before your mind spirals, Mitch answers.

“My aunt and uncle are visiting for a couple days,” Mitch answers before continuing, “And you will be coming over for dinner.”

“I really don’t want to intrude-” Sarah cuts you off, saying, “Y/N, you will be coming over for dinner. No question. You’re never intruding. And if you don’t mind, maybe we could come over on Sunday after dinner and stay a couple of days?”

Your face lights up and you reply, “I absolutely would not mind.” At that moment Ryan starts loudly babbling, tired of listening to the adults. “I should get going, story time starts soon.”

Sarah leans in and gives you a light hug, saying, “Of course! Sounds like we’ve got a great plan.” She pulls back and Mitch rests his hand on your shoulder for a second before squeezing once and pulling away. You know that these are the only types of contact you can have with them in public. Even if you were spotted, those casual touches wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

You double check that Ryan’s car seat straps are tight enough and continue with your afternoon. You have newfound energy now that you know that you’ll be spending multiple days with Mitch and Sarah.

Friday passes quickly and you keep busy on Saturday, doing a much deeper clean than usual since you would be having guests. You also go food shopping and make sure to pick up ingredients for an appetizer and a dessert which you make Sunday morning before heading over to the Rowland’s house in the early afternoon.

Mitch’s father answers the door and leads you into the kitchen where the rest of the family is congregated. You’re greeted by Mitch, Sarah, and Tammy, and introduced to Mitch’s aunt and uncle. You have a wonderful afternoon with everyone, enjoying the stories they’re all telling.

After dessert is over, and you finish playing a few rounds of a card game that got way more competitive than expected, you’re saying goodbye to Mitch’s family. He and Sarah each grab their bags and walk out to your car with you.

It’s a quick drive to your place and next thing you know, Mitch and Sarah are walking around your apartment, complimenting the view and decorations.

“This apartment really is beautiful. I love the windows and it’s so spacious in here,” Sarah says.

“There aren’t many perks to most of your family dying in your early 20’s, but being the sole recipient of all life insurance payouts and inheritances would probably be the one bright side.”

They both stare at you, as they do when you mention your trauma so nonchalantly.

“What?” you say, “I’m talking about the positives! Don’t give me those faces. Anyone want some water?” You decide it might just be best to move on from the discussion of your dead relatives. You grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge and hand one to each of them asking, “Do you guys want to sit out on the deck?”

They agree and you lead them outside to show them one of your favorite parts of your apartment. It’s a decently large deck, big enough to fit an outdoor loveseat plus another comfy chair, and since you’re a corner unit, it faces the woods behind your building, allowing for privacy. You sit in the single chair, leaving them to share the loveseat. You start to tell them about the wildlife you’ve seen in the woods, then point out the constellations you could see.

You all spend a few minutes sitting quietly enjoying each other’s company as well as the mild early spring weather. You feel a hand on your arm and know that it’s Sarah. You turn to her, and she gently pulls you, saying, “You’re too far away, come here.”

You get up and stand in front of them, not sure exactly where to sit. She pulls you down so that you are seated sideways on her lap, your legs extended over Mitch. He runs his hands over your shins and Sarah wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close. After another few minutes of listening to the calm sounds of the night you feel Sarah brushing your hair over your shoulder so she can start to kiss your neck.

Your eyes close at the feeling of her lips on your skin and of Mitch’s hands traveling higher on your legs. You slowly turn your head and seek out Sarah’s lips with your own. Neither of you hesitate to deepen the kiss, tongues immediately searching each other’s mouths. Mitch leans in to take over peppering your neck in kisses, occasionally switching to do the same to Sarah. He eventually turns you away from Sarah to himself, and you get lost in the feeling of kissing him. Next thing you know you’re watching them make out in front of you as your hands absently trail along their skin.

You all continue on like this for a while, getting lost in the sensations.

“Should we head inside?” Sarah asks, and you nod your head.

You all stand up, Mitch steadying both you and Sarah. You walk into your bedroom, immensely glad you had decided to splurge on the king bed. You stop just in the doorway and feel Mitch’s hand on your lower back. You’re equal parts excited and nervous about what’s about to happen, and you wonder if you’ll ever move past your nerves. You feel Mitch’s lips against your ear, and he asks, “Would you like to learn something new tonight?”

You turn your head to him, eyes practically crossing trying to look at him when he’s so close, and you nod again. He turns to whisper something to Sarah, and she smirks before climbing in bed and leaning against the headboard.

“C’mere, love,” she says to you, and you climb up the bed towards her. She pulls you in and says, “Mitch thinks we can teach you some different things to do with your mouth, what do you think?” Your eyes practically roll back in your head at the suggestion. You bite your lip and nod before saying, “I think that’s a great idea.” You start kissing her neck, biting gently as though overeager at the idea of using your mouth to please them.

Clothes are thrown off bodies and onto the floor. You start to kiss down Sarah’s body. You’re leaving kisses on the inside of her thighs when you suddenly feel kisses on your own thighs from behind. You glance back to see Mitch is behind you, just as bare as you and Sarah.

“Just follow along with Mitch,” Sarah says. You’re confused for a moment but then gasp as you feel him lick along your core. You understand what Sarah meant and lean to do the same to her. The sounds she lets out spur you on, each whimper turning you on even more and you barely hold yourself back from pushing closer to Mitch’s mouth.

You take note of the different things he does with his lips and tongue and recreate the moves to the best of your ability on Sarah. You feel the familiar tightening in your belly as your orgasm approaches. You hum in pleasure and the vibrations push Sarah over the edge. She grabs your hair, careful not to pull too hard. You work her through her orgasm and a second later fall into your own.

You lay your head on Sarah’s stomach as you both catch your breath. Her fingers weave through your hair as Mitch presses light kisses to your back. He climbs up towards Sarah, and she pushes him to lay on his back. Your eyes meet Sarah’s, and she beckons your closer. You crawl up to kiss her, then Mitch.

You think about what today’s lesson is, and take a deep breath before moving back down, this time trailing kisses along Mitch’s torso. You kiss just above his groin and look at his hard cock before glancing back to Sarah, silently asking for advice on what to do next.

