#league of unfortunate fellows

[bet-on-me-13]

Thats not Fair!?

So! Danny is a Member of the JLA. He is a Millenia Old Ghost who is stuck looking the same as the day he died, so he never aged over all those Centuries. While the JLA is slightly uncomfortable at him being on the Team, they know his circumstances and try to ignore his appearance. He can't control it, its not his Fault.

Or at least, that's what he tells them.

Danny is in fact, a 15 Yr Old Kid, who used his experience as a Time Traveler to trick the JLA into letting him join the Adult Team. He is actually doing a good job in tricking them!

Then, in a complete accident, he runs into Jazz while talking to a few fellow Leaguers.

She showers him in older sister love, hugging him and giving him Nuggies, and when a Leaguer asks how old she is she says "Oh I'm 17, 2 whole years older than this little scamp!"

So there goes that lie.

Fortunately, the League decides to let Danny stay on the Adult Team.

Unfortunately, Young Justice learned about his admittance to the Adult Team and kind of lost it.

"What?! Why is HE allowed on the Adult Team!? He's only been a Hero for a Year! We've all been Heroes for so much longer!?! And for that matter why is Shazam still on the Team!? Is that the new Rule? If you can trick us into letting you in the Team you can stay? Cause we can do that! We can sneak our way in too!"

Basically I want to imagine YJ's reaction to 2 Child Heroes on the Adult Team when they are stuck on the "Baby Team"

I think it would be funny.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Danny is still 15 #But he tricks the JLA into letting him on the team #He just says “oh look there's a picture of me in the 1600's! I remember that like it was last week!” And it works #When Danny is outed he instantly tries to change the subject like “Oh-Uh-well- Hey look! Shazam is actually 12! That's way worse than 15!” #“Dude!? Wtf!?” #“I'm sorry I panicked?!”

[charlietheepicwriter7]

R̸̜̈́u̵̟͘t̶̺̓ḧ̵͇l̷̟̋ē̶̘s̵̨̎s̵̩͒ṋ̵̋e̵͙̐s̵̡̈́ś̸͙

Get in the Water prompt Storm alternate version Animatic Fanart

There was a spell, Constantine had explained after his own trip to the afterlife. Something to contain Danyal's soul long enough to resolve his unfinished business, to keep him still and away from the influences of his fellow dead. And if that didn't work, Constantine continued, then there were ways to force a spirit to rest. It was better for a ghost to move on by themselves, but if there was no other choice...

Damian hoped Danyal would choose to rest on his own. That he'd let him explain, finally.

Danyal had been weak. Strong in a fight, but too weak to kill, and that infuriated Damian. But he was scared more than he was angry. Because that weakness would get Danyal killed, could get Damian killed, could get the League killed. Even the newest recruits had a stronger desire to kill than Danyal.

He was the weakest link in the chain. And while their mother had taught them to be ruthless, Danyal had remained limp with mercy.

They needed Danyal's body. It would be Danyal's tie to the earth, Constantine explained as he joined them on the Batplane. The souls of the dead don't often linger on the mortal plain. The magician had speculated that the only reason Danyal had managed to manifest in the waters below Gotham was because of Damian's presence, but his remains would keep him stable this side of life for however long it took to heal his soul.

But was that even possible?

"I don't know, kid," Constantine admitted during the plane ride. "Wish I had a better answer for you, but... Your brother is a siren now. And from the sound of it? He really wants you dead."

"Then why didn't he kill me?" Damian argued. "He had hours to do it... or minutes..." The time he spent in that green world felt longer than the ten minutes Father couldn't find him, but... "He had me in his grasp and let me go. Doesn't that mean he didn't want to-"

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'Playing with your food?'" Constantine asked instead. "Sirens aren't known for letting their prey go. If we're out here, its because he wants us here."

They--Damian, Father, Constantine, Grayson, and Todd--landed in Nanda Parbat after a few hours. There was a crypt inside for members of the Al Ghul family who didn't use the Lazarus Pits. It was there Danyal's body was entombed. They would have to steal it.

And it was unfortunate that Constantine got them caught within five minutes of entry.

Damian glared daggers at the man as they were led towards the Lazarus Pit. Constantine shrugged. "What? I don't want assassins chasing after me because of some light grave robbing! Besides, we need to explain the situation anyway-"

"And what, precisely, needs to be explained?" asked a woman from inside the chamber. The heroes were pushed inside, only to see Talia Al Ghul standing where her father should have been. The Lazarus Pit hissed and boiled behind her, casing the cave in a ghoulish light.

Damian could hear laughing.

Father stepped forward. "Talia. Where's Ra's?" Grandfather was the biggest threat to their plan succeeding.

Mother... looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I do not know. At the present moment... the Demon Head is missing."

You could hear a pin drop. "What do you mean?" Father demanded.

"It's as I said; he is missing. Yesterday, he was alone in the Pit, and hours later, no one could find him." She glanced behind her, at the waters, before looking back at them. "I had assumed he'd left to care for the League's interests. Now-" She tilted her chin up, looking down at them. "What exactly do you need to explain? What is so important that you break into my home to tell me?"

Stepping forward, Constantine explained. Mother looked grim as he spoke of Danyal, but did not interrupt. "We want to put his soul to rest. But for that, we need access to his body-"

"You dare ask for such a thing?" Mother snarled. "As if I even believe you. My son would never-"

"Your son?" Grayson snapped. "From the looks of it, you didn't care for either of your children!"

As the group descended into an argument, Damian heard laughter again, Danyal's high pitched giggle harmonizing with something deep and bone shaking. The Lazarus Pits loomed over him, beckoning him, whispering. Damian took a step towards it as his mother said, "I don't even have his body!"

"What?" Damian snapped at his mother, focusing back on the conversation. "But the crypts-"

"After your brother's murder, the Demon Head ordered for the culprit to be found. But they were never discovered." Because the culprit was Damian, he knew, and no one else ever learned about it. "I wanted to place him in the Pits immediately, but I was ordered to stay my hand until the murderer was caught. But..."

"He never was," Damian finished for her. "And then you put Danyal into the waters?"

"Yes." She closed her eyes. "And he never came back out. Even if it was too late, he'd still come back as the undead, but he never rose from the waters."

"Then this is entirely my fault."

"Finally," Danyal whispered in his ear, breath chilling his skin.

Damian did his best to ignore it. Danyal was haunting him. Danyal needed to be put to rest. If they couldn't do it Constantine's way, then they had to put him to rest another way.

Grayson looked troubled. "Robin, it's not your fault-"

"I'm the one who killed him," Damian confessed. Everyone stared at him. Grayson, horrified; Mother, blank; Father, betrayed. Damian continued, "I overheard you and Grandfather arranging a fight to the death, and I knew who would win. I couldn't... I couldn't allow Danyal to die without the Al Ghul name, in disgrace as the one who wasn't good enough. So I killed him, assassinated him, and now he's haunting me for revenge." Damian looked at the Pit. "So go ahead, Danyal."

"Damian, what are you saying?"

"Danyal wants revenge on the person who killed him; I'm giving it to him." Todd was staring at him. Damian might not be able to see past his helmet, but he could feel the respect coming off the man. "Danyal, I know you're here. Please come out." If he focused long enough, he could just making out wheezing breaths. "I can hear you, please-"

Father grabbed Damian by the shoulders. "Damian, listen to what you're saying! You're offering your life up for nothing!"

"B's right." Grayson placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's got to be another way. You don't have to do this!"

"Yes I do!" Damian ripped himself out of Nightwing's grip. "I'm the one who killed him! I'm the one at fault! My brother is suffering because of me, I have to save him-"

Stepping between them all, Mother slapped him across the face.

And the Pit's whispers fell silent.

Damian stared up at his mother, cheek throbbing with pain. She glared back. "Cease this behavior at once," she snapped. "There's no need to get so worked up over a ghost, of all thing-"

"T̴̯̃al̵̬͂ị̴̿a̵̮̕ ̵̼͐A̴̗̕l̷͈̆ ̴͚̓G̵͎̀h̷̻͒u̶̜͋l̴͍̀."

This time, everyone could hear Danyal's voice, filled with static and corrupted. Damian swallowed as his dead brother continued,

"D̸͕͠o̶̪̅ ̸͍̆ỹ̵̗ö̸̲ũ̸̧ ̶͖̚k̶̻͊ņ̸͐o̸̹̚ẘ̸̙w̷̛̹ḧ̸͚́o̷͉̅ ̵͈̑I̶̪̽ á̵̞m̶͙̂?̸̻͂"

The cavern shook as the Lazarus Pit bucked, a wave forming in the absolute center of the water. The wave rose, pillaring up above their head and brushing the ceiling. A cold wind rushed through the room and blew out the torches on the walls, leaving only embers and the occasional florescent behind. Damian braced himself for the waters to rush out and flood.

Instead, the water fell back into the pit, like it had never risen in the first place, leaving behind a lone figure in its wake.

