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mrwavellswaps · 11 months

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The Hike

After about an hour or so of hiking, Adam had reached the foot of Mount Servus Masculus. He stared up at the mountain with a confident grin. “This is gonna be easy. I’ve got no idea what the hell those local’s were talking about.” He spouted. Over the years Adam had climbed numerous mountains both tall and dangerous, snowy and windy. He’d traveled all over the world climbing different mountains and one day he even planned on getting to the peak of Everest! Compared to that and most other mountains he’d done recently, this ‘Mount Servus Masculus’ seemed like child’s play. Looking at it from where he was, he figured he’d be up and down it in no time. Yet for some reason none of the locals would dare go near the mountain let alone climb it. Apparently there was some strange superstition around it. Adam didn’t give it the time of day though. It was just your typical ‘Oooooh anyone that tried to climb it was never been seen again’ mumbo jumbo. He’d heard it all before. It didn’t scare him then and it wouldn’t scare him now.

The confident hiker took a swig of water from his bottle before beginning his journey up the mountain. He followed along what looked to be a very old and overgrown path through the trees that covered the lower half of the mountain. Due to this it wasn’t long before he pulled out his machete and started hacking through the thick brush blocking his path. All the while he could hear birds and insects chirping around him in a song-like manner. It was kind of beautiful actually.

Adam pressed on until the path finally started to open up a little more, allowing his trusty machete to have a break. This also gave him a better chance to admire the scenery of the mountain forest and once again he couldn’t think for life of him why everyone was so afraid of it. Everything was so lush and vibrant. The grass was so very green and the plants growing around the trees were an array of so many different colours. And the way the wind gently whistled through the air… it was so enchanting. It almost made him wish he lived here.

Before he found himself reaching the edge of lower forest and entering a more rocky terrain. He could tell there were more trees high up but he’d need to climb a little before getting there. Even as he escaped the beauty of the forest however, the wind continued to blow around him in a strange manner. Whistling even clearer now in a way that could almost be described as a song of nature. He was so encapsulated by the sound that he’d failed to notice how his previously well fitted and even a little baggy clothes had begun to feel much tighter.

The path had become much clearer now with a winding trail that gradually led Adam further up the mountain. As he wandered up the trail, it felt as though an invisible hand was tugging him along. Encouraging him to keep walking. Encouraging him to reach the top of the mountain because doing so would make him feel oh so good. Encouraging him to take off his backpack and leave it on the side of the trail next to all the other backpacks. Encouraging him to slip off his waterproof coat because it’s far too warm for that…

At some point he found himself looking down to see he’d taken off not only his coat but also the jacket underneath, leaving him in just a tight black t-shirt. He should’ve been freezing cold and yet the wind swirling around him was so warm and relaxing. His sleeves were starting to ride up his growing biceps while his pecs plumped up considerably with muscle. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him that this wasn’t normal but the whispers of wind only told him to keep walking. To keep climbing. To keep growing. And he listened.

With every step he took, Adam’s muscles pulsed. Bulking up ever so slightly with each passing second. His whole body growing thicker and stronger until the winder whispered at him again. Telling him to rip off his shirt. “Ggrrrahhh!” Adam let out deep roar as he tore the t-shirt wide open before throwing the remains of the ground with a grunt and continuing his ascent.

He didn’t know when it’d happened but at some point he’d also taken off his boots and socks. Leaving him walking along the mountain trail barefoot. Now all that was left was a threateningly tight pair of trousers and underwear. But soon enough, as he reached what looked like an old bridge that stretched over a creek, Adam found himself compelled once again to strip just as the song of the mountain winds commanded. Kicking off his trousers at last before crossing the other side of the bridge in nothing but a tight pair of blue underwear.

Eventually Adam found himself face to face with a wall of boulders. It didn’t seem as though the trail continued any other way around it which could only mean that his one option was to climb. And climb he did. Making sure to get a good grip with both his hands and feet on each sturdy piece of rock before pushing himself higher.

Once again part of his rational mind screamed at him, saying that doing this without any of his gear whatsoever was extremely dangerous but deep down he knew the warm comforting winds swirling around him at all times would keep him safe. And so he shook off any silly thoughts before continuing to climb. Feeling the wind around him grow stronger the higher he went.

Soon enough he found himself reaching the top of the wall of rock. As he did Adam turned and looked towards the Sun in the distance, shining bright upon the land below as he smiled. “Be free” the wind whispered to him softly. Then without a second thought he reached down and yanked his underwear off before tossing them off the ledge and watching as they blew away, almost symbolic of how the last of his free will was about to be drained…

And yet all of a sudden Adam felt the strange wind that’d been controlling him somehow disperse in an instant as the hiker was immediately hit with a wave of clarity. “W-what the fuck am I doing and- My body!? What happened to me!?” Adam screamed in confusion as he cock flopped between his legs, confused not only as to why the hell he’d undressed himself but also to how the fuck he’d gotten so buff! His arms were so thick and powerful with muscle that bulged with every movement. His back and shoulders had broadened significantly and his chest had grown some decent muscle tits with an incredibly sensitive pair of nipples to match. It was insane! Even his ass had grown into a huge muscular bubble butt now! And as crazy as it all was, he couldn’t help but stop and admire his new and improved body.

His admiration of his newly sculpted body was soon cut short however as the wind rushed back in an instant, sending Adam straight back into trance even deeper than before. This time it felt as though an invisible pair of lips had wrapped themselves around his cock and were sucking on it gently as they guided him slowly towards an opening in another forest higher up the mountain. Almost like he was being tugged along by his cock while being sucked off. Of course the enchanted Adam didn’t question this one bit as he allowed his dick to lead the way while failing to notice how, despite being fully hard, it still seemed to be growing longer and thicker somehow.

Unlike when he’d made his way through the forest lower down the mountain, this time a clear pathway made itself visible. Leaves and branches actively moving out of Adam’s way without him having to lift a finger as if they were alive. Now allowing him easy entry to continue ascending until he reached wherever the wind was taking him.

After about an hour of walking and having his now monster dick edged constantly the whole way, Adam finally reached an opening in the forest. He’d reached the peak it seemed and what he saw was something nobody would’ve believed had they not seen it with their own eyes. There was an entire campsite of hunky naked men! Some of them were simply lying around, displaying their bodies, others were actively flexing and admiring themselves while other were straight up fucking each other raw and filling one another’s holes with thick cum. Normally this would be enough to have Adam running for the hills but the wind reassured him that this was all normal. That he belonged here now. He silently complied before walking into the testosterone filled camp, his hard sensitive cock bobbing up and down with every step.

“Ah there you are. Adam is it?” Called a somewhat familiar voice. Adam turned his head to see a man sitting on what looked to be some kind of throne. He was a naked hunk just like all the other men. Huge, hairy and muscled with dark hair and a big bushy beard the seemed surprisingly well kept despite him living up on a mountain it seemed. He was currently being worshipped by two other thick meatheads as well. One of which was even hairier than he was with a coating a blonde fur covering his large body while the other one was a handsome ginger that seemed much less hairy however he more than made up for it with his enormous ass! And of course both men also had nice thick beards which seemed to be a running theme in this camp. Hell even Adam’s own beard had grown thicker and longer on his journey. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get here. It’s been about a year since we’ve had any fresh meat.” He continued. That’s when it hit Adam. This man. It was him. The whole time. The voice whispering in his ear. The wind telling him what to do and think. It was all him! “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll feel right at home around here soon enough.”

Every ounce of what was left of Adam’s free will was screaming out in distress. Telling him to get away as fast as possible. Yet his body wouldn’t move. Only continuing to stand before this king of hunks with the fattest hard on. Unfortunately for Adam however, this man wasn’t a king but rather a powerful wizard and as such was able to hear those inner thoughts his new recruit was having.

“Oh? You’re still resisting?” The man said as if it were comical. “Boys. Drain him dry.” He commanded and just like that the two men that’d been worshipping him turned to face Adam with lustful grins on their faces before immediately getting to work. Kissing, licking and groping each and every part of Adam’s body while they teased him with theirs. He tried to resist as much as he could but when the ginger one started waving his giant fat muscle ass in front of Adam, basically pressing it against the throbbing cock, he just couldn't stop himself from slamming his cock inside!

“That’s it boy! Drain those balls and your free will along with em!” The wizard shouted and with all the edging Adam had already received, that encouragement was all he needed. Moments later Adam let out an almost animalistic roar as he blew the fattest load of his life inside the other hunk’s tight hole while simultaneously submitting to this hunky wizard. Any will of his own was now completely erased and replaced with nothing but thoughts of muscular men, dicks and ass. Along with his free will he also shot out a big chunk of his intelligence as well, dumbing him right down until he was cursed to be a horny himbo on top of this mountain for the rest of his life. Breeding and being bred to no end as that was his purpose now.

“Incredible work you two!” Adam’s new master praised the two men that’d made him bust and submit. “Now how about you both go and show our new friend around the camp huh? I’m sure everyone is excited to get to know him better and I bet Adam is just excited to meet everyone else, isn’t that right Adam?” He asked with a smirk.

Adam simply gave the wizard a dumb smile before replying. “Yes sir. I can’t wait.” And with that the two men interlocked their arms with Adam’s and led him off to meet all the other horny men in the camp of whom he’d be getting to know very well, very soon. The Wizard couldn’t help but grin maliciously as he watched his newest member begin integrating into the small society he’d created. He couldn’t help but wonder how this new recruit would fair in the upcoming tournament he planned to hold on which man was going to be his next host. After all it’d been over a year since the last so it was about time he switch things up again…

To be continued?…

#magic #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #male transformation #jock #permanent #male hypno #dumbing down

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 1 year

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modern au fits! basically wanted to translate some of tintin’s most iconic looks.

