#space saving fixtures

[goldbathroom]

Maximizing Efficiency And Elegance: The Comprehensive Guide To Bathroom Mirror Cabinets

Discover the transformative power of bathroom mirror cabinets in our latest guide, where we explore the perfect blend of functionality and style these essential fixtures offer. Ideal for any bathroom, mirror cabinets maximize space, enhance organization, and introduce an element of elegance. From sleek, illuminated models adding a touch of contemporary flair to classic designs that complement traditional décor, our guide covers everything you need to know. Learn about the different types available, including wall-mounted, recessed, and corner cabinets, and how to choose one that fits your bathroom's size, your style preferences, and your storage needs. Plus, get expert tips on installation and maintenance to ensure your mirror cabinet remains a highlight in your bathroom for years to come.

Ready to transform your bathroom? Dive into our guide and find the perfect mirror cabinet for your space.

#Bathroom Design #Mirror Cabinets #Bathroom Storage Solutions #Space-Saving Bathroom Ideas #Bathroom Renovation #Modern Bathroom Fixtures #Bathroom Organization #Illuminated Mirror Cabinets #Bathroom Decor #Home Improvement #Interior Design #Bathroom Aesthetics #Smart Bathroom Technology #Eco-Friendly Bathroom Materials #DIY Bathroom Projects

[tapronlimited]

Simple Ideas to Make Your Small Bathroom Look Bigger

The Tapron blog post offers practical tips for making a small bathroom appear larger. It suggests using light colors to create an illusion of more space, selecting the right tile size to avoid a cluttered look, and installing wall-hung fixtures to maximize floor space. The use of mirrors to reflect light and add depth, as well as efficient storage solutions, are also recommended to enhance the perception of space. For showers, choosing enclosures with infolding or sliding doors can save room. For more detailed strategies, visit the full guide here.

#Small bathroom ideas #Bathroom space-saving tips #Light colours for small bathrooms #Mirrors to create space illusion #Wall-mounted bathroom fixtures #Compact shower enclosures #Creative bathroom storage solutions #Skylights in small bathrooms #Hooks and rails for organization #Space-saving bathroom accessories

[iguanodont]

Introducing a new birg culture, and the reason the Twowi go to such lengths to cross the icy equator with their cargoes of rare metal and pungent gall-spice. The Ss’wassoum are a wealthy empire based on the far southern coast, where the sea-ice melts more quickly in the spring and its people first built their wealth on the sea-harvest. Their language is heavy on harmonized syllables, which lends their speech a distinctive musical quality. Family units are smaller than the fiercely clannish Twowi, and the gender divide is less rigid, though still distinctly matriarchal. Some of their most lucrative raw exports are refined tree-plastics and sea-silk, which is valued for fine textiles.

While the Twowi run on highly specialized industrial clan-towns, the Ss’wassoum exist in more diverse cities, though the class divide is impossible to ignore. The nobility are loud of dress and voice, with their ornate refined plastic head-dresses, vividly patterned veils, and resonators worn over the rear spiracles to enhance their voices. But despite all the attention they draw to themselves, their faces are always covered; to be perceived as gray-furred mortals akin to any commoner is inconceivable. They walk the streets as living demigods. Just below the nobility are the merchant class, which may approach their influence in wealth and education but are legally barred from the elaborate headwear and home exteriors of their superiors. Instead they adorn the insides of their homes with the latest in art and technology, particularly elaborate electric light fixtures crafted from imported Twowi metal. Commoners wear little at all in the sunny months, save for the occasional beaded sash and brass mandible-cuffs. Sailors and other hard laborers frequently adorn their bodies with scarified and dyed patterns to mark themselves for the goodwill of protective gods.

The Ss’wassoum government does implement a standardized education system of sorts, though only those of the upper class can test or pay their way into the finest schools, where they can master the high dialect and the art of Opinion. Historically, etiquette laws forbade the discussion of controversial topics in public spaces; these were reserved for halls of judgement. The rule is more of a social taboo these days, but an ancient loophole ruled that written forms of debate could be presented anywhere, and with the subsequent invention of movable type, a colorful written debate culture flourished. Wherever there is a public bulletin, a cafe wall, a blank space where people gather, you fill find posted essays on anything from the hypocrisy of the noble class to a long winded treatise on the merits of toe-biter clams. It is not uncommon for a debate topic to outlive the original essayists, as hills are chosen to literally die on are then proudly upheld by the writer’s descendants. So ingrained into Ss’wassoum society is this debate culture, that committed debate rivals may be legally recognized as a marriage-like partnership. Though the Ss’wassoum carry no expectations of monogamy to a reproductive partner, the correlation between rivalry and mating season partners does not go unnoticed. As a general rule, a worldly and strongly opinionated individual is more attractive.

Big thanks to @primalmuckygoop for pitching so many great ideas for these guys, including most of the lore on their debate culture, and the very name of this civilization!

—————

If you’d like to see more stuff in the works for birgworld, check out my Patreon!

Or you can support me through Kofi and Inprnt

#birgworld #birdbugs #worldbuilding #speculative biology

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Marigold | ateez x reader

Pairing: college!ateez x college!reader

Genre: college, slice of life, romance, poly

Word Count: 1251 words

Summary: After your friend ditches you to become roommates with a rich group of kids in order to live in the Magnolia Apartments, you find yourself alone for your master's program. Never fear though, a long-lost friend has a room available and eight new faces might just make it much more memorable. 

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You weren't mad, just disappointed.

Your friend sat across from you, looking around everywhere but at you while you stared at her with an unamused expression as you took a long sip of your drink.

To be frank, you were a very understanding person. If she didn't want to be roommates then all she had to do was say so. Instead, she tiptoed around with another group of individuals who for some reason, did not like the best bone in your body. In your mind, you could only imagine the conversations she may have taken part in about you. 

The group was none other than an obnoxious bunch of former acquaintances who belonged to a particular tax bracket which afforded them the luxury of being able to live in the Magnolia apartment complex — the most prestigious residence near your university.

The property was a newly constructed, high-rise towering skyscraper with a shiny contemporary design. It was modelled out of excessive but opulent marble and ostentatious gold-plated fixtures, and was sprawled across a large-scale acreage with towering columns and numerous balconies overlooking the city. The entrance was beautifully decorated with a manicured garden and had an imposing entryway that was the epitome of an exclusive lifestyle that only some could afford. 

And you had a little secret…you were part of the some that could afford to live there. But you preferred not to and so, you never told your friend and hoped you would never have to.

But now here you are. You were going to end your friendship with her because you knew there was no way they would let her in if she only said nice things about you. And your friend wasn’t the most loyal person when it came to friendships.

"You should've just told me," you remarked, "It's not a big deal if you don't want to share a space."

"Well…” she answered, “I didn't know how you would react. After all, you lied about being able to afford staying there anyway." 

You grimaced and shook your head. There it was. 

"I admit I did lie, but what's the big deal staying there anyway? Does it matter where we stay? The master’s program is just two-years long."

"Yes! We had an opportunity to stay in the Magnolia apartments! Why wouldn't you want that??" 

"It's just an apartment building - luxurious and beautiful, sure, but it's not the end of the world if we don't."

"It is to me. I always wanted to stay there ever since they finished it and you knew that. And yet, you never decided to tell me that we could stay there."

"For good reason. I'm sorry for not telling you but it's not something I wanted to talk about."

"Am I not your friend?? Literally, how could you be so selfish?"

You scrutinised her with a blank expression. Selfish, a very interesting word choice coming from her. It was quite ironic that the embodiment of selfishness was calling you selfish. You planned on walking away from this calmly but that was no longer possible.

"Here's the thing," you vocalised, sipping your drink, "You could afford to stay there, can't you? But your parents refused because you selfishly and greedily usurped your trust fund to ridiculously splurge and waste it on unnecessary things. And then, you took, no, stole your brother's rainy day savings, to pay back the credit card debt you owed because your parents refused to pay for it. So now, you expect someone to pick up the pieces and help you out in maintaining your rich image, and you expect it to be me because I'm your friend?"