She starts to whisper instructions in your ear, and you lean down to wrap your lips around him. He groans and clutches the sheets to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth. At Sarah’s direction you switch between sucking on what you can fit in your mouth and running your tongue along his length and around his tip. After a few minutes he pulls you off of him and sits up so he can press his lips to yours and you share a kiss so messy you can feel your teeth clashing against his.

“You did so good, baby,” he says in your ear before nipping at your neck and pulling away. He turns to Sarah and kisses her before pulling her onto his lap. He reaches down, and in a move so practiced and smooth that you almost miss it, he slides inside her. They both throw their heads back, moaning as they come together before sharing a moment of eye contact. You realize he’s checking in that she’s okay before they start to move together. You’re fascinated by what’s playing out in front of you. Sure, you’re turned on, but you’re more curious to watch than participate. That doesn’t mean they’re okay with you being left out, and they make sure they each have a hand somewhere on your body the whole time. You watch Sarah fall apart, Mitch following right after.

You all collapse onto the bed, a jumble of limbs, bright smiles on everyone’s faces. You’re once again surprised at how right this feels. You fall asleep with your head on Sarah’s chest, hand clasped with Mitch’s over her.

The next day you again wake up first. You slide out of bed, throw on some clothes, and go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and reflect on the night before. You think about how safe they make you feel and how patient they are teaching you about intimacy. You’ve been so scared about being physical with someone that you thought it might never happen. But now you think back to how gentle Mitch was with Sarah, how he made sure to check in with her, and you start to think that you might be ready to have that as well.

Mitch and Sarah join you in the kitchen and you make them tea as well. As you set the mugs down Mitch’s phone starts to ring with an incoming FaceTime call. You glance at it and are surprised to see that it’s Harry calling. Harry Styles. Somehow you had yet to interact with him at all even though you’d been hanging out with his best friends for weeks.

Mitch answers the call and starts talking to Harry. Sarah quietly laughs at the look of panic on your face. You take some deep breaths, forcing yourself to stop fangirling before you somehow make a fool of yourself in the background of the call. You’ve just managed to contain your excitement when Mitch pulls you over to officially introduce you to Harry. You learn that he does know who you are, and Mitch and Sarah have apparently been talking about you to their friends.

It’s a short call, Harry had just wanted to check in on everyone and soon they hang up. Breakfast that morning is simple, everyone pouring a bowl of cereal and you discuss what to do that day.

“Do you still want to hear some of Mitch’s new music?” Sarah asks and you answer with an enthusiastic, “Of course I do!”

After everyone showers and gets ready for the day, you all drive over to the studio. Mitch plays two of the songs he’s working on, and you listen closely, watching in amazement as he sings the songs he wrote himself.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he says timidly after you compliment him on his music.

“Sure, what is it?” you reply.

“I’ve got some ideas for guitar harmonies and want to test them out against the melody. If I tell you the chord progression, would you be able to play melody so I can see if it all works together?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He teaches you what to play and you spend the next couple of hours working on his songs, fascinated to see what goes on behind the scenes.

When you all start to get hungry you leave the studio to pick up sandwiches for lunch. You mention a walking trail nearby that has great views and you decide to take your lunch there. It’s a short walk to the first outlook and you settle there to eat. You ask Mitch and Sarah about their childhoods, wanting to know more about them. You continue your questions after lunch when you’re all walking towards the waterfall at the end of the trail.

When you reach it, Sarah starts taking pictures, including a selfie of the three of you which she immediately sends you. You’ll later make that your phone background, but no one needs to know that.

You start walking back and Mitch says, “So, I was thinking we could all go to Bella Luna’s tonight for dinner.”

You’ve heard of Bella Luna’s before. It’s one of the nicer restaurants in town. Ryan’s parents have gone there a couple of times for date nights, and you know it’s viewed as highly romantic.

“Oh, I’ve heard great reviews about that place,” Sarah replies with a cheeky smile. You nod and agree and spend the rest of the afternoon wondering what this fancy dinner might mean.

Back home everyone starts getting ready. Mitch informs you that the reservation is set for 6PM and you wonder when he set that up, as he hadn’t been on his phone at all that day aside from talking to Harry. You also realize that they both had fancy clothes packed and wonder if they had planned this ahead of time.

You walk out of your bathroom after getting changed, smoothing down your dress and fiddling with your hair to make sure it’s lying just right. You look up and see Mitch and Sarah staring at you.

Sarah walks over and places her hands on your hips, saying, “You look amazing,” before pulling you in for a kiss. “You look amazing too,” you reply after breaking apart. Mitch walks up to you saying, “You both look beautiful,” and you each kiss and compliment him as well.

You have a wonderful time at dinner. The conversation flows naturally, and the food is delicious. There’s never an awkward silence, and you realize how compatible you all are in every way.

Once back at your apartment, the evening goes like the one before and you find yourselves again out on the deck. Instead of you sitting on the chair, Mitch immediately pulls you on the loveseat with him and Sarah, and you’re sat half in each of their laps.

“Dinner tonight was delicious, thank you for taking me there,” you say.

“Of course, love,” Sarah replies. “We needed to make our first date special.”

At the word date you quickly turn to her, a shocked and confused expression on your face. You knew they cared about you, knew they were interested in you physically, but hadn’t dared to hope for the relationship to take this turn.

No one has ever expressed interest in you this way before, and here are two wonderful people wanting to bring you into their relationship. Two people who had everything they could want, but still opened themselves up to another person.

“We really care about you, Y/N,” Mitch says, and you turn to look at him. “Not just in a friendly or familial way. We care about you the way we care about each other.” Sarah is nodding in agreement, and you reply, “I care about you both too. More than anyone else.”

“I know this won’t necessarily be easy,” Sarah says. “It’s a complicated dynamic, especially with us being so well known publicly. But Y/N, we want to be with you. We want you as part of our relationship. Would you like that too?”

“I would. I really would. I know it’ll be difficult, and we’ll have to keep it a secret, but I want a relationship with you both. Being with you two just feels right in a way nothing ever has before.”

“We feel the same way,” Mitch replies.

They each press a kiss to your lips before sharing one with each other. The three of you sit there in an embrace, and the fact that you’re in a relationship sinks in. You can’t help the huge smile that breaks out on your face.

“What is it?” Mitch asks, noticing your expression.