From left to right, top to bottom:

- His basic day-to-day - just a crew neck sweater, white t-shirt, cargo joggers and a pair of leather trainers. The big baggy trousers Tintin famously wears are plus fours - breeches that extend four inches below the knee (hence the name!). They were introduced in the 20s and gained popularity as sportswear in the 30s as they allowed a greater range of movement. I gave Tintin cargo joggers for that sporty feel while still keeping him feeling preppy, and pockets are always useful! Snowy wears a collar now.

- A take on the Yellow Shirt and Grey Sweater Vest Look from the earlier comics, a long sleeve baseball t-shirt with the corresponding colours! isnt menswear exciting

- Thought an all blue tracksuit and plimsolls with a baseball cap and glasses to hide his face would be fun as I guess dressing in traditional Chinese clothing wouldn’t make much sense as a disguise in modern day China. Chang would wear yellow crocs.

- The spacesuit! When Herge wrote Destination Moon and Explorers on the Moon the moon landing didn’t happen yet - it was a piece of speculative science fiction. He modelled his suits very closely to actual speculative spacesuits from scientific sources. In a similar spirit I based this design off the MIT Bio-Suit, an experimental spacesuit that uses elasticity to maintain pressure on the human body rather than gas pressurisation which is used currently. The idea is to reduce bulk, which should make mobility easier. We’re probably still a long way from using spacesuits like this but hey!

- basically looked up what modern mountaineering equipment looks like today. I imagine the bright colours help with spotting climbers out in the snow - there’s a part of Mt Everest called Rainbow Valley - it’s so-called because the colourful coats of various dead climbers dot the landscape, frozen in place because it’s too dangerous to retrieve the bodies. Sherpas often risk their lives for poor pay to the benefit of wealthy tourists wanting a bit of Everest glory - Herge made efforts to point this out in Tintin in Tibet through the character of Tharkey. Sadly things haven’t seemed to have changed much in that regard.

- A bomber jacket with a fur lined hood and snow boots. I absolutely loved his outfit in The Shooting Star, and Snowy’s little bib and pink ribbon! style icons honestly

#fanart #tintin #Adventures of Tintin #snowy #milou #modern au #destination moon #explorers on the moon #tintin in tibet #the shooting star #the blue lotus #photoset #woof the first drawings in this set are rough #you can see my drawings get better as the set continues lmao #abdullah bullies him for having Zero Drip #tintin dresses for comfort and practicality

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dellalyra · 1 year

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CONGRATS ON THE 1.5k!!!!!!! that’s so exciting and well deserved :)) for your event can i request a gojo thirst about his slutty little black t shirt? (i’m still thinking about it god help me)

A/N: I need a cold shower I’m sorry this is so self indulgent bc I would drop down no questions asked for that man. Filled w smut - shameless really. Hint of a degradation kink nd Dom gojo but mostly the biggest warning is his slutty black shirt. MDNI

Sitting beside Shoko and Nanami, you saw your boyfriend come into the bar you all were meeting for drinks after work - he'd come straight from a mission and Jesus he knew what he was doing. All you can hear is blood running through your ears when he struts toward the table - he did this on purpose is all you can think. You think you’ve forgotten how to breathe and he lifts his arms, strong and defined in a wave. He wrestles the other two into a hug and then leans in, a large hand snaking around to hold the small of your back, leaning down to whisper ‘hey, princess’ with a kiss to the shell of your ear and oh do you shiver at the feeling on his breath on your bare neck. All you can do is look up at him with wide eyes and he smirks, in his glasses, you can see your own eyes - the pretty colour of them almost completely disappeared underneath the dilated expanse of your pupils.

He knows what he's doing.

You can see other women sneer at you, jealousy was palpable. He's always gorgeous, otherworldly in beauty.

But fuck, that makes him positively provocative, he looks like walking sin and hell has never looked more appealing to you. You manage about 30 minutes of chatter between your oldest friends, squirming in your seat with the uncomfortable feeling of your far too damp panties clinging to your heat and you'd swear your pussy had its very own pulse. Nanami left to go to the bathroom, Shoko to get a top up and Satoru wraps his arm around your shoulder, and the heavy feeling of muscles and heat emanating from him makes you whimper.

“Fuck Princess, I knew I’d get a rise outta you but I didn’t think you’d be that much of a pathetic whore to whimper in public.” He smirks, fingers dancing down your arm, eyes looking directly at you through your glasses.

“Fuck you, ‘toru.” You reply, closing your eyes and tilting your head up until a finger nudges your chin so you’re directly looking at him.

“You can if you want, sugar. Wanna hop?” He asks, laying a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“God, please, I need - home. Now.” You whine into his neck, leaving a kitten lick behind because you just can’t help yourself when he is wearing that.

He makes an excuse to Shoko and wraps his arm around your waist and you’re outside and then you’re home and in your room and he’s pushing you onto you knees beside the bed - and looking up at him through your lashes what you see could easily be a god.

His skin tight, black muscle tee is so fucking fitted that every crevice and expanse of him is highlighted in it’s shadows. His bulk, usually hidden in his uniform is fully on display like artwork at the Louvre and you’re there to worship him. To praise the masterpiece that is the way the sleeves hug his goddamn arms with biceps and triceps stretching the fabric to it’s very limit - bursting at the seams. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as the sight of you, in your pretty party dress, on your knees nearly knocks him for six. The definition of his back is easily seen in the mirror behind him, the planes of his abs are just calling for your tongue’s exploration as he lifts the hem of his shirt to bite between his teeth and slaps his long, pretty cock across your glossy lips.

“This what a fuckin’ T-shirt does to you? Christ, I wonder how much of a whore my cock’ll make you then, filthy fuckin’ girl. Now c’mon, might be nice to you if you suck me real good baby.”

#pixie needs a cold shower #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo smut #gojo thirst #jjk thirsts

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hotluncheddie · 3 months

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sorry just one more thing 🫣 I've been obsessed with chubby but still athletic Steve.. like he's truly doughy and round and he still loves being outside and playing basketball and swimming and he likes it even more now in this powerful body that is so completely his ........ you are a repository for all my chubby Steve thoughts so please accept this humble offering.....

oh i am always obsessed with thick round buff chubby stocky strong steve!!!

[please i am so so happy to be your chubby steve repository! keep em comin! its so so fun to get so many chubby steve asks!!! also sorry this is just an series of ideas kinda lol]

i really like using hopper (s3 specifically barkbark) as like body inspo for steve. that strong solid build, broad shoulders, big arms, but always with a good layer of squish.

i think steves legs would be thicker though, and his belly a little bigger, a little rounder maybe. so imagine that for this post, for your lovely juicy anon prompt <3

very into him playing basketball and swimming again, especially if its with the other members of the party. i just love steve being happy, feeling strong and confident and in control of his body. and that vibe just making the people around him feel comfortable, feel safe. hes their big guy. still their protector but now it’s little things, normal life things, not like, monsters.

and eddie? oh eddie would love it.

[i was gonna use this scenario for a micro fic but i’m giving it to u bc i want him to be round and meaty :) ]

i just imagine steve turning his parents garage into a place to weight train. so when eddie comes over, sees the open garage door, music blasting, he’s treated to a sight.

steve in a t-shirt with the hem cut off like 3 inches and the sleeves gone. in gym shorts and tube socks and sneakers. belly hairy and round and out. arms pumping weights and eddie’s cant believe how fucking strong his boyfriend is, has gotten.

like steve on a workout bench, lifting the weights above his head. stomach muscles bunching, making the fat bounce. all of him a little sweaty, grunting with effort. eddie just stands and stares.

and then steve sits up from the workout bench, belly resting in his lap. smirking at eddie standing there frozen. steve stands and shakes out his arms, wiping a towel over his face and neck, down his chest and over his happy trail. then he says to give him a sec eddie ‘warm down stretches.’

and eddie has to watch his boyfriend lunge and bend. watch his ass jiggle and bunch. watch his belly do the same. eddie’s so red, he’s so hard in his jeans.

and then steve finally takes pity on him. closing the garage door and laying back down on the bench. letting eddie stand over him and finish because he can see eddie won’t take long, needs it. and it’s okay because steve knows they can go in and share a shower. and eddie can go again.

steve getting a second order of breakfast and slamming two milkshakes at the diner. talking about ‘bulking’ and how he ‘needs the protein. and like, eddie will agree that his muscles are bigger now. but so is his belly. not that eddie’s complaining, not at all, he honestly kind of thinks steve says those things just because it makes eddie blush. knowing how big he is, how strong, eddie likes seeing how much he can eat.

steve manhandling eddie’s in bed, like he can actually for real throw him around if he wanted. makes eddie’s kind of breathless to think about. they’ve tried so many different positions now that steve can hold eddie up. getting fucked against a wall, belly helping to hold him there. yeah, that was a good one.

but also the sweet lovely ability eddie still has, to just take steve apart. his big strong steve who he can still turn into a whining, writhing mess, just with a few words and soft touches. eddie loves it, it’s so so special.

kissing steves stretch marks. he has a few on his arms, his hips. one special one that stretches over his pec, that’s eddie favourite. steve was embarrassed about them but then eddie spent time cherishing them. and mentioned how steve already has scars, but he got these from being happy. so now sometimes robin has to beg steve to put a shirt on. and steve will, but he loves his new body. he’s proud of all his scars.