Your friend stayed quiet as you hit her with the harsh truth.

"That's all you ever expected from me. And the only reason why I agreed for us to be roommates was because your parents begged my mom since they can't trust you to not do stupid things."

"What are you trying—"

"What I'm trying to say is,” you interrupted, “You messed up your own opportunity at staying in the Magnolia on your own. You’re lucky your parents even considered paying your tuition. I have no interest in staying there and I won't be, and since you decided to become buddy-buddy with the most annoying group in this whole university, go along and join them, just remember don't come to me when they toss you to the side of the curb."

You got up from your seat and paid only for your drinks. 

"Have a nice life." You announced dryly before walking away.

-

It had been a few days since the confrontation and you spent most of the time touring apartments. Your mom mentioned that your friend had already moved into the Magnolia with the group the day after you two had it out.

You weren't surprised to say the least.

But you were surprised by the lack of apartment complexes near university. Some were...concerning to say the least, and any promising ones were about a 15-20 minute walk to campus. You weighed your options and considered the good cardio you could get out of it. But the idea of walking during the blistering sunny days and the colder months made it unappealing very quickly.

However, just when you thought all hope was lost, your saving grace in the form of an old school friend walked through the café door one Friday afternoon.

While mindlessly circling possible apartments at the back of the café, you didn't notice a tall figure approaching you.

"Y/N?"

You jumped in surprise at the voice.

"Song?"

Lucas Song was a longtime friend from high school who shared the same computer period as you and was your partner in every assignment. He is trustworthy and dependable, and moved cities to pursue a course in Computer Studies which the university didn’t offer.

“It’s been a long time! How are you?”

As you engaged in small-talk, you happened to mention your current situation on a whim, not thinking much of it as you conversed. Immediately, Lucas happily jumped at the idea of showing you a room in his parents' apartment complex the Marigold.

The Marigold didn't compete with the Magnolia, it was an older complex that had been around for the last 15 years and was once known as the cosy, homely safe haven near campus. You completely forgot about its existence because its structure was compact and slightly-worn down, with the paint peeling slightly and the bleak garden of wilting roses and hydrangeas making it easy to pass straight. Not to mention, it always looked like it was under construction with huge piles of sand and gravel, and numerous bags of cement scattered nearby the entrance.

But you trusted Lucas and agreed to a viewing. And it was probably the best decision you made because you were mesmerised by the beautiful interior. The rooms were cosy, quaint and efficient with a communal living room area. Lucas conveyed that you would have to share the kitchen and living room with a few others. You weren’t opposed to it so promptly, you signed the lease. 

But maybe you should have asked about your other roommates and how many of them there were. 

Because on moving day, as you strolled in with your luggage into the living room, you were abruptly greeted by eight persons - all boys, some of them with their hair dishevelled and only in their underwear...while the others were covered in flour gaping at you with a shocked expression.

#ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #poly!ateez #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Wayne Knows Best

Summary: Wayne wants to make sure Eddie and his new boyfriend are being careful, but Eddie's confused... he doesn't have a boyfriend, does he?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3,881

AO3 Link

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Wayne Munson had always been more observant than he looked. When he first took in his nephew Eddie, the kid constantly thought he could outsmart him, and pull the wool over his eyes as he had his father. But Wayne knew better than that. 

Eddie grew up to be less sneaky and more upfront about things with Wayne, but he knew his nephew still held things back from him. He wasn’t the kid’s dad, but he’d earned Eddie’s trust enough that he would come to him when he was ready to share.

So when after March break of 1986, one Steve Harrington started coming around the trailer, Wayne kept his mouth shut and let the boys be.

The thing is, Wayne always knew Eddie marched to the beat of his own drum, with everything, including who he liked. He’d never formally come out to him, or talked to him about anything regarding romance or sex, but Wayne figured that maybe he was a late bloomer or something. Easier for him, he’d never even thought about the fated “birds and the bees” conversation with Eddie until he found a glossy worn skin mag wedged between his mattress and box spring when he was seventeen. It didn’t bother Wayne, what other people did with their partners was none of his business; but he knew if Eddie did like fellas instead of ladies, he’d have an even harder time being out in the world then he already did.

Regardless, Wayne never told Eddie what he’d found, he just kept a close eye on his boy, and knew that when he was ready, he’d talk to his dear old uncle.

Of course, that was before the Harrington boy started coming over at all hours of the night.

Steve was a nice kid, nothing like his asshole of a father. The first time he’d met Wayne all those months ago in the hospital, he looked exhausted, a little beat up, and sitting by his boy’s bedside. 

“You must be Wayne.” He said, getting up and offering the seat beside Eddie’s bed to him. “I would say Eddie has told me so much about you but…”

“It’s okay, kid.” Wayne told him, hearing the subtle bits of anxiety colour his tone. “You’re the Harrington boy, aren’t you?”

He stuck out his hand for Wayne to shake. “Steve, sir. I haven’t known Eddie long, but I know the kids worship him, and he’s like an older brother to them. I—I’m grateful they have him at school looking after them even though…” Steve went quiet, an apologetic look on his face.

“Super senior, yeah I know. He’s 20 and still in high school.” Wayne let out a gruff chuckle.

“We’re gonna help him graduate, I promise. He saved us, nearly died for Dustin.”

The older man nodded. “He’s a good kid, nothing like… nothing like what they’ve been sayin’ about him on the news—” The words got caught in his throat, and he felt Steve lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I know.” 

From that point on, Wayne knew he was gonna like Steve, and he knew he’d become a permanent fixture in Eddie’s life. He was happy to have the boy around, someone to talk sports with, someone who had fresh baked muffins ready for when Wayne got home after his overnight shifts, someone who made Eddie smile. 

He’d never seen his boy this happy around anyone. When Eddie was with Steve, he seemed freer than he’d ever been, and Wayne felt in his heart that this was Eddie’s first real crush. It broke his heart to think that his kid was falling for someone like Steve Harrington, someone who would grow up to marry a nice girl and have the standard 2 kids and a dog, but he knew that Eddie was resilient, and he’d eventually get over Steve and move on. Wayne had trusted Steve would be nice about the whole thing, let Eddie down gently, give him his space to grieve what could have been, but all those thoughts came crashing down one morning when he saw none other than Steve Harrington stumbling out of Eddie’s room to the bathroom clad only in his boxers, rubbing sleep from his eye.

Wayne glanced up at the boy curiously. He didn’t seem to see the older man in the kitchen as he closed the door, and Wayne didn’t know if he was intentionally avoiding him, or if he genuinely didn’t see him.

Huh. That was new.

Steve had slept over before, usually when his house felt too big for one person and he needed something other than the radio silence of Loch Nora to clear his mind, but he usually took the couch. 

Maybe they’d gotten a little too high and he stayed with Eddie he thought, trying to find any excuse he could as to why Steve Harrington was undressed and sleepy in his nephew’s bedroom. He brushed off the occurrence, thinking nothing of it, until it happened again.

“Morning Wayne.” Steve had called this time, passing him one morning as he was just getting in from work. This time he’d been wearing his boxers and an old Iron Maiden t-shirt of Eddie’s.

“Mornin’ Steve.” He grumbled, making his way into his bedroom. 

The man racked his brain, trying to think of every possible scenario of why the kid was in bed with Eddie. Had something happened between them? Wayne thought it was unlikely. They acted the same way they normally did everywhere else; sure, Eddie could be a bit too much like an octopus at times all gangly giving hugs freely, but that’s just how he was, that didn’t mean he and Steve were dating or anything. Could it? 

It wasn’t until the third time it happened that Wayne accepted his nephew, Eddie Munson, was dating Steve Harrington.

In a way, Wayne felt a little giddy at the thought. Steve was a great kid, everything he could ever dream of in a son-in-law. He was polite, held shared interests with Wayne, and he made Eddie happy. The boy was a real catch! But that giddiness dissipated as he thought of the disease going around among those young boys… A cold chill ran through him as he remembered Eddie barely conscious for days on end in a hospital bed. He never wanted to see his boy like that; he didn’t want to pry, but maybe at 21 it was time to give him the talk.