“Nothing,” you reply. “I’m just really, really happy.”

“We are too,” Sarah says and meets you for another kiss. Mitch turns you towards him and he quickly deepens the kiss. This time you don’t get lost in the feeling, too lost in your thoughts of what you want to happen next.

Mitch notices your hesitance and pulls away asking, “What’s wrong, baby?”

You shiver at the nickname, holding one of his hands in yours and fidgeting with his fingers while building up the nerve to tell him what you’re thinking.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just. There’s something I want to do. And it makes me really nervous, but I think that I’m ready.” You pause a moment before continuing, “I know that I’m ready. To do this. With you.”

With the hand you’re not currently holding, Mitch cups your face to bring you to look at him. “Y/N, what is it you want to do?”

Even just saying the words feels impossible, not used to wanting this, let alone asking for it. “I, uhm, I want to- I’m ready to go all the way.”

He looks you in the eyes before asking, “Are you saying that you want to have sex with me?” You try to look away, somehow both embarrassed and turned on at the blunt way Mitch is clarifying your desires. “Because it’s absolutely okay if you do. I want to do that too. But only if you’re really ready,” he continues.

“I am,” you say firmly. “I’m ready. I’ve always been so scared of sex, but I saw the way you were with Sarah last night and, I dunno, I just know that you’d take care of me. I realized I don’t have to be scared with you. With either of you,” you finish, reaching one of your hands to rest on Sarah’s leg.

“Of course I’ll take care of you baby,” he says. “It’s all we want to do.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours, picking up where he left off a few minutes earlier. You feel like you’re too far away from him and move to straddle his lap. His hands immediately go to your waist, pulling you in so you’re flush against him.

You feel his hard cock against you and begin to grow excited at the thought of what’s about to happen. He guides your arms around his neck and tells you to hold on tight. The next moment he stands from the couch, hands sliding to your bottom to support you so he can carry you inside. The three of you make your way to the bedroom, and Mitch lays you down on the bed, immediately crawling on top of you.

You get lost in the feeling of Mitch’s tongue stroking yours, on his hands sliding along your body. You tug on his shirt and break away to pull it off of him. He does the same to your dress and within minutes all of your clothes are on the floor. His fingers are at your entrance, slipping in one at a time to slowly open you up.

You look over to see that Sarah is fully clothed and you pout. She notices your expression and says, “I’m okay love, I just want to watch tonight. This is a special moment for you.” You reach out your hand to hold on to hers and she passes something to Mitch before sliding her fingers between yours.

You hear a noise and look back to Mitch and realize what Sarah had handed him. He opens the condom wrapper and slips it on before running the head of his cock through your folds. He looks at you and asks, “Are you sure?” Without hesitating you tell him you’re sure, that you want this.

He lines himself up and starts to push in. You gasp at the stretch and squeeze Sarah’s hand. Mitch leans down to pepper kisses and love bites along your neck as Sarah runs her free hand on your stomach. You focus on those feelings as Mitch continues to push in, checking that you’re okay throughout.

Finally, he’s flush against you, letting out a loud groan in your ear at the feeling of you wrapped around him. Tears leak out of your closed eyes and you’re unsure if they’re from the uncomfortable pressure of being filled for the first time or from the overwhelming emotions running through you.

Sarah wipes away the tears, leaning in to quietly say, “You’re doing so well, love.” After a moment of letting you adjust, Mitch checks in again to see how you’re feeling, and if you want him to continue or pull out.

“Keep going, I’m good, please, you can keep going,” you tell him in a breathy voice you’ve never heard from yourself before.

He starts to move, slow thrusts at first before building up a rhythm after he’s sure you’re ready for more. It doesn’t take long to switch from uncomfortable pressure to intense pleasure. You’re still holding one of Sarah’s hands in yours and she uses her free hand to rub circles on your clit. You’re lost in the sensations, Mitch inside you, Sarah adding to the pleasure, both of their lips leaving kisses all over your body. It all builds until you come with a loud moan, clenching around Mitch. It’s an intense feeling, one that causes you to see stars, and you’re only vaguely aware of Mitch reaching his orgasm just after you.

They both slow down before stilling completely. Mitch tucks his face into your neck saying, “I’m gonna pull out now, okay babe?” You nod and he slowly pulls out as Sarah presses more kisses to the top of your head.

Mitch gets off the bed and you whimper and reach for him, not wanting him to be far away from you. “Shh, love,” Sarah says gently. “He’ll be right back; he’s just gone to get a cloth to clean up.”

A moment later he’s back and uses a damp washcloth to clean between your legs. He slips on a pair of boxers and places a large t-shirt on the bed for you. You know he’s giving you the option to put it on if you’d like but not pressuring you to, and you realize how well he already knows what will make you most comfortable. You slip on the shirt as he climbs in bed next to you. As you curl into his side, Sarah gets up and you pout again but refrain from grabbing for her as well. She changes into pajamas and gets back under the covers, holding you tightly.

You fall asleep almost immediately, missing the whispered conversation between the other two.

“How are you feeling?” Mitch asks her. He knew they had talked previously about the possibility of you and Mitch having sex, but he still wanted to make sure Sarah didn’t feel any different after seeing it happen.

“Honestly?” She replies. “I feel great. Y/N said it earlier, it just feels right. Watching the two of you together was mesmerizing, and beautiful. I think I may have fallen even more in love with you.” He grabs her hand and squeezes gently. You stir in their arms, turning towards Sarah and tucking your face into her neck. They share a smile over you and fall asleep as well.

Shockingly, you’re the last one awake the next morning. When you do finally wake up, you realize you’re sprawled on top of Mitch, clinging to him. He’s running his fingers through your hair, and you feel so content you almost fall back asleep. Before you do, Sarah walks in with a tray full of food. You climb off of Mitch to sit in the middle of the bed and Sarah sets down the tray before sitting next to you.

You rest your head on her shoulder and she says, “Good morning love. You feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling absolutely wonderful,” you reply with a shy smile. You glance at Mitch and see he’s looking at you with a similarly fond expression. “I’m also suddenly starving,” you continue. “This looks amazing!”

They laugh at your enthusiasm for breakfast, and you all start to dig in.