(sorry this took a while anon, but please believe me i love getting chubby steve asks)

@scoops-aboy86 u might enjoy :)

#hotlunch #anon #this was nothing and then there was suddenly kind of a lot #<3 #chubby steve harrington #steddie wg

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orivaa-kun · 10 months

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BAD ATTITUDE | Chapter 1: About That Life

chapter word count: 8k warnings: mature (18+), violence, drinking, drug use, smut, fluff, angst, feels, rough s*x pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem OC, Geto Suguru x Fem OC, Nanami Kento x Fem OC, Fushiguro Toji x Fem OC series summary: Jujutsu Kaisen Yakuza AU where Riku Ozaki (OC) is really good at getting herself into trouble. Though the Ozaki family is ranked #10 out of the 15 clans of the Tokyo Yakuza syndicate in terms of power & strength; and the Gojo, Geto, and Zenin families fall at #1, #2, and #3 respectively; that doesn't keep her from getting in the mix with these highly ranked, highly dangerous men. Her clan's bodyguard, Nanami, can hardly keep up with all the compromising positions she constantly finds herself in. Will she ever learn her lesson? Find out on the next episode of Dragon Ba- fic playlist: Spotify YouTube

Riku groans when she hears her phone alarm chime for the fourth time tonight but begins to stir beneath the covers of her futon. All she wanted to do was rest after a long day of work – but it was that time of year again, the night of the annual gala for all Tokyo Yakuza clans.

Riku hears footsteps in the hall outside of her room, “You better be getting ready in there,” her cousin Umika warns, before swiftly sliding the screen door open and flicking on the lights. Umika sighs at the sight of Riku still in bed and shakes her head, “Typical.” Umika is already wearing her fitted, black maxi dress with lace sleeves that’s rose pattern beautifully curled around the deep tan skin of her arms. Her hair is blown out into big ringlet curls that fell around her face and reached her shoulders.

“The fuck are we celebrating, anyways… another year of crime?” Riku grumbles and throws the covers over her own head.

Umika sighs, crossing her arms as she stood in the doorway, “Riku, you know this is about showing respect to the top clans. Not going would be disrespectful in itself. Also, that crime paid for this house, so show a little appreciation, yeah?”

Riku doesn’t know why she tries to reason with Umika of all people, but continues to anyways, “But shouldn’t Uncle Jin be enough? He’s the leader of the clan, and you’re his heir!” She pulls the covers down to look at Umika.

“Look, I don’t make the rules. You get invited to the gala, you go. If you don’t, bad shit happens, and our whole family takes the hit. That’s it. Now get off your ass!”

Riku moans in feigned agony, “Fine.” She slips out of her futon, beginning to fold it up on the tatami covered floor.

“And you better hurry, too; my dad is already on the way there.” Umika begins to slide the screen door back, leaving Riku’s room, “We’re leaving in 15!”

“You hate me!” Riku shouts, dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah…” Umika waves the comment away, already down the hall once more.

When Riku appears in the main room, she’s wearing a champagne-colored, silk, and sleeveless mini dress that shimmered under the light. Without time to flat iron or do much of anything to her hair, she’d decided to wear her jet black curls in a neat, high bun, and dedicated the bulk of her 15 minutes to doing a quick ‘no-makeup’ makeup look. She fumbles her hand around in her white and black leather-lined clutch, making sure she has the essentials, “Umika, do you know where my black hee-”

Umika raises the pair of black, red-bottoms up in the air, already approaching the front door, “Let’s go.”

“Thank you, Umika~!” Riku smiles over at her cousin lovingly, which is promptly ignored.

Nanami glances up from his phone at Umika’s announcement, eyes widening briefly when he sees Riku. He stands and whistles, taking a moment to admire her long legs and the glow of her café au lait skin, “Wow, you look nice-”

Riku smiles, about to thank him but is cut off by his next words.

“-was beginning to think you only wore sweatpants and t-shirts.” The blonde teases, smirking. Nanami wore an all-black suit tonight, different from his usual tan and blue shirt combination. He’s only 4 years older than Riku (25) and 2 years older than Umika (27), but he’s always far more serious about his work, that is, unless he’s having a drink with friends or cracking jokes at Riku’s expense.

She frowns, “You know, Kento, a clan bodyguard should be a lot nicer than you are.” Riku heads to the door and retrieves her heels from Umika before slipping into them.

Nanami follows behind her to activate the automatic lock on the door, “A clan bodyguard protects the clan,” he shrugs, “sorry sweetheart, not obligated to do anything else.” He begins to set up the home security system from his phone app as they make their way outside.

“Isn’t our family still ranked 11th out of the 15 clans in Tokyo?” Riku asks, genuinely, “Why do we have to go to this thing after all these damn years?” She briefly looks over the massive, combined traditional and modern style Japanese property that she and the whole Ozaki clan call home – though, it had been a bit empty with Uncle Jin and others out on business. As always, Umika and Riku were left to handle the day-to day tasks of their family’s businesses while their elders have other issues to attend to.

The trio approaches the black Chevy SUV parked in the center of the driveway circle, and Nanami opens the back door for the two women, “Your family is ranked 10th now, and though the rankings are based on each clan’s strength and annual generated revenue, we all still work together…”

“…to contribute to the Tokyo syndicate.” Riku choruses the last part with Nanami as she slips into the car behind Umika, having heard this sentence uttered at least a hundred times by Tokyo clan leaders. She rolls her eyes, “I know. Just seems useless for us to be traveling an hour into and out of the city to play dress up and drink expensive champagne... when we could, you know, be resting so we can actually have the energy to run all our damn studios, museums, and concert venues, ya know?”

Nanami closes the door once Riku is inside then slips into the driver’s seat before starting the car, “Ri, I’m already working overtime protecting you two today – you don’t have to convince me.” He begins to steer the SUV out of the circle and onto the main stretch of driveway that led to a large glossy black and bronze gate that slowly began to open at Nanami’s press of a button beside the rear-view mirror.

“You’re mistaken, Riku,” Umika speaks up, in the midst of typing up an email for something that was most likely business related, “this is part of the job.”

Riku lets her cousin’s words sink in. Well, Umika isn’t wrong about that. For a minute, Riku wonders how many other members of the Tokyo Yakuza would rather not be at the gala tonight.

“Ken, can you turn the music up?” Riku asks; it would be a long ride, after all.

“Sure thing, Ms. Ozaki.” Nanami nearly coos with a bit of extra formality, mostly because he knows how much Riku hates being addressed by her clan and family name.

When they arrive at the Gojo clan’s estate – well, one of the Gojo clan’s many estates in Tokyo – Nanami exits the driver’s seat and opens the back door for Umika and Riku before offering his hand to help each of them step down from the SUV. He meets eyes with Riku when she takes his hand, “Ma’am.”

“Shut up, Kento.”

He smirks just barely, then closes the door and tosses the keys to the valet.

There are two guards in all black suits and shades who nod at each other after sizing the three of them up, then move to open the main door to the conglomerate of mansion-like buildings. If the Ozaki home is massive, this is… simply otherworldly. It would take hours just to walk through the entire estate once. While one of the guards taps the com in his ear and mumbles something about the rest of the Ozaki family invitees entering, Riku glances over the expansive acres of property that she had only seen a few times before in years past. She takes in and notes the obvious Roman and British influences on the structure of the main building’s pillars, marble work, courtyard, and ivory shading. As visually overwhelming as the estate is, she can’t deny it is the perfect place to host hundreds of wealthy yakuza assholes.

The main door opens and the talkative noise of gangsters chatting and live musicians playing in the great ballroom immediately hits their ears. Two women in uniform check them for weapons then greet and welcome them in the entryway. The artist in Riku can’t help but hate the elaborate combination of white marble and gold all over the floors and walls; it was too stuffy and there was hardly any real sense of artistic intention driving the floor plan nor décor of this mansion, other than money, “Ugh… they call this a home?” Riku says beneath her breath, mostly to Umika who walked beside her, “Gross. How could anyone seriously live here?”

“Shh!” Umika quickly retorts, “Not the time!!” She whisper yells between closed teeth.

A uniformed man with a tray of champagne flutes strides over, and Riku takes a glass while Umika waves her hand at the man to decline. If Riku has to be here, she at least wants something to bear it a little easier. She takes a long sip from the glass as Umika scans the ballroom for her father, finally catching sight of Jin Ozaki who just happens to be at one of the bars shaking hands with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto – the youngest and strongest clan leaders of the Tokyo syndicate. That said, they are still about Nanami’s age. There’s an overwhelming presence from that side of the room in general, and Riku doesn’t want to be anywhere near it.

“Oh great, it’s your friends.” Riku remembered Nanami sharing that he’d gone to the same private school with Gojo and Geto. She takes another, much longer sip from her glass, nearly finishing it.

“I’m gonna say hi to dad and some folks. You coming?” Umika asks, with zero excitement in her voice.

“Over there? Absolutely not.” Riku shakes her head. Gojo and Geto are the strongest for a reason and isn’t just because of their clans’ combined manpower and money. It’s because of their dangerously powerful business skills and practices. They are ruthless when it comes to advancing their goals and clan business ventures and aren’t afraid to use violence to get what they want – or so Riku hears, “I’ll catch up with Uncle Jin at our table.”

Riku strides over to the seated area where a gala waitress directs her to her table. Riku thanks her when they arrive at a table with a card in the center that reads ‘10’… 10th place out of the 15 families… of course, she thinks, “Thank you, I don’t know you all remember all these names to be able to direct us so easily…” Riku says in an apologetic tone, sitting in the seat that had her name card in front of it. Of course, her seat faces the back of the room instead of the stage and she would have to twist her neck just to look at the front. She isn’t from a top ranked clan and isn’t even the heir of the family. It all makes sense, but that doesn’t make this petty seating bullshit any less annoying.

