#space quiz bowl

[kikuquizguru-eng]

🌌🔍 Unlock the Mysteries of the Universe: Space Trivia #Quiz 🚀🌠 11-01-01 https://youtu.be/RXhWV8C1pB8

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[struck-by-the-rain]

not my proudest work but I guess i had to draw them sigh

[hurtspideyparker]

The team learns about Peter's stress baking fairly quickly after he moves into the tower.

"Why does this place smell like cookies?" Tony asks suspiciously, "Pepper put an end to homemade care packages after that Cap incident."

Steve protests from the dining table, "Hey, that fan seemed totally normal. Y'know in my generation you do not mess with baked goods, that's sacred."

Natasha pats his back comfortingly as she joins the conversation.

"They came from the kid. They're actually pretty good, here."

Nat hands a still-warm cookie to Tony, who bites it curiously.

"Damn, it melts in my mouth like buttery ambrosia and still has a perfect crunch around the edges. Is that a nutty aftertaste?"

"Yes!" Peter yells from the other room, a clatter sounding before his head pokes around the wall, oven mitts still attached to his hands.

"I brown the butter, it really deepens the flavour!"

"Good on you kid. What's the occasion?"

Peter stutters, "uhhhh, no occasion. I just like cookies!"

He disappears around the corner again, and Tony sends a confused glance towards his teammates.

Steve shrugs his shoulders, mouth still full of cookie, and Natasha sends him an arched brow. Tony isn't sure what that means, but feels intimidated enough to exit the room anyway.

* * *

The baking lasts the rest of the week, until Peter comes home yelling, "I aced my calculus midterm!!!" Running out of the elevator with a stapled set of papers in his hand.

"So no more baking?" Nat asks neutrally.

"Nope! Woohoo!"

Just like that the kid is gone, jumping down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tony looks at Nat quizzically.

"It was midterm week. He baked 3 dozen cookies, 2 types of muffins, and a cheesecake."

"So he stress bakes?"

"He stress bakes."

* * *

It becomes a "thing" in the tower.

Sam eats toast from freshly baked bread one morning while watching Bruce quiz Peter on his upcoming AP history test. Each slice is cut, toasted, and buttered to perfection by Peter while he explains sectionalism in the 20th century.

* * *

Bucky grates carrots while Peter mixes a bowl of dry ingredients furiously, the boy mumbling to himself non-stop.

"Has he gone insane?" Clint asks from the doorway.

"Spanish oral exam," Bucky replies.

"Ay caramba."

"Tal vez pueda sobornar a mi maestra con glaseado de queso crema..." Peter starts mumbling. (Maybe I can bribe my teacher with cream cheese frosting...)

Bucky and Clint share a concerned look.

Clint approaches the boy, "put down the spatula Pete, let's talk about this."

Peter looks up in alarm.

"In English! Just English!"

* * *

"What's up kid? It's spring break, what could you possibly be stressing about."

Today Tony walks into a full kitchen; Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper are occupying the space while Peter pours something creamy into a metal bowl.

"He's asking MJ out tonight, so he's making cookies and cream ice cream in case it goes wrong." Natasha crosses her arms when she replies to him, eyes focused on Peter's mixing.

"Does ice cream even count as stress baking? The very meaning of 'bake' is to put under heat. But I suppose it does feel wrong to call it cooking."

Peter looks up, his brown eyes large and sad like a baby cow, "I still baked the cookies from scratch."

"Yeah he's a real Nara Smith!" Wanda adds enthusiastically.

"Oookay... I'll pretend I know what that means. And since when do we have an ice cream maker?" Tony points to the fancy hardware out on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, I got that for him. We lacked a lot of the tools for basic baking recipes," Pepper informs him.

Tony ponders how ice cream machines count as a basic baking tool, and decides not to argue with three powerful women and their favourite lovesick teenager.

Peter picks up his bowl and moves it into the freezer, clearing away a couple frozen pizzas and a bag of peas.

"Should I even bother with the cones?" Peter asks with a pout.

"Pete she's gonna say yes! Also if you're wallowing in misery with a tub of ice cream we still want our cones so we can emotionally support you with a crunchy treat," Wanda says with a supportive smile.

The others nod along.

"You're right!" Peter agrees before turning around and grabbing an honest-to-god waffle cone maker, with the cone shaping kit to boot.

"Why..." Tony begins to protest, "y'know what, I don't care. Let me know how it goes kid."

The man is ignored as he moves through the kitchen to grab a banana, the women coaching Peter on his manners, flirting, and first date ideas as he exits the room.

* * *

Thor hums around the delicious treat.

"Mmm. You know young Peter, you could have a shop for your creations. Is there a Stark Industries for baked goods?" Thor asks the young lad, crumbs falling from his mouth as he chews the cookie bar.

"I didn't invent the blondie Thor. I was just trying to explain what it is, a cookie brownie! I did decorate them all by myself though," he says with a satisfied grin.

"Ah yes," Thor lifts up another blondie by the pretzel stick Peter put in the squares, attached with a bit of melted chocolate so they're shaped like Mjolnir, "now you are all worthy of the hammer. Ha! This is funny, I'm sure the others will find your talents equally amusing."

Peter picks up his own mini-Mjolnjr and waves it around, "it is I, son of Odin. Don't worry puny Midgardians, I will protect you with my mighty hammer and beautiful hair!"

Thor laughs thunderously at the impression, clapping.

Bruce walks into the room, enticed by the laughter.

"Ah! My friend, Peter has made edible Mjolnirs so you, too, may be worthy. It's delicious and hilarious. Imagine Banner wielding my hammer, ha! Ridiculous," Thor is all too amused by the situation.

Bruce gives Peter an offended look as Thor continues laughing with himself, the younger just shrugging. Bruce takes one of the treats anyways, pointedly not holding it by the pretzel stick.

"Y'know Pete, have you ever considered opening a bakery? You are quite talented. I think the Avengers alone would keep you in business," Bruce asks politely.

"Well I only like to bake when I'm stressed. That wouldn't be a very stable business model," Peter points out.

"True. Although running a business can be quite stressful, so maybe you'd have a continuous supply?"

"Hm. Efficient and unhealthy," Peter nods like it's the perfect plan.

"Wow you really are Stark's intern."

Thor bursts out into another bout of raucous laughter.

"Imagine Stark wielding my dessert hammer," Thor barely gets the words out, "Stark being worthy-AH HAHA."

Bruce and Peter share a look of wide-eyed alarm before joining in on the laughter.

They all share the moment before Bruce straightens up a bit to ask, "what are you even worried about anyways Peter?"

Peter wipes a tear from his eye, "I forgot to call Aunt May this morning like I always do and she only let me move here if I promised I wouldn't neglect her. So now I'm too scared to check my phone."

"I see," Bruce sympathizes.

"Yeah, baking is good for procrastinating. I pretend I'm being productive while also creating comfort food for after my breakdowns."

* * *

Tony steps into the dining room one afternoon to find Peter slicing apples while Steve sits across from him cutting intricate patterns into pie crust. There is an array of leaves and flowers set out on the flour-sprinkled table.

"So is the ornamentation necessary, or is Cap also developing a delicious self-soothing habit," Tony inquires.

"I was just talking to Peter about pie recipes from the 40s and he asked if I could help make his prettier," Steve smiles up at his companions, "it's actually a lot of fun, I can't say I've ever used food to make art before."

"He's a natural talent Mr. Stark!"

Tony agrees with the quirk of an eyebrow and cheeky sideways nod. He observes for a moment before asking something that's been bothering him recently.

"Pete, I gotta ask. Why baking? You inherited your Aunt's terrible cooking skills, and it's not like you're built for other domestic duties. Your room is a mess. What gives? How are you so... refined?"

Peter pauses his chopping to look up incredulously.

"It's science Mr. Stark. Baking is just chemistry! I'm great at chemistry," he says with a grin.

Tony thinks about it.

"Huh. I guess you're right. So, what has you stressed this time? Girl troubles? You get too good a grade in P.E. and Flash is suspicious? Decathlon competition?" Tony lists off some of his previous turmoils.