“What would you like to do today,” Mitch asks.

“Nothing. I want to do nothing today. I want to stay here with the two of you and have a movie marathon or binge TV and just cuddle.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he replies.

And that’s what the three of you do. At lunch time you switch to hanging out in the living room instead of the bedroom, but that’s the extent of your effort for the day. They end up staying that night as well, brushing their teeth beside you in the bathroom before bed, and you revel in how domestic it feels.

They wake up bright and early with you the next morning and make sure to get their goodbye kisses before you all leave the apartment together. You drop them off in their driveway on your way to work and they each give you a quick hug before going inside the house.

You turn the car around and pull into Ryan’s driveway and sit in there for a moment before going into the house. You give yourself a couple minutes to think about the past few days, smiling and letting out a giggle when you can no longer contain the pure joy you feel.

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm excited for the next part, we're finally adding Harry to the mix soon!

Taglist:@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader

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hanleiacelebration · 10 months

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Han/Leia Appreciation Week 2023

Han/Leia Appreciation Week is an event originally hosted at @han-leia-solo between 2016-2019. Last year, and with their permission, we decided to host it at @hanleiacelebration!

Since Beth Revis' "The Princess and the Scoundrel" was released on August 16th, 2022, we thought it'd be fun to mark the date as the anniversary of Han and Leia's wedding 🥰 And since this year is also the 40th anniversary of "Return of the Jedi", you'll see prompts related to both of those things!

💗 How does the Han/Leia Appreciation Week work?

The event will run from August 13th to August 19th, and there will be two different prompts each day that creators can fulfill with: fanfic, fanart, gifsets, graphics, fanvids, headcanons, crafts, playlists, rec lists. You’re encouraged to tag your posts with #hanleiaweek2023 so we can reblog them! After the week is over, we'll also share a masterlist with links to the works.

You can show your appreciation in many ways; however, please keep in mind that it has to be a creation of yours of some sort, e.g. don’t repost other people’s fanart, gifs, or unedited pictures. Rec lists should include a link to the original source both for fanfic and fanart (more on this after the cut).

💫 The prompts

Sunday 8/13: Anniversary / Memory

Monday 8/14: Endor / Reunion

Tuesday 8/15: Rescue / Vision

Wednesday 8/16: Favourite scene / Quote

Thursday 8/17: Battle couple / Millennium Falcon

Friday 8/18: AU / Canon divergence

Saturday 8/19: Free day!

You can use only one of the daily prompts, combine both, reinterpret them, or skip the day if you can’t think of anything. If you’re not able to post on the same day for a prompt, you’re still encouraged to share it through the week—just don’t post works for a certain prompt before the day corresponding to that prompt.

💠 💠 💠

FAQs and Rules under the cut - please read!

💗 Can I post my work to another site and share the link on Tumblr?

Yes! This is a good option for people who might want to create explicit art that could be taken down on Tumblr, write a long fic or multichapter, or make videos or playlists.

💗 Does it have to be a new creation? Can I finish and post a WIP?

It has to be something that has never been posted anywhere else before, so finishing and sharing a WIP is okay! If it doesn’t fit any of the prompts, you can share it on Free Day.

💗 Is this event open to all ratings?

Yes! Just remember to use a “Read more” cut if you’re posting the whole work on Tumblr, and to add a note at the top if your work is rated Mature or Explicit, as well as if it has any major trigger warnings, so all folks can safely browse through the entries.

💗 Are there any length or quality requirements?

There’s no min. or max. length for fanfic or quality level for art, but please note that AI-generated works won't be accepted. For gifsets, there’s a minimum of two gifs (that must be made by you!). For playlists, there’s a minimum of five songs. For rec lists of fic or fanart, there’s also a minimum of five recs. Some more questions you might have about rec lists:

- How do I share someone else's art without posting a picture? You might post a thumbnail that crops a preview of the piece; if the piece has a title, you might use that; you might describe it; or you might say something like “this piece by [artist]”, and link to the source.

- What if I found a fanart on Google? Try to find the original source using reverse search image.

- What if I can’t still find it, can I just say “credit to the artist”? In that case, please just don’t share the piece.

- What if I know the artist but don’t have a link to the original source? Naming the artist and linking back to where you found it is okay, in that case.

💗 Is the event based on "The Princess and the Scoundrel"?

Not really! That's just an excuse to celebrate Han/Leia 😊 You don’t need to include or acknowledge it in any way in your creations, although you’re welcome to.

💗 Can I write for canon/Legends and include other pairings?

All canons, time periods, headcanons and AUs are welcome, and you're allowed to include side pairings, except for R*eylo. However, keep in mind that this is a Han/Leia appreciation week - at the risk of sounding repetitive, works should focus on appreciating Han and Leia's relationship!

💗 What's the time zone for the event?

Please don't worry too much about time zones: when we say "day", we always mean "whenever that day is for you in your part of the world". IE: if it's Monday for you, you can post your work for the Monday prompt.

💠 💠 💠

Do you have any other questions? Don’t hesitate to send us an ask or to message one of the mods: @lajulie24 @hanorganaas and @otterandterrier

We can’t wait to see what you all create!

#hanleia #hanleiaweek2023 #han x leia #han solo #leia organa #star wars events #swfandomevents #swedit #swcreators #mod post

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hifargoweek · 2 months

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Highly Irregular Fargo Week 2024

(Anniversary Edition!)

Highly Irregular Fargo Week is a weeklong fanworks event celebrating rare characters in both the FX series Fargo and the 1996 Coen Brothers movie which inspired it.

This year's event will mark the 10th anniversary of the Fargo TV series premiering on FX in 2014. It will run from Monday, April 15, to Monday, April 22, 2024 — because a week with eight days is highly irregular.

OPTIONAL SCHEDULE:

MONDAY: Anniversaries TUESDAY: Backstories WEDNESDAY: Characters with Zero AO3 Works THURSDAY: Rarepairs* FRIDAY: Female Characters SATURDAY: Never Met in Canon SUNDAY: “The future is…” BONUS DAY: Highly Irregular

*see below for more information on rarepairs

What counts as a highly irregular character?

Highly irregular characters are rare characters. For the purposes of this event, characters with under 50 works in the Fargo (TV) and Fargo (1996) tags on Archive of Our Own (AO3) as of this posting are considered rare.