Wayne had had enough uncomfortable conversations in his lifetime, but he knew this one was bound to be one for the books. Eddie could be squeamish, he ran away from the things he didn’t feel prepared to face, and Wayne felt that this was something he was not at all prepared for. Needless to say, this ambush needed something to soften the blow.

On his way home from work, he’d stopped off at Melvald’s, and then by the local coffee shop to pick up two steaming cups of coffee and half a dozen freshly glazed donuts. Eddie’s favourite. When he got home, Eddie was already awake, and Steve was once again in Wayne’s kitchen.

Today, the scene was a lot different than it normally was. Eddie sat on the kitchen counter, something Wayne had asked him countless times not to do, and Steve, clad in his Family Video vest, was at the stove frying up bacon and eggs. The two were so wrapped up in their conversation they didn’t even notice Wayne was home until he greeted them with a gruff “Mornin’ boys.” 

Eddie’s head snapped forward, meeting his uncle’s eyes as he hopped off the counter. “Morning old man,” he whistled lowly seeing the box of donuts, condensation forming on the clear plastic box from the fresh heat that had risen off them, “you stopped by Lucy’s on the way? Must be a special day!” 

Eddie reached for the box, but his uncle slapped his hand away. “Ah ah, Steve’s puttin’ in the work over there, not until you’ve had a proper breakfast and said a proper thank you to yer boy.” A flash of terror crossed Eddie’s expression and he nervously wrung his rings around his fingers as he went to gather three plates. Steve plated up a fried egg, some bacon, and slices of toast on each plate and helped Eddie carry them to the table. “Sorry Steve, didn’t think you’d be here or I woulda grabbed you a coffee as well.”

Steve shook his head. “No sweat, I’m not much of a coffee drinker anyways, but thank you. I’ll be out of your hair after breakfast.” 

“Don’t rush kid, I’m not kicking you out.”

Steve chuckled, dunking his toast in the runny egg yolk. “Thanks Wayne, I’ve gotta run to work in a bit anyways, this one wanted to sleep in this morning.” He gestured towards Eddie.

Eddie snorted. “Oh so now it’s my fault!”

Wayne shook his head as the two boys bickered, then picked up the plates and set them in the sink when the three were done. He excused himself for a quick shower and let Eddie have his privacy to send Steve off while he collected his thoughts. 

After he was clean and dry and in a pair of cozy flannel pyjama pants and sweatshirt, he pulled Eddie into the living room and finally offered him a donut. Eddie groaned, his mouth full of the sweet pastry, nodding along to an inaudible beat. 

“Eddie… you know I love you, right?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and his head tilted towards his uncle. “Of course. Wayne, you’re like a father to me.” His eyes suddenly widened, and he nearly dropped the donut. “You’re not… you’re not dying are you? Or sick?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No son, no I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure you knew. You can tell me anythin’ Eddie, you know that, right?” 

The boy scoffed. “Yeah, I know, you told me that years ago.”

Wayne nodded along. “Okay, then I hope I’m not overstepping. You’re being careful, right? You and Steve I mean?”

Eddie blinked once. Twice. Three times. “Uhhhh, yeah?” He took a sip of his now cold coffee. “I um, I know you don’t like it when I smoke in the trailer but sometimes with the bugs, and we open the window, but we’re using your ashtray. We won’t accidentally set the trailer on fire if that’s what you mean. And we don’t drive when we’ve been drinking or smoking, we mostly just hang out and listen to music or watch a movie.” 

The older man let out a breathy laugh. “Not what I meant kid. Eddie I—uh you’re twenty-one, and I’m sure you know how this works by now. I’m not naive and I know you aren’t either. And Steve’s a boy, but there’s still risks. I’m sure you’ve seen those boys on the news with what’s been going around, and after last March I don’t want… look, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” 

Wayne finally looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes, filled with total utter confusion. 

He cleared his throat. “You uh, you probably already have… supplies, but just in case I um… here… I stopped in this morning to grab you some uh—protection.” Wayne tossed the paper bag at Eddie, hearing the dull thud of the foil packets inside as he caught them. “I know you can be pretty reckless, but I hope you boys have been using them already. Hawkins High isn’t a world class education but I trust they taught you how to use those things, eh? Or do I need to grab a couple’a bananas?”

Eddie’s face went white as a sheet as he looked into the bag and saw a newly purchased box of condoms.

“Um, Wayne?” His voice crack was masked by the sound of the paper bag crinkling as he folded the top and set it aside. “What exactly do you think I need these for?”

Wayne scoffed. “Come on Eds, I may be old but I’m not stupid. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I’m not blind.” He moved to sit beside Eddie. “I see the way you two look at each other, and I know you kids, uh, share a bed. It’s okay son. Uh, this probably isn’t how uh, how you planned on telling me, but just know that I love you, and uh, and Steve too.”

Eddie swallowed audibly. He’d gone from white to green, suddenly regretting that donut. His hands shook as he pushed his hair back from his face, exhaling heavily.

“You knew?” His voice shook, sounding watery.

Wayne nodded and took his hand. “Yeah kid, I had a feeling, but I didn’t know for sure until the boyfriend started staying over.”

Eddie nodded along, sniffing once, and wiping the stray tears from his eyes. “Okay. Okay. Cool. Okay. Wait, boyfriend?” 

Wayne narrowed his eyes. “Boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever it is you kids are calling it these days.” 

The younger boy laughed high and sharp. “Wayne… Wayne, please never say ‘lover’ like that again, for both our sake. So you think—you thought Steve was my boyfriend?”

This time it was Wayne’s turn to be confused. “Is… um… is he not?” 

“No! Harrington is totally straight. We’re not—”

“Does he know that?” 

“What the— you really are losing your mind in your old age.” He shook his head, hiding his face, his eyes totally unreadable. “Good talk, old man. Thanks for the, um…” He gestured to the bag on the couch. “I don’t have a need for them right now, nor have I ever needed them for the record, I haven’t… um… yeah, that’s enough information for you I think.” 

Wayne chuckled. “Hey kid, no shame in holding out for the right one. And just my two cents, but I think maybe Steve could be the right one.”

“GAH! Okay! Ending this conversation now, go to bed, I’ll see you later, goodbye!” Eddie turned towards his room, but Wayne could see the heavy blush that covered his cheeks and ran down his neck. He was right about one thing at least, his boy was smitten for one Steve Harrington. And Wayne was sure he was right in thinking that Steve may be smitten for Eddie as well.

-------

When Wayne left for work at the end of the day, Eddie knew in his heart he’d be expecting to see Steve there in the morning as he had that day. It had become routine at this point, Wayne would leave, Eddie would call his favourite person, and ten minutes later, Steve would be at his door.

Steve had started coming over to help Eddie with his bandages, and usually ended up crashing on the Munson’s couch. But lately the nightmares had gotten bad for both of them, and they started taking comfort in each other’s touch. In the month they’d been sharing a bed, neither of them had a single nightmare, but they had to be careful. 

Eddie hated sneaking around Wayne. Sure, they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were just sleeping, but it was exhilarating having something that was just for the two of them. Steve had been pretty good about leaving before Wayne was home, but there had been a few times where they’d been caught, this morning in particular being one of them. 

The conversation had been uncomfortable for Wayne, sure, but more so for Eddie knowing that someone else saw what he thought he’d been imagining. He’d tried to push down his crush on Steve Harrington for years, but it only got worse once he got to know him personally. He’d acknowledged his own feelings shortly after Vecna, but lately, he was getting the feeling that maybe Steve could possibly, actually feel the same way too. It was validating, almost vindicating knowing that Wayne thought they were a couple; he’d been going crazy trying to figure out what was going on between himself and Steve, and knowing that someone else saw it felt good. But he could have done without the box of condoms.

The box of condoms Wayne threw haphazardly into his room. The box of condoms currently sitting in the middle of his bed.

