#transformers victory jean

[tea-potato-gt]

Transformers Victory (Manga)✌️🤖

Star Saber being the best giant robo dad to his little human son Jean 🥰🤭

I love how Star Sabor just finds Jean one day and is like: “Guess I’m a dad now” 🤷‍♂️

The anime has a lot of adorable moments between Jean and the rest of the transformers team, but especially with his dad.

Watch the anime here: (only in japanese with english subtitles)

[cranberrytart451]

Today is a good day, and tomorrow will be better.

[sendpseuds]

“Christ, Spencer’s still exists!?”

It has been many years since Obi-Wan has found himself at the mall, and if it weren’t for fear of incurring the wrath of his ex-wife, he’s fairly certain he never would have returned to this godforsaken place.

“You know what Spencer’s is?” 

Korkie’s voice is incredulous, arms crossed over his chest, staring up at Obi-Wan with his mother’s arched eyebrow like his father can’t possibly have knowledge about anything even mildly fun or cool.

Obi-Wan wants to roll his eyes.

Instead, he digs his nails into his palm.

Before you I was fun.

Before you I was cool.

“Of course I do,” he replies with a haughty huff, trying to swallow the defensive feeling in his throat, “When I was your age we would actually hang out at the mall.”

Korkie laughs.

Not kindly.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan feels even less cool than he had a moment before.

“You know,” Korkie muses as they near the novelty shop in question, his voice settling to a low note Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’s heard the boy hit before, finally settling into all the terrible changes and challenges of being a teenager, “Mom never lets me go in there—”

Translation: Here’s your chance to be the fun parent. The cool parent. 

It’s the oldest trick in the book, and frankly, he expects more from his own son, but they’ve got a long terrible day of ex-wife-mandated back-to-school shopping ahead of them and Obi-Wan thinks he’d rather start the nightmare with a smiling teen than a sulking one.

“I am curious,” Obi-Wan says, completely bypassing the comment about Satine. If he’s taking his son into what is, essentially, every teenager’s first sex shop, he’s at least going to make it his idea, “I wonder how much has changed.”

The excited smile on Korkie’s face looks a whole lot like victory.

“You can’t tell your mother.”

“Never,” Korkie promises before rushing ahead and into the dimly lit store.

Somehow, decades later, this place looks exactly the same. 

Dark.

Disorganized.

Debaucherous.

So very dark.

The front of the shop is littered with graphic t-shirts and novelty items — party games, gag gifts, and kitschy decor — the merchandise growing more and more adult the further back the display is. Obi-Wan is sure there are fuzzy handcuffs and dildos back by the Playboy posters and lava lamps but he remembers what it was like to be a teenage boy and Korkie’s going to learn about all of it sooner or later.

[And Satine is certainly not going to teach him about it if the boy’s recounting of her almost horrifyingly clinical sex talk is anything to go by.]

Korkie runs his hand over the orange owl on a black Hooter’s shirt and now, Obi-Wan does roll his eyes.

When the boy looks up, the mischievous smile on his face immediately transforms into a seething scowl.

He’s getting quite good at that look.

He looks so much like his mother.

“Don’t follow me, Dad!” Korkie bites out, scoffing loudly when Obi-Wan holds his hands up in surrender, turning on his heal and disappearing behind a shelf of alien-themed housewares.

“Yeah, Dad,” an unfamiliar voice says from somewhere behind him, the man’s tone low and teasing, “Leave him alone.”

Obi-Wan turns and finds himself pinned in place by eyes as blue as the Bad Bitch neon hanging beside him.

The beautiful young man standing behind the counter is wrapped all in black, ripped jeans slung low on his hips, plain black t-shirt beneath a leather harness, the sort Obi-Wan has never seen anyone wear outside of a porno and certainly never in public. Dyed black hair is growing out blonde at the roots and there’s a scar through the eyebrow that isn’t pierced and the way his stunning smile only grows makes something stir in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach.

I used to be cool.

I used to wear risky clothing and a ring in my ear.

I used to pop pills and smoke cigarettes.

I used to be young and hot.

Now, I’m just Dad.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” the stunning creature working at Spencer’s says, his voice lower than it was a moment ago, those wild blue eyes unabashedly tracing up and down Obi-Wan’s body with an amused grin, placing both his hands flat on the counter and hinging forward at the hips, arching his spine in a way that makes Obi-Wan sway forward, his eyes falling to a pair of perfect pink lips, imagining the metal piercing hard and cold between his teeth as they part to speak.

“I think I’d rather call you Daddy.”

[part two]

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Mr. Fix It

For a man who refuses to don a hat unless he’s in uniform, Steven J. McGarrett sure wears a lot of them. A decorated Navy SEAL, leader of the governor’s task force, expert pilot, sport pro, amateur (although he’d argue with you on that) mechanic, occasional ukulele player, son, brother, friend, uncle, husband, dog dad, and now race car-bed-putter-together. The man’s talents clearly know no bounds.

Leaning against the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom in Danny’s house, you can’t help but admire the view before you. Your husband has traded in his usual cargo pants and t-shirt for a pair of form fitting jeans that hug his lower half in all the right places and a plaid button up that shows off his muscular back and arms. A tool belt is slung low across his hips, and a few dirty jokes featuring the hammer and screwdriver tucked into their designated slots pop into your head unbidden. Steve slides the pencil out from behind his ear to make a mark on the wood, then grips the writing implement between his teeth to free up his hands. That draws your attention to the scruff currently dotting his cheeks and the sexy patch of gray along his chin that’s been steadily growing with every birthday that passes. He bends over to fit two pieces of the bed frame together, and your promise to Danny to not fool around in his house is suddenly dangerously close to being broken.

Passing Steve on your way to collect more wallpaper, you gather two handfuls of denim in a firm squeeze and appreciatively murmur, “Nice ass, stud.”

Your husband lets out an amused grunt, straightening up to his full height and tucking the pencil back in its rightful spot before turning to you with one eyebrow raised. “What was that, you cheeky little brat? Huh? You objectifying me again?”

“I said,” you emphasize as you climb the ladder with your next few feet of racing stripe wallpaper, “that’s a nice brass stud!”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Hey, lemme ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You think Danno could fit in this bed, too?”

You turn to your husband, trying and failing to bite back your laughter. “You’re objectively the worst. And I’m telling him you said-”

Steve’s phone ringing interrupts your threat, and he brandishes his cell with a playful grin. “Speak of the Jersey devil.” He answers the phone, the smile melting off his face at whatever he’s hearing on the other end. After a few tense moments, he ends the call and then walks up to you on the ladder with a sigh.

“Duty calls?” you ask knowingly.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts, leaning up to kiss you three times for I love you.

“Don’t get hurt, Steve!” you call to his retreating form down the hallway, getting a confident, “I won’t!” in response.

“I’m serious,” you yell louder as his footsteps grow quieter. “You’ve reached your allotted hospital visits for the month!”

__________

Later that night, you find yourself in the same position as this morning at the entrance to Charlie’s room, this time admiring the way the space has transformed into a little boy’s dream and enjoying the Indy 500 animatedly playing out before you.

“…and the crowd goes wild,” your husband declares, whisper-yelling cheers as Charlie grins proudly beside him. Steve tucks a victorious Charlie into bed before smoothing the little tyke’s hair down and pressing his lips to his forehead with a quiet, “I love you, buddy.” He joins you in the doorway, and your heart swells at Charlie’s voice sleepily calling out, “Goodnight, Uncle Steve! Goodnight, Auntie!”

“Goodnight, bubba, we love you,” you respond softly, flicking off the light switch and leaving only the glowing CHARLIE’S ROOM on the opposite wall as a nightlight. 

“Hey, race you in the morning?” Steve asks, head tilted in question. Charlie nods enthusiastically and his uncle reciprocates his excitement with a resounding, “Boom.”

Steve pulls the door shut behind you, and as you make your way down the hallway, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean into his solid form. “Should we make one?”

Your husband looks down at you, one eyebrow raised, and squeezes your hip. “You want a little race car bed, too?”

“Steve-” you groan, but he carries on with, “I mean, sure, but I’ll smoke your ass every time, babe.”

Laughing, you grip his face in one hand and smush his cheeks together until his nose scrunches up from a smile. “No, you doofus,” you correct him, “I meant should we start trying? Make a mini you?”

Steve’s eyes shine with adoration, and he shifts your hand to his mouth to press kisses against your palm. “You want to have a baby?”

“I think being a daddy would suit you well, Commander,” you purr, trailing your fingers down the sliver of skin peeking between the open buttons of his plaid shirt.

“That turn you on?” your husband teases in turn, taking note of the glint in your eye.

“I mean…” You trail off, looking up at him with a suggestive smirk. Using the collar of his shirt as leverage, you tug him closer and confess, “Uncle Steve with his kiddos is a hottie, don’t get me wrong, but Daddy Steve? One baby tucked up in each of those arms?” Your hands glide along his muscular biceps and you let out a hum of appreciation.

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he stills your wandering hands. “Woah there, two? At the same time?”

“Well, we can’t have one of your biceps getting bigger than the other,” you clarify. “You’d look dumb.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” he acquiesces, nodding. “You really want twins?”