For reference, the currently ineligible characters are: Mr. Wrench, Mr. Numbers, Lorne Malvo, Lester Nygaard, and Gator Tillman.

Can my work include a non-rare character?

Non-rare characters may be mentioned or appear briefly, but the major focus of the work should be on at least one rare character. Basically, if the non-rare character’s appearance would warrant them being tagged on AO3, they feature too prominently.

What if my work focuses on a rarepair?

This is a rare character event, not a rarepair event. However, rarepair works are welcome as long as the pairing doesn’t include any non-rare characters.

So, for example, Nikki Swango/Mr. Wrench would be ineligible, because while the pairing itself has under 50 works on AO3, Mr. Wrench as a character has over 50 works.

Are crossovers allowed?

Crossovers between the Fargo TV series and the Fargo movie are allowed. Crossovers with non-Fargo fandoms are not.

Are original characters allowed?

Yes, as long as the work also prominently features at least one rare canon character.

Does it have to be fanfiction? Can I post art or other types of fanwork?

All types of fanwork are welcome, as long as they focus on at least one rare Fargo character. That includes art, GIFs, graphics, fanmixes, fanvids, meta, etc.

Do I have to follow the schedule?

The schedule is completely optional, and is only there to provide inspiration for those who might need it. Feel free to ignore it entirely, or switch around the days.

Where and when should I post my work?

You can add your fanworks to the AO3 collection, and/or post them on Tumblr. For Tumblr posts, be sure to use the tag #hifargoweek2024, and/or mention @hifargoweek in the post.

The collection will open at approximately 12 am EDT on April 15 and close at approximately 11:59 pm EDT on April 22. Eligible works posted on Tumblr during the same period will be reblogged to this account.

Why do you hate [insert popular character here]?

I don’t! The purpose of this event is simply to give more attention to the less popular characters in the fandom, and to challenge fans to stretch their creative muscles.

Are there any other requirements?

Nope! Works of any length, rating, category, and archive warning are eligible. Feel free to post as many works as you’d like, as long as they meet the requirements for rare characters.

If you have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to send an ask. Reminders and updates will be posted to this blog, so give it a follow if you’d like to stay up to date.

(And if you'd like to browse the works posted during last year's event, be sure to take a look at the 2023 collection.)

Please reblog this post to spread the word!

#hifargoweek2024 #fargo #fargo fx #fx fargo #fargo tv

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strbymacaroon · 1 year

Text

✿ S1 E1: Your New Normal! ✿

✿ Roomie Series!: Eren Yeager x Reader!

❥ S1 E1. 13:00 mins remaining, 4360 words.

❥ Previous Episode: S1: Pilot!

❥ Y/n now forced to adapt to her new life, tried to understand who she was before. With… a few inconveniences in the way.

.•° ✿ °•.

°•. ✿ .•°

You soon came to realize that the whole house layout changed. Actually, you were in a completely different house! You don’t even know how, it just happened. You blinked and– poof! Different. Well, that’s not exactly what happened, but that’s what it felt like. You just went to bed and woke up to a completely different room.

The ceiling was incredibly tall, a small chandelier decorated with crystals hanging above you. Your bed was huge, a King to be exactly. A white and pink canopy tied to the post, some cute fairy lights strung along the top railing.

Your floor was hardwoods, a massive white fluffy rug covering it. A few candles were lit, the scent of vanilla in the air. Jesus, alternate you had money to burn.

In-fact, even your clothing were different. A short, silk, white, thin, gown resting over your frame. Knee high black socks, and some matching black lingerie. You nodded at yourself. At-least alternate version of yourself had style.

Sexy style.

So, that’s where you were.

In your room.

Your dream room.

You always told yourself, once you had the money you were going to decorate your room. And, in this world, where you do have the money, you did exactly that. Your room was luxurious and big.

Decorated in whites and decor, your bed soft with some silk bedding, flowing curtains covering your floor to ceiling window, and that was the simple things. That didn’t include the balcony, restroom, and closet.

Yeah, balcony. Restroom. And the closet.

You glanced at the time, which was a clock conveniently on your vanity. 7:30. You should have class in a few hours. Resting not too far from the clock was a planner.

“That should be helpful.” You grabbed the pink book, opening it to this week.

— Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday —

Payday!: Monday! (Send Dad a thanks, also dinner Sunday!)

Classes: 12-3 on Mon. Tues. Thurs. (Easy classes.)

Free Days!: Wed. Fri. “Party Days! ❤︎︎”

Arts stuff— Wednesday. Sometimes Sunday.

Check on Roger, Wednesday. ⇝ Important!!

Roger? Who the hell was Roger?

You felt your stomach drop.

..a sugar daddy?..

You shook your head, slapping your cheeks. Chill, Y/n. You glanced back at the calendar. Your schedule was so much more— free. Apparently you didn’t work a job anymore, and didn’t have as many classes. What do I major in? Is it the same thing? Hopefully. You worked your ass off becoming a nurse.

You sighed, sitting in the chair. Glancing at the lavish mirror in-front of you. Seeing as the strap to your sleeping gown fell off your shoulder.

Was I always that pretty? Or did I swap bodies with..

Your phone rang, making you jolt. You reached for it, reading the caller I.D.

‘Daddy <3’

You blinked, smiling to yourself. Yeah, that’s who you needed to talk to right now, your Dad. I wonder what he’s like in this world? Generous, obviously. You slid your finger over the phone, holding it to your ear. Smiling, “Hey, Dad! What’s up?”

You walked to your balcony, pulling it open. Feeling awed by the view. To add to that growing list, you also lived in a two story house across an ocean. A fucking ocean. What the fuck..

“Jean,” the person corrected, and you felt your stomach drop. “But, I'm not opposed to that when I come over.”

You could feel your face burn. “Oh, that’s.. I thought you were someone..” You thickly swallowed, running your hand over the couch. Another silk thing in your growing collection. You sat on the couch, enjoying the view. “But, why did you call? Are you good?” You had no idea how to talk to Jean. You didn’t know how you acted here.

“I’m good.” He told you, “Eren just said you were acting weird at practice, so I wanted to check up on you.” You couldn’t miss the strain in his voice. “Since when did you start talking to him?”