Steve flopped himself down onto his side of the bed after changing into pyjamas and poked the bag. “What’s that?”

Eddie sprung to action as he picked up the bag. “Nothing!” He swiped it from Steve’s hands and deposited it on his nightstand. “Nothing, just Wayne being nosy for no reason.”

Steve grinned and tackled Eddie suddenly, throwing his leg over him straddling his hips, and pinning his wrists in one hand as the older boy squirmed below him. 

“Steve! Steve god DAMNIT let me go!” 

“No secrets remember? What weird thing did Wayne go and do now?” 

Eddie’s heart dropped as he plead with his friend. “Dude, dude let me go, seriously, it’s embarrassing.” 

Steve looked down at Eddie, his smile fading. He climbed off his lap and back into his usual spot. “Sorry man, I didn’t—”

“No, no it’s fine, it’s stupid.” He sighed. “It’s really stupid. God I don’t even know why I’m—it’s just a box of condoms.” 

Steve tensed. “O-oh. Got a hot date or something coming up Munson?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The pull out method doesn’t always work, trust me, the pregnancy scare is not worth—”

“Steve I’m gay.” 

“O-okay.” 

Eddie sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He bought me the condoms because he thought you and I… well he… look I’m sorry, okay? I told him we weren’t, I set the record straight, heh, about you anyways, he knows about me now.” 

The other boy cocked his head to the side. “He thought… what he thought we were together?” 

Eddie moved a strand of hair in front of his mouth, unable to meet Steve’s eyes, and nodded. “Sorry man, I don’t know where he got that idea. You don’t have to stay if you’re—I’ll be alright on my own for a bit if it’s too weird or whatever.” 

“Eddie… Eds…” Steve shifted closer. “Do you want that?” 

He scoffed. “I’ve slept better in the last month than I have in the last year, of course I don’t want you to leave.” 

Steve shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. No, do you want what Wayne thought to be true?”

Eddie couldn’t answer Steve, and somehow that felt more damning to him than if he’d just said yes. 

“Eddie?”

“I’m sorry Steve, if you don’t want to see me anymore, just tell me okay? I’m not… just don’t tell anyone, please.” 

Steve took his hand. “Wayne really thought we were together?” 

“Dude—”

“Shit, guess Robin was right, I am really obvious.” 

“What—?”

Steve chuckled. “Eds, dude,” he chuckled, “sweetheart, I want that too.” 

Eddie’s jaw dropped as he slowly turned to meet Steve’s eyes. Steve met his glance with a sheepish shrug, his thumb now rubbing circles on the back of Eddie’s hand.

“Did… did you just call me dude? In the middle of your big romantic confession?” Eddie’s face cracked into a smile.

“I—” He scoffed, his chin meeting his chest as he hung his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here man, you’re the first guy I’ve been into, and the Harrington charm hasn’t exactly been working on you.”

“Oh, OH it’s working for me, let me tell you that. You’ve got no problems there.”

Steve chuckled and fell forward, his forehead resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie untangled their hands and draped his arm around Steve, tugging him closer until he felt his short breaths on his neck.

“So… so you really like me?”

“I thought I made that abundantly clear when I practically begged to share your bed.” 

Eddie frowned. “I thought that was just for the nightmares?”

“It was, a bit, but I also wanted you close. I figured maybe I’d sort my shit out and stop thinking of you like… like I normally think of girls if we had an old fashioned sleep over.”

“And did it help?”

Steve looked up at Eddie deadpan. “Clearly it didn’t.”

Eddie threw his head back in a chuckle, hitting the wall with a loud thump. “Fuck.”

The other boy jumped to action, bringing Eddie’s head off the wall, carding his fingers through his hair to check for a bump as he winced.

“Heh, that feels kinda nice Stevie.” 

Steve smiled, settling his hand on Eddie’s neck satisfied with his findings. “Oh yeah? You like having your hair played with?”

“S’all new to me, I don’t know what I like. Never even kissed a boy.” He looked down at Steve's lips.

“You know, funny you say that, because neither have I.” Steve smirked, looking up at Eddie through his lashes the way he knew drove Nancy crazy. He leaned in, eyes flicking between Eddie’s lips and eyes, until their noses almost brushed.

Eddie blinked, worrying his lip between his teeth, feeling Steve’s hot breath hit his face. “Stevie, are you sure?”

His thumb brushed a soft path along Eddie’s cheekbone, and he swallowed. “I’ve never been more sure about anything, Eds.”

Eddie’s nose clumsily brushed Steve’s, his eyes slid closed, and moments later, their lips brushed in a chaste kiss. He shuddered out a breath and smiled, going in for another as he felt his heart pound in his chest. 

He knew Steve had a lot more experience than he did, but Steve was happy to let Eddie take the lead until he got his bearings. His chaste brushes of lips turned into slotting their lips together, panting hard, and eventually, when Steve couldn’t take it and just needed more, he slid his tongue against Eddie’s top lip.

Eddie felt like he was soaring. No amount of drugs could top the high he felt kissing Steve, and it only got better once Steve met his enthusiasm. Their tongues met, and Eddie’s breath got caught in his throat, a shiver rolled down his spine, and he sighed happily. 

Steve pulled away first, pecking Eddie on the lips once, twice, then slotted their lips together again, guiding him backwards until his head hit the pillows.

-------

The trailer was quiet when Wayne got home that morning. He spotted Steve’s shoes by the front door and smiled knowingly. 

He padded through the trailer noting gratefully that Steve had made fresh banana bread the night before, and took a slice on a paper towel, breaking off pieces and groaning quietly in pleasure as he ate it. 

Something was different about that morning, it was in the air of the trailer, too still, to calm, but still electric, and Wayne noted that Eddie’s bedroom door was cracked open. He poked his head in, not wanting to disturb the boys’ sleep, but the sight before him had the man giggling like a school girl.

Eddie and Steve laid tangled together in the sheets, chests bare as they snored lightly. Lying on the bottom corner of the bed was a crumpled up foil packet, the corner torn open and empty. The box of condoms Wayne had given Eddie the night before lay open on his beside table.

“Fuckin’ knew it.” 

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #wayne munson centric #stranger things fic #my writing #steddie fic

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Anyone for a handmade 1969 dome home fixer upper in the ski resort town of Killington, Vermont? 4bds, 5ba, $425K.

Come on in. The first thing we see is a worn wooden floor. Maybe it can be saved, though.

It's colorful and has a space ship look. Odd corner stair, I guess they miscalculated.

As we go thru, you'll notice patches of the carpet missing. What could have caused that? Now, the whole thing has to be replaced.

There's a round fireplace/pit here in the living room.

Looking down at the fireplace hood. Are the chains decorative or anchoring something?

What is causing that carpet to be eaten away?

A pretty large dining table fits here and they made a chandelier out of green bottles.

I like the blue cabinets. Notice that the floor goes uphill at the door.

The laundry is placed in the kitchen.

Back here is a music/game area. More deteriorated carpet, too. Is there something in the floor causing it?

It has a sauna, too.

Since there's no basement, this area serves as a utility room.

There's an enclosed staircase and a balcony above. There may have been a roof leak on the right.

One of the baths. Interesting sink.

The primary bedroom has room for a sitting area.

This is cute. Like the blue fixtures.

This room has a sink, but it also has a heater, so it must be cold in winter. The windows are so dirty, they need a good power wash.

Bdm. #3. I don't know what's going on w/the windows.

Don't know what's happening up here. Looks like they're working on it.

The exterior needs some work- some panels are bent, shingles are missing and there's some moss. They have a barn on the property, too.

The wooded lot measures .95 of an acre.