He hopes it's the decathalon again, those butter tarts were divine.

"Um. Can I finish my apple filling before I tell you? I'll lose motivation if you start yelling at me..." Peter says with a hopeful smile, strain lying underneath it.

Tony's eyes narrow.

"Okay so I maybe blew up your test tubes when trying to develop fire webs and Dum-E may have covered your entire lab in fire supression foam."

Tony's jaw clenches, "I'm gonna let you stew in fear for a bit longer because apple is my favourite - if this was pumpkin you'd already be squashed - but best believe I'm not done with you yet." Tony slowly takes a deep breath before pointing a finger at Peter. "Never change kid, never change."

Tony leaves, distinctly in the opposite direction of his lab, and Peter goes back to slicing apples, now with a genuine smile on his face.

[annievrse]

you know how to ball (i know aristotle)

sukuna x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: college!au where sukuna is the star rugby player, and reader plays in college quiz bowls. w/c: 3k cw: inaccurate quiz bowl rep (i only play jeopardy on tv ok pls ignore the actual content and focus on the point of the fic ok ty), a lot of allusions to suggestive content, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'girl', and wears a skirt. a/n: i i i idk what u were expecting, but it should've been another taylor fic hehe

"Sukuna! Sir!" You turn your head toward the voice. The man beside you huffs deeply but turns anyway, apologising softly.

"Hey, man," Sukuna mumbles, shaking the hand of the Freshman student who's panting like he ran three miles (he probably did). "What's up?"

The kid eyes you up and down like he's never seen a woman before.

"Eyes up here, bro," Your boyfriend bites, giving him a fake smile. The kid nods quickly, gaze avoiding you at all costs.

"Uh–" He stutters. "Gojo was wondering when you were gonna show up to training."

Sukuna pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek. "Tell the freak I'll be there after I walk my girl to her car, okay?"

The kid nods and turns, speed-walking in the direction of the field.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your head, bringing you into his chest. You giggle at the sudden affection and continue walking to the car park.

"Fucking kids."

"He’s eighteen, Kuna," You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I had more decency when I was that age..."

Scoffing, you lean back. "You're joking, right?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow as you descend the steps. "Watch it."

You snicker and pull away from him, digging around in your bag for your car keys. When you spot the miniature stuffed bunny keychain, you grab it.

You can feel Sukuna side-eying you when you unlock the car. "What?"

He points at the keychain. "Is that the little cat thing you begged me for?"

You don't answer, knowing he knows exactly what it is. "Jellycat."

"Huh?" Sukuna's face scrunches up in confusion.

"Jellycat is the brand. And, yes, it's the one you got me. Don't act stupid, idiot."

Sukuna smirks. "I'll buy you more of them if you keep talking to me like that."

Your jaw drops, and you laugh, slapping him on the bicep. "Fuck off."

But before you can open the car door, Sukuna spins you around by the shoulders and presses you into the side of the car, hands roaming under your hoodie.

"I'll see you tonight," He whispers, lips slanting over yours hotly.

"Mmhm," You hum, running your fingers through his hair. Pulling away, Sukuna continues to press sloppy kisses along your jaw. "Be good at practice. Don't spear tackle Gojo again."

Sukuna scoffs. "That was an accident."

Rolling your eyes, you press your hand to his hard chest. "Yeah, ok."

"Bye, baby," Sukuna's hands slide down to squeeze your ass, and you look at the campus entrance to ensure nobody's there.

"Bye, yourself."

He gives you one last slap on the ass, and then he's stalking away, glancing over his shoulder to check on you as you slam the car door closed and turn the engine on.

Entering Shoko's apartment, the smell of burnt toast hits you in the face. You toe your sneakers off at the door and walk toward the cacophony of voices.

"Sorry!" Choso exclaims in the kitchen, wafting the smoke away with his hands. "Not my fault your toaster is fucked."

Shoko gasps and hits him with a teatowel on the leg. She points at him. "Don't talk shit about my appliances when you ruined all of yours!"

You step into the space, drawing the eyes of the three in conversation, and Nanami and Utahime sitting at the dining table with textbooks scattered around them.

"Thank god you're here!" Shoko laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Studying going good?" You giggle, waving at the others.

Shoko glares at Choso over her shoulder. "It was."

Choso throws his hands up in defence, and Shoko turns back to you.

"How's Mr Rugby Player?" She grins.

You smile softly. "He's good."

"Being as annoying as ever, I suppose?" Nanami's voice calls, not looking up from where he scribbles down his notes.

Utahime scoffs, placing her pen down on the table. "Not as annoying as Gojo." 

"Yeah, okay. Don't say his name; you'll summon him."

Rolling your eyes with a laugh, you walk into the dining room. You take your bag off your shoulder and put it on the table to remove your laptop. "What topics are we doing this weekend?"

Utahime points at the list of past regional questions. "I'm doing philosophy and fine arts, Nanami's math, and you're literature."

"Okay," you sit at the head of the table. "Choso, history?"

Nanami nods without looking up. "And Sho is doing science, like always."

"Sweet," You mumble before your phone buzzes.

baby 5:23 pm morning practice got cancelled  5:23 pm so coming to your nerd fest tmr

Despite his teasing, you feel the wings of butterflies flutter inside your stomach.

5:24 pm !!!!! 5:24 pm can't wait to see my himbo of a bf in a crowd of nerds!!!

You can almost see him rolling his eyes.

baby 5:25 pm call me that again and you'll be using crutches at your comp

"Quit texting," Shoko says, shuffling her flash cards. "We don't want a repeat of last time."

With your warm cheeks, you lock your phone and toss it into your bag. "Sorry."

"I'm not nervous," You mumble, checking the fit of your skirt in the mirror for the ninth time in ten minutes.

"Yeah, you're perfectly calm," Sukuna grumbles in his pillow. He lays half-naked under the duvet, his voice the only sign of life.

You glare at him through the mirror and glance at the clock on the wall—7:45 am.

You inhale sharply and duck into the closet to grab your bag. "I'm going."

Sukuna groans, shifting slightly under the blankets. "Kiss."

Despite his usually cold exterior, Sukuna is always soft around you—something you created.

Rounding the bed, you lean over to kiss his mouth, scratching his scalp with your fingers. A deep, raspy groan sounds from the back of his throat, and you have to pull away before he pulls you onto the bed.

"Starts at ten," You remind him, lips hovering over his forehead. "Be there at quarter to."

Sukuna hums, turning over. "Be the best."

"I'll try," You laugh, shoving your feet into your shoes. "Bye!"

"He's here," Nanami rolls his eyes, pointing toward the crowd. Your eyes widen, and you give your friend a side hug.

You weave your way to the hall entrance, small 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' leaving your lips. And when you hear your name, you push yourself up on your tiptoes. A head of pink hair stands out against the rest, and you notice he's surrounded by two other giant guys, too.

"Hey," Sukuna mumbles in your hair when you run into him. You grin into his chest and look up at him.

"Hi."

"Baby," He says, voice louder as he pushes you back. "You gotta get up there."

"I know," You sigh, greeting Negi and Miguel with a wave.

"Good luck," Miguel smiles, and Negi laughs. "We'll be cheering you on."

"Thanks, guys," You nod, feeling Sukuna's hands smooth out the collar of your blouse.

Sukuna shakes his head, ignoring his teammates. "You're gonna do so good."

"I hope so," You sigh, hearing the warning bell before the start of the tournament.

"Love you," Sukuna grumbles, kissing your head. You pull away.

"Love you!" Laughing, you walk backwards toward the stage.

"Give the scientific name for Vitamin K1."

Shoko's thumb moves too fast for your eyes to see before she answers. "Phylloquinone."

"Correct." Multiple claps from the crowd make your stomach turn.

The score is 455–460, with the opposing university in front. You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, listening to Nanami answer a question.

"Solve this equation for x. 5x=0.2."

His answer is instant. "0.04."

"Right." The host nods, eyes trained on the cards in his hands.