The waitress rubs the back of her neck with a shy laugh, “Hah, it’s just part of the job, ma’am. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait for the rest of the Ozaki family?” The dining area is practically empty as most are socializing over near the open bars and live music.

“Uh, yes. Can I get a really strong old fashioned, and another glass of champagne?” Riku tucks her clutch next to her in the seat and neatly folds her hands over her lap.

“Of course, Ms. Ozaki!” As soon as the words leave the waitress’s mouth, a man in uniform appears behind her and is already refilling her flute, “Just a moment for the old fashioned.” She smiles in a practiced yet kind way.

Riku nods and the woman disappears. Riku releases a soft sigh as her eyes trail over the whole ballroom, squinting a bit as she she now sees Nanami and Geto laughing and clinking glasses of whiskey, while Umika chats with some friends of hers on the opposite side of the room. Part of her wonders where Gojo and Uncle Jin had gone but she doesn’t try to think much about it. For all she knows they could be in a back room talking business or something.

Riku opens the clutch at her side to check her phone for the time. 21:40. It would be 20 minutes until the gala starts, “20 minutes closer to getting the fuck out of here…” She mutters under her breath.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

Riku turns in her seat to find two men standing behind her, one with his hand on her chair, “Hi,” she manages in a voice that is more customer-service sounding than authentic. The man with his hand on her chair seems to be in his late 30s and wears a flashy burgundy suit, while the other looks to be in his 40s and has on a gold-colored tux. Both are fashion choices that make Riku want to throw up in her mouth a little bit.

“What’s your name, sexy?” The one in the burgundy suit questions with a crooked smirk; both men look like they’ve undoubtedly been in countless fights with the many tiny scars littered around their hands and faces.

“Reina, nice to meet you,” she lied instinctively, offering her hand to shake with the man in burgundy then the one in the gold suit. She did not want her real first name floating around with whoever these guys were friends with. “You two are…?” She waits for the men to share their names.

“Reina? That’s pretty,” the man in burgundy replies, “I’m Akio, and he’s Kaito. We’re Zenin clan muscle.” Of course. Even with all their internal and external issues, the Zenin clan deals in weapons and has continued to rank 3rd for over 20 years now. Their sheer brutality is undoubtedly a big reason behind it.

Kaito lifts Riku’s hand to his mouth to kiss, instead of shaking it.

Literally kill me right now. Riku thinks to herself, continuing to feign a smile, “Haha, thank you…”

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing all by herself?” Kaito steps closer, both men towering over Riku as she’s still sitting and they’re pretty tall, themselves.

“Just waiting on my family, and bodyguard to sit down.” Riku emphasizes the last part, but the men pay no mind. They were far too busy raking their all-too-conspicuous eyes over every inch of her body. This is what Riku dreads about these kinds of functions. She glances over to where she last saw Nanami, but he’s still drinking with Geto. What do we even pay him for?

“Right,” Akio dismisses Riku’s words with his tone, breaking his gaze with her to glance over at the table; he spots the big number ’10,’ “Ten… that’s the Ozaki family this year – right, Kai?’

“Mhm.” Kaito nods affirmatively, “Who knew they had girls like this in the Ozaki family?”

“Hard to tell when they’ve never ranked under 10 before.” Akio says, and the two man laugh. “Can’t even see if they’re ugly or not, since they’re so damn far from our tables at the front of the ballroom!” He adds and their laughter turns into an all-out guffaw.

Riku’s fake smile quickly falters into a glare, “Well at least I’m not in the same family as you incestuous, murder-loving motherfuckers with dicks for brains. What’s wrong? Got tired of keeping it in the family and wanna hit on me? What will your sister-wives think?” Riku mocks, boldly. The whole ‘keeping it in the bloodline’ thing is more of a yakuza rumor, but Riku knows how much Zenin folks hate hearing it.

The men’s laughter comes to an immediate halt. Kaito bends over so his face is hardly a few centimeters from Riku’s, and Akio’s knuckles turn white at the tightness of his grasp on Riku’s chair, the wood creaking beneath his strong grip, “The fuck did you say, bitch?” Kaito questions, nearly spitting the words at her.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not afraid to teach a low rank cunt a lesson, even if she is yakuza.” Akio says, still standing up straight but glaring down at Riku, “Might even be fun, too.” He grins, sickly.

And the danger of the situation doesn’t hit Riku until this very moment. She tries to remain calm and keep her facial expression cool, but it’s more than obvious that she’s completely pissed these Zenin guys off, and she can’t help but fear how they might react.

Once again, her mouth had gotten her into trouble. Oops.

“Hey gentlemen, why don’t we keep things respectful and give the lady some space, hm?” A new voice enters their conversation, one Riku had only heard at a distance. It’s an unmistakable one.

Satoru Gojo placed his hands on the backs of the two Zenin men, and they’re ripped out of their anger-ridden trance at the sight of the white-haired man. He wears a royal blue, fitted 3-piece suit that is perfectly tailored to his tall and toned body. Small black spectacles sit low on the bridge of his nose so his cerulean eyes peek through.

The Zenin men back away, “Whatever,” Kaito mutters, shaking his head. Nobody wanted to fight Satoru Gojo. And now was not the time nor place.

Akio starts to walk away from the table with his friend by his side, “Better pray we don’t catch you alone again…” he taunts.

“Or what?” Gojo asks honestly with a dangerous glint in his eye. Riku’s pulse thumps loudly in her head when she feels the light pressure of his large hand on her shoulder.

Akio shakes his head, “Nothin’.” And the men depart to another section of the ballroom.

Gojo waits until the men are at a distance before focusing his attention to Riku.

“You good?” He takes his hand off her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Riku quickly collects herself, regaining her composure. She clears her throat, “I mean I had that covered, but thanks.”

Gojo blinks down at Riku a few times in complete silence, then suddenly bursts into laughter.

Riku feels her cheeks redden. It was that obvious she was in trouble?

When Gojo recovers from his fit of laughter, he taps Riku’s shoulder, “But seriously, beautiful, you should be more careful about what you say to these guys – sick as most of ‘em are.” Gojo suddenly drops into a squat so that he and Riku are nearly at eye level, his gaze just below hers, “What’s your name?”

The sudden proximity to Gojo makes her stagger over her words, “Reina.” Riku isn’t sure why she lies this time, perhaps out of nervous instinct?

“Reina, right.” Gojo briefly furrows his brows, “Ozaki family so you help handle the arts businesses in our city, right?”

“Yep. And you are…?” Riku asks, stretching her arm in Gojo’s direction and obviously acting as a sort of jab at Gojo. Everyone here knew who Gojo was, regardless if they’d met him personally or not. But something about his cool and confident nature makes Riku want to take him down a few notches.

“Satoru Gojo,” he chuckles out before lightly squeezing her hand, “well, if you need anything tonight, come find me, alright?” He continues to hold eye contact with Riku while he lightly flicks the name card in front of her that clearly displays her real name, “Nice to meet you, Riku Ozaki.” He winks at her, then stands before striding off towards the opposite side of the room and continuing to greet yakuza.

Riku puts her face into her hands, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

Just then the waitress reappears with Riku’s old fashioned and sets it down on the table, “Everything alright, ma’am?”

“Just perfect.”

Riku uses her fork to gently fiddle with the shrimp pasta she’d selected from the three gala menu options; it was okay, just not very flavorful. She sits beside her Aunt Risako - who’s Uncle Jin’s wife and cousin Umika’s mom. Nanami sat on the other side of her.

“You’re not going to eat?” Aunt Risako asks, cutting into her ribeye steak, “It’s good!” She smiled over at her niece, her short brown bob framing her face.

The room had finally quieted down as countless members from the 15 Tokyo families sat around their respective tables, talking, eating, and drinking between various gala speeches. Riku mirrors her aunts smile in return, “I will in a bit, just not that hungry now.”

Uncle Jin had already presented his talk about the recent venues our family had acquired and how it continues to increase our family’s income and contribution in an exponential way, but most of the families chatted through; they were far more interested in the Zenin’s talk about weapons or the Geto family’s speech about their drugs. No one cared about the arts much until it came time for entertainment.

A trio of spinning poles had been set up on the stage and Riku watches as three women pole dancers in elaborately lacy, tight costumes stroll out to dance their practiced routine. Riku recalls two of the girls’ faces, remembering that she’s she stood in to teach a handful of classes at their family’s dance studio a couple of times. Regardless, many of the men flock towards the stage to get a closer look, gawk at, and throw bills at the girls. It makes Riku want to step out for a moment. They’re not strippers, they’re pole dancers. There’s a big difference.

She pushes her chair a bit away from the table before standing and retrieving her clutch.

“Where you going?” Nanami asked, currently taking a bite of salmon.

“Bathroom.” Riku says, already waking back towards the ballroom entrance where the powder rooms and restrooms were. Riku is about to enter one but spots a more secluded bar that appears to be in a side room. She slides through the half open door’s small opening, which reveals a small yet extravagant lounge room and spread of countertop, a collection of old and expensive bottles on display behind the bar. There are only five yakuza inside and one single staff behind the bar, and this puts Riku’s mind at ease as she was happy to be away from the noise. She sits down on one of the leather bar stools, surprised by how comfy it was.

“Anything for you, ma’am?” The man behind the counter asks, wiping a class with a white rag.

Riku is already five drinks in, having had three glasses of champagne and two old fashioneds… She decides to tone it down a bit as her face was already beginning to feel warm, “Do you have a… sparkling chenin blanc by chance?”

“We do.” He smiles, “Loire Valley and all. Want to give it a try?”

“Yes, please.”

The man nods and starts to retrieve a bottle from a refrigerated shelf that’s still somehow covered in a thin sheet of dust; Riku doesn’t want to think about how expensive it is.