#dome homes #fixer uppers #houses #house tours #home tour

[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

[blue--ingenue]

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 4

Read the next part

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: sorry for the little cliffhanger/teaser a few days ago hehe. i've been really excited to post this chapter and wanted to give you a sneak peek. anyway, seb is a mess, but i promise he gets better at expressing his feelings :) (i forgot to mention in previous parts, but all characters in this fic are aged 18+)

Sebastian cursed as his shoe caught on a loose floor tile, nearly stumbling down the short flight of steps leading to the Potions classroom. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed and everything else had gone downhill from there. He’d arrived at morning quidditch practice to an onslaught of rain. Despite the wind and near-torrential downpour, Imelda had insisted they run drills until their allotted hour on the pitch was up. It was their final practice before their match against Gryffindor. Not only was it one of the most anticipated matches of the season, but Madam Kogawa had also chosen this particular match to evaluate the two houses’ players for a chance to represent the school at the Championships. Sebastian barely had time to cast a half-arsed drying charm over his robes before realizing Potions had started ten minutes ago. Now he was barreling through the halls, irritated and hoping that his tardiness wouldn’t affect his partner’s grade as well as his own.

Remembering that his best friend stood just beyond the door in front of him, he paused to run a hand through his unruly curls and adjust his tie. He hadn’t abandoned all decorum in his tardiness, thank you very much. For some reason she was the only one he cared to check his appearance for. The whole world could think him a rumpled, muddy mess, but as long as he maintained his dashing charm in front of her, he was content. This was, of course, all due to the fact that she was his best chum. That was the only reason he could think of. She was a fixture in his life, occupying more space in his heart and his head than he had the words to describe. So it naturally followed that her opinion would matter above the rest. It had been like this for as long as he could remember. Just last week he’d spent the galleons he’d been saving for some new quidditch gloves on a lovely necklace for her. He told her he’d come across it just as he was leaving Honeydukes. In truth, he’d spotted it at Gladrags a week before the start of term and knew it would look perfect on her. He’d only visited the sweetshop after he had acquired the necklace. He decided to downplay his enthusiasm for her gift, just in case she got the wrong idea. 

Sebastian was no fool to the nuances of courtship. Ominis had approached him over the summer to ask him for his blessing about courting Anne. Solomon, who had always had a soft spot for the Gaunt boy, and encouraged his endeavor with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Both boys knew that Anne was her own woman and that asking for his blessing was a mere formality, but Ominis insisted on speaking to both of her remaining family members just in case. He knew what it was like to lose family and he didn’t want to risk causing a rift between any of the Sallows. 

Sebastian’s feelings toward his Gryffindor weren’t similar in the least. He’d seen witches and wizards fawning over one another as they walked arm-in-arm at Hogsmeade. He knew how ridiculous his classmates would act when the object of their affections glanced their way. Sebastian Sallow had never acted that way with her a day in his life. Sure, her presence left him invariably flustered, but that was simply because they were the closest of friends. He didn’t know how to put a name to the feelings she roused within him, but calling it something as trivial as “infatuation” seemed nothing less than insulting. No, she was far too extraordinary for that.

He was looking forward to putting this mess of a morning behind him. Spending time with her never failed to lift his spirits - which is why it hurt twice as hard when he stepped into the classroom and saw a familiar ginger nuisance standing in his spot. He was rooted to the spot, incredulous and fuming. He’d never taken issue with Weasley in any year previous, but since the start of term he seemed to be in the one place that was rightfully Sebastian’s - by his Gryffindor’s side. 

“Ah, Mr. Sallow. Good of you to finally join us,” Professor Sharp drawled from the front of the classroom. “If you’d like to avoid losing Slytherin any house points for today I’d recommend finding a seat. There seems to be an open stool next to Mr. Clopton.”

Begrudgingly Sebastian stalked over to Everett’s workbench and dropped his books onto the table with far more force than necessary. From across the room his Gryffindor shot him a sympathetic smile. It was like the first rays of sun had disintegrated the clouds from this morning’s offending storm. Looking around, she hastily scribbled a note onto a spare bit of parchment before waving her wand over it. With a soft pop the note appeared next to him. He smiled and snatched it from the table, unfurling it with speed. 

Sorry, Garreth volunteered to take your place when Sharp noticed you hadn’t yet arrived. Catch you after class?

He let the note fall to the table and plastered on a nonchalant smile. She seemed relieved, and for some reason that only seemed to irritate him further. Did being his partner mean so little to her that she was already content to continue on? To add insult to injury he was now forced to spend the next hour with Clopton. He was an alright bloke, but his obsession with quidditch meant that he was one of Sebastian’s biggest fans. He felt flattered, truly, but Everett’s presence began grating on his nerves once he started butting into the rare free time he spent with his Gryffindor. Seeking out a distraction from the hornet’s nest of feelings trapped within his head he turned to Everett to ask how far along they were in the potion recipe.

The Ravenclaw stood stock-still, as though he couldn’t believe Sebastian was actually talking to him after nearly a month of dismissed conversations. 

“Everett?” he prompted, exhaustion leeching the annoyance from his tone. He seemed to come to his senses at last and fumbled for the open potion book propped up against their cauldron. 

“Just here,” he replied, pointing to the second step. “I’ve already gathered the necessary ingredients, so we can just carry on with the chopping.” Sebastian thought he sounded far too enthusiastic for their first class of the day, but obliged. He’d just finished crushing the last bit of moonstone when Everett piped up. Unsurprisingly, and much to his dismay, he began prodding Sebastian about his broom skills. Sebastian gave a few obliging nods as he tuned out the boy’s rambling, intent on finishing their brew as quickly as he could. 

“The maneuvers you pull during practice are incredible! And on a school-issued broom, no less!” He carried on. Haughtily he added, “Of course, my broom is one of the fastest on the market. Begged my parents for one of those models for a year. A newer model was close to being released by the time they finally caved.”

Sebastian gave a noncommittal hum and focussed on listening in on the couple occupying his usual station. His hand stilled over the cutting board. Couple? He wondered. When had that word popped into his head? She and Weasley were hardly a couple. She was his best friend, and he was sure that he’d be the first one to know if she were even remotely interested in courting someone. To prove it, he looked up from his slicing to affirm their mutual distaste.

Only it didn’t look like distaste at all. She stood as she always did, elbows on the stained wood as she ran down the ingredient list with the tip of her wand. Weasley towered over her, reading over her shoulder with one arm supporting his weight atop the table. His attention caught on the boy’s face. He was smiling. It was soft and fond and trained entirely on her. Sebastian seethed. He didn’t know why this small act of affection lit a fire in his veins, but it just felt innately wrong, like stretching a muscle just a tad further than it was meant to bend. She was none the wiser as his larger hand brushed against hers in his attempt to turn the page. She turned her head then, realizing for the first time how close they were and blushed. This was ludicrous. Any closer and he’d practically have her pressed against the table. And what if he leaned down? What if he held her impossibly closer and pressed his lips against hers? Would she kiss him back? Sebastian wondered if she’d tug on his tie, pull him down and tangle a fist in his curls. 

This was ridiculous. Unbelievable. The whole bloody world was spinning off its axis and Sebastian was the only one who seemed to notice. If anyone should be kissing her, it should be him. He was supposed to be the only one to- 

Oh. 

Oh, dear. 

The world was no longer spinning off its axis. In fact, it wasn’t spinning at all. Everything and everyone was frozen and Sebastian was left to feel all these feelings in painful crystal clarity. He’d read about romance in the muggle novellas Anne had teased him for buying, but on paper everything was straightforward. The hero knew he loved the girl, and the girl loved him right back. In all the books he’d read the couples were inseparable. There was never a question of whether they loved each other, not one true doubt to be found. From Prologue to Epilogue he felt safe knowing that the couple would ultimately get their ‘happily ever after.’ Things were different once the books were back on their shelves. Happy endings were rare, if they even existed at all. His parents were kindred spirits, their love for one another so powerful that it flowed into every nook and cranny of their home. His mother used to tuck them in and say that she loved their father so much, the world decided they needed two children to carry it all. Those happy honeyed years were tucked safely away in his mind, where the memories of his parents’ demise and the rest of reality couldn’t touch them. 