You look to your left, seeing Choso's determined face despite his anxiety about public speaking. It makes you happy to see his confidence grow.

"Who wrote 'Hope is the Thing with Feathers'?"

A brunette answers. "Emily Dickinson."

Your head shoots up in shock. Shoko's hand finds yours under the table while you cringe at losing your question and points for your team.

"Yes!" The host swiftly moves on. "Cogito ergo sum means, "I think. Therefore, I am." By creating this statement, what did Descartes argue?"

Utahime tilts her head as if the answer is the easiest of the day. "That the mind and body are separate entities, with the mind being the essential nature of a person."

"Correct."

You inhale deeply, trying your best to ignore the score. Instead, you squint into the stage light to spot your boyfriend. To no avail, you wipe your eyebrow. 

"Believed the rational mind repressed the power of the imagination, weighing it down with taboos; which art movement channelled the unconscious to unlock the power of the imagination?"

"Surrealism," A blonde boy on the other table answered.

"Right. When did the three major shogunates (Kamakura, Ashikaga, Tokugawa) lead Japan?"

Choso nearly falls off his chair when he presses his buzzer. "1192 until 1868."

"Yes," The host re-shuffles his cards and places them on the podium before him. "Last question."

475–475.

"Name the novel: Raskolnikov kills Alyona Ivanovna (a pawnbroker), believing the good he does with her money outweighs the evil of murder."

And before you can press your buzzer, the other university's buzzer sounds first. Your heart drops, and your entire body goes hot with disappointment. 

"The Brothers Karamazov, by Dostoyevsky."

"Incorrect."

Your thumb presses the button before your mind can catch up.

"You have ten seconds to answer."

"Crime and Punishment, by Dostoyevsky,” You spit out confidently. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The host grins, turning away from you and to the crowd. "Your 2024 Collegiate Quiz Bowl Champions."

And then the score changes. 475-480.

Cheers from the crowd and your teammates make you jump up. "Holy shit."

"We won!" Shoko yells, circling her arms around your shoulders and jumping. You jostle around as she does so, your face breaking out into a smile, and then a laugh slips from your lips.

Utahime crashes into your back. "Ah!"

You, Shoko, and Utahime hug each other, opening your arms for the boys to join.

And though the room is noisy, the loudest cheers come from the pink-haired man at the back of the room, his two teammates lifting him in celebration.

“Baby, what the fuck!” You hear your boyfriend yell. People around him give him dirty looks, but Sukuna pays them no mind. You, however, feel heat creep down your neck at the unwanted attention. 

“Kuna,” You giggle, waving your hand down as a way of saying ‘lower the volume’. You meet him in the foyer of the concert hall.

“I can’t!” He laughs, almost howling. “You’re so incredible. I’m so proud of you.” 

The praise makes your cheeks flame, and when Sukuna grabs your face to kiss you, he smirks. But he doesn’t comment. Instead, he places the sloppiest kiss on your lips, and you squeal at the feeling, laughing into his mouth. 

Sukuna leans back, brushing hair out of your face. “My smart cookie.” 

You roll your eyes and grab his hand. “Let’s go. You need to get ready.” 

You pull on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt as Sukuna scarfs down rice and chicken in the kitchen. Sukuna’s rugby game is at 5pm, leaving you 2 hours to get ready and drive him to the field. You’re meeting Shoko there – she wants to see Gojo & Geto play.  

Fixing your hair, Sukuna walks into the bathroom.

Whistling, he stands behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "My girl is so fine."

You purse your lips and shake your head, tying the last bow in your hair.

"My girl..." Sukuna bends down to kiss your neck. "Has such a sexy brain."

You snicker and push him off. "Go get dressed, freak."

Sukuna imitates you softly, pulls away and then gets his rugby kit on with a pout.

The popcorn box is hot in your lap as you dive your hand into the matcha-flavoured kernels once again. You and Shoko sit huddled in the stand, clad in blue scarves. You opted for Sukuna’s training jersey over your long-sleeved top without his knowledge, making Shoko tease you relentlessly. 

“But you’re you, and he’s him.”

You nod to her rant, ignoring her, staring straight at your snack as you pick the next piece to eat.

“There they are,” Shoko draws you from your daze as she points out Gojo running out of the dressing rooms below. The bright blue uniforms are hard to miss, especially against the green grass. You fidget with your necklace as you watch the rest of the team empty out of the dressing rooms, Sukuna being the last one to exit.

The sight of him in his tight jersey has you verbally reacting. “Holy fuck.”

“Settle down, girl,” Shoko laughs. “Not like it’s your first time.”

You giggle, making note of how big his arms are. Sukuna shakes said large arms and rolls his head in a circle before leaning forward, his hands clutching the hem of his jersey. He glances over at Miguel, who plays in the halves and nods once at him. 

After kick-off, in favour of the other team, Sukuna runs forward, tackling the fullback of the other team who caught the ball. The ball slips out of the guy’s arms, and Geto swipes it from the grass. He sprints up the field, dodging and weaving in and out of players, and makes the final steps towards the in-goal. 

Shoko shakes your arm as Geto dives onto the grass, the ball dragging along as he scores, and then you’re both jumping up and down in celebration. Your cheers are so loud they travel to the field, and Sukuna looks up toward you. He smirks, accepting a bro-hug from Geto, who praises his tackle.

The game goes on like this until half-time, with the other team scoring twice. Sukuna is exhausted as he walks off the field, his jersey clinging to his body with sweat. He peeks at where you were sitting only a few minutes prior and sees you gone. He draws his eyebrows together and runs his hand through his hair. 

His teammates funnel around him towards the dressing room, but Sukuna stands looking for you.

“Kuna!” You and Shoko are waving from the bottom of the stands, giant smiles on your faces. Your boyfriend shakes his head, laughs briefly, and jogs over to the two of you.

“You’re doing so good!” You exclaim, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist. His free arm circles your shoulders, and he nods at Shoko.

“Good job this morning,” He comments. 

Shoko furrows her eyebrows and scoffs at the out of character compliment. “Seriously? Thanks?” 

Laughing, you pull away from Sukuna and take in the sight before you, wishing you could capture this moment with your eyes. His face is flush, and his hair is sticking in every direction, the pink darkened to a burgundy. Your mind wanders to a situation far different and more sensual than the one you’re in currently, and you feel your cheeks warm up.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Sukuna whispers, noticing the jersey you're wearing. His pearly white teeth gleam at you, and then he jogs away. Your eyes follow him, gaze trailing down his body until you stop at his ass. He looks so damn good in those rugby shorts.

“Quit objectifying him,” Shoko teases, poking your warm cheek. "We're better than that."

You slap her hand away, eyes watering from the cold air. “Shut the fuck up.”

The second half starts and goes by quicker than the first one. Sukuna finishes the game, scoring three tries in the 40-minute half. They win 42-12. 

“Kuna, I don’t think you understand how good you are,” You ramble on the way back to the car after Sukuna showered and got into sweats. His fingers are laced with yours, and he doesn’t care when you swing them around. "A hattrick? C'mon!"

“Oh, save the praise for the bedroom, please,” Shoko pleads, a disgusted look on her face. “And everything else, god!”

Sukuna has an insult on the tip of his tongue, but you pinch his stomach, eyes narrowing at him. “No.”

He huffs and mumbles something intelligible. 

“Oh, there’s Gojo and Geto,” Shoko sighs in relief, seeing her best friends lingering around Gojo's BMW. “Bye!” 

“See you!” 

“Thank you, lord.”

You whack his large bicep and shake your head. “You’re horrible.”

“You’re horrible,” Sukuna replies. “Wearing my jersey and expecting me not to get hard.”

You gape at his outright vulgar statement. “Ok, your speaking privileges have been revoked.”

Sukuna scoffs. “My–”

You reach up and slap your hand over his mouth. “Shhhh.”

And when you get in the car, Sukuna can’t keep his hands to himself. His large hand covers almost the entirety of your thigh, and you have to calm yourself down to drive. 

“I feel so high school every time I look at you…”

The streetlights go by in a blur, and the radio plays softly as you two go over everything that happened today. 