“Steve,” you tut. “Don’t tell me the big bad Navy SEAL is afraid of dealing with two tiny humans.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just, y’know- one is- is a lot already. Joanie could be a handful, so think about two of ‘em, two at the same time would be-”

“Hey,” you cut off his rambling, pulling him down to your level for a sound kiss. “How ‘bout we go home and get some practice in, and we’ll talk more about this tomorrow?” Steve’s hands glide down your body until they settle on your backside with a firm grip, and you take that as a yes. Pressing your lips to his again, you murmur, “Sound like a plan, McGarrett?”

He fixes you with a devilish grin in response. “Hooyah.”

__________

[A/N: I 👏🏽 love 👏🏽 this 👏🏽 man 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 My McGarrett obsession is somehow reaching dangerous new heights sos 🥵 And the thought of Daddy™️ as a daddy? Jesus take the wheel]

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Grim Tales

Calling of the Witchblade

Jaune and Sage waited outside the Rose-Xiao Long house wearing their costumes. Sage wore a dark blue suit and had prop pistol attached to his waist. Jaune, meanwhile, was dressed as a barbarian, complete with a black headband, leather boots and furred loincloth. Sage giggled slightly as he saw him shiver.

Sage: See, this is why I told you that going shirtless was a bad idea.

Jaune: I'm not cold, I'm just nervous. I've never met a girlfriend's parents before. What do I even say?

Sage: Dude, relax. I've already met Mr Xiao Long and Miss Rose before and they're totally cool. I'm sure they'll love you. Well, if you aren't too much like yourself.

Jaune: *deadpan look* Gee, thanks. *rings doorbell*

Sage/Jaune: Trick or treat!

The door opened and inside stood Yang and Ruby. Yang wore a stylish yellow dress, black waist ribbon, black stockings, yellow boots and a witch's hat. Ruby was dressed as a werewolf, with red fake wolf ears and tail, red paws and red furred boots. They looked at their boyfriends and smirked delightfully.

Yang: Looks it's treats for us.

Ruby: Yep! *playful growl*

Jaune: *blushes* H-Hi Ruby, happy birthday. *hugs her*

Sage: *small laugh* Hey there, babe. *kisses Yang*

Taiyang: Ah, so the boys have finally arrived.

Taiyang walked into the hallway holding 3 large pumpkins. He had grey zombie facepaint and wore a ripped shirt and jeans.

Sage: Great to see you again, Mr Xiao Long.

Jaune: Um, nice to meet you sir. I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc.

Taiyang: Pleasure. *shakes Jaune's hand* Oooh, quite a grip.

Yang: Hey day, you need a hand with those pumpkins?

Taiyang: It's all good, sweetheart. Besides, you better save those hands for the Carving Contest.

Yang: Aw yeah! You're so going down this year! *points at Tai*

Ruby: Has anyone heard from mom yet?

Yang: Beats me. She's never this late.

Taiyang: She probably got held up at work. It's probably nothing.

* * *

[City of Vale- Murk District]

Summer Rose wandered into a dingy, slimey alleyway. On her right hand was a silver bracelet with a ruby at the center and it faintly glowed as she continued walking.

Summer: You'd better show yourself. It's my daughter's birthday and I do NOT intend on being late!

Low growling could be heard from all corners and 3 Beowolves peered from the shadows. Summer's bracelet glowes brighter and her red leather jacket and black jeans transformed into scarlet armour that exposed most of her voluptuous body. The Beowolves snarled and lunged towards her. Summer smirked and made quick work of them. She threw several punches and kicks at the Grimm, sending them flying across the alleyway. They gave pained moans before crumbling to ash.

Summer: Was that it? Give me a break.

Her short lived victory was interrupted by a loud roar coming from behind her. She turned around to see an Ursa raising its claw. She managed to block the attack just in time, yet was still knocked back slightly. Summer regained compsure and a long blade protruded from her right arm. The Ursa roared fiercely and got on all fours. They stared at each other intensely before making the charge.

SLASH!!!

A chunk of the Ursa's arm was torn off and it toppled over. Summer turned and leaped onto its stomach and stabbed it in the neck. Black blood seeped out and, like its Beowolf bretheren, the Ursa crumbled to ash. Summer transformed back to her street clothes and left the alleyway.

Summer: What a waste of time. I spent hours trying to search for clues and all I get are low-level Grimm.

Suddenly, the caws of crows filled the air and Summer looked up to find a murder of them flying above her.

Summer: Hmph. What the hell do you want, Qrow?

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Out December 2023 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ Caught in a Bad Fauxmance by Elle Gonzalez Rose 🧡 Heartstopper #5 by Alice Oseman 💛 This Cursed Light by Emily Thiede 💚 All The Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows 💙 Vampires of Eden: Book One by Karla Nikole 💜 Not My Type by Joe Satoria ❤️ Storm in Her Heart by KC Luck 🧡 Eternal Embrace by Luna Lawson 💛 A River of Golden Bones by A.K. Mulford 💙 Tomb of Heart and Shadow by Cara N. Delaney 💜 Through the Embers Volume 2 by Adriana Sargent 🌈 Lucero by Maya Motayne

❤️ The Poison Paradox by Hadley Field & Felix Green 🧡 Second Chances in New Port Stephen: A Novel by TJ Alexander 💛 Matrimonial Merriment by Nicky James 💚 Under the Christmas Tree by Jacqueline Ramsden 💙 Every Beat of Her Heart by KC Richardson 💜 The Memories of Marlie Rose by Morgan Lee Miller ❤️ Playing with Matches by Georgia Beers 🧡 Always Only You by Chloe Liese 💛 Fire in the Sky by Radclyffe and Julie Cannon 💙 Nuclear Sunrise by Jo Carthage 💜 The Naked Dancer by Emme C. Taylor 🌈 Resurrections by Ada Hoffmann

❤️ Destiny’s Women by Morgan Elliott 🧡 Framed by Kate Merrill 💛 The Spoil of Beasts by Gregory Ashe 💚 Catered All the Way by Annabeth Albert 💙 A Cynic’s Christmas Conundrum by L.M. Bennett 💜 Yours for the Taking by Gabrielle Korn ❤️ One Swipe Away by Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue 🧡 The Gentlemen’s Club by A.V. Shener 💛 A Death at the Dionysus Club by Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold 💙 Secrets of the Soul by Holly Oliver 💜 Like They Do in the Movies by Nan Campbell 🌈 Limelight by Gun Brooke

❤️ Heart First by S.B. Barnes 🧡 Grave Consequences by Sandra Barret 💛 Haunted by Myth by Barbara Ann Wright 💚 Invisible by Anna Larner 💙 The Murders at Sugar Mill Farm by Ronica Black 💜 Coasting and Crashing by Ana Hartnett ❤️ Fairest by K.S. Trenten 🧡 A City of Abundant Opportunity by Howard Leonard 💛 The Dark Side of MIdnight by Erin Wade 💙 Mending Bones by Merlina Garance 💜 Transform by Connal Braginsky & Sean Ian O’Meidhir 🌈 The Apple Diary by Gerri Hill

❤️ TruLove by Nicole Pyland 🧡 Structural Support by Sloan Spencer 💛 Whiskey War by Stacy Lynn Miller 💚 Overkill by Lou Wilham 💙 Heart of Outcasts by Nicole Silver 💜 In the Shadow of Victory by J. E. Leak ❤️ Just Like Her by Fiona Zedde 🧡 Gingerbread: Claus For Christmas by Miski Harris 💛 Lies are Forever by C. Jean Downer 💙 The Boys in the Club by M.T. Pope 💜 Lasting Light (Metal & Magic) by Michelle Frost 🌈 Tell No Tales by Edie Montreux

❤️ Radio Silence by Alice Oseman 🧡 Even Though We're Adults Vol. 7 by Takako Shimura 💛 The Accidental Bite by Michelle St. Wolf 💚 Mated to the Demons by Taylor Schafer 💙 Someday Away by Sara Elisabeth 💜 Gatherdawn Luminia Duet Volume 1 by Lee Colgin ❤️ Curse of Dawn by Richard Amos 🧡 Healing the Twin by Nora Phoenix 💛 Ride Me by KD Ellis 💙 How to Bang a Vampire by Joe Satoria 💜 Cthulhu for Christmas by Meghan Maslow 🌈 Prestige by Toni Reeb

❤️ Don't Look Down by Jessica Ann 🧡 Winter and the Wolves by Chris Storm and Kinkaid Knight 💛 Hat Trick by Ajay Daniel 💚 Starborn Husbands: Return to the Pleiades by S. Legend 💙 Dead Serious Case #4 Professor Prometheus Plume by Vawn Cassidy 💜 Practice for Toby by Amy Bellows ❤️ The Siren's Song by Crista Crown 🧡 Hers to Hunt K.J. Devoir

[emkayewrites]

These two pictures inspired one of the chapters of my Lukola fanfiction called 'Curtain Fall'...

Here's a sneak preview:

17th June 2022 – Brockenhurst (UK)

Everything about The Pig exuded charming British elegance. Nestled in the heart of the historic New Forest National Park, the homely country manor served as a five-star hotel with an acclaimed restaurant. It was a favourite weekend escape for city dwellers who were attracted to it for its natural beauty; from free-roaming local horses to ancient woodlands that were perfect for long walks.