“Rare grape.”

Riku only notices the man behind her when he speaks up, her heart jumping in surprise when she turns to see the other half of the duo she did not want to be around tonight.

“Rare, yes, but amazing when you find a good bottle.” Riku is glad she has a few drinks in her, as her reply definitely wouldn’t have been as calm without them.

Suguru Geto plops down on the seat beside Riku, eyes holding hers as he does so. He wears a deep red shirt and a gray suit that was nearly black, his suit jacket tossed on the bar stool on the opposite side of him to reveal the red dress shirt that’s fabric is rolled up to reveal his sleeves of colorful dragon tattoos beneath which stretch all the way up to his neck. His hands were clothed in black leather gloves, “You’re right about that.” He agrees, lips curing in a small smirk as his small black eyes seemed to smile at her, “What are you doing in here?” He questions. Geto quickly diverts his attention to the bartender and taps his glass for a refill of whatever whiskey he’s drinking.

“Just needed a breather.”

Geto eyes quickly dart around around the room before refocusing on Riku, “You got a bodyguard?”

Riku rubs her fingers over the stem of her wine glass when it’s placed in front of her, “Yes.” She sighs out, “But I can handle myself.”

Geto chuckles at Riku’s response, not expecting her to be so offended by the question, “Just looking out for you, sweetheart. This is a dangerous place.” He takes a closer look at her, before raising a brow, “Ozaki family, right?”

Riku’s eyes widen in genuine surprise by the fact that he knows, sure they hadn’t personally met before, “Yeah… how’d you know?”

He lifts a finger from his glass to poke in her direction as the bartender refills it, “Your posture. I know a dancer’s body when I see one.” He takes a swig after his glass is topped off.

Riku isn’t sure why Geto’s words make her blush, but they do. She takes a sip of wine to hide it.

“What’s your name?”

She doesn’t dare lie again, “Riku.”

“What characters do you use?”

“Dignity, or awe-inspiring for the ‘Ri’ and sky for the ‘ku.’”

“That’s fitting. You’re gorgeous.” Geto’s smirk grows, but only for a moment. His smile softens as he leans over, closing a lot of the space between them. Riku is sort of startled by how intimate the other is able to make something as trivial as a greeting. Geto pokes his hand in her direction, the words spilling so soft and kindly from his mouth that they truly feel like a compliment, “Very nice to meet you, Riku. Call me Suguru.” Geto’s long black hair falls over his shoulder and Riku gets a whiff of his cologne. Of course, he smells great.

“Nice to meet you, Suguru.” Riku slowly shakes Geto’s hand, internally screaming. She could not take being so close to the drug clan’s leader for this long. Though it was just a greeting, her heart was doing backflips out of surprise, attraction, fear…? She’s unsure of which one; perhaps all three. First Gojo, now him?

“Tell me about yours-” Geto starts, but both of their thoughts are silenced by the sound of an automatic gun shooting into the air of the main ballroom.

Their eyes widen, and Riku is frozen in her seat with fear. Through the small opening of the door, she’s able to spot suited men with rifles enter the ballroom en masse, the whole room beginning to stir with yells and screams. The thunder of a hundred footsteps sounds as yakuza leaders, wives, and their adult children trample towards the main doors.

Before she realizes it, Geto is already at the side of the door in a safe position. He retrieves his handgun from his waistband and holds it expertly between his hands, ready to shoot anything or anyone that may enter the side room they were in.

The bartender and few other folks in the room had already fled, leaving just the two of them.

“You need to get out of here gorgeous.” Geto says, nodding towards the exit opposite to the door he currently stands by – that leads to the great ballroom where gunshots continuously sound. Riku is still frozen.

“Riku? Riku!” When she snaps out of her daze, Geto is at her side, her arm in his tight grasp, “I said you need to get out of here!” He shouts over the screams and shots in the ballroom. Wasn’t this supposed to be a weaponless event?!

“B-But my family!!”

“You better hope your bodyguard is protecting them,” He begins, but is cut off when two men notably from the Zenin clan appear, guns raised in Geto’s direction.

Geto doesn’t hesitate, using one hand to move Riku behind his back to shield her and the other to quickly shoot down the two men, hitting one in the hand and the other in his abdomen.

Riku watches in horror as their blood begins to spread over the marble floor, the color draining from her face.

“Zenin clan? What the fuck…?” Geto trails off in thought, not scared like Riku but equally astonished by this recent turn of events.

The two of them are both alarmed when Gojo barges through a third door Riku didn’t notice before, the white-haired man’s black spectacles now gone and his suit a bit disheveled – most likely from fighting.

His piercing blue eyes dart to Riku in confusion, “You…?” He shakes the distraction from his head before looking over at his friend, breathing heavily from previously running.

“The fuck is going on, Satoru??!”

“It’s Toji. Toji and a bunch of muscle from the Zenin clan are staring an uprising.” He walks closer to his friend and Riku, who’s still tucked behind his Geto’s back.

“Fuck.” Geto releases Riku to roughly run a hand through his hair.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Gojo peers down at Riku in confusion, anger, and concern, but mostly anger, “Your family’s already outside!”

Riku was relieved to at least hear that and opens her mouth, about to explain herself; Geto cuts her off, “We need to get her the fuck out of here.” He says, surprisingly calm.

Gojo releases an exasperated sigh, shaking his head and looking at Riku in a pissed sort of way that explains everything he isn’t saying: that she would slow them down, “Jesus Christ, beautiful, you sure are fucking good at getting your ass into trouble.” He grabs her arm, pulling her into his side before starting to make his way towards the 3rd door he’d just entered through that leads to a connecting meeting space.

Gojo and Geto are on high alert as they maneuver though the space, stopping behind tables and desks to occasionally scan the room for any hidden intruders. When a bald man in a bright orange suit enters, Gojo tosses Riku into Geto, and she yelps. Geto’s thick tattooed arm locks around her waist and pulls her into him as his friend handles the bald man with a few powerful punches and a harsh kick to his side. The man falls to the floor, immediately falling unconscious.

This continues through a series of connecting rooms, Riku practically being thrown between Gojo and Geto as they punched and shot their way through the mansion, most likely aiming for the building’s back exit. Geto feels Riku’s body tremble with fear one of the times he’s holding her and can’t help but feel for her. It’s obvious she isn’t used to this kind of violence and if this is what it means to be a member of one of the higher ranked families, then Riku wants no parts of it.

“Don’t worry, babe. We got you.” He tries to reassure her, briefly squeezing the arm he had wrapped around her waist while Gojo took out a duo of men in black suits.

Riku vaguely feels her phone vibrate from inside her clutch but it’s the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. She looks up at Geto, who’s eyes were still scanning the room. Riku could tell the soft smile on his lips was directed to her and nodded.

Suddenly, a side door busts open with a loud bang and five men pour in with guns drawn.

“Shit, beautiful, maybe not…” Suguru says so only Riku can hear.

“Everyone, hands up!” One of the armed men shout, pointing his gun in the direction of Gojo, who pushes his arms into the air in mock surrender.

“Hey, now, why don’t we settle this the old-fashioned way?” He asks with a smirk, as he was currently unarmed.

“Fuck you, Gojo.” The main man says, ignoring Satoru’s offer as fighting the strongest yakuza in Tokyo hand-to-hand was basically the same thing as letting him win, “Keep your hands up.”

Three of the men point their guns in Geto and Riku’s direction, “You two, too! Drop the gun, Geto!”

Geto does as the men say, allowing the silver handgun to thump to the floor before pushing his hands in the air. Riku follows suit, swiftly hiding her phone between her breasts before discarding her clutch altogether and raising her hands in the air.

“Out!” The fifth man commands, motioning with his gun for the three of them to exit the room and return to the main banquet hall.

The three of them slowly trail out and are led through the now completely abandoned ballroom - except for the five Zenin muscle that brought them here and one other man. Riku can tell the man is ripped just from his broad back alone. He turns and Riku sees the man she’d only heard rumors about prior to this moment.

A wicked grin spreads across his face at the sight of Gojo and Geto, and he starts to laugh, smile curving the large gash-like scar at the corner of his mouth. Toji. The undoubtedly powerful man wore a black suit like the bulk of his men, but it was visibly far more expensive than the rest. The tailored clothing just barely contained the thickness of his muscled form.

“Ah, just the people I’ve been meaning to see.”

“Awful to see you too, asshole.” Gojo replies with a smirk.

“What the fuck do you want now, Toji?” Geto asks, a look of disgust on his face. Guns still pointed at them so the three kept their hands raised.

“Well money of course, for one, but before that,” his eyes move to Riku. He walks over to her, a lustful, downright disgusting look in his eyes, “who do we have here?” He smooths his calloused, scar-littered fingers under Riku’s chin, trailing them down to her chest. She tries to push the man away, but he quickly grabs both her wrists in one of his hands, smirk only growing as Riku scowled up at the tall, bulky man.

“She’s no one,” Satoru starts, trying to protect her, “just a low rank clan family member. This isn’t about her.”

“Hey, fuck you, I’m not no one…” Riku starts, only realizing what Gojo was trying to do after the words slip from her lips. Her eyes widen.

Toji laughs again, closing the space between the two of them, “I like this one… She’s got some spunk to her.” Toji glances to Gojo and Geto with an evil look, “Would be fun to break her.”

“Toji you-” Gojo begins to move but freezes to the click of a handgun being loaded beside his ear.

“Whoa there, careful! Wouldn’t want to lose your brains now, would you?” Toji shouts, tone both overdramatic and disgusting, “Now, back to you, pretty…” He returns his gaze to Riku. Even if she’s no one to Gojo and Geto, Toji likes fucking with the duo’s sense of justice and knows they’d try to protect her regardless, “What’s your name?”