Love was soft and sweet, and the world was a sharp and insatiable thing. The years following their move to Feldcroft were a special type of purgatory. The memories of his beloved childhood swirled cruelly in his mind’s eye each night, just vivid enough to remember yet just out of reach. A shard of fear pierced his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose her like that. He didn’t think he could stand getting so close to another person only to have them inevitably ripped away. Sebastian Sallow yearned for fairy tale endings, but he didn’t know if he believed in them anymore. 

A high-pitched hissing tore his focus away from his epiphany and the world spun on as if he hadn’t just realized something beautiful and horrible and terrifying. It intensified and he realized the noise was coming from Weasley’s cauldron. He could only watch on as it erupted, sending metal shards and acidic splatters every which way. Garreth tackled his Gryffindor to the floor, shielding her with his own body while the failed potion smoked and ate through his robes. She frantically tore the tattered robe from his body before it could make contact with the rest of him and the two froze. Although he couldn’t hear them over the chaos the rest of the room had erupted into, he knew she was asking if he was alright. He nodded and Sebastian saw red as he brushed her hair back to look at a nasty cut on her forehead. Garreth’s discarded robe smoked behind him, his shirt torn in a few places, and gently held her face in his hands as he checked for more cuts. He only barely registered Sharp dismissing the class for the day before he was grabbing his things and slipping out of the classroom.

.

.

.

.

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Taglist: @snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @tired-meg, @somethingiswrongwithme

#sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #angst #fluff #pining

[ctrsbookshelf]

Hellfire Cupcakes

Prompt 106: Cupcakes

Eddie tries not to look surprised when the door to the trailer swings open to expose Steve carrying two giant containers of cupcakes. He can’t quite see the color through the plastic, with the exception of a few vague swirls of icing. 

“Figured we could take your van, since it's got all your shit in the back.” Steve says by way of greeting. 

Eddie’s caught off guard by the extremely domestic scene in front of him, Steve with a forgotten and discarded dish towel over one shoulder, arms full, hair slightly disheveled. He tries not to stare at the way Steve’s muscles contract as he readjusts the boxes in his hands. 

“Yeah, sure that works!” Eddie blurts out in an attempt to sound nonchalant, but in hindsight sounds high and squeaky. He reaches to take a container, and grins widely. 

“What do we have here?” He asks, fishing his keys from his pocket and swinging into the front seat. 

“It’s not much. Just thought I’d contribute something to the last session…” Steve says, resting his box in the space between their seats. 

“I mean…when you said you wanted to make something I didn’t expect something quite so…elaborate.” Eddie says resting the box on his knees and pulling back the lid. 

Inside lay six neat rows of cupcakes, he can see the yellowish white cake beneath a layer of either black or red frosting, with round colored sprinkle balls sprinkled across like pearls. The red sprinkles pop against the black frosting. 

“You…made these?” Eddie asks, closing the lid carefully and placing the box down. He can see Steve scratching the back of his head nervously as he starts the car. 

“Well…yeah, I wanted to do something special. You worked so hard on the campaign and the kids love sugar. So even though I don’t play…its like I did something.” 

Eddie sneaks a look at Steve out of the corner of his eye as they turn the corner out of the trailer park. 

“Steve Harrington’s a baker huh? Yet another thing I didn’t know lived under that hair of yours.” Eddie teases gently, smirking softly. There’s so much about this boy he’d never guessed, from his fierce protective streak, to this new soft underbelly that was slowly beginning to expose itself to him as they got farther and farther away in time, from that disastrous week spent saving the world. 

Steve smiles, and it makes Eddie’s stomach swoop dangerously. “You haven’t tried one yet, they could be awful.” 

“Nah, I’m sure they're great. Either way, they are beautiful. Hey, you could quit your job at the video store and be a cake decorator. Steve “The Hair” Harrington, Hawkins Own Renowned Cake Decorator.” Eddie frames an imaginary sign with his hands and just barely puts them down in time to steer as the stoplight turns green. 

Steve laughs and clasps his hands in his lap. “My dad would hate that! It was my mom actually that taught me to bake. Before she decided to travel with my dad, I must’ve been three or four, she would stay home with me. She loved baking, and I would always come home to something new. She got really good at it too. Anyways, it kept her hands busy which I think she liked. Kept her brain busy too.” 

Eddie tries not to pry as Steve falls silent again, looking down at his hands. Tries not to think about a small lonely woman baking to fill the time in her large and too silent home. 

“I’m sure she loved having you around, though.” Eddie says, sitting up straighter to find a parking spot on the packed street that the Hopper-Byers clan had moved too. 

He could see Argyle’s car, a permanent fixture now he was dating Jonathan, and Jeff’s car parked down the way, with his bandmates spilling and tripping over each other to get out. Hopper had called and said he’d cleared a spot for Eddie’s van close to the house, Joyce never liked any of them walking far in the dark. He had very few concrete memories of his mother but he thinks Mrs. Byers would’ve liked her. 

“C’mon, you guys!” Jeff says, slapping the side of the van on the way by. 

“Yeah, alright we’re coming! Go see if Mama Byers needs help!” 

Eddie glances at Steve nervously as he bends to pick up the tupperware of cupcakes. He’s still sitting silently, looking at the house with a dazed expression. 

“You know Steve, I think your mom would’ve been real proud of these cupcakes.” He says, popping the lid off and pulling one out to hand to Steve. 

“Yeah maybe…but those are for you guys!” he sputters and looks at the baked good warily. 

“Stevie, you made at least thirty cupcakes, there will be plenty. Plus, a bakers gotta test his product, hmm?” Eddie teases, waving the cupcake in front of Steve’s face. 

“Alright, but only if you have one too, I wanna know what you think.” he says, a bright smile cracking his face open. 

“Your wish is my command, my liege.” Eddie says, tipping his chin in a mock bow and reaching for a cupcake covered in red frosting. 

“Hellfire colors?” Eddie asks, licking his thumb where red had smeared. 

Steve tries not to stare rather unsuccessfully. Eddie’s eyes glint mischievously and it makes Steve feel warm, right down to his toes. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with red and black.” 

“Together on three? Ready, 1, 2, 3!” Steve bites down without breaking eye contact, and Eddie melts against the seat. 

“Holy, fuck Steve! You think these are bad?” He launches into his typical ranting, even now, putting on a show for a party of one. 

He rolls his eyes back into his head, and spreads his arms wide, dramatically collapsing. “This is fantastic!” He finishes his in four huge bites and looks contentedly over at Steve. He cleans the frosting from his lips with his thumb, a move that Steve cannot believe he finds sexy. Steve flicks his eyes to the dashboard and stuffs more cupcake into his mouth. 

Eddie is already up, opening the door to slide out. Steve watches him go as he finishes the last bite. He must’ve been staring too long, because Eddie looks back at him and asks, “What, I got icing on my face still?” 

“Hold on.” Steve says, sliding out his door and walking around to the back door of the van. “Can I just…” Steve asks, holding up his thumb to swipe at Eddie’s nose.

 A smear of red comes off and Steve thinks about licking his finger momentarily, before he wipes his hand across his jeans. 

“There, all better.” Steve says, trying not to think about the warmth of Eddie’s skin against his fingers. 

Eddie smiles, bright and radiant, and gestures with his free hand for Steve to lead the way. “Everyone will love these, man.” 

Almost three and a half years later, Steve graduates with a long-term certificate in Baking and Pastry Arts from Ivy Tech Community College. Predictably the whole party is there, with his mother making a short appearance. She keeps her distance from them, with Eddie screaming his head off, but she smiles gently at him from her seat and claps enthusiastically when his name is called. Eddie kisses him hungrily on the mouth, and Steve has never been so glad he decided to make those Hellfire themed cupcakes.

#stwgdailyprompt #prompt 106 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[fuckyou-saidtheraven]

Thinkin’ about Brian in High Noon Over Camelot.

The fact that the first we hear about him is right in the first song of the album, “The Tower”. The fact that it’s Lost in the Cosmos being whistled during the narration. The fact that it not only foreshadows Brian’s appearance as Merlin but also Arthur’s eventual fate at the end of the album.