It was a place particularly revered for offering the finest of traditional English dining without excessive pretension. The dining rooms had a rustic, cosy charm, featuring open fires and mismatched antique furniture.

Nicola and Luke sat opposite each other at a farmhouse-style table in a private dining room called the Green Room that was reserved for special guests. A Victorian-style fireplace and floor-to-ceiling conservatory doors opened onto a private garden terrace. Before them lay a half-eaten feast: salads with organic vegetables from the estate's garden, freshly baked bread with warm butter, a plate of oyster mushroom pappardelle for her, and a sourdough pizza for him.

They had been invited to this countryside retreat for the weekend courtesy of the production team. This was their first day and they had been greeted with a prepared lunch. He sat there in a slightly over-sized salmon button-down shirt and jeans. In contrast, she was dressed in a little more sophistication. She wore a dark tapestry mini dress with tie shoulders that cinched in her waist in a way she hoped would be flattering.

"You know, when Jess told me we should get bonding, she mentioned doing it over a coffee. This is a little more than a coffee." Nicola laughed, trying to shake the awkwardness off herself. She was used to spending time with Luke but this setting felt different. It felt intimate.

"It's on brand though." Luke replied, nodding at their surroundings. He was not wrong. This could be a room straight from Bridgerton.

She reached out and touched the green wall panels.

"What do you reckon this is – Farrow and Ball?" She quizzed.

"What's that?"

"You haven't heard of Farrow and Ball?"

He shrugged in an I don't know what to tell you sort of way.

"Well, that surprises me. Maybe you're not as posh as I think you are." She teased. "It's very posh paint, with pretentious names like Elephant's Fanny and Leopard's Arse."

He laughed. "OK, that's quite enough. You need to stop calling me posh. People might start believing you and expecting things from me."

"Anything east of Dublin is posh," she retorted, making him laugh again.

This is what she thrived on: banter. Their friendship was based on her dry wit and sarcasm. Making him or anyone else on set laugh was a small victory for her.  She was trying hard not to think about having to switch gears and drop the humour she wore as armour.

She had not wanted to admit it, but sitting across from him now, it was harder to deny: he was absolutely beautiful. To make matters worse, he was kind too.

Why couldn't the love interest be someone with a hideous personality in real life? She found herself wandering.

She was barely out of her reverie when he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, guiding it gently away from the wall and in front of his face, inches from his lips. He took a deep breath, and his blue eyes bore into her own.

Oh God, that was his Colin face.

You can read more here:

[losingabs2000]

Diary of a Future Dad Bod

As a lover of WG stories, with the help of one of the AI apps, here is a story!

Diary Entry - Day 1:

Today marks the beginning of a new journey for me. I've always been on the slimmer side, but I've decided to hit the gym and transform my body. It's time to add some muscle and sculpt the physique I've always desired. I've taken my initial measurements as a starting point:

Weight: 160 lbs

Chest: 38 inches

Waist: 30 inches

Biceps: 12 inches

I've started a workout routine focusing on strength training and weightlifting. I'm excited to see how my body responds to the challenge.

Diary Entry - Day 30:

It's been a month since I started hitting the gym regularly, and I can already notice some changes. My muscles feel firmer, and my strength has increased significantly. My dedication is paying off.

Weight: 165 lbs

Chest: 40 inches

Waist: 31 inches

Biceps: 13 inches

I've had to tighten my belt a notch as my waist seems to be filling out slightly. My shirts are starting to fit better, especially around the chest and shoulders. It's a small victory, but it's motivating me to keep pushing harder.

Diary Entry - Day 60:

Two months in, and I'm amazed at the progress I've made. My muscles are growing, and my body is transforming. I've gained some weight, but it's a healthy weight gain that's reflecting in my physique.

Weight: 175 lbs

Chest: 42 inches

Waist: 32 inches

Biceps: 14 inches

I've had to invest in new clothes as my old ones are becoming a bit snug around the arms and chest. It's a great feeling to see the shirts stretch around my muscles. The transformation is becoming more apparent, and I'm proud of the changes I've made.

Diary Entry - Day 90:

Three months of dedication and hard work have resulted in a significant transformation. I've become beefy, sporting a dad bod style body with well-defined muscles. My efforts in the gym are paying off in ways I never imagined.

Weight: 185 lbs

Chest: 44 inches

Waist: 33 inches

Biceps: 15 inches

My clothes no longer fit the same way they used to. My shirts are snug around the chest and shoulders, and my jeans feel tighter around the thighs. It's a good problem to have. I'm enjoying this new look, and the compliments I receive from friends and family are a constant reminder of my progress.

Diary Entry - Day 120:

Four months of consistent training have transformed my body beyond my wildest expectations. I'm now sporting a muscular physique, and I feel more confident than ever before. My body continues to change, and I'm embracing every bit of it.

Weight: 195 lbs

Chest: 46 inches

Waist: 34 inches

Biceps: 16 inches

Finding clothes that fit well has become a bit of a challenge. I need larger sizes to accommodate my muscular build. The sleeves of my shirts hug my biceps tightly, and my pants now require a wider waistline. It's a constant reminder of the progress I've made and the effort I've put in.

Diary Entry - Day 150:

Today, I reflect on the remarkable journey I've undertaken. I've reached my desired goal, and I couldn't be happier with my dad bod style body. My muscles are bigger and more defined than ever, and I've gained a sense of self-confidence I never had before.

Weight: 200 lbs

Chest: 48 inches

Waist: 35 inches

Biceps: 17 inches

Shopping for clothes has become a whole new experience for me. Finding clothes that fit my muscular frame has become a priority. Shirts that used to hang loosely on me now accentuate my chest and arms, while pants require a larger waist size to accommodate my muscular thighs. It's a constant reminder of the progress I've made and the transformation my body has undergone.

Diary Entry - Day 180:

Six months have passed since I began this incredible fitness journey, and the changes are nothing short of remarkable. My body has settled into its new shape, maintaining a balanced combination of muscle and a touch of fat that gives me the desired dad bod style.

Weight: 200 lbs (maintained)

Chest: 48 inches (maintained)

Waist: 35 inches (maintained)

Biceps: 17 inches (maintained)

I'm amazed at how my body has adapted to this new lifestyle. The once-loose shirts now cling to my well-developed chest and arms, showcasing the results of my hard work at the gym. Even my jeans have taken on a different look, hugging my legs snugly and highlighting the muscular definition.

Diary Entry - Day 210:

Nine months into my fitness journey, and I continue to feel proud of my body's transformation. The combination of muscle and a little extra weight has given me a sturdy, strong appearance. I embrace my dad bod style with confidence.

Weight: 205 lbs

Chest: 49 inches

Waist: 36 inches

Biceps: 18 inches

My wardrobe has seen a complete overhaul. Gone are the days of fitted shirts and slim-cut pants. Now, I opt for looser-fitting clothes that flatter my muscular physique. It's a different style, but one that suits me perfectly.

Diary Entry - Day 240:

Almost a year has passed since I embarked on this journey, and I couldn't be happier with the results. My dad bod style body is a testament to the hard work and dedication I've put into shaping myself.

Weight: 205 lbs (maintained)

Chest: 49 inches (maintained)

Waist: 36 inches (maintained)

Biceps: 18 inches (maintained)

My clothing choices have evolved along with my body. I've learned how to embrace my muscular build while maintaining comfort and style. It's amazing how clothes can become an expression of one's journey and confidence.

Diary Entry - Day 365:

As I reflect on the past year, I am grateful for the changes I've experienced. From a skinny frame to a muscular dad bod, my body has become a symbol of my determination and perseverance. The journey continues, and I look forward to new fitness goals and further exploration of my newfound confidence.

Weight: 205 lbs (maintained)

Chest: 49 inches (maintained)

Waist: 36 inches (maintained)

Biceps: 18 inches (maintained)

Remember, transformation is a continuous process, and I'm excited to see where the next chapter takes me.

[artmindlens]

Jean-Léon Gérôme Retour de la chasse, Circassian à l'abreuvoir ca. 1877

Conquest and Achievement: The Cyclical Effort of Risk-Taking

The presence of the small fawn suggests that while the figure has achieved something, it is not a grand conquest. In traditional hunts, a male deer or a larger, more significant catch would symbolize a more profound victory. Here, the small size of the catch reflects a life where efforts may yield results, but not on a large scale. This speaks to the cyclical nature of financial gain—where money or success is achieved through continuous acts of risk-taking, but never in yielding proportional abundance. It suggests a pattern where the individual must continually embark on new ventures, hunts, or risks to maintain their status, rather than achieving long-lasting or stable wealth.

In the world of business or finance, this mirrors a life of constant striving. Individuals in this position may achieve incremental successes, they maybe outwardly strong, disciplined and with many achievements but they are not destined for stable wealth or financial security. Instead, they are reliant on continuous effort and risk-taking to maintain their financial standing. The small fawn serves as a metaphor for the limited returns one might gain from these efforts—hard-earned but not monumental.