“I don’t know how you people know questions like that,” Sukuna complains. “How are you that smart?” 

You shrug, flicking the indicator down. “Just like how you play rugby.”

“They’re completely different.”

“Well,” You tilt your head. “If I tried to play rugby—” Sukuna’s laugh cuts you off. “You think I could tackle like that? Know one-word plays?” 

“I mean, you would look so sexy in those shorts.”

“Not the point,” You glance at him, eyes softening at how he’s staring at you.

“You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”

“The point is,” You swallow, feeling the callouses on his hands rub your skin. “I’ve got my thing, and you’ve got yours. We’re both good at what we do. There’s no comparing.” 

“You know what you wanted, and boy, you got her.”

“I’m just so proud of you, you know that?” Sukuna whispers, his voice barely audible over the song. You nod, eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I’m proud of you, too, Kuna. I’m gonna be a WAG forever.”

As you pull into the apartment complex's driveway, the echoes of Sukuna’s deep laughs and your giggles can be heard in the dead of night. 

“I’m sinking, our fingers entwined, cheeks pink in the twinkling lights.”

[kitmon]

Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside. 

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back. 

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

[visceral-stories]

Inheritance

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

Ko-fi |Twitter 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way! What position? Dishwasher?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh um..I just-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

POP! POP!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything about him was huge. Unbelievably huge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[astonmartingf]

BEST OF INTERVIEWS: KATARINA LOMBARDI (MERCEDES AMG)

LICENSE TO DRIVE ; f1 driver!oc x platonic! f1 grid

. . . best interview moments with katarina during her time in mercedes amg (2017-2020)

amgf i said i'm not writing but really i just miss her, every single day she's on my head actually, the amount of hcs i have in my notes about miss katarina... crazy

"What is your go to activity if you're sad?" Katarina reads the question from a random pile of papers before setting them aside at the edge of the table.

"I watch Kimi winning the 2007  championship in Brazil. To me, that was an important highlight. I was ten at the time, I felt represented as a Finnish-Italian, Kimi winning Ferrari... Good times."

"In an interview you said that you started karting when you were three." The reporter asks, as you nod your head in reply.

"Did that make your journey easier or harder as a driver?"

Katarina thinks for a moment before speaking to the microphone, "It definitely had some advantages, the journey wasn't the easiest to be here, as a female there were some hurdles that I had to wait and make space for myself. But there were definitely privileges that I was aware of, one being that I lived in Europe and there are a lot of tracks to practice, not only that but my mother also taught me a lot as a former racing driver. These can happen hand in hand, so when people discredit my achievements as a woman in motorsports by countering that I am privileged, I am aware of that. Racing is a privilege, and to see how far I've made as a woman makes me even proud of my achievements. It wasn't the easiest, but it's rewarding."

"What are the three things Katarina Lombardi can't live without?" Lewis asks, reading the question on a cut piece of paper inside the bowl.

The female tilts her head, "Maybe food? What? I could just answer things like water, food, air, or do you want personal things?"

Lewis cackles at the side, clutching his belly, "Okay, I think this is to get to know you more so maybe apart from the obvious I mean... what else? I also can't live without these three so I think they meant a personal item."

Katarina laughs, thinking once more, "My notebook, I have a journal— well multiple journals so those I would want to keep with me. Maybe my cross necklace as well, we have to remove jewelry when racing so sadly I remove it but instead of looking for my watch I want the necklace back on after races. Last would be my manager's cell phone number."

"What? That's so random." Lewis exclaims, laughing once more at her outlier response.

Katarina shakes her head, "No you don't get it. I haven't got my phone number memorized, but my manager's, I know it at the back of my head. If I'm in trouble or someone wants to ask me something I give them my manager's number, easy. Not their personal number of course, the work one but yeah, it saved me a couple of times... A lot of times actually..."

"How well does Katarina Lombardi, know about Lewis Hamilton?" Lewis reads the cue cards in front of his hands, filming another video for Mercedes.

"Not that well I'm telling you." The female whispers under her breath while playing with her own cards.

"That's not even the question yet!" Lewis steals a glance with raised brows appalled by his teammates response. "Not that well? I'm offended."

Katarina bursts into laughter, "Wait that wasn't the question? Shut up!"

Lewis stares blankly into the camera, pulling the cards closer to him, shaking his head in disappointment. "Wow... I thought we had something— I thought we were friends, and you pull this."

Katarina shakes her head in denial, "No wait! Let me explain, I thought that was the question. What are we filming today?"

"It's a quiz, look here it reads, "How well does Katarina Lombardi know about Lewis Hamilton" that's the video about."

"I thought the video was about something else, I swear believe me." Katarina shakes Lewis' arms as the older man turns away from her.

"Now you're just saying whatever you want." Katarina is left laughing, trying to console Lewis sulking at the other side of the couch.

"What do you think of the 2019 season?"

Katarina scrunched her nose, "Worst season ever."

Her reply caught other drivers off guard, Max, Sebastian, and even her own teammate Lewis turned around in confusion. Katarina shrugs, "I mean, Kimi is not in Ferrari so it's shit."

Her reply caused other reporters and journalists to laugh, "What's so funny?"

Max shakes his head, pulling the microphone to him, "You caught us there, I thought you've gone crazy, you have five, six wins and constantly on the podiums. When you said the season was the worst I was about to argue."

"I thought it had something to do with me, please, watch your words. Almost gave me a heart attack because what was so bad about the season?" Lewis adds laughing along with the others.

"Well I'm sorry, I can score points and still be sad, without Kimi who else will represent me? We all know I'll never drive for that silly horse."

The drivers turn around to face Sebastian, lips pressed in a thin line, forcing himself not to laugh, "I'm contractually not allowed to say anything but I think everyone in the grid knows that."

"What are your prospects for the upcoming season?"

Katarina grabs the microphone, thinking about giving a PR answer or one of her own, "Well, I don't have a seat for the 2021 season but I'm always available and talking to teams so, I guess we'll figure it out together."

"How is the season going on for you at Mercedes right now?"

"Well, it's still the same, you got to perform for the team, even now more since I need my portfolio to look good for the next team. I'm joking it's still fine, I'm talking to Toto and Lewis and it's all good, I do know who is replacing me so it's fun and exciting. You'll find out soon, no need to worry about me and the upcoming season, I'm still here to race for the team and hopefully the season will be good to us and for my future endeavors. Thank you."

[study-with-aura]

Saturday, March 30, 2024

It felt weird doing school work on a Saturday, but I have done it before. I featured more of the yummy candy I received in the photo. I have eaten a little of it already, but I think it's going to last me several weeks, if not a couple of months. I do not eat candy much at all, which is strange because I love things that are sweet! Still, it's nice to have a treat at the end of the study day. I don't agree with giving food as a reward, but it feels that way, even though I would still eat it whether I finished all of my studying or not.

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Reviewed simple probability, basic probability terms, and sample spaces and tree diagrams + reviewed the counting principle + practice

Lit and Comp II - Read chapter 47 of Emma by Jane Austen

Spanish 2 - Listened to Spanish speakers + answered questions in Spanish

Bible I - Read 1 Samuel 1

World History - Watched second half of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich + added to my timeline

Biology with Lab - Completed dichotomous key assignment

PE/Health I - Read a health article about lead and the body

Foundations - Read the definition of sincerity + completed the next quiz on Read Theory + looked at more advertisements

Piano - Practiced for four hours in one hour split sessions

Khan Academy - Completed High School Biology Unit 7: Lesson 3 (parts 6-7)

CLEP - Completed Module 11 reading "Europe: 1918-1945" 13.10-13.10.2 + Watched Module 11.4 lecture video

Streaming - Watched Hitler’s Circle of Evil episodes 3 and 4

Duolingo - Studied for 15 minutes (Spanish, French, Chinese) + completed daily quests

Reading - Read pages 109-157 of Beneath the Wide Silk Sky by Emily Inouye Huey

Chores - Deep cleaned refrigerator, stove and kitchen counters + put away groceries

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (1 Corinthians 12 + Week 6 reflections)

1 hour gaming

2 hours yoga/stretch (split into one hour sessions)

Journal/Mindfulness

-

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful for smoothie bowls!