"Danyal," Mother whispered.

And the dead boy glared back at her with pure contempt.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #so i tried to find a permanent base for the league of assassins #and discovered that the Nanda Parbat I keep seeing is only a League base in the Arrowverse? #but it's the only one I could find so here it is! #c: damian wayne #c: john constantine #c: bruce wayne #c: talia al ghul #c: danny fenton #c: danyal al ghul #get in the water au #by the way danny straight up murdered Ra's #if anyone cares #just drowned his wrinkly old ass #Sorry if Talia and Bruce seem weird #I don't know how to write them #there will probably be more but this was already over a thousand words so whatev

[kamotecue]

imagine a KCC fic where they are trying to hide their relationship from the media but the fans are catching them doing everything (like walks together, going on holidays Mcfoord type shit) and they’re just debating wether to co form it or tease the fans

secret's out ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x fem!reader

a soft hum escaped your lips as the australian wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her as she softly chuckled against your skin. she leaned against you, hiding her head in the crook of your neck as you softly smiled at her actions. it wasn't easy being a long distance couple, you both represented the australian team - you as a striker, and her as a midfielder, completing each other perfectly as you both had a few plays. the midfielder plays in the women's super league, playing for arsenal, the team you had supported since childhood while you play in the french league, alongside ellie carpenter, a national and club teammate of yours.

"i missed you" kyra's voice was softer than usual as you chuckled at her, before placing a lovely kiss on the crown of her head. "missed you too, sugar."

"we have a few more hours before the team dinner, is there anything you'd like to do?" you asked, as the midfielder stepped back to properly look at you, her eyebrows furrowed as you patiently waited to know that she was thinking of things to do. you noticed how she grabbed your hand softly swinging it, as she hummed and that's when you knew she had already decided on something.

"how about the arcade, and then let's settle for ice cream." you raised your eyebrows, ice cream before dinner - wouldn't that ruin the appetite. but you gave her a nod, giving her a small grin as she led you away from the hotel and onto the streets. the arcade was only a walk from the hotel, as you had your camera in hand - clearly taking photos of the day, as the two of you had been soft launching your relationship. the fans have noticed it, and certainly your national teammates have too, but they've always thought that the pair of you two were just best friends.

"ha! you lose." kyra shouted, as you chuckled at the loudness of her voice. subtly glancing to see if anyone had heard, and they did - but they had averted their eyes as you softly shook your head at your lover who snickered at your screen. you were always competitive, the both of you were - but if there was a game that you unfortunately suck at would be the car racing games.

"you always choose this game to break the tie" as you walked forwards, kyra instantly grabbing your right hand - interlocking your fingers together as you walked side by side, leaving the arcade and searching for an ice cream shop. you were scrolling through instagram, taking a peak at the photos you both posted on your individual stories, sooner or later there was bound to be a tiktok edit about it.

"thinking about the hard launch soon, love?" kyra asked, as she peaked at your phone - passing it to her as she hummed, stopping on a photo. it was a picture of your silhouette. "i like this one"

"because it's the one you took right? but yeah, i find it amusing - we're pulling a mcfoord move." you joked, making her laugh - but it's true, the irish and your fellow national teammate have been soft launching their relationship.

the two of you continued to talk about life, simply catching up as there were a few stories you never told her - just like there were stories she didn't tell you. as the two of you walked to the resturant where the team dinner was held, you watched as she went through the photos you took, quickly picking a few as she showed you.

"let's hard launch these." kyra said, as you came to a stop, flipping through the photos. the first one she chose was a mirror picture of you two, you were the one in front as kyra was the one in the back - you both made a heart shape with one hand.

the rest were simply photos that you two were being carefree, dancing when the sun was close to setting, or her sticking her hand out in the air as you rode the bide safely making sure that you both wouldn't fall - it would be collateral.

when she jumped you on the bed, as you had finally said yes to be her girlfriend - it was after camp had ended. your mother wanted to meet kyra, a simple dinner and when that dinner was over - you brought her to your room - the pictures you had hanged was something she loved.

and lastly, her personal favorite - her hand on top of yours. it's something she loved, she wore your ring in the picture, like she always does.

safe to say, as the mini collage hit the internet, you did get teased by the veteran players of the team. charli was the one teasing kyra the most, as you softly enjoyed it.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

y/nl/n: i guess it was never a secret, was it?

tagged kyracooneyx

liked by katie_mccabe11, kyraandy/nfan, alessiarusso99, and 572,325 others.

comments disabled.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #arsenal wfc imagine #matildas x reader #auswnt x reader #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross imagine #kyra cooney cross x reader

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

DP/DC:

Instead of Danny being Constantine's I know a guy solution, Danny is Constantine's call centre solution.

Like John calls up Danny and gives a description of the problem and within the hour John now has a new phone number or ritual to shortcut his way to the fastest expert.

This is how Tucker Foley finds himself being yanked by his very mortal soul into a Justice League meeting where apparently his expertise on Egyptian Gods and their interference with the mortal world was recommended by the Ghost King.

Unfortunately he does know how to help and now Wonder Woman is trying to convince him that as a "fellow demigod" she has all the knowledge he could want to better himself and his baby God needs.

Tucker Foley had been convinced he was fully mortal up till an hour ago.

#dp/dc #dp x dc #dc x dp

[kth1fics]

Inconspicuous (M) | KTH (TEASER)

Inconspicuous

⟶ Pairing: Incubus!Taehyung x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Horror, Smut, Rated R | 18+ ⟶ Tropes: Jennifer’s Body Au, Friends to Lovers?, College Au ⟶ Teaser WC: 600+ ⟶ Warnings: talk of d**th, etc (not much since it's a teaser) ⟶ Beta: n/a (but my beauty jo @daechwitatamic looked through here for me) ⟶ Summary: A demonic force possesses college boy Taehyung, causing him to feverishly lust over unfortunate females who are completely out of his league. As his appetite for human flesh keeps Taehyung alive, you – his best friend since childhood – try everything to stop the savage butchery he leaves in his trail. ⟶ Author’s Note: Completely based off from the 2009 movie Jennifer’s Body, I have twisted a little tale of my own. I truly hope my readers enjoy this dip in horrific evil, and please leave any feedback or comments on a reblog, post, or even my ask box! Be mindful: The fic is still currently being written and is subject to change at any given time!

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

You hear the professor mention the debate with his students. He, Professor Greenburg, rests himself atop the corner of his desk as he peels his glasses from his face. The class is divided into a semicircle of chairs, each attached with a small wooden plank which acts as a desk for each student. Taehyung always fancies scooting his chair inches closer to you so he can mumble his remarks and to steal some of your notes or snacks you stuff your bag with.

“Yes, you can!” Your classmate raises their voice to interject another. “Some people are inspired by the movies or shows. Haven’t you seen any news or documentaries?”

“No, it’s not. Movies are not responsible for our actions or pursuit.” Another classmate bounces back.

Taehyung sighs softly, leaning his head against his hand as he shifts his weight. He’s counting down the minutes until your class time is up and for the two of you to leave. At this point it’s routine for the class to continue their arguments and discuss their cases. He just blends into the background and pretends he is invisible.

Dawn, a strong personality sorority sister, sits tall in her seat. Her purple pom-pom pen taps angrily when another student references film and real life being art references and imitation.

“Absolutely not,” she musters her voice up. Her sharp eyebrows stand high on her forehead with shock, “This isn’t a hypothetical situation. It’s not about ‘art’.” Dawn clarifies, “these are real people you’re mentioning. Actual life. This is reality, not a movie.”

“It inspires people and gives people ideas,” you hear someone chirp back. “Think about it, the writers of said movie or show already thought and came up with the scenario. It’s present in at least one person’s mind if you’re being technical about it.”

“And sure, making it into a movie is what? Promoting the idea?” Dawn mocks back.

The class continues to bicker and prod another’s ideas. You attempt to ration a few yourself, listening in and observing the thoughts that come out of your fellow peers. However, Taehyung remains silent. Hushed slightly adjacent to your seat. 

A resounded alert chimes from everyone’s phones, loud and startling. A few of you jump, quickly grabbing at your phones to see what all the noise is about. From your device, you see a campus-wide notification. Seems that everyone else received the same one.

You scan the words as someone else verbalizes it for the class.

“Campus curfew?”

The buzzing begins small but grows loud fast.

“All classes after 4:30 PM are canceled and will be merged online for the time being.”

You can hear the groans and moans coming from the other classes down the hall. Maybe some students are happy about the sudden transition.

“What’s this about?” You question out loud, turning your head around to see if you can find the answer from someone. Even when you turn to Taehyung, you see the disappointment of him being clueless.

“Beats me,” he shrugs.

“Is this about what happened from the town over?” You hear a curious classmate ask Professor Greenburg. “From last weekend?”