The Comfort of Tamed Instincts

Despite the modest achievement, there is an underlying sense of control and mastery over the figure’s instincts. The rider, calm and composed, has clearly tamed both the horse and the dogs.

This element of control over instincts reflects a leadership style that is highly disciplined and self-regulated. In a business context, this individual would be someone who can manage their emotions and reactions effectively, ensuring that their decisions are measured and thoughtful. However, this mastery comes with its own price — it serves as a testament to diligent effort without the abundance of return —perhaps sacrificing the opportunity for greater, more instinctual risks that could lead to larger rewards.

The Unattainable Goal of Stability and Ease

The fortress in the background symbolizes something far greater—an ideal of stable wealth, noble life, and long-term success, akin to a wellspring of water, the most essential resource for survival. This artwork speaks to potential: the figure in the painting, and by extension the viewer, possesses the talent and discipline necessary to become the lord of this grand castle, though it remains tantalizingly out of reach. The figure stands not inside, but outside its walls, suggesting that this level of comfort and stability is something they aspire to but always elusive to those who are constantly striving, always working hard for success. It represents the longed-for ease and security that can only come from a stable, protected environment—something the individual has yet to realize.

In the financial world, this may reflect a career or business model where stability remains an elusive goal, always just out of reach despite ongoing efforts.

A Life of Effort, But Modest Reward

The overall composition of the painting suggests a life where effort and discipline are constant, but the rewards are often small. The figure achieves control over their instincts, maintains their composure, and experiences moments of success, but these successes are not overwhelming or transformative. The contrast between the modest lamb and the grandeur of the castle highlights the gap between effort and reward.

In a business setting, this could be a cautionary tale about overworking for limited returns. It encourages reflection on whether one’s efforts are truly leading to the desired outcome, or whether they are caught in a cycle of hard work without meaningful progress. Leaders might consider whether their strategies are too focused on control and incremental gains, rather than taking the larger risks necessary for substantial success.

Conclusion: The Struggle Between Effort and Stability

This painting speaks to the tension between effort and stability, control and ambition. While the figure has achieved some level of success and control, the larger goal of stable, effortless wealth remains out of reach. It reflects the experience of individuals who are constantly working hard, achieving moderate success, but never quite attaining the stability or ease they desire. In the context of business and leadership, this painting serves as a reminder to assess whether one's efforts are truly leading to the desired rewards, or whether they are simply maintaining a cycle of modest achievement.

[oxygenbefore1775]

how colors from aot merchandise/official illustrations somehow correspond perfectly with each of the assigned characters

or

aot color analysis

*disclaimer for some controversial character/ship dynamic opinions but also stupid rumblings about color analysis*

Eren - Red

Do I fucking need to say more?

It's like a flag that needs to make itself seen and aknowledged. It spells warning and danger which Eren becomes in his adult years. Red is also agression and hatred, Eren's most prominent personality traits. It's a color most commonly associated with evil and Eren was known to the outside world as Devil of Paradis. But more than anything, red is a color of blood that gets spilled wherever there's violence and slaughter - very indicative of what's become of the Continent after Eren started the Rumbling.

But it's also important to remember that Eren draws blood each time before the transformation. Red is a color of sacrifice in this sense, the passion and zeal which drives Eren to fight. As it does to all of the humanity behind the Walls. Red is a great color for banners, the ones that encourage and lead people into the battle, just like Eren's presence did. In this sense, red bears a positive connotation for Paradisians as it represents life.

And let's not forget that color red is symbolic of warmth. The scarf that Eren gave Mikasa on the day she has lost her family was red. The color is indicative of home that Mikasa found in Eren.

Mikasa - Blue

Or rather navy blue.

Although Mikasa's signature color in anime is red but blue suits her much better. She's a stark contrast to red's aggression and energy. Blue, on the other hand, conveys the same calmness and security that Mikasa does. Blue is the stability which Mikasa craves the most in her life. There's not a lot of blue in the nature (if you don't live by the sea, that is) and the only blue thing commonly available is the sky yet it still very far away and feels foreign. So in that sense, Mikasa is one of a kind on Paradis and seems foreign to other people.

Yet blue also represents sadness. It's the color of the past and serves as the constant reminder of the gone days, bearing negative connotations. Also, blue and red - even if they compliment each other in a way - still create a very strong contrast, much like Eren's resolve to move forward opposing Mikasa's desire to stay behind and not fight the fate. When there's too much of blue, it may come off as unfriendly.

Armin - Yellow

And you thought it'd be blue, huh.

Armin is more than the ocean, he is the sun itself which is represented with color yellow. Invoking a feeling of optimism, it is the literal essence of Armin who stays perseverent and keeps up his spirits in the most dire situations. Much like the sun, survival of many people depends on Armin as he mostly came up with all the battle plans that ensured Paradis' victory. Speaking of plans - yellow is the color of intelligence and "enlightement" which Armin is mostly known for.

But as much as yellow can be optimistic and invigorating, it can also induce anxiety that Armin's sometime riddled with. This color is also representative of deceit - seeing how Armin often used manipulation for his plans to succeed, it seems very fitting.

Jean - Olive Green

Sometimes he's represented through light blue but I completely do not agree with this rendition. *cracks me knuckles* Get ready for a rant on this one.

What can I not say about the color green? It's everywhere, it's the nature, it's the very essence of life, but not in the grandeous and elevated way. Green is all-enveloping but still very much grounded in reality. Just like Jean, it's the representation of practicality as it doesn't reach for the stars and doesn't chase dreams. It symbolizes reason, which is very much Jean's most prominent aspect of personality. This color is the definition and celebration of life that Jean treasures so much. Green also exhudes calming influence and promotes the making of rational decisions in the moments of mayhem - just like with Jean, who often had to take control in his hands during critical situations since he was the only one with a cool head. Besides, green means safety and stability and that where its contrast to red sets in - although Jean is not afraid of danger, he'd assess the risks of a situation beforehand, whereas Eren goes into action recklessly.

Green also has its negative sides. As much as it is realistic, it can also be overly materialistic, turning to greed, represantion of Jean's initial goals when he became a Cadet. It can also symbolize the envy - feeling that Jean often felt towards Eren.

But when it comes to Jean's green - which is olive green - out of all colors of the other characters it reminds of the scout uniform the best. His green is more strict and militaristic, as if symbolizing Jean's true vocation as a soldier and a leader.

A combination of yellow and blue, green has properties of both of those colors. But Jean's olive green seems to have more yellow, signifying the major role the reason has in his life. And, it also makes it more comparable to Armin's yellow, seeing as they have intellectual dynamic going on between them. At the same time, it lacks the calmness of the blue which corresponds with Jean's occasional hot temper and anger outbursts.

Levi - Green

Just like with Jean, Levi's green is the representation of how down-to-earth he is. He doesn't have big dreams of grandeur and his motivations are simple, straightforward and rest on his desire to defend the lives of the innocent and provide others with safety, which is also symbolized through green. It's also the color of the nature and its immortality which in a way corresponds with Levi's persistence and undying resolve in the face of countless dangers. But that, of course, also has its negative connotations since Levi continues to stand, untouched, while he has to bear witness to the deaths of his comrades.

Levi's green is also reminiscent of the cloaks that the scouts used to wear while he's the only one who still wears one. It shows his unwavering loyalty to the old ways and how he still carries the spirit of the former survey corps.

In comparison to Jean's, Levi's green is more rich and cool as it has more blue to it, which represent his self-composure but also wisdom since among other scouts he has much more experience.

Hange - Purple

Oo, this one's going to be interesting.

A mixture of blue and red, two clashing colors, purple is very unique and Hange rocks it so well. First thing first, it's a color of royalty and its authority - quite fitting, seeing as Hange was in the leading positiion as the head of the survey corp. Color purple has also always been associated with ingenious minds. Purple welcomes knowledge and anything knew really, like Hange who is eager to learn if opportunity presents itself. It also represents knowledge - not grounded in reality one, but almost extraterrestial and mysterious. This color encourages to dream of something otherwordly. Part red, it also conveys passion, mostly passion for learning so it makes sense in a way that Hange and Eren were once united over their shared passion for titan knowledge. By some accounts, purple is described to be the color of insane emotions and energy which obvioulsy calls back to Hange's vigor that can be overwhelming sometimes. But on the other side, purple also has blue, a representative of authority and security that they, no doubt, bestowed upon their comrades and friends.

[cry-ptidd]

Could I tell me about Laura's background? Family, ethnicity, etc? What her her skills, if she has any?

More Laura lore (lau-re lol)

Laura is French and her ethnicity is European. She was born on December 24th 1735 in La Besseyre-Saint-Mary (in the department of Haute-Loire in central France) and baptized three days after. (Her lightly tanned skin comes from her peasant family adapted working in the sun in the fields.)

Her parents’ names are Jean Chastel and Anne Charbonnier. She was the oldest of 9 siblings (although they will be born a few years after her). They were both peasants, but they made enough of a living to not worry much about money.

She was her father’s favorite child (even though she was a daughter and not a son), mostly due to the circumstances of her birth. Her mother had extreme complications during the birth, and Laura herself was pronounced dead a few minutes after birth, but then suddenly regained consciousness in the arms of her mother. That and the fact that her mother miraculously survived the difficult birth, made her father believe she was blessed by God and named her Laura (meaning ‘Laurel’, a tree associated with victory). Her mother recovered fully and was able to bear 9 additional children a few years after.