Riku spits in his face before responding, “None of your fucking business, prick.” She grumbles in anger, attitude as bad as ever. A small, satisfied smirk finds her lips as she watches her spit roll down Toji’s scarred face.

Geto exchanges looks with his friend, his exasperated expression saying everything words didn’t need to: Is this bitch crazy? Spitting at Toji??!

Toji’s grin turns into an unsatisfied look, clicking his tongue at Riku’s actions, “Now that’s not the answer I was looking for…” He shakes his head, removing his trailing fingers from Riku’s body before brutally smacking his palm over Riku’s cheek with a hard thump.

Riku’s head twists to the side, and she immediately begins to taste blood in her mouth as it is, without question, the strongest slap she’s ever received in her life. Pain jolts in the bones of her neck and she already begins to feel the skin of her face bruise and swell.

Toji grabs Riku’s face, and she feels like he could crush her skull in his hand if he wanted to. A tear streams down her swollen check at the intense pain. The man with spiky black hair repeats himself, an angered look in his eyes in response to Riku’s disrespectful action, “Your name.” He demands.

“Ymvr…” Riku mutters, barely able to speak with Toji’s grip on her jaw.

“What was that?” He leans in closer to the girl with a smirk as she writhes in pain, ear pushing closer to her lips.

“Your mother.” She finally manages, using Toji’s grip on her hands to steady herself as she quickly raises her legs, the bulky man now unintentionally holding her weight in the air as she swiftly sends the strongest kick she can manage to his balls.

“Agh!!” Toji’s face twists and he yells in agony, both him and Riku collapsing to the floor.

Gojo and Geto exchange looks again, both using the surprise of this situation as an opportunity to take out the two men directly behind each of them, first twisting and jabbing their arms to steal their guns away. They quickly make work of the rest of the five men, shooting some in non-vital places and kicking others.

All the while, Toji is groaning from the floor, “You bitch…!” He spits between clenched teeth, hands cupping his crotch.

Riku stumbles to her feet, abandoning her one remaining high heel before making a dash for the back door, “Coming?” She questions as she quickly breezes past Gojo and Geto, who had just finished kicking the last of the Zenin muscle.

“Yeah, let’s get the fuck outta here.” Gojo says with a final kick, and the two run out the door behind Riku.

“Uhh, car?!” Riku half asks, half yells once they’re outside, praying one of the two men had one nearby.

“Mhm, this way,” The dark of the night sky temporarily camouflages the men outside of Geto’s red shirt and Gojo’s white hair, that is, until Riku’s eyes adjust. Gojo reaches forward, “Matter of fact…” he grabs Riku’s waist and throws her over his shoulder, already beginning to move in an all-out sprint.

Riku yelps at suddenly being manhandled, now only able to see the white of Geto’s smirk as he ran behind Gojo. He thought this was funny?!

“What are you doing?!” She whisper-yells.

“Sorry, babe, easier to move this way.” Gojo gives the back of Riku’s thigh a small smack, that makes her face turn bright red with embarrassment.

Geto tries to hold back a laugh but fails after seeing the look on Riku’s face.

Finally they arrive at a large garage and Gojo hits a code into a keypad at the side of the building, Riku still over his shoulder. The door slowly rises off the ground and they slip in, Gojo grabbing the keys to his Lamborghini Urus before unlocking the doors.

Riku is thrown into the back seat and before she can get her bearings together, the engine is starting and the SUV wheels screech forward from a halt and out of the driveway.

Geto looks back at Riku from the passenger seat, “Buckle up, Riku, this guy’s a shit driver.” He smirks.

“That’s not true, I’m a great driver. Especially in these conditions—“ Gojo says with a sharp turn of the wheel and suddenly they’re speeding through the grass of the courtyard. Riku hears a few gunshots sound in the distance and buckles up before putting her head down. There's the yelling of a few Zenin clan men and the gunshots continue, a few bullets even piercing the back of the window, but none pass through.

Gojo chuckles when he quickly glances at Riku in the rear-view window, “It’s bulletproof, babe.” He explains, then takes another sharp turn to a roughly 400-meter-long driveway that leads to the main road.

Riku slowly sits up, worriedly looking out each of the windows before seeing that they were finally at a good enough distance from the Gojo estate. She takes a shaky, deep breath to calm herself down, almost wanting to cry at everything that had just transpired.

“Hey,” Geto’s tattooed arm reaches back, and he brushes his leather-covered thumb over Riku’s swollen red cheek, “You alright, beautiful?”

She looks up at him, the fear finally beginning to fade from her eyes. She’s safe with them. Riku nods, shakily.

“What a night!” Gojo laughs, “I mean who the fuck was expecting that?”

“Right?” Geto grins at his friend.

Riku furrows her bows, “You both think it’s funny? All those people hurt and in danger?!”

Gojo’s smile fades, “Oh no, that? That was absolutely fucked up… Also you don’t think I’m upset they pulled that shit in my house?” He switches from anger to charm so quick it’s almost scary, “But come on, Riku, that ‘your mother’ line was fucking priceless and you know it.” Gojo smirks again.

Geto laughs, still looking back at her from the front passenger seat, “You’re a legend, Riku. I don’t know how many people living can say they kicked Toji in the balls.”

Gojo laughs but his hand grips the gearshift so hard that his knuckles are white. He isn’t kidding; Riku understands that Gojo is probably the angriest yakuza in Tokyo tonight.

Riku joins in on their laughter with a small giggle, trying to ease the mood.

Geto turns back around to face the front but squeezes Riku’s thigh before looking to his friend, “Satoru, let’s get her some ice and take her home.”

“Yeah,” Gojo agrees and adjusts his mirror to get a better look at Riku, “fucked to see a pretty face bruised up like that.” He pauses, thinking for a moment, “You hungry at all, beautiful?”

“Starving.” Riku admits, regretting not having eaten her meal at the gala.

“Good, ‘cause I know a place and got a few calls to make.”

Geto looks at his friend knowingly, “You need some of my men?”

Gojo shakes his head and lowers his tone, giving Geto a hard look, “Not in front of her. She’s already in the mix of things enough as it is.”

Geto nods.

Gojo raises his voice again, “We’ll take you to one of our favorite spo-"

He’s cut off by Riku’s phone that loudly vibrates in her chest. She’d forgotten it was there. Riku retrieves the iPhone from inside her bra and sees ‘NANAMI’ flash across the screen. She quickly slides her finger across to talk. Before she can say anything—

“Riku! Fuck, finally!! Where are you?!!” He yells through the line.

“Nanami, I’m good, I’m fine… I’m in the car with Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo.”

“You’re what!?”

“It’s fine! They’re going to take me home, okay?”

“Is that Nanamin? Tell him I say hi!” Gojo happily beams, shouting from the driver’s seat.

Apparently Nanami hears that because he groans, “Jeez, Ri, what the hell happened?!”

Riku sighs, “A lot. But the gist is… Toji slapped me in the face, I kicked him in the balls, and we got away.”

“You WHAT??!?!!”

Riku laughs awkwardly, “But we got away and things are fine for now. They’re gonna take me home after we stop and get some ice for my face.”

Nanami is silent for a moment, and Riku can sense his anger through the phone, “Put Satoru on the phone, right fucking now.”

Riku hands her iPhone to Gojo, who quickly takes it and answers with a bright, bubbly tone, “Nanamin! How are you?”

“Look. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, or what business you have to do to clean this shit up, but if Riku comes back here tonight with anything more than a bruised cheek, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Gojo smiles at the seriousness in Nanami’s tone, “Wow, Kento, I didn’t know you cared about your job so much… What are you in love with her or something?” Gojo grins over at Geto in the passenger seat, “Yeah, yeah, Riku delivery service is on the way.” He glances back at her for a moment before refocusing on the road, “We won’t let anything happen to her. But you know, it’s the fault of her smart-ass mouth that made Toji slap her, anyways.” He shrugs.

“…That unfortunately sounds about right.”

“Well, okay, Nanamin! You’re kind of breaking up,” Gojo shouts, turning up the music from the car stereo as he held the phone between his head and shoulder, “so, talk to ya later!” Once he’s finished increasing the volume to near-max levels, Gojo retrieves the phone once more and hits ‘end’ on the call before tossing it back to Riku, who swiftly clasps it between her two hands.

Riku rolls her eyes and sits back into her seat, knowing she was in for a wild ride in more ways than one.

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jortschronicles · 18 days

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Dressing the Despencers pt 3: The End of An Era

Part 1 | Part 2

I had to accept that due to time constraints and a sum total of 1 hour to fit two people, my dreams of fully buttoned full length cotehardies would not be fulfilled. However, I am very satisfied with the way things turned out. My cuffs were long enough and sleeves snug enough to prevent riding up, and did not need the planned emergency Glamorgan chevronelly cuff. The mens' cotes were kept long (just below and just above the knee) for personal taste of the wearers. Both boys were put in hoods, though I seem to have failed to catch a picture with Thomas le Despencer in a hood. I have a habit of leaving my phone in the cast tent, so I am not surprised. The yellow dagged hood was my first foray into dagging and I am OBSESSED.

As both of the boys playing Edward and Thomas le Despencer were new to the historical costuming scene, neither were comfortable with the snug fit in the torso of a good cotehardie and requested an expansion to fit more like T-shirts. Due to the short time remaining, I opted to go for a stripe of dark brown linen down the front opening to ensure a semi-unified look. Unfortunately the literal last minute nature of this change resulted in some puckering down the front of each cotehardie that makes my eye twitch. I was terribly sad as this decision came after I'd installed what felt like thousands of buttonholes down the front of Edward's cotehardie.