“It’s tough to say something like that is related to this,” he honestly replies. Professor Greenburg is still rereading the notification from his cellular device. “It wasn’t directly affiliated with the campus or student body, but if it were the case, it’s a precaution to keep things safe.”

“Maybe the police recommended it,” Dawn comments. “I just heard from a friend at a nearby university that they also were given a curfew at their school earlier in the week.”

You tune back to Taehyung, whispering, “What happened?”

“Didn’t someone die?”

“Die?”

“Killed,” Taehyung boldly refines. “Murdered.”

⟶ Estimated Posting Date : Halloween 2023

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

#inconspicuous #fic teaser #inconspicuous teaser #fic: inconspicuous #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #bts fic #bts halloween #bangtansorciere #btscreaturescoven #bts x reader #kth1fics #btswritersclub

[ac3may]

" the wag diaries "

How You Met

~ Leah Williamson ~

~~~~~~~~~~

if being called up to play in England’s 2022 Euros wasn’t rewarding enough

it was also what led you to meet Leah

outside of a rival environment at least

despite playing in the WSL from 16-yrs-old and junior England squads from even younger, the nerves for your first senior call-up were real

having your older sister, Millie, and her vast experience, accompanying you should have been comforting

but the moment she teased you over your stuttered introduction to the skipper you were questioning whether that was true

you’d known each other less than a day before Leah was helping you through a panic attack

and another 48 hours later and you were pulling her out of her own stress spiral 

a moment that happened to lead to a movie playing on her laptop and her head on your chest as she napped

but you accepted that a crush on the England captain was probably not a recommended thing to act on

unfortunately Rachel and Millie (aka your honorary pains in the ass) wouldn’t let it go quite so swiftly

with their encouragement, you found yourself in for some harsh rejection

Leah didn’t feel mid-competition was the right time to begin a relationship 

particularly not with a fellow teammate

despite it being expected, it hurt

as quiet as you tried to keep it the news spread

your camp mums (Lucy, Mary & Jill) finding out particularly fast

the mother hen in them all jumped out, leading Leah to receiving a stern talking to

and maybe some threats

hearing the message loud and clear Leah spent days asking to speak to you

not intending to hurt you, she had just done what she thought was best for both of you

after some incredible, slightly mortifying, begging you finally let her explain

in doing so you realised just how much you’d missed her

enjoying falling into the routine of laughing with and teasing the older blonde

but when Leah let it slip she did feel the same, you have to make a bet

“Oh, so you do like me back, Miss Williamson? Hmmm. That’s not what you said before”

*splutters in response at the cockiness*

“Well in that case how about we make a deal? If we win the Euros you have to take me out. And then we can reconsider this whole girlfriend thing?”

Leah had never found herself so speechless

she was usually the one making bold claims not the other way around 

she liked it

she had to agree

and low and behold you won the euros 

unfortunately the mass introduction of media to both of you following the Euro’s was not healthy for your relationship 

nor was the league rivalry of Arsenal vs. Chelsea when you were both as passionate for your teams as you were

you didn’t even make it to Christmas

but of course that wasn’t the end of your story

as passionate as you were about football you were about each other too

it came down to figuring out a balance 

the realisation came first to Leah when she got injured and the one thing she longed for more than anything was to have you at her side

two weeks later you were playing your dream match-up

a Champions League semi-final, away at Camp Nou

what wasn’t a part of the dream was the part where your sister limped off the pitch, an injury in her knee

and even less dreamlike was the moment where you got barged roughly, mid-save

the shove causing you to land uncomfortably on your shoulder, excruciating pain immediately shooting through your body 

after being rushed to the hospital, you’re told later that evening you had severely torn your rotator cuff

worse than that, you were out of the Champions League

you were out of the game for at least six months according to the doctors

joining the ranks of the England injury gang you spent even more time with Millie

who had happened to be spending a lot more time with Beth Mead

who was of course spending time recovering with Leah

Millie knowing she was likely to be back in time for the World Cup forced you into outings with the Arsenal players

she thought it’d help you process your injury and loss

it only made you hurt more, seeing how distraught Leah was 

and not being able to help

you had more time for these big competitions

even the last one still felt like a fluke to you!

slowly though you returned to the roots of your friendship with Leah

supporting each other when you needed it most

taking it slow this time you worked to build a healthier relationship

you developed good communication and set plans in place for when you were stressed

or competing against each other 

~~~~~~~~~~

If any of you have ever read my Wattled story Amorousness about Leah, this is essentially an amalgamation of all the ideas I had for that. So spoiler alert ig?? But also I don't know if I'll ever finish the full fic so I'm glad it'll exist somewhere!

#wag diaries #ace writes stuff #lionesses #woso x reader #woso blurb #leah williamson x reader #leah Williamson blurb #arsenal women

[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.” 

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

[delusional-dinosaurr]

What Was That For? (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Ooooh boy, it’s been a while! I managed to get the writing gears turning so here’s a little one!

It's the Champions League final night in Eindhoven, Lyon versus Chelsea. Chelsea managed to knock out Barcelona in the semi-finals which you were sad but also relieved about, as you're friends with a lot of the Barcelona girls and you didn't fancy facing them in the final.

You used to play for Arsenal, alongside your childhood friend Leah Williamson, but the offer from Lyon was impossible to deny just under 2 years ago. Since then you've become fairly close with the Lyon girls, mainly Daan as you and her left Arsenal at the same time and have been living together ever since. This was your first big final as you didn't make the England euros squad due to an injury, you instead supported your country and some of your friends on other teams. You were obviously still going to attend every match and support your friends and fellow teammates, and also just watch some quality football. You watched all the Spain matches you could too as many of your friends played for the team. Unfortunately you missed out on seeing Alexia Putellas playing due to her also being injured, instead you were blessed with being seated next to her for most matches.

You and Alexia spent a lot of time together during the tournament, grabbing food together, you helped her with stairs as she didn't have a lot of strength in her leg. You had basically become each-others support for the few weeks of the matches, and still talk everyday.

Although one morning, you did wake up the day after the England celebration next to the Spaniard, and neither of you regretted that night. Since then you've had a few nights of being a bit too comfy for 'just friends', regardless of that, you were both happy which is all that mattered.

You sit next to Daan in the locker room and pull over your #16 jersey. You feel a hand steady your bouncing knee.

"Stop that, how about a distraction from your nerves?" Daan says squeezing your knee.

"A distraction? Wait until Ellie hears about this!" You say a little louder for Ellie Carpenter to hear.

"Do what you've gotta do to calm her down babe!" Ellie says winking at you, causing both you and Daan to break out into laughter. Daan perches on your lap and wraps her arms around you and gives you a little squeeze before getting back up. This is something she did back at Arsenal too, as it helped calm your nerves.

"But seriously, I mean a proper distraction. Why don't you call someone? Your mum? Or that secret lover of yours?" She suggests. "My mum is in the crowd so it's gonna be impossible to hear her, and there's no secret lover!" You nudge her shoulder with yours. "Explain the marks you had on your shoulders when you came back from the Arnold Cup, and the last break" Daan smirks at you knowingly. "I can't believe you've been checking me out in the changing rooms!" You joke whilst smacking her leg. "I don't blame her if she does" Ellie perches on the bench next to you "Plus Y/N, those marks weren't that subtle mate" she smiles at you. "It was uh, just a bit of fun with a friend" You say awkwardly whilst picking at your hands, avoiding eye contact with your two best friends. "Hmmm, I doubt it, but I'll quit interrogating you. For now at least. Bad habit, stop that" Daan grabs your hands to stop you picking at them. "Yeah yeah, I know" you laugh, and hear your phone ping, your eyes instantly dart to your phone as does Daan's. "Nope!" You snatch your phone before Daan could grab it from your side. You quickly scan the message, of course Alexia has sent you a good luck message. Ale: Good luck Y/N, I'll be watching the whole match and cheering you along! Maybe I'll even have a surprise for you next time I see you if you win;) You respond with a simple heart as you're being ushered out to the pitch, you audibly gulp at the idea of a surprise from her, knowing full well her intentions. It was nice to know Alexia was watching you from home, although you did find it slightly nerve wracking at the same time. 

━━━━━ The first half of the match is uneventful, you weren't in the starting 11 so you've been sat patiently with Lindsey Horan, cracking jokes to ease nerves. "Y/N you're up, You're replacing Amandine in 10" One of the coaching staff says whilst tapping your shoulder. "Go score me a worldie Y/N" Lindsey hugs you. "You're up too Horan" Another staff member calls her over. She starts taking off her coat and warming up alongside you. After those 10 minutes you both get subbed on and Amandine gives you a big hug. The match goes on somewhat smoothly with you assisting a goal for Ellie but Sam Kerr scoring in the 85th minute. You continue playing into extra time, all getting somewhat frustrated at yourselves for fumbling the ball and becoming a bit too aggressive. No goals were scored by either team in the first half of extra time. You look out at the crowd as you head to the side-lines for the half time of extra time. You listen to their cheers, hearing the chant the fans have made for players echoing around the stadium. You look at the family and friends section and see your mum grinning and waving at you wildly alongside your dad, brother and sister. Next to her is not who you expected to see, Alexia Putellas. Your grin only gets bigger as she gives you a small wave, whilst continuing a conversation with your mum. Your family knows Alexia from when you introduced them to each other during the Euros. They got on super well, it also massively helped with your mum being Spanish so that Alexia didn't have to panic about translating to English. Your dad on the other hand knows very limited Spanish. You take a sip from your drink at the side-lines whilst your team are discussing tactics and possibly penalty taking order. You dread the thought of penalties, they're never fun. You head back to your position ready to start the final half, exhausted but after seeing your family and Alexia watching, it has given you that boost you needed.