Her father was literate and taught her how to read and write. She was a devout Christian and attended church regularly.

Her early life was pretty calm, and she got along very well with her father, although her mother prioritized her siblings over her due to the favorable treatment of her father. She asked to remain celibate as a result of her faith, which both of her parents accepted. Her younger sisters were thus wed before her.

She was sometimes teased for her rather androgynous behavior, working ‘men’s jobs’ and being her father’s preferred child rather than his sons. Some people teased her saying she would play the man’s role and get with a woman due to her disinterest in men and behavior. (Which is true as she is a lesbian, but didn’t accept it until much later). She didn’t let the teasing get to her though and was known for being peaceful and just.

She was extremely diligent and always got her work efficiently on time, and sometimes helped her father at the inn he owned.

Her father wasn’t the most well-liked man, and some people said Laura and her mother were into witchcraft. (Those were just rumors, and Laura didn’t let the insults go to her head and made sure to protect her family’s honor.)

One day however, on March 31 1760, she was out herding cattle in a clearing, where a werewolf attacked her. She was bitten on the forearm and her lower stomach was scratched. Some of the villagers heard her cries and drove the beast away, and tended to her the best they could. No one believed her story of the werewolf, believing it to be just a very agressive wolf. It was all downhill from there to be fair.

(I will divulge her full backstory in a later post.)

Skills

By skills I’ll assume you mean both powers and everyday skills ?

Werewolf skills:

Immortality

Superhuman Senses

Superhuman Strength

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Reflexes

Regeneration

Impenetrable skin (at the exception of silver)

Transformation (into a werewolf)

Invulnerability

Intangibility

Self-Disintegration

Extreme pain tolerance

Her skills are about the same as Hans’, at the exception of her greater durability and truly gigantic wolf form.

She is a very powerful foe, and that is why Alucard decided to recruit her. He sometimes tries to pick fights with her due to her being very powerful but she turns him down, as she isn’t interested in the thrill of battle like Alucard is.

Everyday skills:

Excellent cooking

Organisation and cleaning

Knowledge in literature, theology and psychology

Sharpshooting skills

First-aid and basic construction

Basic sewing and darning

Driving

Unbreakable will and determination

Most of these (aside from the cooking, cleaning, and ‘book’ knowledge) were taught after she was recruited into Hellsing as part of her maid training (as well as being polite enough to be hospitable)

Despite her general grumpiness and disdain for being alive, she is pretty well-mannered and still maintains some old-timey language.

[cookies-over-yonder]

hard-to-remove stains

During a Super Smash Bros tournament with everyone, Taylor gets hit with a bad memory.

ao3

ty @cgi-heart-eyes for listening to me ramble abt this idea before i wrote it <3

Taylor is sitting with the others playing Smash Bros when the action of the game dissolves into a memory out of nowhere once again.

It starts with the smell of blood. He doesn’t know why he can still smell it.

His eyes shut, and he hears the “Game over!” from the TV speakers.

Cracking them open, he sees that he lost; second place, Scary crowned victorious.

The joy-con feels foreign in his hands, and there’s that same staticy feeling he gets sometimes.

He just needs a minute.

And that’s what he says, telling them they can keep playing, he’ll be back in a minute.

The slam of the door brings him back a little bit. He didn’t mean to be so loud.

He just needs a minute.

Coolness against his back transforms into fiery heat, and he shuts his eyes again, only to be met with the sight of his dad’s severed legs, blood pooling around them, Taylor’s jeans soaked.

It’s not happening right now.

Taylor knows that.

It’s just a memory.

And it’s not even a big deal.

But it’s still getting harder to breathe.

He opens his eyes and tries to find things in the room to stare at, but his eyes gloss over everything.

He glances at the carpet, and imagines what it’d look like covered in his dad’s blood.

Worse. That’s worse.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck .

“Taylor? Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine, Link,” he forces out, voice weaker than it should be. Weaker than it is.

There’s hands on his shoulders. He feels it past the static.

“You don’t look okay.”

He shuts his eyes again, scrunching up his face as if it’ll make it go away, and his claws make their way to his hair.

Link is saying something else.

Taylor doesn’t know what.

His chest hurts.

His throat hurts.

He’s sitting on something soft now.

Link squeezes his hands, and his eyes snap open, staring at Link’s knees.

And Taylor’s blanket.

They’re on his bed.

“Can you hear me?”

He thinks he nods.

“You’re having a panic attack.”

So that’s what this is. Inconvenient.

“You’re okay, it’s going to pass, it’s okay. Can you look at me?”

Taylor tilts his head up to meet Link’s eyes.

Wide and concerned, but a comfort nonetheless.

Link is always a comfort.

“I want you to breathe with me, okay?” he says, voice simultaneously gentle and firm.

Taylor nods again, and he finds himself entering a rhythm with Link. Big breath in, big breath out.

Taylor looks around the room. His posters, figurines, pillows and plushies are all here, and yet earlier he couldn’t identify a thing.

“Thanks,” he says, breathing easier.

“Of course.”

Taylor slips his hands out from Link’s grasp and heads for the door. He lets out an awkward laugh before saying, “We… we should get back to playing—”

“Are you okay?”

Taylor stops with a hand on the doorknob. It’s shaking.

“I’m fine, man. Don’t—don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Taylor turns around. Link is standing right there, looking down at him with that same look of worry and fiddling with the beads of his bracelet.

“There’s nothing to say, Link,” Taylor says, having trouble meeting his eyes and settling for his ring. He’s fiddling with that too, spinning it, and spinning it, and spinning it around his middle finger. It’s black like Taylor’s nails, though less glittery. Maybe nail polish can make both of them forget about this. “Just happens sometimes, that’s all.”

“That’s happened before? ” Link asks, his voice even more concerned and maybe slightly shocked too. “Taylor, you know you can talk to us if you’re struggling, right?”

“But I’m not! ’ Taylor shouts, storming away from the door and collapsing into his gamer chair, finally facing Link properly. “Just—just—just—it’s not, like, anything , okay? I’m chilling!”

Link is frowning. He’s not saying anything, but he’s got that stupid pouty look and those big wet eyes…

Fucking hell.

Taylor sighs.

“Look, maybe I just… get wrapped up in my head sometimes! Maybe sometimes I—I—I can’t stop remembering when Scary sliced my dad and I thought he was dead! Maybe I can’t stop picturing every carpet soaked in blood after that—but he was fine! He was fine, and he is fine, so I’m not struggling, and nothing is wrong. Why is your face doing that, man? I’m okay.”

Link is frowning, and his eyes are teary, and next thing Taylor knows, he’s being hugged, and lifted, and hugged tighter in the air.

His own eyes are stinging too, he realizes, and he swipes at them repeatedly. If only he could suck the tears back in. That’d be fucking epic.

As much as he wants to ask Link to put him down, being held so tight is good. And the view from over Link’s shoulder is much better than down on the ground.

“Next time that happens, can you just, like, text me or something? Or call me? Please?” Link pleads.

“O—okay, I will,” Taylor says, wrapping his arms around Link in return and resting his head on his shoulder, and breathing out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

[fatteningfeeder]

BlondieBBW

Madison’s parents had always kept her on a strict diet, encouraging her to stay active with dance and cheerleading. While she tried to meet their expectations, she felt an undeniable pull toward indulgence. By her junior year of high school, Madison couldn’t ignore the cravings any longer. She started sneaking snacks, reveling in the fullness that followed each secret binge. Little by little, her slim, toned frame began to soften, her clothes becoming tighter. She loved every new curve, every extra inch, secretly thrilled to see her body filling out.

By the time she graduated high school, Madison weighed in at 160 pounds—a solid 40 pounds heavier than she’d been before she started sneaking treats. Her parents noticed but only assumed it was “senior year stress” and tried to coax her back into healthy habits. Inside, Madison was buzzing with excitement. Once I’m in college, I’ll be free to really let go, she told herself. This was only the beginning.

College was everything Madison had hoped for. With no one to monitor her eating, she dove headfirst into a world of unlimited options. The dining halls became her haven, and she was no longer limited by portion control or healthy choices. Every meal became an opportunity to indulge, and she quickly established a nightly ritual of “study snacks”—burgers, fries, pizzas, and heaps of dessert.

Her body eagerly took on the extra calories. By mid-semester, her clothes clung tightly around her growing belly and hips. Her jeans pinched uncomfortably, and her tops no longer fit quite right. She felt secretly thrilled whenever she had to adjust her waistband or pull down her shirt to cover her softening stomach. She could see and feel herself getting bigger, each change in her body filling her with pride.

By Thanksgiving, Madison had already outgrown many of her clothes. When she returned home for the holiday, her parents were surprised to see how much she’d changed. She wore oversized sweaters to hide her curves, but in the privacy of her room, she marveled at how her body was beginning to transform. She documented her journey online under the name “BlondieBBW,” sharing photos and stories with a community that encouraged her to keep growing.