Man, I must really hate Eren. “Uhm, since yesterday?” you were unsure how to respond. “I mean, he is my roommate. Wouldn’t it be weird if I didn’t talk to him?..”

“I don’t know, you’ve done it your whole freshman and sophomore year. What’s different now?” He asked, shuffling a little.

“I feel different.” You laid back on the couch, in slight disbelief. You were talking to your boyfriend– Jean. A fictional man from Attack on Titan. “I–I feel different.” You repeated.

“How different?” He pressed, almost like he was confused.

“Different enough.” You told him, feeling your eyebrows mush together. What was with that question? You pressed yourself off the couch, your mouth moving before you could think. “Eren was talking about me?” A part of you wanted to change the topic anyways.

Jean laughed, “No.” There was a slight moment of silence, “And yes. He always talks about you.” You could tell from Jean’s tone that wasn’t a good thing. “He talked about you differently.”

You blinked a few times, “Oh.” He shit talks you.

Jean laughed again, “Oh indeed.”

Your jaw dropped, peeking off the balcony. Is that a pool?! I have a pool?! You smiled, lifting your foot to the railing. “Hey babe, I think I need to call you back.” You told him. Confused on where the pet name came from, but forgetting about it quickly. Glancing at the built-in slide.

“You think?!”

“Yup!” You ended the call and tossed your phone back on the couch. Lifting yourself over the railing and smiling. Jumping into the pool.

You lifted your head up, running your fingers through your hair. Letting out a loud laugh, “This place is awesome!”

You turned to the slide door being frantically opened.

Eren was glaring at you, blinking in utter confusion. “Y/n, what the hell are you doing?!”

You giggled, smiling at him. “Swimming?!” You shouted, “We have a goddamn pool, why in the world wouldn’t I swim in it?” You said, dipping under the water and popping back up across the whole pool.

Eren smiled, remembering your sudden attitude change. He quickly gripped the bottom of his shirt, toying with it and walking to the pool. “Is it cold?”

You tilted your head, looking at him with long lashes. Quickly looking at his outfit, some plaid pj pants, a tight black shirt. “Why don’t you come in and find out?” You played, pushing a wave of water in his direction. Watching as he dipped his bare foot into the water, his skin littering in goosebumps.

“Jesus, you jumped into this shit?” He looked up, glancing at your balcony. “From there?” He pointed up.

You giggled, nodding your head. “You’re telling me you don’t want to jump off my balcony?”

He shook his head, “You never let me play with the idea when I throw pool parties.” He pulled his foot back out, “You always say your room is off limits.” His eyes moved to the water, trying to glance at what you were wearing. It didn’t look like swimming clothes to say the least.

In-fact, Eren’s never seen you in swimming clothes. “What are you wearing?” He asked, tilting his head.

You shrugged, “What I slept in.” You shook your head quickly, “But, that doesn't matter. Come join me in the pool.” You outstretched your arms, almost like you were waiting for a hug. “Let’s have fun!” You gave him a kind smile.

Eren shivered, “Let me go change.” He turned on his heel, his back turned to you.

You booed at him, swimming to the edge of the pool. Placing your arms on the edge and resting your chin on them. “Don’t be boring ‘Ren, just get in with your sleepwear.” You tilted yourself back, lifting one of your legs into the air. Revealing the sheer black stocking, “That’s what I did.”

Eren blinked at you, his eyes dipping up and down your leg. Watching as you lowered your leg into the water again. He smiled, thickly swallowing. “‘Ren? Is that a nickname?” He didn’t know if he liked it.

You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself out of the water. “Way to change the subject.” You pulled your hair over your shoulder, ringing it out.

Eren glanced at the way your white dress clung to your skin, sheer from the water. He turned away, clearing his throat. “I said I’ll get in, just let me change!” He shouted, starting to rush into his house. Like hell he was going to miss his chance to slam you into the pool. He didn’t know if it was to mess with you, or get back at you.

“I’ll probably already be out by then.” You yelled over your shoulder, standing up and looking for a towel. Quickly removing your socks and ringing them out.

You threw your hair back over your shoulder.

“Y/n!”

You turned to the sound, utterly confused. Before you loudly laughed, “I thought you said you were going to change?!” You shouted up, smiling as you sat back down. Dipping your legs into the water.

Eren ignored you, just grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head. You felt your eyes widen, your jaw dropping. Holy shit, Jesus take the wheel.

Eren laughed at your reaction, “I know.” Cocky bitch. He tossed it to the side, “Should I take the pants off too?”

You rolled your eyes. Absolutely. “Gross, like I'd want to see your shriveled dick.” I’ve dreamed about it, actually. You leaned back on your palms, enjoying the show.

Eren shook his head and jumped off you balcony, and it felt like he was flying. Something euphoric he hadn’t felt in awhile. Well, without the help of...

He popped back up from the water, right in-front of you.

You smiled, “It’s fun right?!” You teased, tossing your socks to the side.

Eren smiled back, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” He grabbed your ankles, making you look at his hands. His hands. They wrapped around your whole ankle. God. “I don’t know why you’re letting me do this now.”

“Because,” I’m making the most of this, you thought. “We only have two more years. Let’s enjoy the time we have.” You responded.

Eren nodded, “I agree.” And, he pulled you into the pool, dunking your head under the water unexpectedly.

You popped back up, clinging onto him as you tried to breathe. Choking on the water, “Fuck! You bitch!” You coughed, secretly watching as Eren slowly freaked out.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You dunked him under the water, laughing loudly. He popped back up, jaw dropped. “You little– faker!”

You giggled, “Get used to it, ‘Ren. This is how it’s going to be like everyday.”

Eren suppressed a smile, he didn’t mind that. Not one bit.

•° ✿ °•.

°•. ✿ .•°

You wrapped the towel around your body, walking out of your restroom into your room. Enjoying the way all the expensive lotions, perfumes, and conditioners felt on your body. Money did buy happiness.

You opened your closet and your jaw dropped. It was practically another room. Littered in shoes, dresses, clothes, jewelry, and— “Lingerie?” You blinked, letting your hand grab the fabric. Soft. So this is the shit you sleep in.