Quote of the Day:

Miracles happen everyday, change your perception of what a miracle is and you'll see them all around you.

-Jon Bon Jovi

🎧SUPERWOMAN - UNIS

[lalalian]

basic potions | aethergarde academy dr program

date: july 31, 2024

assignment type: reading + kahoot quiz

Potions! Very important to have, if you're fucked up in battle, a healing potion would be reealllyy useful, don't you think?

Today, we'll just be going over the basic five potions most adventurers would have on hand at some point.

Do note that these are the most popular and common recipes. There are different recipes for the same objective, so some people like to use other recipes instead.

The higher your rank is, the less likely you'll feel the side effects of common potions. An S-ranked rider wouldn't feel the side effects of any of these potions after awakening, before awakening, you would... but only a little, like a 1/10.

cleric's brew

Literally just a healing potion, but like only for physical injuries. Cleric's brew is the weakest variant of physical healing potions. The strongest brew of this is called 'clerica', since you are like... an S-tier rider... you will be taking clerica onto missions far more than cleric's brew. Surprise surprise, the potion is red (the liquid is clear). It tastes like watermelon jolly ranchers (Is this really unrealistic? yes. but I don't really wanna drink a shitty tasting potion when blood is leaking from every orifice on my body).

side effects: n/a, though stronger brews with this recipe do make the drinker feel drunk

serving size: this recipe makes two servings of cleric's brew, 50 ml per serving, can take 10 servings in a day

how to make cleric's brew:

ingredients:

-3 stalks of wrymroot

-3 crushed maldine seeds

-4 table spoons of hippocampus liver oil

-100 ml of mana infused drinking water (infusing more mana increases the strength of this potion, a C rank rider would be able to make clerica)

procedure:

boil 100 ml of mana infused water in a heat insulating pot, like a classic cauldron

put the 3 maldine seeds and the liver oil into a separate bowl; mix it until the mixture turns red

pour the mixture into the pot and mix until fully combined

put the stalks of wyrmroot into the pot; push the stalks down into the liquid, but don't stir it to prevent the stalks from breaking

place a lid over the pot and let the mixture boil for 1 hr

after an hour, take the pot out of the heat and strain it; make sure no solid ingredients are in the liquid when you pour it into flasks

you're done!

nausine

Did I name a potion for nausea after a nausea medication here? Yes. Did I spell it differently in hopes that people wouldn't know that it is in fact the name of a nausea medication? Perhaps. But here we are... Yeah so I didn't know what to name this so... I mean like nausine fits right? Uh anyways, this potion is murky green and smells like goat shit. It tastes bitter but with a tinge of mint. Nausine is especially used for motion sickness.

side effects: drowsiness

lasts for 1 hour

serving size: this recipe makes three servings of nausine, 30 ml per serving, can only take 6 servings in a day, must space out intake of each serving by an hour

how to make nausine:

ingredients:

-40 ml of ram bile

-20 ml of purified drinking water

-1 cockatrice yolk

-5 yilandrea buds

-3 handfuls of bay leaves

-1 reed of brambleweed

procedure:

boil the ram bile for half an hour; make sure the room is well ventilated + make sure you wear protective clothing such as gloves and goggles

make sure that the bile doesn't contain anymore solid ingredients, including bone and other entities. if the bile you acquired is from a high quality retailer, you can probably skip this step.

set aside the bile, and pour the cockatrice yolk, yilandrea buds, bay leaves, and brambleweed into a motar and crush the ingredients until a paste is formed

put the paste into a pot with the drinking water and stir; boil the mixture for around 15 minutes, place a lid on the pot and leave it for 10 minutes

pour the substance into the bile and stir slowly over heat; keep the mixture over heat for an hour

move the potion into three different flasks, and you're done!

mulkings draught

Often referred to as a 'mulking', mulkings draught strengthens a person's ability to resist mind magic. Of course, this kind of brew isn't foolproof, but it's good enough against low level creatures that utilize mind magic. This potion was named after Tirin Mulkings, who made this recipe. Luckily, this one doesn't taste like straight up ass, instead, it tastes similar to greek yogurt. It smells slightly milky, and the potion is a very light blue, at first glance it appears white.

side effects: slight nausea

lasts for 1 hour

serving size: this recipe makes two servings of mulkings draught, 20 ml per serving, can take 7 servings in a day

how to make mulkings draught:

ingredients:

-30 ml of griffin milk

-a handful of blue caligrass

-4 tablespoons of mollusk eggs

-2 tablespoons of white peas

procedure:

boil the griffin's milk until the liquid releases steam, but not until it bubbles erratically; remember to continually stir the liquid

add the caligrass, mollusk eggs, and white peas

mush the ingredients until the liquid starts to bubble more erratically, then take the mixture off the heat

pour the mixture into a mortar, grind the ingredients carefully to avoid splashing the substance on yourself

once everything's mushed together, transfer the mixture into a clay pot and apply heat to the substance

mix it with a pestle for around 5~ minutes, then take it off the heat and pour the liquid into two flasks

all done!

hastency serum

Hastency serum makes the drinker's movements faster. If you drink two servings of this potion, it'll also increase your precision. Archers use this potion so often that it got the nickname 'archer's brew'. Hastency tastes similar to scotch and feels as if it burns the throat as it's consumed. The clear orange-yellow liquid is stored in a vial. It smells similar to rusty metal.

side effects: ache in knees, fingers, and elbows after effect fades away

lasts for 30 minutes

serving size: this recipe makes 4 servings of hastency serum, 10 ml per serving, can take 5 servings in a day

how to make hastency serum:

ingredients:

-3 oscaaret talons

-1 sailfish dorsal fish

-2 basset griffin claws

-2 owl eyes (any breed works)

-5 grams of molten rock

-a handful of fleetfoot hare hair (lmao)

-40 ml of wyvern spit

procedure:

make sure the wyvern spit doesn't have any large foreign objects in it

boil the spit overnight in a clay pot, make sure a lid is placed on the pot

before the spit is ready, grind the dorsal fin until it's breaks apart into chunky bits

in the morning, make sure the spit is really runny. If the spit is thicker than before, let it cool for a day and boil the spit again. If the spit is runny, place the talons, claws, dorsal fin, hair, and rocks into the pot

stir for 15 minutes slowly, then let it boil for 10 minutes

as the mixture boils, take the owl eyes and cut them over a small bowl; pour the liquid from the eyes into the pot and stir it until the liquid turns orange

once it turns orange stir it for another ~3 minutes and let it cool overnight

strain the potion, make sure no hair is present in the strained liquid

transfer it into 4 vials, and you're done!

ardor serum

Often simply called 'ardor', this potion helps replenishes a person's energy. Similar to hastency serum, this potion is stored in a vial. While it's useful, it's not the healthiest potion for the body. Taking too many in a short span of time can result in permanent mind fog, constant need to move (lots of fidgeting), fatigue, and insomnia. The liquid is chartreuse and murky. It smells like smoky dog sweat, and it tastes like candles and stale corn chips.

side effects: n/a

lasts for 30 minutes

serving size: this recipe makes 4 servings of ardor serum, 10 ml per serving, can take 2 servings in a week

how to make ardor serum:

ingredients:

-4 powdered pangolin scales

-4 teaspoons of taperoak sap

-3 highland wynmergier feathers

-5 sprouting sylican seeds

-1 handful of sickleweeds

-40 ml of sundew

procedure:

mix the sap into the sundew, do not place it over fire yet. Leave this mixture by a window that faces the sun the most for day

the next day, start boiling the mixture. Place the powdered scales into the pot and stir it until the powder's been well combined with the dew

place the seeds upright at the bottom of the pot; leave the pot on low heat for 6 hours

if the sprouts have turned white, cut up the sickleweeds and put them in the pot. Make sure you push them down to the bottom where the seeds are, but make sure they're not resting above the sprout.

burn the feathers over the liquid, then place the remnants into the pot. Don't stir, put a lid over the mixture and leave it overnight. The pot should still be over low heat

in the morning, stir everything together and strain it, make sure all large objects have been removed from the liquid

transfer the strained mixture into four vials, and you're done!

homework

this quiz is open note!

this one might be a little hard, so don't worry if you don't do too hot!

link to the quiz

next week, I'm thinking of talking about basic etiquette (should be pretty easy). After two more assignments, (not including this one) the first unit will be over! After each unit, there will be a 1 week break from assignments.