Sophomore year brought even more indulgence. By now, Madison had developed a serious appetite and craved heavier, richer foods. She often treated herself to extra-large portions, ordering late-night pizzas, milkshakes, and fries, relishing the comforting weight of a full belly. Her body was changing rapidly; her thighs now brushed together with each step, and her belly hung over her waistband when she sat down.

Madison’s friends noticed her growing figure and playfully teased her about her increased appetite. She had started wearing leggings and oversized shirts exclusively, her old jeans far too tight to fit. Each wardrobe upgrade felt like a victory. After one particularly heavy meal with friends, she stood up only to hear a sharp pop—the button on her jeans had flown across the room. Embarrassed but thrilled, she shared the story online, her followers cheering her on with every update.

Over winter break, while she was home for the holidays, she met a new friend online—a guy named George who also went to her college and shared her excitement for gaining. They began chatting daily, sharing stories about their love for food and the thrill of seeing her body grow. George seemed genuinely fascinated by her journey, and he encouraged her to keep going. “Once we’re back on campus, let’s hang out,” he suggested one night. Madison’s heart raced at the thought. Someone who actually gets it, she thought. She couldn’t wait.

When spring semester started, Madison and George planned to meet up at her dorm. She was nervous but excited; no one else had ever supported her desires so openly. When George arrived, he greeted her with a warm smile and a large pizza box in one hand and a liter of soda in the other.

“I brought a little snack,” he teased, setting the box down in front of her. Madison’s eyes lit up, and she quickly made herself comfortable, eagerly opening the pizza box. She started eating with gusto, savoring each cheesy slice as George watched, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

As she devoured the pizza, George would occasionally encourage her, smiling as he said, “Don’t stop now—you’re doing great.” Madison felt her cheeks flush with excitement, the attention only making her more eager to finish every last bite. When she’d polished off the entire pizza, she leaned back with a satisfied sigh, placing her hand on her bloated stomach. Her belly was full, stretching the fabric of her shirt tightly. George handed her the liter of soda, encouraging her to take long gulps until the bottle was empty, the carbonation making her feel even fuller.

Once she was finished, George moved closer, resting his hand on her rounded belly. He began to massage her stomach gently, his touch sending a shiver through her. “Look at you,” he murmured. “You’ve really let yourself grow, haven’t you?”

Madison felt her cheeks grow warm, loving every second of his attention. “I have,” she replied softly, her voice filled with pride. George’s hands continued to knead her belly, and she could feel the pressure easing the tension from her full stomach. Each touch felt like validation—a reminder of how far she’d come and how much she had changed.

“Let’s see how you look in one of my shirts,” he suggested, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He dug into his bag and pulled out a fitted medium shirt, tossing it to her. Madison struggled to pull the shirt over her head, the fabric clinging to her body in ways her loose clothes never did. The shirt barely reached her belly button, her round stomach bulging out underneath, and her arms felt restricted by the tight sleeves.

George chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Looks like you’ve definitely outgrown this size,” he teased, giving her belly a playful poke. Madison giggled, feeling a rush of excitement at how snugly the shirt fit. She caught her reflection in the mirror, marveling at how much she’d filled out since the start of college. She tugged at the hem of the shirt, only for it to spring back, unable to cover her full belly.

Her confidence soared with every teasing comment, and she felt more determined than ever to keep growing. The encouragement from George only fueled her desire to see just how big she could become.

By the time junior year rolled around, Madison was 220 pounds and loving her new lifestyle. George had become a regular part of her life, often joining her for late-night food runs and even surprising her with treats when she least expected it. Their friendship deepened with every shared meal, and Madison’s appetite only grew with his encouragement. She would often polish off double portions, relishing the fullness in her belly as George watched with pride.

Her body had changed drastically. Her belly had grown into a heavy, soft dome that rested on her lap when she sat, and her thighs were thick enough to rub together with each step. She could feel the weight of her body with every move, and even simple tasks like climbing stairs left her slightly out of breath. But each physical strain was a reminder of how far she’d come.

Shopping for clothes had become a regular affair. She now wore 2X sizes, her leggings and oversized shirts accommodating her expanding figure. She loved seeing how her belly pressed out against the fabric, a constant reminder of the journey she was on. When she tried on smaller clothes just for fun, she’d call George, showing him how tightly the fabric clung to her curves. Each time, he’d laugh, playfully teasing her about how quickly she was outgrowing her wardrobe.

Her stretch marks had become more pronounced, pink lines stretching across her belly, hips, and thighs. She felt a strange sense of pride whenever she noticed a new one, knowing it was a visible marker of her progress. She shared updates with her followers, who encouraged her to keep going, cheering her on as her body continued to grow.

By senior year, Madison had reached 280 pounds. Her body had become everything she’d dreamed of—soft, round, and full. George remained by her side, her biggest supporter, often challenging her to finish larger meals and laughing as she did so with enthusiasm. Every meal was an event, an opportunity for Madison to push her limits further.

Her belly had grown so large that it rested comfortably on her lap, her thighs pressing against the edges of chairs, and her arms brushing her sides as she moved. Walking across campus was now a challenge, each step leaving her slightly out of breath, but even this felt like an accomplishment.

On the last day of college, George surprised her with one final treat—a massive feast to celebrate her journey. She ate with gusto, savoring every bite until her belly was stretched tight and her clothes strained against her curves. When she finally stood up, feeling the weight of her body, she looked over at George, a grateful smile on her face.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” she said, resting her hand on her swollen belly. George grinned, giving her a playful poke. “You did all the hard work,” he replied, laughing. “I just got to enjoy the show.”

[wlw-stanbot]

The fork full of breakfast slipped from Kate’s grasp as every function in her body seemed to cease for a moment. The silver utensil clattered to the ground after bouncing off the edge of her plate and catapulting egg and potatoes across the room. This moment was happening so far out of the realm of scenarios that Kate had imagined that she could hardly believe it was real. She looked around the room, unsure of what she was looking for exactly, but sure there was no way Yelena had just said what she said without possibly being mind controlled or threatened. “I… is this, like,…is this really happening?”

Yelena leaned down to pick up the fork that had fallen between them. As soon as she emerged victoriously, Kate reached a hand out with assumed desire at taking it. Instead, she dove downward and pinched Yelena's still exposed thigh.

Yelena yelped, dropping the utensil again and moving a hand down to the area of assault, “Ow, what was that for?”

Kate ignored the question. With a lack of success in finding an outside influence for Yelena’s behavior, she turned her attention to studying the near manic woman’s expression while finally swallowing the mouthful of food she had taken just before Yelena’s unexpected confession. The assassin's eyes seemed fresh and open as she had described, though they were turned down while hiding behind light lashed eyelids as they studied the bright red mark forming on her freckled leg. Yelena’s lips accentuated her pout as they parted again, “That actually stings, Katie.”

“- I haven't agreed to that nickname yet.” Kate lifted a stern hand to accentuate the point. It was quickly swatted away before her body was pulled forward along with the chair below her. The metal legs squeaked across the linoleum under Yelena’s strong grip until the still somewhat confused woman landed square between Yelena’s spread legs. With a single tilted brow, and a deepening pout, Yelena acquiesced, “Fine…Kate. Bishop. But, it is happening, and you're supposed to pinch yourself if you think you're dreaming.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Kate returned the smile, but was still unsure that the woman whose hands had landed on her jean-clad thighs was actually here, in the soft, freckled flesh, confessing a feeling she had both inadvertently and outrightly denied the ability to feel or follow.

Kate knew Yelena felt badly about the way she behaved. For a brief moment, she supposed that the words were offered from some sense of obligation or desire to make her feel better. But Yelena never did anything for the sake of either of those reasons. Yelena was singular and honest and suddenly in love with her?

Kate’s mind flashed to mere minutes ago, answering her own question with the fact that someone doesn't suddenly go from throwing you off a building to standing in the freezing cold, half naked and ready to fight an unknown entity bare handed to protect you. That kind of thing involves a process . Discovering the truth of that process may be something they have to do together, and it seemed Yelena finally found a way to want that. She said so last night. She was saying it now. All Kate had to do was believe the practiced liar.

Chapter 15 is up and we finally get some spiciness wooo.