You walked back, glancing at your designer— everything. Practically everything had a expensive logo decorating its already expensive design.

How much money does my Dad send me?!

You turned on your heel, peering at the table in the middle of the room. They were backpacks. “Which bag do I take?” You ran your fingers over a simple black backpack, looking at the logo. Gucci.

Jesus fuck, you could be carring someones semester tuition right now. You turned your attention to the jewelry, grabbing some earrings and a matching necklace. Holding it to your skin. Were your ears pierced?..

You placed them back down on your vanity, looking at yourself. In fact, you looked different. Not entirely, your face was the same, it was just your body. In fact, it was your dream body. You wrapped your hands around your boobs, giving them a small squeeze.

“Hell yeah.” You giggled to yourself. You could get used to this.

You grabbed a dress, trying to glance at the design. You didn’t like it. It was beautiful, just showed way too much skin. You weren’t used to that. You weren’t used to any of this.

Or Eren Yeager.

Fuck. Eren Yeager.

You felt your stomach fly, a sappy smile coming over your lips. You were in the same house as Eren Yeager. Hell, you lived with him! Who else could say that?

No one, but you.

You wiggled, quickly spinning as your eyes landed on another vanity. You smiled, skipping over to it and looking at everything.

You had a small speaker there, if you were correct— it was an Alexa.

“Alexa?”

The top of her lit up blue, while she replied— “Mhm!”

You smiled, “Play some music for me, please.”

“Of course!”

You nodded your head, moving your hips to the Doja Cat song playing. Then, moving back to your closet. Skimming your fingers through your racks of clothing. It felt like you were in a mall!

You grabbed a lacy black bra, slipping it over your body. Along with some matching panties. Enjoying the way it complemented your body, before grabbing a light gray zip-up jacket. You kept the jacket over your shoulder, revealing your shoulders.

Some sweats would look nice with this. You looked around, only to come to a small realization.

“I don't have sweats!” You sighed, pouting slightly.

You paused, looking at what was in your closet. Nothing. This style was completely out of your comfort zone. You grabbed a skirt, holding it to your hips. Discarding the jacket you were wearing.

“Miss L/n?” You turned over your shoulder, peering at who called your name. A random old lady?..

You blinked a few times, “Yes?..”

“Are you picking out your outfit today?” She asked kindly, her gloved hands cupping each other.

“Uhm..” you looked around yourself, “Am I allowed too?”

She giggled, “Of course you are dear, but if you don’t mind me asking— why today? Anything planned?”

You blinked, eyes skipping up and down her attire. A simple black dress, a small white handkerchief wrapped around her head, and some white gloves to match. If you didn’t know any better —which you didn’t— she looked like a maid.

“None at all, just— uhm.” You looked around the room, “Looking around.” You cringed. Such a bad lie.

She blinked at you, “You seem to be in a pleasant mood.” She walked into the closet, “How about this, you go down stairs and eat with Mr. Yeager.” She giggled, “Don’t tell him I told you this but, he requested for me to send you down.”

You felt a smile on you face. Placing your hands to your face and looking to the side, “Did he?”

She turned back, seeing how you were smiling. “Oh, don’t tell me Miss. L/n.” She teased, placing a gloved hand above her growing smile. “You and Mr. Yeager—”

“You don’t need to say that.” You cut her off, trying to change the subject. You could feel your heart beating quickly. The fact that you and Eren could be something was—

She grabbed the jacket on the floor, folding it into her hand. “And, I’ll pick out the outfit. Like always.” She gave you a kind smile.

You nodded, taking a step back. She turned her back to you, searching through your clothing. “There’s another gown on your bed, if you wish to wear it.”

You looked down, seeing you were just in your underwear. Your face burned in embarrassment, “Yes, thank you.”

She paused, her head turning to the side. Peering over her shoulder. “Uhm, you’re welcome, dear.”

.•° ✿ °•.

°•. ✿ .•°

You turned around, doing a small spin. “I don’t know about this, it feels.. weird.” I feel weird.

Your legs exposed with a short skirt, and your top a simple long sleeved crop top. Your shoes were some pink Nike’s that matched with your white shirt.

Eren laughed, shaking his head. Keeping his position on the couch. “It’s what you always wear.” He told you, pulling out his phone and searching for something.

You pouted, sitting down next to him. “Ugh, I’m going to go out and buy some sweats.” You complained, grabbing your phone and opening Amazon. Hopefully you wishlist traveled with you.

“You know what sweats are!?” He said, and by his tone you knew he wasn’t joking.

God, alternate me sucks.

“Shut up.” You plainly said, seeing that it did. You smiled to yourself, doing something you never thought you would.

Proceeding to checkout.

Eren leaned on you, his head resting on your shoulder. Does he not know what personal space is?

“Is that a cosplay?” He asked, pointing to your phone. Completely oblivious to what he just laid out for you.

You smiled, “It’s a Halloween costume..” you turned to him, “How do you know what cosplay is, ‘Ren?”

He backed up, blinking a few times. “My ex used to do it.” You hated how fast he answered that. You didn’t know if he was lying. But, something was telling you he was.

I wonder what he cosplays?

You felt your phone buzz, making you glance at it again.

‘Daddy <;3’

Ugh.

“Jean’s calling you.” Eren voiced, looking at you. “He always calls you.”

“It’s because I’m his sugar mommy.” You said with a serious tone, not taking your eyes off your phone.

Eren was silent. “Everything make so much more sense now.”

You shoved him playfully, throwing your phone on the couch beside you. “Gross! I can’t believe you’d think that!”

Eren fell to his back, resting on his forearms. “What?! You’re loaded, Y/n, you can’t blame me.” He replied, “Shit. I’d do anything to be your sugar baby.”

You laughed loudly, “Really?” You said sarcastically, “What about?…” you looked around trying to think of something. Fucking me until I cry. “Answering any questions I have.”

“Really? That’s it?” Eren thought you were going to make him your slave for a day.

“What? Do you want to be my slave for a day, or something?” You tried to sound as monotone as possible. But, you could admit the idea was very exciting.

Your anime crush, doing anything you want.

Money does buy happiness.

Eren smiled, “Anything for you, Y/n.”

You shivered.

Eren noticed.