[wrongcaitlyn]

hiiiii tawny I had free time for the first time in like WEEKS and so I caught up on your solangelo au week posts and now for my thoughts:

so american: YES. I LOVE. SO WORTH THE WAIT. NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY THE VIBES WERE VIBING. I read this as soon as it came out so the thoughts have left my head but trust I loved it.

renegades au: omg I love it. v v excited to see where it goes. also may have convinced me that I need to read renegades?? but I love the dynamic that the anarchists have. also I love scientist percy for some reason like it’s def not the easiest power you could’ve went with but I like the idea of him being a more behind-the-scenes guy bc I think that’s what he’d choose for himself if given the chance. also your percabeth dynamics are on point in literally every fic from this week (even tho they’re just in the background lmao).

new rome au: I think this route for nico is like. actually way more plausible than what happened canonically. like he DOES have way more friends in new rome than in chb. dont get me wrong im glad he stayed in canon but this was SO INTERESTING. I love the idea of nico healing on his own and separate from will. I feel like it takes away some of the… unhealthy codependency of their relationship LOL. once again the percabeth dynamics🫶🏻 also I feel like some space from percy and then seeing him while he and annabeth are in college more often would be good for their friendship??? like idk I am a big fan of taking ur space when needed. also risk is SUCH a will song. boy was in love with a dude before they even had a conversation.

nerds au: as a nerd a nerds au is something that can be so special LMAO I love this dynamic perhaps bc it is also my life (esp in hs). all of the character dynamics in this fic were just. chef’s kiss. I loved. I think you translated nico’s unhealthy habits from canon into a hs au in a really interesting, believable way bc nico WOULD stay up late to do hw out of spite. maybe not canon nico but a nico who grew up in the (possible public) school system. also I love the quiz bowl addition (at my hs it was called scholar bowl so sorry if I type that instead LOL) bc I had so much fun in quiz bowl. I made some of my best friends thru it :) are u in quiz bowl?!? the rules were way too accurate to be written by someone unfamiliar with it lol.

long story short I love all ur fics and will forever be excited to see an update to any one of them <3

oh my GOD. you have literally made me die dead. kicking my feet and giggling at this AHHGSDF

i'm SO glad that you liked so american!!!! was highly anticipating ur response bc u convinced me to actually write it so!!!! i'm so happy <33

ABSOLUTELY READ RENEGADES. srsly it's such a good series like i will recommend it to EVERYONE. the anarchists dynamic is so😭😭 keep in mind that this is a heavy au of renegades, so the dynamic is slightly different (+ a very different ending in the series, i took a lot of creative liberties) but i'm so glad that you liked it!! and YESLKSDJF i just realized that i had background percabeth in all of my solangelo week fics. which like. THEYRE SO ICONIC THEY HAVE TO BE EVERYWHERE i think there are some couples that i absolutely LOVE but i prefer to actually write them as background couples?? like i obsess over their dynamics, but i like it from an outsider's perspective and not as the main plotline (at least when writing fics) so i very much enjoyed including them in all of these

honestly SAME with the new rome au. like. absolutely love that nico managed to make a home in chb, but like?? reyna jason AND hazel were all in new rome... i honestly wouldn't have blamed him if he took that opportunity instead!!! i think this would be a really cool au to expand on and like actually make a full multichap but i am trying desperately to not turn everything into 100k monstrosities. i tried limiting myself to 5k words and didn't even manage that so. but i definitely think he would've grown a lot + gotten some healthier coping mechanisms when living with all of his friends, then meeting percy a year later, and THEN going into a relationship with will - and ofc, will is happy with whatever ends with a solangelo endgame. he's their own number one shipper!!

I'M SO GLAD U LIKED THE NERDS AU nico's characterization was definitely something that i considered (and, tbh, that i consider in all au's, because trauma and coping mechanisms do not often translate the exact same over universes - characters are always going to behave slightly different in other situations, so it's always exciting to see how that works!!). one thing that DOES translate throughout every universe is that he has no semblance of a sleep schedule; this time it's just due to hw instead of tartarus nightmares! SAME WITH THE QUIZ BOWL and yes i am part of the club!!! genuinely made my friend group through that, and we actually did what was in the fic irl - as in, we made a discord server and like quizzed each other over that. my team lost be an insane amount. i am nowhere near as skilled as nico and will. i maybe have gotten, like, 4 questions right in my two years of being part of the club (though i will use the excuse that my anxiety makes it VERY hard to hit the buzzer. i hate being wrong more than not answeringslkdf) but!!!! i do think nico and will would SLAY at quiz bowl, they both definitely feel like people who have random encyclopedic knowledge on the most niche topics

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH ILY <333

[luxuriousmalfoy]

HP Saffics Femslash February Bingo Masterlist- zeddmarker/luxuriousmalfoy

Click here for my full Femslash February Masterlist Spreadsheet.

It was so fun participating in all the February daily challenges that I did! Thank you to @hpsaffics for hosting this bingo in particular, some of the prompts really challenged me!!

In the beginning, my goal was to keep each ficlet under 500 words. As you can probably tell, some of them (I'm looking at you, MILF) developed brains of their own. I hope you've enjoyed these daily postings!

Without further ado, my bingo masterlist:

B1: First or Second Person POV

You Meet the One | Katie Bell/Alicia Spinnet | 200

Planning a field trip for your class, you are enamored with the woman who works at the museum.

B2: Post-Hogwarts

MILF | Astoria Greengrass/Narcissa Malfoy | Explicit | 2,717

Astoria is faced with past hurt and temptation when she agrees to go on a family vacation with her best friend—and his mother.

B3: Part-Creature Character

She's a Butterfly | Cho Chang/Fleur Delacour | 200

When she met Fleur, she had met her butterfly—flitting from person to person but never resting, not really.

B4: Next Gen Character

Lily Luna in Lights | Lily Luna Potter/Genderbent!Lysander Scamander | 121

Lysandra gives Lily a pep talk before her first sold out show.

B5: Fluff/HEA

Starting Over | Marietta Edgecombe/Hermione Granger | 959

At her first guitar lesson, Hermione runs into someone who reminds her of past mistakes.

I1: Outsider POV

Meddling Sister | Millicent Bulstrode/Astoria Greengrass | 465

Daphne knows what has to be done in order for her sister and her best friend to get together.

I2: Microfic or Drabble

Cloud Watching | Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes | 100

Dorcas takes Marlene cloud watching.

I3: Established Relationship

Jet Lag | Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley | 100

Wide awake from jet lag, Luna pesters her sleepy girlfriend.

I4: At Least One Archive Warning

Only One Way | Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley | Mature | wc

They say there is only one way out of a place like this.

I5: Marauders Era Character

All My Life | Lily Evans/Hermione Granger | 115

Hermione confronts the girl who’s been present on every birthday, but has never aged.

N1: Inter-House Relationship

Camping in the Garden | Astoria Greengrass/Ginny Weasley | 100

Astoria and Ginny enjoy a night camping in Ginny’s backyard.

N2: Lightning Gen Character

Hit Me With Your Best Shot | Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson | 884

Hermione forges an unexpected bond with her biggest competition at the quiz bowl tournament.

N3: Free Space

Keeping Company | Andromeda Tonks/Molly Weasley | 897

With their husbands drafted to war, Molly and Andromeda decide to live together.

N4: POC Character

Preserved in Amber | Lily Evans/Dorcas Meadowes | 272

Lily accidentally reveals the sketch she drew of her lab partner.