━━━━━

 You all start getting very desperate with 5 minutes of added time due to an injury. Lindsey is prepping for a throw in which you receive effortlessly, you notice Chelsea being looser on defending, so you make sure to pass to Daan whilst the opportunity is there. You run forward without being offside for Daan to whip the ball into the box, and for the ball to connect with foot. You're at a 1v1 with the keeper, you feint as if you're going left and chip the ball over the keeper. You watch the net bulge at the back and hear the roar of the crowd, you run over to where your family and Alexia are seated and point at them. "That one was for you!" You blow them a kiss as your team catch up with you and jump on you. "You did not just chip a keeper in the Champions League final Y/N!" Ellie says jumping into your arms.

You rush back to position to play out the remaining few minutes until you hear the final whistle go. Rather than celebrating you go around and chat to the Chelsea players that are slouched over or sat on the floor.

"You cheeky fucker" Millie Bright says hugging you "Well done though mate, move to Chelsea?"

"Never in your wildest dreams" You laugh hugging her back. Eventually after chatting with the majority of the team, you see all your teammates celebrating to the side and Ellie comes barrelling towards you with a bottle in her hand, so you run away from her laughing. Eventually she does catch you, well Lindsey caught you and held you hostage, and they both covered you in champagne. The medal and trophy ceremony continues, you can feel yourself welling up with pride, all your hard work had finally paid off. Some of your teammates started running over to their families and friends, which were now allowed on the pitch to enjoy the celebrations with the team. You spot your family and Alexia who are busy chatting until a staff member pulls her away. Alexia seems to have been dragged away for a post match interview as everyone is a bit starstruck with her in attendance. You bolt towards your family and give them hugs and talk about the match, they cant stop smiling at you and saying how proud they are. "Where's Alexia?" You ask your mum. "Oh Ale is over there, she wouldn't stop talking about you" She points over to the side of the pitch where Alexia is now talking with Daan and Ellie. "ALE!" You yell, watching her turn around as you sprint in her direction, you can already see the questioning looks from your two best friends who were enjoying a nice conversation with the Spaniard after she had finished an interview.

She has a massive grin plastered on her face as she holds her arms out for you. You wrap your arms around her and tuck your head into her neck.

"Ew you're all sweaty" She fakes disgust.

"You weren't complaining the other night" You joke in response causing Alexia to blush.

“Fuck it” you lean in to kiss Alexia. You can feel her already smiling into the kiss and holding her hands around the back of your neck. You’ve kissed many times before but this one felt different. It was warm, comforting and loving. You eventually break apart to look at eachother.

"What was that for?" She asks you whilst pushing some hair out of your face. "I don't want this anymore Ale, I want to be able to call you mine, like properly" You say confidently, the post winning high giving you that boost in your confidence.

"I'm all yours Y/N, I'm so fucking proud of you" She smiles and kisses you again.

"OH MY GOD ALEXIA PUTELLAS IS Y/N's MYSTERY FRIEND THAT SHE SLEEPS WITH!" Ellie gasps.

"How did they already know?" Alexia groans.

"Well someone wasn't so good at not leaving marks on her girlfriend" Daan winks at you.

"Hey! She's not my..- Wait a second. Are we like, official now?" You ask Alexia.

"I’d like to think so after that!" She grins, you nod in response.

"In that case, what me and my GIRLFRIEND do in our spare time is our business!" You say with your hands on your hips, causing the others to laugh.

"Speaking of that" Alexia smirks at you. Your teammates fake gags and heaving, resulting in laughter from the both of you.

━━━━━

You all end up partying until late, you didn't drink as you wanted to make sure you'd remember the night you not only confessed to Alexia that you want her to be yours, but the night you won the Champions League title. You eventually left the afterparty, being dragged by your now girlfriend to her hotel room.

"Now for the surprise for winning, I bought myself a present" She takes her hoodie off to reveal a Lyon jersey with your surname on it, you audibly gasp seeing her wearing something with your name on it. You manage to mumble out a quiet 'Oh my god' which she laughs at.

"Oh don't worry there's more where that came from" She giggles whilst removing the shirt, revealing some new lingerie which took your breath away instantly.

"Best. Day. Ever!" You cheer.

#Alexia Putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader

[that1emowitch]

At the end of the world / Or the last thing I see / You are never coming home, never coming home

Prompt from @tuna-f-b: Do you still do request? If yes and angst is o.k: what would happend i all the bats died? Like how would the hero community react. The supers alone. Clark having to deal with losing his best friend(?) and the kids he basically co parented- as well as seeing his sons lose their best friends(?) Specially as ships that would be awesome angst

A/N: I'm not crying you're crying (Also, for those who don't know, Izzy is Duke's canon gf and one of the Robins from We Are Robin)

Words: 2504

TW: Mentions of blood, Major character death, Coping with loss, Self-blame, Mentions of relapse (drugs)

“If you’re watching this, I am either deceased or indefinitely unable to continue my duties as Batman. But the world still needs Batman. Gotham still needs Batman. My son Damian Wayne, if he is an adult, shall inherit my mantle— if not, Dick Grayson will take over until he is. In the event that he, too, is unavailable for any reason, the mantle goes to Tim Drake, after him, to Cassandra Cain, then Duke Thomas, then Stephanie Brown, then Jason Todd, should he accept it.”

In the video recording, Batman pauses, taking a deep breath.

“In the unfortunate event that the entire family is… deceased… I have a list of contingency plans on both the Bat-Computer and the Justice League’s primary databases. Oracle will help you access it, but in her… absence… the password is “a6ghr83kc02m”.”

Then video-Bruce takes off the cowl, his pale blue eyes looking straight into the camera.

“I know I was never the best with feelings. But I would like my children, my allies, and friends to know that I’m proud of you. And to my fellow Justice Leaguers… Diana and Clark, I am truly grateful for your companionship. I would never have made it this far without you. Barry, Arthur, Dinah, J’onn, you’ve all been good friends. Oliver, Hal… you’re not so bad either.”

Bruce turns around, and looks over his shoulder, the shadows of the Batcave making the scene even more dramatic.

“I wish you good luck.”

Then the clip ends.

A shuddering breath leaves Clark.

It’s real.

He’s really… They’re all…

He can’t do this anymore. He turns around and walks out the door, leaving the other core Justice Leaguers staring sombrely at the now-blank screen.

He doesn’t know when he started flying, when he started trying to escape. The walls of the Watchtower seem to be suffocating him, but he has enough sense not to just leave the airlock yet.

Instead he finds a corner by a window, far, far away from the others, where he can see a majestic view of Earth, the moon, and the Sun in perfect sync with each other.

He falls to his knees.

His breathing’s uneven, a tear rolls down his cheeks.

Then he feels a hand on his shoulder— soft, trembling, yet steady.

“Kal,” Diana whispers, sitting on the floor next to him. She doesn’t continue— she isn’t sure what to say.

“They’re all going to die, you know? We’re going to bury all of them. Everyone on Earth, everyone we know.” Clark’s voice trembles, in a way Superman’s never does. “It scares me so much.”

“Kal,” Diana says again, pulling Clark into a hug. “It’s okay. We’ve lost… We’ve lost so many of our friends. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to grieve.”

“How are you— how are you so—” Clark can’t form his words properly. He turns to Diana, to see her face tight with grief, eyes misty with unshed tears.

Her voice breaks slightly as she speaks. “I don’t want to believe they’re gone. But… we have to carry on. We’re the Justice League. Our people need us, Kal.”

“So we just go on and on? Forever?” Another tear runs down his cheek. “Ollie, Hal, Dinah, Lois, Jon, they’re all going to… they’re all going to die one day and we just have to… to go on?”

“I’m sorry, but it is the truth,” Diana whispers, her eyes stinging with hot tears. “We must find peace in the fact, right now, that Batman— Bruce, the Robins, they— they were so brave. Brave till the end. And they fell as warriors, defending our world. I’m sure they’ll all reach Elysium.”

“And Dickie, Damian, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke—” Clark’s voice is hoarse. “They were so young, just kids… I… I know Dick, Jay, Tim, Cass… they were adults, but… they’re gone, they’re gone…”

“They were heroes, like you and me. Don’t forget that.”