Alas, some concessions must be made for the hellish clash of the impending deadline of an event and the limited available time for fittings with students. I have very mixed feelings about the results of this project, as I feel I did not make these costumes up to my standards, but I am incredibly proud of what I managed with the restrictions and barriers I encountered.

Some highlights:

To maximize the length of the sleeve and reduce the bulk, I applied a piece of 3/8" polysatin bridal ribbon to the serged edge with the tiniest back stitches I've ever done, then folded the ribbon to the inside and whip stitched it in place to secure the edge and hide the serging. To prevent the thin satin from tearing where I applied my (machine) buttonholes, I took a scrap of linen, folded it in half, and applied it to the buttonhole edge as a facing to take the majority of the strain of the buttons off the fashion fabric.

At the suggestion of Countess Christyana at LPT, I made a long strip of craft felt to apply to the inside of my hem, backing the lions. I found this gave a body to the bronze and blue fabrics that they did not have previously, giving me a much better silhouette, as well as stiffened the edge of the dress and helpfully preventing me from tripping over my own two feet. I wore it with just the craft felt basted in to one dress rehearsal before applying a facing of scrap muslin to the interior edge. This encased the felt, preventing it from picking up every blade of grass in the state of Oklahoma.

Regrettably I have no pictures of the process of inserting the felt, but my process was simple. First, I applied the felt as a facing, turning it towards the interior edge. This I basted fairly loosely to the seam allowance where the red trim is attached to the bottom of the dress.

I then cleaned up the edge where the "grass guard" met the felt met the red embroidered band with some small whip stitches to give a crisp, clean finish.

After three days in a variety of weather conditions, the interior lining did relax a little as seen below, and will require some cleanup.

Pictured: Baroness Elizabeth Despencer attending the court of His Majesty Edward III, wondering why, exactly, one of the privateers has been handed the sword of state. (it was for a bit, we promise)

Also seen above, I purchased 14 badges of Prince Edward of Woodstock for the members of Prince Edward's Court (court 2) to wear, as a gift to the wonderful cast members who variously learned and developed new skills, stepped out of their comfort zones, and maybe let me turn them into human barbie dolls a little bit.

I really enjoyed wearing this outfit for three days through the course of the Norman Medieval Fair. I was incredibly worried about the polyester fabrics causing me to overheat, but found the linen lining and tight fitting torso prevented the polyester from building the dreaded heat pocket of humidity, and I stayed fairly cool and dry throughout the weekend. I found a personal preference for the structure and bulk of a wimple and veil when the face edges of both are folded, providing protection from the dust on the wind and the blazing sun. I cheated and safety pinned the bottom edge of my wimple together in the back, though the rest was secured by a single pin through the crossed upper edges to my brigitta cap and held tight by the pair of pins that attached my veil. Dancing in this garb made me feel more regal than I ever have in my life.

Pictured: a happy baroness with croissants. Fed nobility is happy nobility!

Unfortunately due to mental and physical health issues, I will not be returning as costuming director to the cast.

What comes next?

A klappenrock for a commission

Lesbian Minoan ;)

Coordinating Roman and Greek for myself and my consort

an attempt at a little viking cap!

a nap, probably.

#society for creative anachronism #historical costuming #historical reenactment #norman medieval fair #medieval #sca #arts & sciences #a&s #14th century #cotehardie #kirtle #medieval costuming #cote

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jess-moloney · 1 month

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It does seem like he's a bit better in the Indiana convention in some ways but something still seems not right. Like that picture you posted, he must be cooking in that jacket and sweatshirt. I know he would wear layers here and there but that seems like it would be quite a bit too much especially how cons can get very toasty. But in some pics, he's looking a bit better but hard to say.

The best way to judge is how other people are dressed. You see some hoodies and some sweaters (normal but probably still kind of hot). Most people were dressed in less than that, much lighter. A hoodie I wouldn't see as abnormal, at all. That's initially all I saw him in and I was like okay sure, kind of different from usual but it was just a hoodie. Adding the jacket over that seems to be way too much. We are talking about a leather jacket on top of that.

Now if it were a normal shirt or something under that (even long sleeves) I wouldn't find a problem with it but a hoodie plus that jacket? That's really overkill.

Here it's mostly zipped up and probably only because he couldn't get it all the way up with the bulk of the hoodie under it. In these photos, he's on a stage in a room full of people under what is most certainly hot lights as well. I can't imagine any scenario where it wasn't way too hot. Grace, who is next to him is in a sweater but it's a thin/lighter one so I doubt it was that hot. Her slacks look thin as well.

In some photo op pics he has the jacket on but unzipped but look how thickly padded it is, it's clearly meant for bike riding and protection. Leather holds heat in extremely well and there's no indication from any other outfits or people at the convention that something was wrong with the heating or it was freezing in there that he'd need to be so layered up.

To me, this signifies trying to hide or protect himself from something. What that thing is I don't know but wearing tonnes of layers when it's entirely unnecessary usually stems from that reason. Some level of insecurity, fear, hiding, something. It's not as if he's never worn layers before but I've never seen him double it up like this and for all we know he has a t-shirt or something on under that hoodie. I doubt it was called for in the context of the temperature in the building so that only leaves us with psychological reasons. Unfortunately, no one is going to know what that is because I don't think he's going to tell anyone.

#jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #mail

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joestylee · 1 year

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Top 10 African Inspired Fashion Trends – The Afropolitan Effect

Western fashion has often looked to African and African-American culture for inspiration but this time around the world seems to want an official romance with it. Here’s what you should know about when the affair started and how Afropolitans are changing the narrative.

Western designers have been flirting with African symbols, patterns and fibers since as far back as the 1970s when Yves Saint Laurent created a fashion collection that evoked images of an exotic Africa for non-African audiences. These collections were based on what Western designers imagined Africa to be as opposed to what it really was.

As expected, this cultural appropriation, which was not benefitting African designers or textile weavers in any way created an uproar because it was a one-sided affair and was not mutually beneficial. Africa was the glamorous mistress whom Western designers wanted to profit from but not empower. The resistance also came because no one can tell Africans how to be authentically African. Despite the deep cultural similarities, the countries in the continent share different political climates, geographic realities, languages and weather. Meaning that there is no one single narrative of African reality.

These diverse experiences of Africans gave rise to the term Afropolitan. Afropolitans are young Africans with a global outlook, upwardly mobile, culturally savvy, changing the perceptions about Africa through creative expression and redefining what it means to be African in the midst of a multitude of subcultures. To be Afropolitan means we understand that the world is a global village (heck, we are products of that globalization), and that design inspiration can come from anywhere. However, if the fashion world borrows from Africa we ask for recognition, inclusion and empowerment of African designers and retail brands that have worked hard to keep evolving African style, giving it new currency and new associations.

With this understanding, let’s take a look at the top 10 Afro-inspired trends for women that have found their way to the retail fashion streets.

#1 - Matching Couple Outfits

Matching or uniform outfits are the status quo for African couples and family members at special occasions such as weddings and birthdays. Fabric is bought in bulk and made into different glamorous attires by family and friends for an event, to serve as a form of identification, solidarity and love. The world has taken a leaf from this culture by updating pre-wedding photo shoots from matching T-shirts to full matching outfits for couples. on the other hand in winter outfit like boss jacket is the perfect one with the T-shirt for the couple.

#2 - Afro-Pop Culture T-Shirts

Just like African-Americans made hip-hop a dress code, the custom T-shirt era has ushered a longing for expression of different African realities especially by urban African youths. Using personal motifs like hair-do, music and food in bold and unusual ways is now the new cool.

#3 - Boubous & Kaftans

Loose fitting garments worn by African men and women called Boubous or Kaftans have become a wardrobe staple all over the world.

#4 – Tie & Dye

Cultures across the African continent have various tie and dye techniques and motifs signifying varying ideas. Today, these colorful tie-dye prints are a must-have for women all over the world.

#5 - Fringe Love

Traditional African fabrics like Kente. Akwete, Asooke are woven using different types of threads. The ends of the threads are left to hang out as decorative elements at the base and sleeve of garments. The African fringe has a western cousin but the fringe love is universal.

#6 - Head Wraps

African head wraps are made from local fabric or Ankara prints and tied round the head in an intricate style. The trendy head wraps of today are sewn together as ready-made fashion accessories..

#7 - Wooden Jewelry

Jewelry made from utilitarian products like wood have their inspiration from African sculpting and carvings.

#8 - Neck Rings

African neck rings were worn by the South Ndebele of South Africa as part of their traditional dress and as a status symbol for the wearer. Today, statement gold chokers shaped like rings are a hot fashion trend.

#9 - Ankara Print

Though it is said that these prints were brought to Africa by Dutch textile manufacturers, it is the stylish use of these materials by Africans that popularized the fabric. It was Africans who requested for specific patterns to be printed and it was Africans who helped it evolve and popularized it; we made it ours.

#10 - Head to Toe Monochrome/Matching Sets

Going head-to-toe in one color or pattern is a fashion trend that has its roots in African fashion. Yards of fabric are given to tailors to make matching tops and bottoms for both men and women as day wear and occasion wear. The world has caught this monochrome bug.

The rise of the Afropolitan class means that there is a hunger for truly meaningful clothing that helps Africans in Diaspora connect with their roots. How can you play your part? Seek out small independent designers and/or brands and patronize them because by doing this you are strengthening the systems and supporting designers both in Africa and in the Diaspora. Looking for where to shop authentic African designs with global spice? Check out Joe Stylee. Do you know other authentic African brands? Please share in the comments.