N5: M/E-Rated Fic

unshackle me | Genderbent!Lucius Malfoy/Genderbent!James Potter | Mature | 609

Jay Potter has a mission to accomplish, but the sight of her former lover changes her plans.

G1: Angst/Dark/UHEA

Too Good For Me | Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson | 200

A one-night-stand leads to a difficult goodbye.

G2: Hogwarts Era

French Daydream | Katie Bell/Fleur Delacour | 382

Katie doesn't think she will ever get another chance to talk to Fleur, until a lost shawl re-ignites her hope.

G3: Muggle AU

So We Meet Again | Daphne Greengrass/Luna Lovegood | 413

When Daphne starts going to a new cafe, she is taken with the barista.

G4: Canon Divergence

just forget the world | Astoria Greengrass/Ginny Weasley | 440

Astoria finds herself comforted by the person she's always admired.

G5: Inspired by Another Work

twin flames | The Great Gatsby | Mature | Astoria Greengrass/Pansy Parkinson | 1,574

When Ron moved next door to the biggest party spot in Godric's Hollow, he never expected it to turn his worldview on its head.

O1: G/T-Rated Fic

Cake Heist | Cho Chang/Fleur Delacour | 200

A late night mission for cakes is derailed.

O2: Poly Ship

I Love You | Katie Bell/Angelina Johnson/Alicia Spinnet | 380

Three different girls with three different journeys to love.

O3: Canon Compliant

I Misjudged You | Lavender Brown/Padma Patil | 300

Padma spent her adolescence hating her twin's best friend for stealing her away, but maybe Lavender wasn't so bad after all.

O4: Founders Gen/Golden Gen

The Things I'll Do | Poppy Pomfrey/Pomona Sprout | wc

Pomona attempts one of Poppy’s favorite pastimes.

O5: First Time

Cliff Jumping | Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley | wc

Ginny convinces Pansy to go cliff jumping.

[alecsalamander]

(for @unloneliest, because we can never have enough of the bread)

It’s midterms week, and Lacey thinks if she goes to the library one more time she’s going to scream, going to rip out her hair and maybe her skin, just flay herself open and hope that the books find spaces to slip the information into.

Instead, she goes home.

It’s strange, not living there – it’s her home, still is and always will be, but sometimes she drops by and neither of her parents are in it, or there’s an unfamiliar item on the shelves, or there’s laughter or music or—

Sometimes she comes home and realizes that the house, like she did, has kept moving on.

“Hey Brat.” There’s music playing in the kitchen, soft and warm, and Cat is sitting on the counter like it’s a throne; the big blue bowl is beside him, covered in a cloth. He reaches out to tug at some of her hair as she gets close, and she laughs. He’s just as annoying now as he was when she was six, and she loves him just as much as she did then too. “How’re the midterms going?”

She smiles at him, soft and warm, and hops up onto the counter on his other side. “I’m going to set myself and at least two buildings on fire.”

He shifts, sliding a bit on the granite, until he can fully engulf her in his arms; it’s the same way he’s hugged her since she was a child, like he was putting himself between her and the world, but she’s not three feet tall anymore. Feels like it, a little bit, whenever he hugs her. She thinks that’s the way of it – she’s 20 years old and he loves her so much it makes her feel small by comparison. “You’re gonna be okay, kiddo.”

It’s not the words so much as the way he says them that has her feeling a little bit like crying – with completely surety. He sounds like Wendy.

“I will be,” she tells his collarbone. “I’ll be better after we finish that bread.”

The big blue bowl is for bread, and Cat always sits on the counter while it proofs. She knows it’s because he’s used to having one of them keeping him company during the time. He looks back at it, and lets her go just enough to prod the bowl beneath the cloth a little. “Eight more minutes,” he tells her, and she still has no idea how he knows. He never uses timers, and rarely measuring cups or spoons, but it always comes out perfect.

“Where’s Dad?”

Cat releases her to shrug, unconcerned. “No fucking clue.” He hops down to the floor and holds out his hands, like when she was little, to help her do the same. “I’m pretty sure he’s disassociating at Target again.” She checks her phone and sure enough, there’s a text from him, timestamped almost an hour ago, asking if she needs anything. “Stay for dinner. You can help me make tocană.”

She really should do some studying before tomorrow, but the promise of a familiar routine and spending the evening at home is a strong one. She hasn’t been home for dinner in about a week. “I can’t stay late,” she agrees. “I gotta study.”

Cat sits at the table. Pulls her backpack towards him, and pulls out the first textbook. He knows her well enough to know the meanings of the many colored tabs that mark it like a painting, and he cracks it open to the orange section. “I’ll quiz you,” he waves her away when she goes to sit with him, “while you shape the loaves. Give you something to do with your hands. Wash up, Brat, it’s almost time.”

She washes her hands while he starts reading out prep questions with the same tone he used to read her bedtime stories. There’s something rhythmic about it, the same as the motions she’s known since she was a child, and by the time she’s sliding the loaves into the oven she thinks that maybe he was right.

She’s gonna be okay.

[dwampyverse-tournaments]

Best Phineas and Ferb Song Tournament: Round 1 (Part 2/2)

April 2

Ain’t Got Rhythm vs. Corndog Jingle

Punky Momo vs. You’re Going Down

My Cruisin’ Sweet Ride vs. Candace

Aren’t You a Little Young? vs. What Does He Want

Tatooine vs. Doofenshmirtz’s Basement

You’re Not Ferb vs. Rusted

Lies vs. Deep into Your Mind

Rollercoaster vs. Surfin’ Asteroids

Blueprints vs. I Want Nothing

Flying Fishmonger vs. Don’t Look Down

Ferb Latin vs. Fly on the Wall

My Ride From Outer Space vs. Ducky Momo Theme Song

Kick It Up A Notch vs. Battle Song

Mysterious Force vs. Charmed Life

Mobile Mammal vs. My Name is Doof

Quirky Worky Song vs. Little Brothers

Doofenshmirtz’s Jingle vs. Sunshine and Bubble Gum

Buford is in Trouble vs. He’s Eviler

Alien Heart vs. Danville for Niceness

What’cha Doin’? vs. Izzy’s Got the Frizzies

S.I.M.P. vs. Dancing in the Sunshine

He’s a Bully vs. Let’s Take a Quiz

Perfect Day vs. Bouncin’ Around the World

Disco Miniature Golfing Queen vs. Rock Climbing Wall

Drusselstein Driving Test Waltz vs. I Want to Be Cool

Happy Evil Love Song vs. Humiliating Stumblegimp Dance of Contrition

Fish Out of Water vs. Pic-A-Nic Bust

Rubber Bands, Rubber Balls vs. Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Hail Doofania! vs. Yellow Sidewalk

Floor After Floor vs. When You’re Small

Christmas is Starting Now vs. Brick!

Perry the Platypus vs. Rebel, Let's Go!

April 3

Gitchee Gitchee Goo vs. Snacks

Straight Up Bust vs. A-Prime Calypso

A-G-L-E-T vs. Van Stomm’s Rule One

In the Empire vs. Extraordinary

Kick My Way Right Into Her Heart vs. Doof 101

Boat of Romance vs. Such a Beautiful Day

Hey Ferb! vs. Breakin’ Out

Carpe Diem vs. Jetpack Volleyball

Frenemies vs. Red Rubber Boots

Phinedroids and Ferbots vs. Mid-Life Crisis

Hemoglobin Highway vs. J-Pop

Not So Bad A Dad vs. Girls Day Out

Come Home Perry vs. Meet Our Leader

Gordian Knot vs. Give Up

Pin Bowling vs. I Love You Mom

You Snuck Your Way Right Into My Heart vs. Unsung Hero

My Nemesis vs. Ring of Fun

My Evil Buddies and Me vs. We’re Back

Gotta Get Gone vs. When You Levitate

Evil for Extra Credit vs. In the Mall

Sith-Inator vs. Bee Song

Elementary vs. Spa Day

Little Bit of Home on the Road vs. X-Ray Eyes

Brand New Reality vs. Perrytronic

Me, Myself, and I vs. We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Runnin’ from Love (in a Bear Suit) vs. Platypus Fight

Mexican-Jewish Cultural Festival vs. Summer All Over the World

Robot Riot vs. Backyard Hodge Podge

Perry the Teenage Girl vs. There’s No One I’d Rather Go Nowhere With

Today is Gonna be a Great Day vs. Silhouettes

Takin’ Care of Things vs. One Good Scare

Summer Belongs to You! vs. Whalemingo

Part 1 here!