“I… I know, I just—” Another shuddering breath escapes Clark. “I just— I…”

“It’s okay,” Her voice is forcefully steady, but with an undertone of heartbreak. “It’s okay…”

Dinah looks around the room, her heart heavy.

Clark has left, Diana’s gone after him— both of them need their space, she knows. They were close to Bruce and the other Bats in a way no one else in this room was.

Was.

The word still weighs down on her.

Hal speaks up finally, breaking the deafening silence. “I always thought he hated me.”

No one replies for a long moment.

“I miss the kids,” Barry says finally, his voice quiet. “They were just… Robin was only 14. The others, even Nightwing, they had… they had their whole lives ahead of them.”

More silence.

“Jason, when he was Robin— do y'all remember? Kid was always my favorite,” Ollie says finally. “Was always so sassy. Roy loves him.”

Loves. Dinah winces, but doesn’t correct him. It’s easier to believe they’re just gone for a little while.

“Bruce was a good man,” Arthur adds. “They all were.”

“Tim was, I believe, the smartest,” J’onn says, somber. “It was his plan that allowed us to save Earth.”

“Damian!” Dinah says suddenly, jumping from her seat. “His… his mother. She shouldn’t have to find out from someone else.”

Everyone freezes, faces tight.

Dinah sighs, looking down. “I’ll do it.”

Then she leaves the room, dragging what feels like a heavy weight tied to her soul. She has to do this.

Roy’s sitting in a corner of his apartment, hugging his knees. All he can think of is Jason.

He’s never coming back.

He can still feel the lingering ‘goodbye’ kiss Jason gave him not two days ago, he can still hear him say, “I’ll be back before you know it, babe.”

He never came back.

He’s dead. Dead— dead dead dead DEAD DEAD—

“Small Red not okay?” A booming voice snaps Roy out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Bizarro’s pale blue skin and cold eyes looming over him. He’s crying. “Red him coming back.”

It takes Roy a second to register that Bizarro speaks backwards. It takes everything in him to not punch him for saying that, for giving him false hope.

He feels something he hasn’t felt in years— feels that whisper in his mind— one hit and it’ll all feel better. Just one hit.

NO! He screams mentally. He feels like bashing his head open.

Instead he lifts his dead eyes to survey the rest of the room— Kori’s on the couch, staring into space. Artemis has a crying Lian in her arms, she’s showing her something— old photos of Jason. Talking, whispering in a broken voice.

No, no he should be the one comforting Lian—

What’s he gonna say?

That— That Jason— That her Papa’s gone forever? That he’s never— he’s never coming back?

No— Jay— Jay deserved so much better, he— he already died once before, he’s been through so much, things were supposed to be better now— not— no, he’s— 

Roy feels Bizarro sit beside him, gently patting his arm.

He snaps out of his thoughts again, turning to Jason’s former teammate, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice raw, he whispers, “Jay’s gone…”

Wally’s standing in the Hall of Heroes, staring up at the holographic projection of Dick— he looks so majestic, so mighty, staring ahead with nothing but hope and courage in his eyes.

Nothing like the cold, dead body that Wally held in his arms just two days ago.

He’s surrounded by his teammates, his friends— Kaldur, M’gann, Artemis, Zatanna, L’gann, Garth— yet he feels so alone.

He sees it again— Dick bleeding out it his arms, his wounds so fatal he died before help arrived. Wally’s the fastest man alive, damn it, yet he couldn’t even save his best friend— his boyfriend. He feels the moment when Dick’s breathing stopped, when his body went limp, when his grip on Wally’s hand loosened.

Everyone’s quiet. M’gann’s stress baking again, L’gann by her side. Artemis and Zatanna are sitting together, Garth’s lingering in a corner, and Kaldur’s standing right beside Wally— close enough for comfort but not so close he’s lurking. He’s shaking.

He can still hear it, hear Dick forcing out his last words, telling Wally it’s okay, that he loves him, that it’ll be fine.

It’s not fine. Not without you.

He wants to scream.

He wants to cry, yell, hit something, do anything.

But he can’t move.

So he just stands there, almost as still as the holographic projection of Dick before him.

Kon is left reeling.

Tim… Tim is…

Tim’s dead.

Tim’s really gone.

He thinks, for just a second, that this is how Tim and Cassie must have felt when he and Bart “died”.

Bart is sitting beside him on the couch, leaning on his side, Cassie’s got her head on his lap. Neither of them speak— Bart’s not even fidgeting— they’re all just trying to be there for each other.

The other Titans are up and about, but staying close for comfort. Jaime and Gar are making food for everyone in the kitchen, Raven and Vic have come back to the tower to make sure the others are okay, and he’s sure Karen’s around too, somewhere.

Yet he feels so empty.

Feels nothing at all.

How can he, when his best friend is dead?

Jon hasn’t spoken in a bit. Not when his Mom brought him his favorite soup, not when Grandma and Grandpa showed up to ‘help’ him and Dad through this, not when Krypto plopped down beside him to comfort him.

He hugs the dog close.

Krypto’s technically Kon’s, but Jon’s sure Kon wouldn’t mind if he stole Krypto for a day.

Another sob escapes him, and he buries his head in Krypto’s back. The dog whines, licking Jon’s hand.

He can’t believe Damian’s gone. 

Really gone.

And he didn’t know just how much he would miss his friend.

Dinah finds Talia Al Ghul on a building in Metropolis, overlooking the city. Her face is tight with sorrow, but she keeps herself in check, her back straight, head held high.

She already knows, Dinah deduces.

“I… I’m sorry,” Dinah starts, unsure of what to say. She knows, from her experience as a psychologist, that ‘sorry’ is the last thing a grieving person wants to hear, but she doesn’t have anything else to say.

Talia doesn’t reply for a long time. Then she says, her voice numb, “I should have known, when bringing Damian into this life, that I would also be bringing him amidst the dangers that come with.”

Dinah’s brows furrow. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything at all.”

“I should have trained him better, I should have kept him close, I should—” Talia takes a shuddering breath. “I should have never brought him into this life.”

Dinah can’t argue with that— she knows how Damian had come to be, and it… wasn’t the best birth ever.

“Now leave, hero,” Talia says, her voice numb and cold. “Go back to protecting the world. Leave me be.”

Dinah wants to say something better, comfort the woman, but she can’t. So she just turns back, and leaves.

By the time Harper Row makes her way to the Clock Tower, there’s already quite a crowd there— Kate, Renee Montoya, Harley, Ivy, Silena, and Helena Bertinili— they’re crowding around Babs, comforting her. Luke Fox and Isabella Ortiz are at the computer, looking through something.

Harper tries to open her mouth to speak, but she can’t get the words out.

She makes her way over to Luke and Izzy, shoulders hunched.

Just three days ago she’d been hanging out with Duke and Izzy and Cass and Steph— they’d all been so carefree, so happy…

And now…

Once she gets close enough she realizes Izzy’s crying, and immediately wraps her arms around the shorter girl. Harper’s trying to hold back tears of her own, too. She feels Luke putting a hesitant hand on her shoulder, squeezing tight.

No one speaks for a long time, they just stand together, seeking comfort in each other.

Then Babs rolls her wheelchair to the center of the room, wiping at her bloodshot eyes. But when she speaks, she sounds surprisingly steady. She’s compartmentalizing, Harper realizes. Putting away Barbara and bringing Oracle back.

“Gotham needs her heroes, now more than ever,” Oracle says, head held high. “We must honor our friends by doing the one thing they’d have wanted— to keep fighting. Keep Gotham safe.”

She sighs, her face tight to fight away tears. “Luke. Batman’s contingency plan, in the Robins’ absence, was to pass you the mantle of Batman. Do you accept?”

Luke’s eyes grow wide slightly, but he straightens himself, looking away. “I… I accept. Dad isn’t going to be happy, but… Gotham needs Batman.”

“Thank you.” Oracle nods at him. “As per Bruce’s will, all Wayne assets, the Manor, and the Batcave are split between Kate, me, Alfred, and Lucius. I… Lucius and I are still figuring out who’s going to take over Wayne Enterprises, but on the vigilante side, I’ve got a plan.”

She turns to Ivy, Harley, Kate, Silena and Helena. “The Birds of Prey are needed here, now more than ever. Dinah— Black canary has offered to help us with Gotham, too.” 

Harley nods, sniffling. Beside her, Ivy speaks up, “The… Most Rogues aren’t happy about this. They’re not rampaging— Bane has fashioned his own version of the Batsuit, he’s going around ‘saving’ people, screaming that Batman never dies. The Joker’s searching for Lazarus Pits and Bruce’s body. Jervis Tetch and Nygma held a get-together yesterday, in the memory of the Bats. I… I think they might help us.”

Harper’s gotta admit, she’s quite surprised about this. Even Babs freezes, taking in this information.