The fact that he’s introduced as the Hanged Man: a fixture of the town since before its’ founding, possibly dating back to the anarchy years of Fort Galfridian in the wake of societal collapse. The fact that he’s been abandoned and sentenced to die, to hang from the gallows in the searing heat in the noonday sun for centuries, a punishment that echoes his original sentence for witchcraft by being sent out alone into the cold black of space to freeze to death. The fact that it’s been centuries at all and yet he’s still hanging there, even as the platform decays and the rope frays and he could just as easily snap his own bonds and walk free. How he chooses to stay there, despite the fact that even the crime he committed has since been lost to history, that his joints begin to rust and even functioning becomes a chore and the Galfridians have even forgotten that he’s alive, that he’s a person, because that is what he views as morally right.

The fact that he’s been giving out prophecies all this time (and oh boy imagine my face when I found out this man is psychic. This man is psychic and none of the fictions ever decided to tell me????). How when he does give them out so few people actually believe him. How they spurn and shun his gifts even when he wants to help them the most. How the only person who does take heed is the one he has to send out to die.

The fact that he’s been there since before history broke down on the station and seen countless people come and go.

He’s seen Captain Mathea, the kind and optimistic leader doing his best to keep things afloat. A man thrown into a nightmarish scenario who, when confronted with the brutality of the choice he is to be forced to make, ultimately decides to remove himself from the board before he can make it. Who decides to stick to his morals and sacrifices himself, while at the same time preventing others from gaining the same power he had for fear of their being corrupted by it.

He’s seen Mordred the Peacemaker, the kid who only ever wanted what was best for everybody, who never wanted to hurt anyone. Mordred, who came to Camelot bringing revelation, though his message was repeatedly shunned. Whose quest to see it realized eventually led to the doom of the very people he tried to save.

Then there’s Arthur, a broken man who’s lost everything he’s ever stood for, sent out into the dark and cold in much the same way as Brian was, by a person he wanted so badly to save.

And at the end of it all, as the rust-covered world grows steadily hotter and hotter as the station is hurled inexorably into the sun, I can’t help but wonder what Brian’s thoughts were, at that final high noon. Did he think of freezing cold and his vision fading to black as the frost crept in? Did he think of his crew, somewhere in the cosmos out there without him? Did he think of history, repeating itself no matter how many times any of them tried to stop it? Did he think of a preacher man’s last sermon, of sinners and hellfire and brimstone?

Do you think he remembered the words to the song, as Avalon’s heat began to consume him alive, that even as he burns in the inferno for his past sins, he is not yet for hell?

...Do you think this is part of when he started wanting to find out?

#original post #fandom #the mechanisms #the mechs #high noon over camelot #drumbot brian #joseph robert mathea #arthur hnoc #mordred hnoc #father galahad hnoc #i have a lot of Thoughts about hnoc but this covers a good swathe of them p much #character analysis #i've only been given the highlights to dttm so idk how much this fits #but like GOD #tbh all this has probably already been said several times before but like i need to get this out #jdskhfskdhfskjdf i am NOT OKAY #quoth the raven

[goldbathroom]

The Ultimate Toilet Brush Holder Buying Guide

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#Toilet Brush Holder Guide #Bathroom Accessories #Hygiene Essentials #Bathroom Aesthetics #Free-Standing Holders #Wall-Mounted Holders #Design and Style in Bathrooms #Durable Bathroom Materials #Space-Saving Solutions #Innovative Bathroom Designs #Bathroom Decor Ideas #Choosing Bathroom Fixtures #toilet brush holder

[indndwnshead]

Amalgamation: Part III - When you meet... Hoseok

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Chapter tags: developing relationship, meeting the bro, Namjoon being the absolute gentleman that he is

Series summary:

Now that you are a permanent fixture in Min Yoongi's life, it's inevitable that you meet the rest of BTS.

Each encounter with the rest of the group becomes a unique thread in the tapestry of life, gradually integrating disparate elements into a harmonious whole and seamlessly weaving into the fabric of your joined world.

A/N:

Oh wow, a double weekend update because I just can't hold myself back lol. Anyway, missing our eternal sunshine, hobi-ah🥹

Let's be friends and stan Yoongi together on twitter @itsdndwn 💜💜

---

Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.

Also read on: AO3

---

The much-anticipated day of your hangout with some of the BTS members finally arrived, marking your first official introduction as Yoongi's girlfriend. Unfortunately, not all of them were able to make it due to some last-minute schedule changes but you still look forward to this day.

As you began unloading the bags from your car in the building's private parking lot – which Yoongi had granted you card access to – you couldn't help but feel like you were juggling too many things at once. The bags contained your favorite take-out items for the boys to try, some of Yoongi's preferred snacks, and a few items you intended to leave in his apartment. It was quite the haul for someone of your stature.

As you approached the elevator, the imposing figure of Jung Hoseok, impeccably dressed with sunglasses and a face mask, caught your attention. Even with his discreet attire, you instantly recognized him. He seemed oblivious to who you were but insisted on helping with the bags.

"Let me help you with that," he offered, reaching for some of the bags you were carrying. "Looks like you've got quite a load there."

He smoothly took some of the bags from your grasp, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude as the burden on your arms lightened. You expressed your thanks, saying, "Oh, thank you so much!"

A warm smile graced Hoseok's face as he responded, "No problem! We all have those days."

Encouraged by his kindness, you playfully remarked, "Thanks for being my superhero in this elevator moment."

Hoseok chuckled, "Superhero? Well, I'm always here to save the day. So, what's with all these bags?"

You explained, "Just some food for my boyfriend and his best buddies and a few other things. You know, typical overestimation of my own strength.”

Another hearty laugh escaped Hoseok, "Well, better to overestimate than underestimate, right?"

"Exactly! I mean, who needs a gym when you can just carry these, right?" you joked.

Hoseok laughed loudly, "You've got a point! I like your style." Then, he grinned mischievously and said, "You know, I heard carrying bags is the latest workout trend. They even have a new fitness class called 'Bag-lates.' It's all about perfecting your lifting technique and toning those bag-carrying muscles." Hoseok lifted the bags in his hands, demonstrating the said workout.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his unexpected and comical take on the situation. His infectious energy and playful humor made the mundane ride feel like a spontaneous stand-up comedy session. Hoseok's laughter, accompanied by your own, echoed in the confined space, creating an unexpected but delightful memory in the ordinary setting of the parking lot.

He gasped in dramatic surprise when he finally noticed that you were heading to the same floor as him. "What a coincidence, I'm also going to this floor. Do you live here?"

You gave him a mysterious smile as you stepped out of the elevator. "No, my boyfriend does."

“Oh, lucky guy, my Hyung’s neighbor,” Hoseok said as you walked in the same direction.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” You said with a fond smile, thinking of Yoongi.

Hoseok watched in surprise as you approached the door to Yoongi's apartment. "Wait, that's Hyung's-"

He was interrupted by you opening the door with your fingerprint.

Yoongi himself stood inside the doorway ready to greet you. "Hey, you," he said, his eyes filled with affection directed at you.

You replied with a small smile of your own as you approached him. Glancing back, you saw Hoseok still standing outside the door with his mouth hanging open.

“Come in, Hobi-ah,” Yoongi said with a chuckle.

Hoseok snapped out of it and came in, closing the door behind him. You could feel his eyes still watching you interact with Yoongi, updating him on what you had brought with you that day.

Hoseok’s eyes widened in surprise as he connected the dots. "You're Hyung's girlfriend?"

Yoongi answered with a shy but proud smile, his affection for you evident in his eyes. "Yeah, this is _____."

Hoseok’s face was the perfect picture of shock. You tried hard to suppress your laughter by biting your lips.

Hoseok turned sharply to look at Yoongi. "Seriously? When did this happen?" His eyes flickered between the two of you, clearly taken aback by the news.

"Yeah, it's... kind of a recent thing. We wanted to keep it low-key for now.” Yoongi answered softly.

"Ahh, I'm so happy for you, hyung.” Hoseok ran to give Yoongi a big hug, it was heartwarming how genuinely happy he was for his hyung. He turned to you next, now that he knew who you were, his smile was even more blinding. “You are something special."