[megraen]

2 for 1 Quizzes!

Tagged by @voidika

Tagging: @socially-awkward-skeleton @miss-jennifer-cormier @ladykatie512 @glitchinginthegarden

Quiz 1: What is your OC’s true role in the story? (done in another post, so skipping)

Quiz 2: The “oh” quiz

the missed opportunity

this one comes with a pang. it is the wrinkled brow of something unpleasant sinking in. they've left to find some new adventure. or they've met someone else. and you have only just begun to understand their true importance to you. you watch them drift toward a future without you, and in that stark numbness of their absence, it hits you. Oh. oh, you want them close. you hopelessly, selfishly want them all to yourself. you'll support them no matter what, but you don't want them to want a future that doesn't involve you. you want them to read the near-invisible signs of your love and decide to take a chance on you. you never want to say that you *used* to know each other. so what are you going to do?

the first meeting

life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!

the late-night talk

Oh. you figure it out when you realize just how vulnerable they are willing to be with you. it isn't everybody who could or would stay up talking into the night with you, not with such affection or easy familiarity. it isn't everybody who is so understanding of you. it isn't everybody who could bare their soul to you in return. that kind of intimacy... it means deep foundations. it means comfort. it means trust. maybe it's a secret, maybe it's a story, maybe it's something you just never thought of before -- but they say something, late at night, and you realize all at once how remarkable they are, and how special it is to exist in the same time and space as them. "oh" indeed.

the kiss

you typically wait until the last second to believe the truth--because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. you are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. the idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. why let people get close enough to be rejected? you are enough for yourself. and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick their shoulder. until the kiss. that's when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. Oh, you think. because despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. they won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation. Oh.

the first meeting

life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!

the kiss

you typically wait until the last second to believe the truth--because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. you are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. the idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. why let people get close enough to be rejected? you are enough for yourself. and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick their shoulder. until the kiss. that's when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. Oh, you think. because despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. they won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation. Oh.

[akirakirxaa]

I'll tell you when you get your soft, italicized, "Oh."

Tagged by @otherworldseekers, thanks!

Akira

the late-night talk

Oh. you figure it out when you realize just how vulnerable they are willing to be with you. it isn't everybody who could or would stay up talking into the night with you, not with such affection or easy familiarity. it isn't everybody who is so understanding of you. it isn't everybody who could bare their soul to you in return. that kind of intimacy... it means deep foundations. it means comfort. it means trust. maybe it's a secret, maybe it's a story, maybe it's something you just never thought of before -- but they say something, late at night, and you realize all at once how remarkable they are, and how special it is to exist in the same time and space as them. "oh" indeed.

(Teeechnically in my HC she realized it when she realized she knew the Exarch all along at the top of Mt. Gulg, but this is when their relationship really began so it works.)

Persephone

the kiss

you typically wait until the last second to believe the truth--because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. you are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. the idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. why let people get close enough to be rejected? you are enough for yourself. and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick their shoulder. until the kiss. that's when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. Oh, you think. because despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. they won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation. Oh.

(The trio I imagine had a bit of a rocky start, especially Persephone and Hades. Even when they got closer though and stopped being so antagonistic to each other, she didn't quite believe it until he kissed her. So, yeah. :) Also apologies I haven't made a screenshot of this moment and am being lazy right now. Have an OT3 meme.)

Valeria

the first meeting

life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!

(Well. How fitting. :) Considering I made her story to be a Cinderella retelling [at least to start anyways].)

Here's the quiz.

Tagging: @dragonsongmakhali @e-dragoons @gatheredfates @dreadwyrmz

[sochilll]

October 8 - “Are you busy tonight?”

Day 7 Day 9 All Days (Prompt list)

Halloween on a Tuesday was universally disappointing. Well, not for Evan. Ever since he and Jared had outgrown trick-or-treating, he mostly spent Halloweens doing homework. Or, if it was a weekend, maybe watching cheesy scary movies at Jared’s house.

Tuesday nights meant rushing to finish the calc assignment from last week so he’d be prepared for the pop quiz that wasn’t really a pop quiz cause they had one every Wednesday.

“Hey.” Jared appeared at Evan’s side. Or maybe he’d just walked up while Evan was spacing out. “You’re not very festive.”

Jared was wearing a shirt that said ‘costume’ and a headband with pumpkin antennas.

“I’m dressed as a high school student.” Evan shrugged.

“You’re dressed as a loser.” Jared corrected. He pulled the headband off and stuck it on Evan’s head.

Evan resisted the urge to pull it off only because Jared would say that proved he was a loser.

“Does this satisfy you?” Evan asked.

Jared pulled out his phone and took a picture of Evan’s miserable expression. “Yes.”

Evan rolled his eyes and took off the headband, throwing it into his locker. “If I’m not getting free stuff I don’t have to dress up.”

“Fair point.” Jared snapped his fingers. “Hey, are you busy tonight?” He asked as they started walking to first period.

Evan looked over. “No. Why?”

“My parents are going to some Halloween party for mom’s work. So they want me to hand out candy.”

“Oh.” Evan nodded, not understanding what this had to do with him. They came to a stop outside Jared’s class.

“Yeah. So you can just come after school?”

Evan blinked. It took him a moment to realize Jared was inviting him over. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Cool.” Jared nodded and walked into the classroom.

Jared’s house was nice. Nicer than Evan’s at least, although that wasn’t exactly saying much. They used to be next door neighbors, Jared and Evan. But then Jared’s mom got a promotion and his dad got a new job and suddenly they were moving. Just a few streets away but still.

There was a big plastic bowl on the entryway table with three variety bags of candy.

Jared tore one open and fished out a tootsie roll.

“We can watch TV or something until they start showing up.” He said, dropping his backpack on the way to the kitchen.

Evan set his own backpack down by the stairs and followed Jared. “Are we doing another scary movie night? Since it is Halloween and all.”

“You make a strong point.” Jared admitted. “I guess we could probably find something. But we have to wait till it’s dark.”

“Of course.” Evan rolled his eyes.

It didn’t take long for the trick-or-treaters to show up. Halloween being on a school night meant they had to start early.

Evan did the first few rounds while Jared scrolled through Netflix, yelling movie titles at him while Evan shot them down.

“You’re impossible!” Jared huffed.

“I just don’t want to watch something with the words ‘blood,’ ‘dismemberment,’ and ‘iconic’ in the description.” Evan called back. “Also I think it’s your turn to do this.”

“Lame! In response to both.”

Eventually they settled on something. One of those old, cheesy slashers with the corn syrup blood that splattered way too much. Evan sort of liked these kinds of horror movies. The ones with the subpar effects and even subber-par acting. They had heart. And they didn’t make Evan want to peel his skin off with their hyper realistic effects.

The candy was dwindling, being eaten by both trick-or-treaters as well as Jared and Evan themselves. Evan had tried not to but when Jared opened a new bag with Starburst he caved quickly.

The doorbell stopped ringing by ten. Evan was quite comfortable by then. He was stretched out on the couch, shoes off and under a soft blanket. They were on movie three. There were no more people at the door but Jared didn’t say anything about Evan going home so Evan didn’t either.

“This is the worst one.” Evan said, squeezing his eyes shut as a grotesque screen played out.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let the scary man get you.” Jared teased, being dramatic. But then his hand found Evan’s under the blanket.

Evan tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for that other than the one beating against his ribs. He came up empty.

“Should I stop?” Jared asked suddenly. His eyes were glued to the TV.

Evan thought about that. “No.”

Jared said nothing, only tightened his grip.