“Gotham needs Robin as much as she needs Batman,” Izzy speaks up from beside her, her voice small but firm. “The Robins can come back, this time you can give us formal training so we can actually help.”

Oracle turns to Luke. “Taking on Robins is your decision, Batman.”

Luke winces at that title— it doesn’t feel like an honor to him, it just feels like an incessant reminder that he’s the last one left. Because his friends are dead. But he nods, anyway, not trusting himself to speak right now.

Then Oracle addresses Harper. “I… would you like to be Batgirl?”

Harper’s heart stops. Memories flash into her head— seeing Steph in the Batgirl costume, seeing Cass in the Batgirl suit, both of whom are now gone.

“N— No,” Harper stutters out, eyes tearful. “I can’t— I’m sorry, Babs. I appreciate the offer, but… Cass was Batgirl. I can’t take her place.”

“I understand.” Babs just nods, lips pursed, misty-eyed. “We will all need to work hand-in-hand until everything settles, we will need to be vigilant. Carry on Batman’s legacy, for as long as we may need to.”

No one speaks again.

They all just let it sink in, hearts heavy.

They’re going to have to do this alone now.

#batfam #batfamily #justice league #core four #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #harper row #barbara gordon #luke fox #jayroy #dickwally #birdflash #timkon #damijon #jla

[zeawesomebirdie]

Headcanon that after Clark's funeral, Bruce comes home and gets drunk as fast as possible, which, due to his General Lack of Drinking, results in him just sitting at the kitchen table and brooding while Totally Not Crying He Swears to Alfred (who insisted on pouring the drinks despite Bruce's complaints) and ultimately telling Alfred that he can't keep working like this, he can't be this person who decided that Superman needed to be eliminated when what he should have done was realised Superman had a human alias and then he should have tried to befriend him. Alfred lets him carry on for a while, but when Bruce tells him that the next time he's getting out of control like that to tell him to go take a vacation, he insists on Bruce going to bed.

The next morning, Bruce is not having a good time with this hangover, but unfortunately he can remember every single mortifying word from the night before, so when Alfred just. Doesn't mention it. Bruce hopes that he can just peacefully forget that night ever happened.

Except he can't forget. So he restarts some of the Wayne Foundation programs that he'd let fall to the wayside over the last few years, he finalises the programs he'd wanted to start years ago but could never get approved, he starts to really emphasise the humanity in the streets of Gotham, and surprise surprise, it works. If nothing else, then at least Clark's death wasn't for nothing. (And this carries over as he slowly starts to put together the Justice League too; he tries to really go for the fellow human approach despite his reputation as both Bruce Wayne and Batman and it goes a lot better than he was expecting. Turns out Superman's hope for humanity wasn't unfounded after all.)

But as the months go by, things start to slide again. It's slow at first, so slow he doesn't even notice himself falling back into old habits until one morning Alfred tells him that Martha Kent called and needed a hand with some sort of financial situation regarding her property. No matter what questions Bruce asks, Alfred refuses to tell him anything more than that, just that she asked for him personally and he really ought to go right away. After much complaining, he relents and flies to Kansas.

Which is how Bruce ends up saving the Kent family farm via buying the bank that mortgaged the property. And also how Bruce ends up spending a week mucking stalls and milking cows and feeding chickens. And also how Bruce learns that Martha makes the best chocolate chip cookies he's ever had (a fact that he will take to the grave).

#batman v superman #superbat #Bruce Wayne #im definitely gonna be writing a fic about this someday but if anyone else is inspired please go for it!! #id like to see it too!!

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Surrender An Ask Game! - "Dreadful Meetings"

CW: dehumanization, captivity, implied past torture.

Heheheehe, this has been quite fun! Hope you all enjoy what I cooked up! <33

Ask game made by: @epiclamer & @save-the-villainous-cat

What is the game about?

~~~~

Ask submitted by @livingforthewhump

Prompt: "This is hyper specific, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but imagine Whumpee was originally part of a team, before Whumper took them. Maybe a few months pass, and Whumper has a meeting with their team Leader over something completely unrelated. 

Maybe this is a league of Villains bargaining with a League of Heroes or something. Whumpee is leashed and collared with a muzzle over their face, kneeling at Whumper’s side. At some point, the meeting turns ugly, with Leader being (understandably) distressed seeing Whumpee in such a state, and starts threatening Whumper. At which point the Whumpee starts 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 at their former team leader.

Whether they’re genuinely so far gone that they see themself as less than human, making animal noises, or they’re trying to speak through the muzzle is irrelevant. Both parties are in shock. Whumper is delighted, and 100% rubs it in team Leader’s face, but team Leader suddenly loses their will to fight.

Bonus points if the Whumpee is quite big and muscular.”

~~~~~~~~

The door swung open with a soft creak as Leader entered the room. They stood tall, chin held high with a perfectly blank expression in the face of their enemy. The villain greeted them with an equally blank facade, shaking hands before guiding them to a pair of chairs.

Even before the leader got a chance to sit down, they noticed the third presence in the room... and promptly ignored it. Their heart couldn’t handle seeing yet another person suffering. With so much already weighing on their shoulders, they paid the stranger no mind.

Villain would fall soon enough. They just had to push through. Just push through…

The two foes quickly plunged into conversation, discussing the Hero League’s most recent offer. It was important... and yet sounded more and more like mindless buzzing to Leader’s ears the longer it went on.

They spoke their piece expertly, doing their best to convince the villain to agree, but their focus kept drifting away. The leader’s eyes couldn’t help but glance at the unfortunate soul kneeling by Villain’s feet.

Despite their attempts at doing otherwise, Leader studied the stranger closer. Their muscular body - clearly fit and powerful - was covered by shaggy rags with a thick, leather muzzle covering half of their face.

“A guard dog…” the leader surmised in their head. “Dear god, they have so many scars… What has this bastard put them through…?”

Anger boiled in Leader’s veins the longer they stared. To subject a fellow human to such horrors, such degradation, it’s… it’s…!

A cold dread washed over them for a split second. “It’s… Whumpee…?”

When those once shining eyes met theirs, the recognition of their lost teammate set Leader’s fury ablaze once more. In the short time they had frozen and stared at the whumpee, Villain noticed their realization.

With a knowing smirk, the criminal asked, “Do you like my pet? I trained it myself.”

The leader’s fists clenched hard enough to go numb, their teeth grinding together as they spoke. They whipped towards Villain with a fiery stare. “You…”

Jumping to their feet abruptly, Leader knocked the chair backwards in their rage and loomed over the enemy. “What have you done to them?!”

The villain, to their credit, appeared unfazed if not amused.

Their smug face only raised the leader’s anger to levels they had never thought possible. “I swear, if you don’t release them at once–” Leader began their threat, but the moment they took a step forward, their words fell silent when a growling sound filled the air.

Surprised, their head snapped to the source of it, finding nothing but the whumpee.

Their lost teammate was staring at them with wide eyes, snarling like the rabid dog they had been degraded to. Every muscle in their body was suddenly taut, ready to spring forward should their master be endangered.

That was why Villain had never bothered to stand; they had no need to.

The coldness in Leader’s chest came back tenfold, suffocating whatever fight had just been there. They… didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for them, once the villain had gotten their fill of causing anguish, they chirped, “I’d advise you to sit back down, Leader. I’m willing to overlook this little… tantrum of yours and get back to business.”

Tantrum. Tantrum…

Villain’s lips had twitched with such vile amusement at the word. Leader didn’t want to “get back to business”! They wanted to grab Whumpee and get the hell out of there! Their teammate was right there!

But alas… they couldn’t.

Whatever remained of the whumpee they knew, so feral and destroyed, drove them to a feeling of defeat. They fell back into their chair.

The growling stopped, and Whumpee spared them no second glance.

Villain’s smile only grew as Leader’s soul cracked into ever-tinier pieces. The anger was gone, replaced with a shameful exhaustion they couldn’t bring themself to oppose.

The meeting continued, but Leader barely paid the words any mind. Their thoughts raced, relentlessly bashing their psyche with a mental crowbar.

“How could I have failed so horribly? Do I… even deserve to be called a leader?”

#surrenderanask #surrender an ask #writeblr #writing #whump #hero x villain #hero x villain community #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you #tw: dehumanization #tw: captivity #tw: implied torture

[codenamesazanka]

OH apropos of not meme, just remembered this attempt at making an absurd ‘mundane’ AU that follows the canon storyline (no quirks, tho heteromorphs still exists):

AFO is a 60-year old hospital chairman in *excellent* shape, although recent brain tumor surgery did leave him blind. He is also co-author of some obscure sci-fi books in his youth, but he’s much more known for being an influential community leader… though his wikipedia page would have a looooong ‘controversies’ section.

All Might is a 58-year old local celebrity as a retired bodybuilder and actor, who now runs a local community service center. Also an influential community leader, with much higher public approval.

AFO and All Might have been at each other’s throat for years for various reasons, among them a long, drawn out custody battle over shared distant nephew Tomura. Tomura’s 20 years old now and a legal adult, but the feud lives on.