You turned away, hiding your burning face. Your heart was beating like crazy. I seriously need to wife Eren up.

You sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. “You’re so boring ‘Ren..” you stood up and started to walk away. Eren quickly grabbed your wrist, yanking you back into him. You hit his chest.

“Don’t even think about it, it’s about damn time I actually talk to my roommate.” He smiled, placing his chin on your shoulder. Peering at you, “It gets so lonely here.” You never noticed how much bigger he was than you.

In fact, was he always this touchy in the anime?

You mumbled, turning away. Trying not to show how utterly embarrassed you were by the situation the two of you were in. “Ew, get your dirty hands off me.” Keep touching me.

“No.” Eren laughed and you could feel his chest vibrate against your back. “I don’t think I will.”

You relaxed, giving up. “Fine.” Curse this man’s attractiveness and strength. “But, now you're not going to be my sugar baby.”

Eren whined dramatically, “Boo, you whore.” You could feel him jolt. “Oh, are you still coming to practice with me?” Eren asked, his lips close to your neck. You shivered. He noticed again.

“That was the plan.” You tried pushing yourself off him, but he didn’t let go. Is this how he is with everyone?

He smiled, his teeth biting his lip for a second. Like he was excited, “I think you’re going to love it.” Eren sure did.

Actually, what the hell was ‘it?’ You don’t even know what sport Eren plays. What if he didn’t play a sport at all. What if he was in a cult? And you were just blindly saying yes?!

Actually, if Eren told me to kill myself, I’d do it.

“Will I?”

“Nope!” He replied, finally standing up and walking to the door. Grabbing his keys and smiling at you. “Anyways, I’ll swing by the house and drive you at—“ he clicked his tongue a few times, “—3:30, that’s fine right?”

You blinked a few times, isn’t today my free day?

Eren noticed your confused expression. “Today’s your party day,” it was almost like he was informing you something you didn’t know. Which, you didn’t. Eren was also giving you a weird look. You recognized that face, it was the one he gave you when you acted differently from your alternate self. “So, don’t go to one tonight.”

You smiled, nodding your head. “I knew that I was just—“ you paused for a second, “—testing if you knew that.” You internally cringed.

Eren pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh. You’re so awkward now, he thought. “Of course.”

You heard him leave, the door clicking shut behind him. Jesus, it was either you marry this man, or kill yourself trying to do it.

.•° ✿ °•.

°•. ✿ .•°

You never knew driving with Eren could be a surreal experience. I mean, there was that one time you got into a car with a guy you considered— just a friend. Only to come out with your face hot and heart beating like crazy.

Your heart decided at that moment, you didn’t see him as— just a friend. As Adrien Agreste likes to say with Marinette.

But this, this was on another fucking level. You could feel your whole body burning. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you could hear it in your ears.

Jesus, you couldn’t even hear the radio blasting.

“Do you wanna’ get food after this?” He asked, seeing how tense your shoulders were. “I can pay.”

You blinked a few times, “Huh?” You thickly swallowed, “Uhm, yeah. Food sounds nice.” You simply said.

“What do you feel like having?” Eren looked at you for a second, seeing as your eyes were trained outside the window.

“Chick-fil-A.” You responded, before quickly snapping your head to Eren. “No! I take it back.” You smiled, “I’ll buy, I know this amazing ramen place.” Eren was about to speak when you cut him off, “Think of it as my first duty as your sugar-mommy.”

Eren laughed, eyes moving back to the road. Trying not to get too distracted by the conversation. “Can’t wait.”

You giggled, bright eyes slowly moving away from him. Looking back outside. Counting the cars that passed by.

Eren however, still wanted to talk.

“Are you excited?” Eren asked, his hand moving over the wheel as he parked the car into an empty space.

“Maybe?..” you slowly responded, trying to see where you were. The college's football stadium. Did Eren play football? Wait, how was it going to work? You couldn’t play football.. Maybe, he was going to set you up as a manager?..

Eren opened his door, and shut it behind him. You were going to do the same, when he quickly locked the car. Walking to your side, unlocking the car, and opening the door for you.

You laughed, “Idiot.” Before stepping out, “Thank you, Eren.” You placed your hand on his shoulder, before fixing your hair.

Eren watched as you started to walk forward, the place you touched burning. He thickly swallowed, “Uh, I—I already talked to my director about you joining, and he said it should be fine.” Eren said, trying to catch up to you. His hand placed on your waists, and leading the way. His head turned to you, “But, I’m so excited! It’s gonna’ be nice having you at practice with me.”

You smiled, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. “It sounds nice.” You softly replied, pulling yourself away and looking back at the field.

You could feel your heart drop.

Oh no, not this again..

You promised to leave this very ‘sport’ back in high school. Hell, it wasn’t even a sport! It was goddamn torture, and child labor. You looked at Eren, seeing the way he was smiling at everyone. “Eren, you do?..”

“Marching band!” Eren smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. “I’m in the drumline.” He whispered, pointing at the percussionist.

That’s actually so sexy, what the hell?

You looked at him, mouth agape. “You do marching band?!” You blinked at him.

Wait, does that mean you get to see him in the uniform?!

There really is a god.

You could feel Eren’s hand squeeze around your waist for a moment, before speaking. “I’m so happy, now we can spend more time together.” He whispered.

You could feel your lips part, your hand moving over his. Your face burning with embarrassment. “Eren?” You softly said, hand tightening around his.

His eyes dipped down to your lip, before looking back into you. “Y/n?” He said with a slight laugh.

Your lips parted, before closing. Tell him you like him! “Eren, I—I really li—“

“Y/n?”

You flinched hearing your name. You could see Eren turn pale. His hand pulling away from you so fast, you couldn’t register it.

You turned your head over your shoulder, confused by what— or who, would’ve caused such a reaction from Eren.

You could feel your blood run cold.

In front of the two of you, stood someone taller than both of you. Hands stuffed into his pockets, hair slicked back with gel, and a tight black long sleeved shirt, with gray sweatpants. His lips brought into a slight scowl.

“What the hell are you doing here at my practice.” His eyes danced to Eren, “With him?”

You couldn’t even register his question. The words leaving your mouth without thought.

“Jean?”

Your boyfriend.

.•° ✿ °•.

°•. ✿ .•°

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