[deadpresidents]

HERBERT HOOVER •An Uncommon Man: The Triumph of Herbert Hoover by Richard Norton Smith (BOOK) •Herbert Hoover: A Biography by Eugene Lyons (BOOK) •Herbert Hoover in the White House: The Ordeal of the Presidency by Charles Rappleye (BOOK | KINDLE) •Hoover: An Extraordinary Life in Extraordinary Times by Kenneth Whyte (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO)

FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT •Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meacham (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II by Doris Kearns Goodwin (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Traitor To His Class: The Privileged Life and Radical Presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt by H.W. Brands (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Franklin Delano Roosevelt: Champion of Freedom by Conrad Black (BOOK | KINDLE) •Franklin D. Roosevelt: A Political Life by Robert Dallek (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO)

HARRY S. TRUMAN •Truman by David McCullough (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •1948: Harry Truman's Improbable Victory and the Year That Transformed America by David Pietrusza (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Plain Speaking: An Oral Biography of Harry S. Truman by Merle Miller (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Off the Record: The Private Papers of Harry S. Truman by Harry S. Truman, Edited by Robert H. Ferrell (BOOK) •Harry S. Truman by Margaret Truman (BOOK)

DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER •Eisenhower by Geoffrey Perret (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Eisenhower, Volume I: Soldier, General of the Army, President-Elect, 1890-1952 by Stephen E. Ambrose (BOOK | KINDLE) •Eisenhower, Volume II: The President by Stephen E. Ambrose (BOOK | KINDLE) •The Supreme Commander: The War Years of Dwight D. Eisenhower by Stephen E. Ambrose (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Eisenhower in War and Peace by Jean Edward Smith (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO)

JOHN F. KENNEDY •An Unfinished Life: John F. Kennedy, 1917-1963 by Robert Dallek (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House by Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. (BOOK | KINDLE) •Incomparable Grace: JFK in the Presidency by Mark K. Updegrove (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •JFK: Coming of Age in the American Century, 1917-1956 by Fredrik Logevall (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) •Reclaiming History: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy by Vincent Bugliosi (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO)

[isabellavolere]

Transformers Prime—Part 5: Victories Short-Lived

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Vroom, vrooom! You groggily wake up, lifting an eye as you hear a car revving its engine. You roll onto your side and try to go back to sleep when you hear the car rev again, this time a little bit louder than before. 

What idiot’s revving his car engine on a Saturday morning? What a jerk. 

All of a sudden you bolt upright as you realize the car engine belongs to Cliffjumper. Getting out of bed, you jog to the front of your house and open the front door, leaning out of the door frame. To your astonishment, Cliffjumper is parked in the driveway, headlights flashing in greeting.

“Are you crazy?” You ask in a hushed tone. “What are you doing parked in the driveway? If my parents catch you they will go crazy!”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Cliffjumper sarcastically. “Don’t worry, your parents left about an hour ago.”

You frown and step outside, closing the door behind you. Walking over to Cliffjumper you say

“Well I’m glad your loud engine didn’t wake them up like it did for me. Do you know where they went?”

“No idea. Besides, I was getting bored sitting in your driveway so I decided to wake you up. We can head to the base and watch cartoons,” says Cliffjumper excitedly. “Wait, do you even like cartoons?” He asks.

You shrug one of your shoulders and reply, “I don’t mind them.”

“Great, let's get going. But maybe change out of your pajamas first.”

You look down at your black tank top and knee length plaid shorts and grin sheepishly. 

“Yeah maybe. Be back in a flash!” You say and race back inside. 

You put on a vintage Star Wars shirt and denim jean shorts, brush through your hair, put it in a ponytail, and then tie your f/c bandana around your forehead. 

After a quick once over in the mirror you slip on some shoes and walk back outside. As you walk back to Cliffjumper you can hear the hum of a motor and are surprised to see Arcee pull into your driveway with Jack straddled on top. He’s wearing a white motorcycle helmet with a tinted visor that he quickly takes off as he dismounts, tucking it away before walking over to you.

“Good morning Jack. What brings you two here?” You ask, curious as to how he and Arcee found your house.

“Morning y/n. Me and Arcee were just out for a little drive and uh, thought we’d see if you guys were still here,” he said, glancing back to Arcee.

“Out for a little drive huh?” Asks Cliffjumper.

“We were just heading back to base,” says Arcee.

“Wanna race?” You turn to Jack and say mischievously.

“Oh, bring it!” Says Jack, turning to grab his helmet.

You walk over to Cliffjumper and hop in the passenger seat. 

“A race, huh?” Cliffjumper asks as he backs out of the driveway.

“Oh come on, a 1969 Dodge Challenger like you can go from 0-60 in 5.2 seconds, you can totally smoke them!” You say enthusiastically.

“Well I know that,” Cliffjumper laughs as he lines up with your house’s rusty mailbox.  

Arcee and Jack pull up to the right of you and you roll down the window.

“Ready to lose, Jack?” You ask in a teasing voice.

“You wish,” comes Jack's reply, muffled slightly by the helmet. 

You smirk and roll up the window, getting ready for the race.

“On your marks, get set, GO!” Yells Arcee, and both her and Cliffjumper shoot off, wheels screeching. 

The force of the acceleration pushes you backward and you whoop loudly as cacti and other landscape rushes past you. Arcee was fast, you had to give her that, but as you watch, Cliffjumper slowly begins creeping up on her. You lean over and watch the line on the speedometer go up and up, marking 60 mph, 70, 80. You were going faster and faster and soon enough, you were in the lead. The speedometer now marks 92 mph and the desert is only a blur as you hurtle down the road. Looking in the rear view mirror, you grin as you see Arcee and Jack a few inches behind Cliffjumpers’ bumper.

“You know, for a two wheeler Arcees’ not doing too bad, huh?” Says Cliffjumper, and you can practically see the smirk on his face.

“Yeah, but if she really wasn’t doing too bad she wouldn’t be behind us,” you tease.

Cliffjumper lets out a boisterous laugh and says “That’s true. How fast are we going anyway?”

You look down at the speedometer and reply “Cruising at 107. Not bad for a muscle car!” 

Cliffjumper laughs again and says “No, not bad at all.”

A large mesa towers over the car and you recognize it as the one the Autobot base is hidden in. Cliffjumper slows down and drives through the tunnel. The thrill of the race catches up to you and you can’t help but beam as Cliffjumper parks and lets you out, transforming after you’re out. You walk over to Jack and was about to tease him about losing when Optimus walks over and says “Autobots, prepare to…” but doesn’t finish the sentence. 

“Roll out?” Guesses Arcee.

“Remain here. Ratchet, Cliffjumper, you’ll come with me. Arcee, we’ll be outside of communication range for some time so I’m putting you in charge,” says Optimus.

“Aww,” you whine quietly, frowning up at Cliffjumper. “Our victory is cut short and Optimus snatches you for a mission. Not fair.”

“I know, right? Now we can’t rub our success in their faces.”

You snicker as he grins and winks at you.

“Tell you what kid, when I get back we can do a victory lap around the base, sound good?”

“Deal. Make it a quick mission, ok Cliff?” You smile.

Cliffjumper smiles slightly but drops when Optimus calls for him.

“I’ll see what I can do, y/n.” 

He walks over to Optimus and looks back at you once more before transforming and driving through the groundbridge behind Optimus. A moment of silence fills the base as the last lights of the portal dim.

“Ok, so, what’s on the activities list?” Asks Jack, turning to Arcee.

“I’m going on patrol,” she says in a bored voice.

“But Optimus told us to stay,” Bulkhead says. 

“When you’re in charge you can call the shots,” replies Arcee. “Bee, with me! Bulkhead, you’re in charge.”

With that, Arcee and Bumblebee transform and race down the tunnel, leaving you, Jack, Miko, Raf, and Bulkhead.

“And then there were five,” you mutter under your breath.

“So, um, what’s on the activity list?” Bulkhead asks. 

“How about band practice?” Miko offers and you turn to her, watching as she begins hooking up a black electric guitar to a Fender amplifier. 

“But we’re not a band,” points out Raf.

“Why so antisocial? Come on Raf, do you play anything?” She asks enthusiastically.

“Um, keyboard?” He says, lifting up his computer.

“Laptops and samples, good! Jack?” She turns a hopeful face to Jack. 

Rubbing a hand on his neck, Jack says “I, uh, sometimes mess around on the harmonica.”

“Do I look like I do country?” Asks Miko in a condescending tone. Almost desperately, Miko looks to you. “Please tell me you play something. Guitar, drums, anything?!”

“Weelll, I-I play the flute. And the violin…aand the piano. A bit.” You give her a small smile, somewhere between a grin and a grimace. 

Miko signs dramatically and raises her arms. “Well maybe you and Jack can start a bluegrass band. For now, just cover yourselves in fake blood and jump around screaming.” 

You share a look with Jack and shrug. Just then Miko starts strumming her guitar and a loud song blares out of her amplifier. You cover your ears, mirroring the other kids, but it does no good. Over the music you notice green flashing lights coming from the computer monitors, signaling  an alarm going off. Bulkhead seems to notice the alarm too because he waves at Miko to stop. 

“Oh come on!” She whines. “You can’t handle raw power?”

“Proximity sensor. Quick, hide!” Exclaims Bulkhead.

You rush to the same binding spot under the railing as the day before, and just in time, because Agent Fowler wastes no time in walking briskly into the base. Just as he walks in, you notice Mikos’ amplifier is still hooked up to her guitar, which she is still holding. 

Crap! I sure hope Agent Fowler doesn’t notice the wire coming from behind Bulkhead. What’s he yelling at Bulkhead about? Something in Nebraska? Maybe he’s too busy with Bulkhead to notice…yeah probably not.

“So,” Agent Fowler concludes. “You tell Prime that-since when are you bots electric?”

Dang it. 

“Uhh…” Bulkhead looks from you and back to Agent Fowler.

“What do we do?” You whisper shout to Jack, who grimaces and slides past you.

“Hey. How are you doing?” He asks. 

You roll your eyes, but since you have no other idea, follow the other kids. To say Agent Fowler looked bothered by the fact that four teenagers just stepped in front of him was an understatement.