Meanwhile, Tomura has now grown up to be a lackluster truant college student with a penchant for stirring up trouble with his eclectic gang of friends he made from hanging out at an arcade and the dive bar next door (henceforth dubbed ‘the League’).

But the drama really starts when AFO and All Might get in a fight one night at a local high school charity event. Just really going at it. All Might threw the first punch, but All For One revealed his custom cane to have a hidden blade and was a bit too reckless with it.

So AFO is arrested; thanks to his lawyer, he avoids jail but only because the lawyer has been able to convince the courts that AFO is mildly senile. So he is entered into a nursing home. (I don’t know how courts work and I don’t care.)

Ujiko - AFO’s life partner, hospital’s chief medical director, and Tomura’s foster stepdad - takes this opportunity to cut off Tomura’s allowance to force Tomura to grow up a little (and to start attending his classes.)

This does not work. While trying to scrounge up cash, Tomura and his gang make enemies with the local shogi club (an open secret among everyone that it’s a front for growing weed). Conflict ends with a police raid and the League running over the club president/leader with a car. Don’t worry - Chisaki is alive, but both his arms are broken. Along with his spirit.

(Around this time, Kurogiri - AFO’s driver and Tomura’s old babysitter - is discovered to be a man with amnesia whose family has been looking for him for years, so he has to leave for a while.)

Hoping to instill some discipline in the boy, AFO’s friend and personal trainer Machia drags Tomura (and friends) on an extended mountain camping trip. During a hike, they become lost, end up trespassing on a cult intentional community’s property, and get hunted down (the intentional community is a survivalist group). However, Tomura’s newfound wilderness skills impress the survivalists leader so much that ReDestro decides to welcome them as guest fellow preppers. The League freeloads off them for the rest of winter.

Come early spring, Tomura wants to make good with Ujiko again, so he and everyone goes to a fundraising event Ujiko is hosting at the park…

…Unfortunately, someone messed up the scheduling, and booked a high school community service field trip at the same time and place. One thing leads to another and the day ends with:

several arrests and minor hospitalizations due to multiple brawls;

things set on fire;

one of the police chief’s sons exposed as an arsonist;

the park’s prized butterfly garden trampled beyond repair;

several people pushed into the lake and getting hypothermia;

the high school’s home ec teacher choked a local magician, who is hospitalized but for entirely different complications (accidentally stabbing himself);

Tomura’s friend Jin arrested after being tazed by a cop;

the intentional community banned from the park;

phone videos going viral;

high school students traumatized;

teachers under disciplinary review;

and Tomura sent to the emergency room for minor injuries and a concussion with overnight stay for observance.

Also Ujiko is now under investigation for embezzling charity funds for his and AFO’s side Neapolitan Mastiffs breeding business.

After being notified by his lawyer of the incident, AFO breaks out of the nursing home that night to kidnap Tomura from hospital and retreat to his beach house. His foster son is grounded. An American private tutor is also hired to force Tomura to make up his missed semester of classwork.

This now gives AFO the opportunity to spend some quality time getting to know Tomura’s awkwardly cute friend Spinner. For Spinner, this consists of guiding his friend’s 60-but-looks-40 blind foster dad who’s really into tactile communication, and having to read drafts of weird sci-fi because AFO has recently gotten back into writing. Meanwhile, AFO is making a dinner reservation for two at a beachside bistro.

#dumb #AU #AU idea #All For One #Shigaraki Tomura #All Might #Spinner #nalslastworkingbraincell

[firecooking]

(bruhstation) hey neil! thank you very much for supporting fortezza bigg city so far :] I really appreciate the thought you've put into analyzing bits of my silly little AU, and I've also gained a huge appreciation for your own works as well. it's so clear you've put a lot of thought and research into your AU and it really blew my mind because everything is so meticulously thought out!!! and I'm looking forward to more!!! here's a quick sketch of your gal zaffre! once again thanks :3 (also you're inspiring me to make my own z-stacks oc! haha)

OHHH MY GOD LOOK AT HER MY BABY GIRL MY SWEET CHEESE SHE LOOKS AMAZING AHHH YOUR ART IS SO GOOD I LOVE YOUR FORM AND VOLUME AND HOW YOU DO YOUR LINE WEIGHT WITH THE OPACITY AND LINE DYNAMICS your handle on anatomy and rendering is really interesting to me, reading you work in Fire Alpaca with a mouse is mind boggling to me, i remember when I was doing the same years and years ago and the skill you show is really fascinating and i am jealous, the way your art is put together is scratching my brain. i have been doing art studies of it and trying to dissect it, it'd have such a interesting feel for animation, you have a wonderful style for breaking down into a limited animation style with a emphasis on dynamics with animation in a 8s, 6s, and 4s with 2s detailing and a hard tweening style [<- just professional animator things lol] The way you render shadow and lighting is also ough. This Zaffre is genuinely so wonderful, new desk top background moments. I love her gesture and expression here, it really captures her as a character! Also the way you draw hands, augh, just augh I wish.

You, my friend, are a fabulous illustrator!

And oh my god your AU is scratching my brain in ways I didn't think possible! I know so little yet there is so much there. When I genuinely say that it is affecting me as much as if not more that @askthefamous8 that is the highest compliment I can muster [that AU has been one of my special interests since 2015,]. I am legit making a post it note wall over FBC just like ATF8 had when I was in middle/high school

You have the most loyal human AU fan on your team now, I genuinely smile thinking about Fortezza Bigg City all day long, my friends and partner are getting annoyed to death from me ranting. sorry dear if you are reading this: I know you hate tugs

Also thank you! I really love doing in depth research, its the autism at work. I am a proud vehicle autistic. I've said it before but working on a ship for a summer just to know the mechanics of how actual sailing works is probably the most unhinged thing I can say I've done for accuracy sake. Loved my Captain and fellow crew, very sad I got sick and had to leave. Honestly would love to be a sailor if my heath wasn't bungled up and I wasn't like $200k of debt in animation college.

My humanoid vehicle AU's are partially based on my sadly never going to be picked up pitch bible for a science fiction based historical vehicle show [my fatal flaw is niche interests] And it literally makes my day to sit down and work on the most expansive and historically researched BS on earth, my AU is both a lovely love letter to TUGS as the show it is and a Love Letter to what TUGS wanted to be! At the end of the day TUGS wanted to be it's days Steven Universe or MASH [something I am gonna elaborate in another format later] but unfortunately it just didn't have the right ingredients. Its the Same as the TUGS musical I'm working on, it's a love letter to what TUGS both is and was supposed to be along with being a love letter to the characters themselves

Also:

Join the Z-Stacks OC League, we have cool hats and crime

#the fire burns #bruh station #others art #asks #this is tugs #z stacks #zaffre #fortezza bigg city #I am a little unhinged i am sorry

[squiddosss]

salutations fellow human being! if you are taking requests, may i suggest the aouv crew (there needs to be a better nickname for them) as children? idk just an idea

p.s. this is also a reminder that al had a bowl cut when he was 6-7 years old :) do what you will with that info :)))

I AM ALIVE! [insert 20 exclamation points here] ok but seriously sorry for dipping off the face of the planet :(

here’s the line up! i kinda forgot everyone’s exact ages. i’m going to go ahead and say the characters are in 3rd-5th grade right now. also isn’t elionor one of the oldest champions?? uhhh idk

additional headcanons:

we all know Reid is a huge nerd. he probably leaned into the nerdy-ness a lot as a kid. this kid wore starwars shirts every day. also glasses, (i believe this is canon)

Isobel was actually rather quiet as a kid. she preferred books over people, and liked talking to adults more than kids her age. she was still exceptionally clever and motivated, but she didn’t really learn how to be sharp-tongued and ambitious until she befriended Briony. she owes her people skills that got her through the months before the tournament and all the reporters to her best friend. 

Briony basically coerced Isobel into joining a thing called spell scouts. think like boy scouts or girl scouts or any other youth program but for a magickal world. things like nature and survival skills were taught, but also the basics of spellcrafting and ethics of spell using. (just imagine them in their little uniforms)

Finley was pretty athletic and played a few sports, but didn’t fancy working with a whole team. he attempted junior league soccer (wait… football??? i am american help) but found that he preferred scoring points for his team rather than with his team. he did summer swim at first and running, but wouldn’t discover fencing until he was older (i believe he is the team captain in high school) oh, he also totally did summer theater camps. 

Alistair TOTALLY had a bowl cut. unfortunately, he has curly hair. Marianne Lowe thought his curly hair (which he inherited from his father, whoever that could be) was unbecoming for an eventual Lowe champion, so Alistair’s mother would have to magickally get it to stay straight every day. this is part of why Al lacks freckles— whenever Al went outside, humidity would turn it back into a curly mess. so, under Marianne’s instructions, he just never went outside. he later stopped straightening his hair (and outgrew the bowl cut thank god) but the habit of staying indoors stayed with him. 