#bose jacket #hoodie with matching pants #versace style button up #robe kente

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growingpains876 · 2 years

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Jared/Max

Part 3

He had told himself he would go to the gym after getting settled into his new place. But once he got there he was so tired from traveling that he seriously considered not going. Then he got an email with his schedule for the next day attached. He had a costume fitting?! Shit! He’d forgotten that he’d sent them his body measurements months ago so they could make his costume in advance. With how tight he clothes were, there was no way he wasn’t going to fit into a costume based on measurements from two months ago.

“That’s it, I simply must go to the gym today.” He said leaning into the melodrama to lighten the situation. He put on his gym shorts, which were shorter than he remembered, and clung to his ass more than he remembered, making his package stand out more than he was used to. Was he bigger down there? He grabbed his manhood with a hand and gave it a shake. He could have sworn it seemed slightly bigger than before. Meh, it was probably just his imagination. He shrugged it off and walked to the nearest gym.

His work out was grueling. He really tried to put in the effort to make up for his break from the gym. He was surprised to find that he hadn’t lost much strength. In fact, he hadn’t lost any. He finished his work out, and was feeling really good about himself. The pump was making his muscles look huge. His pecs and back strained against his drenched t-shirt. If he didn’t know better his stomach was already looking smaller. It was probably just because his bloat was subsiding and his pump was making his muscles stand out a bit more than usual. Nonetheless, it still filled him with a little peace that maybe tomorrow the fitting wouldn’t go as bad as he had thought.

The next morning Jared squeezed into another pair of tight jeans. Not these ones too! He thought to himself as he struggled to get them over his ass and the button done. How much did weigh now? He ran to the bathroom that was equipped with a scale. He stood on it, and the number blinked a few times and landed on 184. He was up 3 pounds from all those doughnuts. He admittedly didn’t have a very small dinner either. He still hadn’t been shopping yet because he had spent so much time at the gym and he was starving after working his ass off. So he had stopped at Wendy’s on the way home and ordered a double bacon cheese burger meal with a large coke, fries, and a side order of a 10 piece chicken nugget. He said that would be his last time eating out, but with no food in the apartment he had no option but to stop by Wendy’s again on his way to the theater for breakfast.

He slid his hands down his face; Weighing himself did not do good things to his mental state. He was up nearly fifteen pounds! How had that happened? He caught himself in the mirror. Without a shirt on it was obvious his pants were in distress containing the bulk of his thighs and bubble butt. If he made the wrong move he could end the day with one less pair of wearable pants. He’d have to not bend down or squat. He threw on one of his favorite button downs, he wanted to look good for his first day. He had to finagle with it to get around his back and his arms through the sleeves. The fabric was skin tight around his upper arms, making his biceps look massive. Was he still pumped from last night? That couldn’t be possible could it?

To his relief he had almost no problems doing the buttons around his swollen gut as long as he sucked in a little bit, but he struggled to do the third button from the top, and the second button from the top had no hope of closing. His back and chest still seemed pumped from yesterday. It didn’t make sense but it must be the case. This shirt wasn’t nearly this tight just a couple days ago.

————————

He had to stop at Wendy’s again to get breakfast. He still didn’t have any food at the apartment, and approached the stage door with his large Wendy’s coke still in his hand from breakfast. This is going to be a disaster, he thought as he walked through the stage door. He lost the drink at the first trash can he saw, not wanting to be judged by anyone.

He eventually found the costume department, which was in absolute chaos. Bolts of fabric lined every wall, and clutter dominated every flat surface. Three people worked like mad at three different tables covered with debris. Here we go…

“Hello!” Jared knocked on the open door. Only one of the three turned to look at him. “Hi, I’m Jared, I’m here for a costume fitting.”

“Oh yes! Jared! Welcome. The fitting rooms are right over there. We’ve already put your costume in there with your under shirt, and a pair of nude underwear. Go put the underwear, under shirt, and tights on and we’ll be right in with you.”

“Sounds good!”

Jared walked over to the changing room that she had pointed to and closed the door to change. His costume was beautiful. He was used to school productions where they just gave you any costume they could find that sort of worked. These were clearly handmade. The production was traditional, so he was going to wear tights, a white billowing shirt, and a blue velvet tunic vest thing to go over top.

He changed into the white under shirt and nude boxer-briefs they had provided. The tag said both were a medium, but they were both snug. The shirt stretched over his broad chest tightly, and clung to his stomach revealing the extra weight he had put on recently. The underwear was worse though. His ass was practically spilling out of it, and the pouch was not big enough for his endowment. Not thinking he could do anything about it, he put on his tights next. It took him a while to wiggle them on, he knew they were supposed to be tight, but maybe not that tight. The light blue fabric became almost transparent as it was stretched even thinner than it already was to cover Jared’s expansive bubble butt. They didn’t leave much to the imagination in the crotch area either, the tight underwear helped smooth it out a bit, but his manhood was still very conspicuously bulging out on full display. He took one last look in the mirror. Sheesh, he was looking thick, but that would change soon. He was going to be a good boy from here on out. He relaxed his gut, which he hadn’t realized he’d been sucking in this whole time. It filled out his shirt even more, he gave his little belly an affectionate slap and opened the door.

“Struggle getting the tights on?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re supposed to scrunch them up first and then they should just slide on. Is this your first time putting on tights?”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t know.”

“I figured with how long it took you. I’m Leah, by the way.” She was very straightforward, and was clearly a person not used to wasting time.

“Jared.”

“Nice to finally meet you.” She came in the room and started to grab the old timey pirate looking shirt off the hanger. “How’s the under shirt? I can get you a bigger size.”

Jared instantly blushed. It must have been pretty obvious it was a tight. Then again, it was her job to notice such things.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Jared hoped he came off nonchalant.

“Alright, just let us know if anything is uncomfortable. Try this on” Leah Handed him the white shirt. When Jared lifted the shirt over his head he was hyper aware of his undershirt pulling up almost to his bellybutton. Soon enough the shirt was on, and the moment of anxiety passed. To his relief it was very loose fitting, and covered the bulge in his tights. He felt more at ease at once now that his belly and package were tucked away behind the baggy shirt.

“That looks like it works well. It feels okay?”

“Yeah, I love it!” The shirt was very flattering. It fit in the shoulders perfectly, and the neck V-ed low so you could see Jared’s impressive peck cleavage.

“That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s try the tunic.” She handed him the beautiful blue fabric. “This is pretty form fitting, so let me know if you need a hand getting it on.” The tunic went on like a jacket or vest and then hooked in the front. It was a gorgeous design. He went to put his arms through the holes and could only get one in. The fabric had no give, so after trying to contort his other arm in the sleeve himself, he realized he would need Leah’s help.

“Hey, I could actually use a hand, sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, that’s my job.” Leah very expertly grabbed the tunic and helped his arm into the sleeve. “There are hooks that latch in the front.”

Jared did up the bottom hook, so far so good, but that was the underside of his little food baby. There were maybe ten little hooks and they got progressively harder to hook. By the third he was already sucking in, but with great effort he got all ten hooks latched up. He could barely breath, but the tunic did work as a kind of compression shirt, and gave him a much thinner silhouette.

“Look in the mirror for me.” Jared obliged, and she began to work and write things down on the clip board. “It looks like it’s almost perfect, but were going to make some minor adjustments to hopefully make things a bit more comfortable. We can’t have our Romeo passing out on stage.”

Jared knew his face was red, because he was looking right in the mirror. But if Leah noticed she didn’t let on.

“That’d be great, it is a little tight.” Jared squeaked out.

“If you don’t mind, let’s get this off, and I’ll take some new measurements.” Jared could tell that Leah was making an effort not to say anything about his change in appearance. It should have made him feel less embarrassed, but it just made him more uncomfortable to be tip toeing around the subject. He probably wouldn’t have even cared as much if this wasn’t his first professional gig. He wanted to do a good job and make a good impression. Leah is just trying to help you and she’s probably a nice person, He reassured himself.

Jared undid the hooks, and felt much better now that he could breath again. Leah had to help him get it off his broad back, and then she brought over a tape measure.

“We’re just going to update some of this info, it’s so old anyway.”

It wasn’t that old, only two months, but Jared wasn’t about to correct her.

“Let’s see, pant waist… 33 1/2, true waist… 36, Chest… 44…” She would say the number out loud as she wrote it down. “Great! All done! If you want, you can take a picture of your measurement sheet in case another company needs you to send them over.”

“That’s a great idea. Thanks for your help today.” Jared grabbed his phone to take a picture of the updated measurement sheet. He tried to be fast, he just wanted to get out of here as quick as possible. He snapped a picture, and right before Leah left the room she said, ”Oh! I forgot to mention this earlier. In act three scene five they are planning to have you shirtless, of course you can say no to anything, but that was the costume designer’s and director’s preference. I thought I’d just give you a head’s up in case you… just to let you know”

Before Jared could even think, his agreeable nature blurted out, “That’s no problem.

“Great! I’ll let you change back into your clothes then.”

Leah closed the door behind her. He was going to be shirtless on stage? No, no, no! The worst had come to pass. He could hide a little extra weight under a costume, but he would have nowhere to hide now. He took one last look in the dressing room mirror when he took his shirt off. He grabbed the thick skin around his midsection and gave it a violent jiggle as if that would help it come off. This has got to go!

Part 1: https://growingpains876.tumblr.com/post/690315808323387392/growing-pains-jaredmax

Part 2: https://growingpains876.tumblr.com/post/690507567697412096/growing-pains-jaredmax

Part 4: https://growingpains876.tumblr.com/post/691266302474600448/jared-max

Part 5: https://growingpains876.tumblr.com/post/693518788795269120/jared-and-max

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