“Contact with civilians! Team Prime has really gone off the rules with this one. No, don't tell me, you're running a daycare!” 

Bulkhead looks flustered and if bots could blush, you were sure he would be bright red. But with quick thinking, Jack makes up an excuse.

“We’re interns,” he begins.

“Student interns!” Raf adds.

“Earning extra credit in auto…” Jack trails off, unsure of what to say.

“Mechanics.” 

“Robotics.” 

You look to Miko and then quickly back to the agent, trying to recover the mistake.

“It’s both, cause you know, they’re cars and robots so we came here to study them for extra credit…so um…”

The look Agent Fowler sends you tints your cheeks pink, but you firmly meet his stare.

“Ok, let’s move. I’m taking you all into federal custody for your own protection,” he says, walking down the stairs towards you. 

Bulkhead steps in front of you and the other kids, firmly saying “We are protecting them.”

“Is that so? Well, maybe you can explain that to my superiors at the Pentagon,” says Agent Fowler, angrily punching numbers on a telephone hanging by the stairs. 

“Don’t use that phone! It’s…out of order,” says Bulkhead quickly, crushing the phone with one of his large fingers. 

Agent Fowler looks up at Bulkhead, and you can feel the anger practically radiating off of him.

“This isn’t over, Bigfoot! Not by a long shot!”

Agent Fowler turns around and stomps up the stairs. He stalks into the elevator, turns around, and jabs the button. The elevator door closes with a dull thud, and after a moment of silence you let out a breath, blowing stray hairs out of your face.

“Well, I don’t think that could have gone any worse,” you say.

Jack lets out a nervous laugh and Miko turns to you saying, “Did you see the look on his face when Bulkhead crushed that phone? That was awesome!” 

“I have a feeling that’s not the last we’re hearing of Agent Fowler,” Raf says.

“Maybe not, but for now we don’t have to worry about him,” you say, climbing up the rusty yellow ladder that leads to the large computers. 

You sit down in one of the chairs, replaying the last few moments in your head.

Agent Fowler backed off pretty quickly to Bulkhead. For a guy who puts on this ‘tough guy’ act, he doesn’t seem to want to pick a fight with the Autobots. Interesting.

You log on to one of the human sized computers, hoping to see where Cliffjumper, Optimus, and Ratchet are. You turn around when you hear the other kids climb the stairs and head to the tv, Miko tuning it on and lazily flipping through stations until she finds an interesting one. You sign and shake your head as Miko and Jack begin to argue about the station, turning back to the computer. 

All is quiet for a few moments before an alarm blares through the base and the computer screen flashes brightly in your face. You cover your ears with your hand, but it does little to muffle the sound. 

“My ears!” Whines Raf, or at least that’s what you think he said.

“It’s an S.O.S. From Fowler,” comments Bulkhead, pulling up the alarm on one of the computer monitors. 

“Did you trace it?” Asks Raf.

“Hm, location scan incomplete. Oh well,” says Bulkhead, shrugging. 

“Oh well?” Asks Jack incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Fowler’s a jerk!” Retorts Bulkhead.

“Whether you like the guy or not, the Decepticons may have him!”

“Jack’s right,” you say, frowning. “And Agent Fowler knows the location of the Autobot base. If the Decepticons interrogate him, I bet they’ll make him talk.”

“Yeah, y/n has a point. I mean, didn’t we all see how fast Fowler backs down from a bot? The Decepticons will totally make him squeal!” Adds Miko.

“But we lost the transmission. Fowler could be anywhere,” says Bulkhead. 

“Maybe I can narrow it down.” Says Raf as he sits in a chair next to you.

He grabs a laptop from his backpack and types furiously while explaining, “About five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents. You know, like owners do with pets.”

“Raf’s right. That’s what they had to do to my dad when he joined the army,” you say, watching Raf’s laptop screen. Jack and Miko look from you to Raf with confused and slightly concerned expressions on their faces.

“What? I saw it on tv,” defends Raf. “Anyway, if I can hack into the Fed’s mainframe, maybe I can pinpoint Fowler's coordinates.”

“You know how to hack? But you’re like, two years old!” Exclaims Miko.

“Twelve,” corrects Raf. “And a quarter!”

“Hmm, if you work on that, I can try logging into the mainframe,” you say, sitting at one of the computers. “If I can find the transmission from Agent Fowler, I can access the last coordinates transmitted from his helicopter.”

“You too?” Asks Miko, throwing up her hands. 

Raf looks up at you and you meet his gaze, intrigue flicking through his eyes before you turn back to your work. 

A few minutes later you pump your fist in the air triumphantly as you call out “I got it! Latitude 39.5 degrees north, 116.9 degrees west.”

“Ok, wait here,” says Bulkhead, already typing the coordinates into the groundbridge. 

“Aww, don’t break up the band!” Wines Miko. 

“Uh, Jack, you’re in charge,” says Bulkhead, ignoring Miko. 

He rushes through the groundbridge, leaving us alone. 

“And then there were four,” you say dully.

“I guess we have the run of the place,” shrugs Jack.

“I guess so. Hey Miko, do you-Miko? Miko!” 

You scan the base but don’t see her. Looking again, your eyes lock with Jack and you can see worry flash across his face.

“What should we do?” He asks.

“Bulkhead may have not even realized she’d follow him!” Raf exclaims.

“Miko hasn’t seen the cons’ in action like we have. She has no idea,” says Jack.

Your head swims with visions of the cons doing all sorts of horrible things to Miko.

Oh, foolish girl! Why did you follow Bulkhead? He’s supposed to be your guardian but he can’t protect you from everything!

“Are the coordinates still locked into the groundbridge?” Asks Raf.

“Yep, still there,” you nod.

“Y/n, can you turn the ground bridge on from the computer?” Jack asks.

“Uh, yeah I think so,” you say, and start pulling up the ground bridge access.

“Good, fire it up. You’re in charge,” he says as he steps down the ladder.

Making up your mind, you take a breath and say “uh, now you’re in charge,” as you head towards the ladder.

“In charge of who?” You hear Raf say as you slide down to the ground floor.

“Jack, wait,” you say, running to Jack.

Jack stops and turns around, waiting for you to catch up with a silent question in his eyes. 

“What, you didn’t think I’d let you try and rescue Miko all alone did you? I’m coming with you,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you felt. 

He looks over at you and nods once, a fierce determination set in his eyes. You close your eyes and take a deep, steadying breath, readying yourself for the battle you felt was sure to come. You open them and look over to Jack, nodding your head once, to tell him you were ready. 

“Here goes nothing,” you say, stepping closer to the groundbridge.

“Jack, y/n, wait! I’m coming too,” says Raf, running next to you. 

You reach the groundbridge first with Jack and Raf following close behind you. You jump through the groundbridge, which feels like an assault on your senses. Bright purple and green lights swirl around you, which looks like the aurora borealis was turned into a portal. A loud sound somewhere between a whooshing and a buzzing can be heard, and when you jump out of the portal, what meets your eyes is worse than you could have imagined. You are in the middle of a wide rocky canyon, and what else is in the middle of the canyon but the freaking Decepticon warship! 

Oh. Not good.

With your gaze transfixed on the warship, flashbacks of the first time you saw the ship cross your mind. You don’t even register that a few Decepticons come out of the ship with their guns loaded and ready to fire until you hear Bulkhead and Miko scream your name, which snaps you out of your stupor. The Decepticons begin firing and you, Jack and Raf dodge the blasts. Raf starts walking backwards, but he loses his footing and falls over, curling into a ball to make himself as small as possible. Without thinking you launch yourself on top of Raf, shielding his body with yours. Hearing a honking noise, you look up to see Bulkhead in his alternate form pulling up next to you, doors opening so you, Raf, and Jack can jump in quickly. You dive through the passenger door and scoot over to the driver side of the car, Jack sitting next to you and Raf sitting in the backseat. 

After receiving our thanks, Bulkhead asks “What are you doing here?”

“We were worried about Miko!” Have you seen her?” Asks Jack.

“She’s in the backseat, Jack,” you say, looking through the rear view mirror and making eye contact with the girl. 

She gives you a guilty grin and you roll your eyes. After driving behind a big boulder Bulkhead stops and opens the doors.

“Everyone out! And this time, please wait here,” begs the green bot, driving away. 

He drives up a sort of ramp and starts climbing up the side of the canyon.

Ha like Miko’s going to do that. I bet she’s not even here.

You look around you and sure enough, Miko is nowhere to be seen. You sigh dramatically, like a tired parent, and scan the canyon for Miko. Not seeing her, you figure she’s probably still inside of Bulkhead. At least she has a better chance with Bulkhead then roaming around the canyon, being an easy target. 

“Wait, where’s Miko?” Asks Jack worriedly.

Took you long enough. Luckily I’m way ahead of you Jack.

“Probably up there with Bulkhead,” you say, scanning the canyon walls. “If I can only figure out a way to get up to the warship,” you mutter.

“What if a Decepticon took us up there?” Jack asks in a worried voice.

“Hmm, that might work if we can find one,” you say, still focused on the canyon walls.

“I think we just did,” says Raf.

You turn around and are face to face with two purple Decepticons.

Well, that’s not ideal.

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