Elionor experimented with dying the ends of her hair when she was younger. the blues and pinks never really showed through because her hair was brown, but she liked it, so that’s all that really mattered. she also wrote fanfiction and posted it to online forums despite technically not being old enough to use them.

after losing their father and having their mother leave them, it was hard for Briony and Innes to feel noticed within the large Thorburn family. they went about trying to feel accepted in different ways. Briony, obviously, was loud and learned to announce her presence to feel heard. Innes preferred a more subtle approach, learning a particular relative’s interests and schedules to find a way to slowly do little things to win them over. stuff like doing their chores or completing their hair. 

Carby was like… basically a baby at this point. so… [insert toddler personality trait here]

Diya definitely did extracurriculars at school. she won the spell fair (like the science fair but… y’know… spells) three years in a row and was a member of the book club that included a tournament with other schools at the end of the school year (which she won, duh) she was pretty competitive with it, too. 

Gavin… thinking about his childhood makes me so not ok. he realized pretty early on he was basically a sacrifice to a tournament his family would never win. Gavin knew about the tournament, and realized he would be the champion, and had always seen how distant his parents were, but didn’t realize what that really meant until a bit later. 

OK BUT SERIOUSLY THANK U FOR REQUESTING THIS!

#all of us villains #aouv #all of our demise #ask #my art #gavin grieve #alistair lowe #hendry lowe #isobel macaslan #briony thorburn #finley blair #carbry darrow #elionor payne #reid mactavish #diya

[lostamongthestarz]

Zatanna x trans!male reader x Constantine headcanons because they both own my heart

Tws//none all fluff, not following canon at all

❗❗FEM READERS ARE ON THIN ICE, DO NOT FETISHIZE MY WRITING, I WRITE THESS HEADCANONS FOR MY FELLOW TRANS MEN❗❗

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

These two adore you, absolutely adore you.

Pda with Zatanna and Constantine in public is just hand holding and gentle touches, in private- their all over you. Get comfortable on the couch because your going to be trapped there while these two wrap you up in a warm embrace

Soft kisses everywhere, Constantine loves to plant quick kisses to your lips before heading off on his way while Zatanna likes to give you soft kisses all over your face before she leaves to do her own thing

If your pre!top surgery then Zatanna and Constantine will make sure no mf says a word, anyone tries some transphobic shit torwads you and their ass is getting clocked by not only Constantine but Zatanna as well

If their out one night busy with justice league stuff and they come home to you asleep in one of their jackets/trenchcoats? They melt

If your strong enough to pick both of them up do it, Constantine loves to brag about how strong you are to everyone and anyone who's unfortunately stuck next to him.

There is no big spoon/little spoon with you three, your in the middle while the two of them are on either side of you eith their arms wrapped around your waist (the dream fr)

If you go to one of Zatanna's shows and cheer her on she looks at you with such love in her eyes, meet her after the show and she gently cups your face and just plants so many kisses to your face

If your going through body dysmorphia then Constantine and Zatanna will do their best to make you feel comfortable

Making you tea/baking and or cooking your favorite foods

Whispering sweet compliments in your ear while they hold you close, maybe while the three of you lay in bed- Constantine's cuddling up by your side with Zatanna running her fingers through your hair

Listening to you talk or rant about one of your interests or something that's on your mind

Or if you just need to cry/get some negative feelings out they'll hold you or just give you space if you ask for it

If your non-human and also do magic then the three if you quickly become a power trio, Constantine will not shut up about you two ever

You dont have many nicknames with these two but they do like to call you

darling

love

beloved

They love you and would actually clock a mf for you <3

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

They are in my brain

Requests open <3

Inbox open 💌

#x male reader #x trans male reader #john constantine x trans!male reader #john constantine x reader #zatanna x reader #Zatanna x trans!male reader

[akariamai]

Interview

Summary: You admit on live television your old childhood crush on Bruce Wayne.

Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1014

You waited for your name to be called up towards the stage; being invited to The Tawny Show permitted your nerves to spike. It wasn’t the first time you were interviewed, in fact you did them for years promoting the projects you’ve been a part of. However, there was something about being backstage of The Tawny Show only cemented the reality of your rise to stardom.

“Please give a warm welcome to surprise guest [Reader].” Tawny’s voice rang out and you mustered as much self-confidence as you could before elegantly walking towards her idol. Tawny gave you half a hug before taking a seat on her fluffy pink couch. “It’s so nice to see you. You were phenomenal in your new movie.”

Your cheeks flushed maroon, “Thank you for inviting me. I am overjoyed you loved the movie. The crew poured so much heart and dedication into the production.”

“And it shows, doesn’t it everyone?” Tawny Young turned to her audience, who agreed with the sentiment, “This production wasn’t your first appearance on the big screen, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “I’ve been in the acting gig for several years now. Smaller roles and such. I’ve starred in several ads for multiple products and been in an assortment of movies and TV shows.”

She hummed in agreement, "You're extremely private when it comes to your background. I've heard rumors that you're a native Gothamite. Gotham Academy was the school you went to, correct? What was it like going to school with such prominent figures of Gotham’s high society?”

You mentioned briefly, “There’s not really much to say. I went to Gotham Academy on a scholarship and usually stayed by my lonesome.” Your peers were not the kindest bunch as you offered no connections to lift them from their current social status. You were raised in the Narrows, an immensely poor and dangerous neighborhood, and were lucky enough to win a scholarship from the Wayne Foundation.

Tawny laughed, “So modest. There must’ve been something from Gotham Academy that’s juicy enough to share. What about childhood crushes?” The room grew quiet as everyone was anticipating the next words out of our mouth.

You thought about the boy you once loved but never pursued. A boy who was too far from your reach and most definitely out of your league. He probably didn’t know you existed during your time at Gotham Academy. Your love for him became a secret only you knew. 

“I did have a minuscule crush on a boy.” You laughed remembering how lovestruck your younger self was. “But I’ve never spoken to him. I was very shy and he was always surrounded by our classmates so I never had the chance to get the chance to talk to him.”

Tawny gasped excitedly, leaning forward to catch the name of your once crush. “Who was it? I'm sure everyone is dying to know.” The uproar of cheers followed soon after from the live audience in the room.

You glance at them for a moment, pondering over the secret you've kept for so long, before redirecting your attention towards Tawny. You no longer felt the puppy love you once held for him but admitting your old crush will bring him unwanted attention. He was already in the limelight at such a young age, born into a rich family and such, but you didn’t want to place more attention onto him nor his family. “Um… I don’t know.”

“Was this lucky fellow Apollo?” Tawny asked, receiving cheers and whistles from the audience. Memories of Harvey Dent narrowly resurfaced as you sparsely had any interactions with the current man. He hung around Bruce Wayne a bunch, establishing her assumption that he and Bruce were friends, but never thought of him as anything more than his past accomplishments and the man he became due to his unfortunate accident. Unease sank into your body as you were aware that once Harvey’s name was mentioned, Bruce’s followed right after. Their names were intertwined with one another.

Tawny’s eyebrows scrunched together, lost in thought of who your younger self fancied, “The Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne? Was he your crush?”

You hoped the blood rushing towards your face was masked by the color of your skin. Wished the topic of crushes was not brought up and left skeletons in the closet alone. There was a brief moment to lie but lying in the face of your fans was not a stance you would take. Your fans were everything to you. They cheered, others not so much, and pushed you to try your very best. Lying was not something you considered lightly. You could only nod before Tawny awed in astoundment and scant amusement.

~~~

Dick Grayson mindlessly found The Tawny Show for a good while before he became obsessed with it. He loved Tawny Young and her surprise guests. It was enjoyable white noise as he focused on finishing the last of his homework. Currently Tawny was attempting to snuff out the childhood crush of her guest [Reader], who appeared to be slightly panicked about the entire affair. It wasn’t too obvious for the average person to notice, but being taught by the world’s greatest detective allowed him to observe efficiently.

Harvey Dent was the first name Tawny named drop. Dick never knew Dent before his accident, only the shadow of the man he once was. His school showcased old photos of the students who previously attended and there he learned of the peculiar friendship Harvey and Bruce once shared in their youth.

“The Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne? Was he your crush?” Tawny asked and [Reader] flushed red before nodding hesitantly. The audience went wild at the thought of [Reader] previously harboring romantic feelings for billionaire Bruce Wayne. Tawny then tried to reel them back into silence to proceed with the interview but by then Dick’s mind began to race. He wondered if Bruce ever knew of the girl’s attraction towards him. The thought of a potential love story brewing in the haze of schoolwork and lunches. It really made the boy wonder.

Masterlist

#bruce wayne #tawny young #the tawny show #actress!reader #dc comics #dc universe #batman #dick grayson #harvey dent #gotham #gotham tv #reader insert #reader #dc imagine #bruce wayne x actress!reader #bruce wayne x reader