You blushed at his words, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. "I'm just me, Hoseok."

Yoongi scoffed, "Don't be modest. I'm betting all of my money that you'll win an award soon."

Hoseok's curiosity was piqued. "Do you work in the music industry too?"

You felt a mix of embarrassment and flattery from Yoongi's unwavering confidence in your acting skills. "I'm an actress."

"Oh, have I seen your work?" Hoseok asked, trying to recall if he had seen you in any productions.

Yoongi interjected, reminding Hoseok of a past conversation. "Really, Hoseok? You were quite excited about my cameo."

Hoseok eyes widened again as the realization dawned on him. "Oh! It's you!" He grinned, remembering the context now. "Yeah, I see it now. It's great to finally meet you in person."

You chuckled, feeling a bit embarrassed but also amused by Hoseok’s reaction. "I get that a lot. I look different without all the makeup."

The evening went well, filled with laughter. You watched fondly as the four men interacted with each other, clearly having missed being together. Later, Yoongi and Seokjin went to the kitchen to prepare food. Hoseok followed not long after, offering his help. You, as the guest of honor according to Seokjin, and Namjoon, for obvious reasons, had been banned from the kitchen.

You ended up having a delightful conversation with Namjoon in the living room. It flowed easily, and you discovered that you had a lot in common, from the type of books you enjoyed to your shared love for art. He asked about your experience working with the director of the movie that you spoke about when you first met him. In turn, he gave recommendations of movies to add to your growing list.

The rest of the group returned to the living room when they were done preparing. Yoongi quickly took the seat beside you, and Seokjin and Hoseok filled the other spaces. The conversation shifted to Yoongi's cameo in your drama, and compliments for his acting skills were thrown around. He blushed with the attention, attributing his performance to your influence.

"Yeah! You're an awesome actress, _____!" Hoseok quickly added, "Your monologue in that drama Yoongi-hyung had a cameo in was powerful."

"Oh, I didn't know you watched that episode too," you said, "Thanks, Hoseok! I had a lot of time to prepare."

"We watched the entire series!" Seokjin said. "Wait, you do know you’re one of the major reasons I accepted the offer in the first place, right?"

You were speechless.

Seokjin, ever the enthusiastic one, turned to Yoongi. "What? You never told her this?"

“Hyung, you know damn well that I didn’t know anything about the project until you got that injury,” Yoongi defended himself.

"Your acting in that movie was impressive too. I will never forget a talented face," Namjoon commented matter-of-factly.

Blushing at the compliment, you thanked him sincerely. "Thank you, Namjoon."

Yoongi, always curious, chimed in. "What movie are you guys talking about?"

You waved off the question with a dismissive laugh. "Oh, it's nothing, really. Just an old indie film. My role wasn't even that important."

"What?! No way!" Namjoon protested loudly, "Your role was small but memorable. You brought depth to that character."

“I kept telling her that she’s good; she just won't believe it," Yoongi interjected.

You playfully pinched his side for outing that fact. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot coming from you." It was heartwarming to see how supportive they were.

The conversation continued, with many topics revolving around you and Yoongi. Eventually, they began discussing how to introduce you to the rest of the maknae line, who coincidentally couldn’t make it to the gathering that day. Ideas were tossed around playfully, and you and Yoongi simply laughed along, enjoying the camaraderie and warmth of the moment.

The evening concluded with delicious food, friendly banter, and board games that left you all in stitches. It was a memorable night that solidified the connection between you and these remarkable individuals who had welcomed you into their fold. You couldn't have asked for a better introduction to Yoongi's world, both on and off the stage

#min yoongi #agust d #suga bts #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts reader insert #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bts suga #bts suga fanfic #suga x reader #suga x you #hoseok & you #bts jhope #jhope & you #kim seokjin cameo #kim namjoon cameo #jung hoseok #bts imagines

[thewritetofreespeech]

hi! i love you kirishima tōru x reader fics!! (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠) i'm wondering if i can ask for another one but a halloween special? (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Got this after Halloween, but spooky season forever!!

Toru Kirishima x Reader

Although he had come to Yaeka’s school dozen of times now, Kirishima still felt awkward every time. The small fixtures and space intended for children made him look like a giant, coupled with their shining enthusiasm an innocent, made him feel more out of place than ever.

Especially today, since it was Halloween.

Kirishima had to pass no less than 5 fairy princesses to get to Yaeka’s class, who was having a Halloween party. Parents & guardians were invited to attend; and since Yaeka’s father couldn’t attend (much to his silent disappointment) Kirishima was to act as her stand in.

He arrived at the classroom, dressed in his ‘normal person’ costume, and was greeted by the parents who recognized him from pick up. Sara and Kaede also come up to see him, excited to show him their costumes.

“Kirishima-san!” Sara exclaimed in her usual enthusiasm. “Look, look! Do you like my costume??” The tag on the collar of her puppy costume jiggle as she jumped up and down.

“Ah, of course. I almost thought they brought a real dog in her. Makes me wish I had some treats for you.” Sara beamed with an excited ‘woof, woof’. “And, Kaede-chan, you’re a mermaid?”

“Y-Yes…” The typically shy girl answered. “M-Mermaids are my favorite books.”

“Well, it looks good.” Kirishima told her, which made her smile.

“Kirishima-san.” The yakuza looked up to see Yaeka coming over. Her cat costume still as cute as when she left the house today. “Here. I saved this for you.” Kirishima blinked when she handed him a small pumpkin plate with a cupcake on it. “Chocolate is Kirishima’s favorite.”

He smiled softly at Yaeka’s gesture. Then took the cupcake before immediately biting into it. “Wow. These are good.”

“[Y/N]-sensei made them.” His little cat replied. As well as explain that she made vanilla ones, which she had had.

‘Oh…’ Kirishima thought. That was right. He hadn’t seen Yaeka’s teacher yet. He hadn’t seen her much since that originally met that afternoon after she was hired.

He scanned the room quickly and spotted her by the snack table. Dressed like a princess and handing out sweets to the needy. “I’m gonna go thank her for the cupcake. You play with your friends some more, then we’ll go home.”

“OK!” Sara answered for Yaeka, and was already dragging her off to play.

He weaved his way through the crowd. Before he could introduce himself quietly, [Y/N] spotted him and announced, “Kirishima-san! How nice to see you again!”

“[Y/N]-san…” He replied back bashfully. He still wasn’t use to people being excited to see him.

“It’s nice of you to come to the party and help out. Or are you just here for the free candy?” She teased. To which Kirishima had to smile.

“Oh, I’ll go just about anywhere there’s free food.” That’s basically how he joined the yakuza.

[Y/N] smiled and handed him a juice from a tiny, paper cup covered in ghosts. “You didn’t wear a costume? I know it wasn’t in the invitation, but adults were welcome to dress up too.”

“It’s not really my thing.” Kirishima didn’t have the heart to tell her that his outfit was as much of a costume as anything for him. “But look at you. It’s….a lot.”

“Oh. I don’t do anything half way.” [Y/N] replied with a chuckle. Adjusting her crown. “I let the kids pick and princess/queen/royalty theme won out. There were a few votes for ‘dinosaur’ but that felt a little ageist on the back end.” Kirishima choked on his juice at the joke. Trying not to laugh completely.

“Well it…look nice. You look nice I mean.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] replied with a blush on her cheeks, “thank you.”

Kirishima smiled back, and was about to say something, when he felt a smile tug on her sleeve. “Kirishima. It’s time to go home.”

“Oh. Right.” He replied to Yaeka’s soft prodding. Then turned to [Y/N] and said, “I suppose we should get going.”

“Of course,” she replied. Then seemed to have a light bulb moment before she quickly fussed at the dessert table. “Here. Take these with you.” She said as she offered Kirishima a plate of cupcakes. “Yaeka says you have a lot of people visit or stay over with your family. You should take them home and share. Sweets are always better with friends!”

The way she smiled when she said that, Kirishima was sure she meant it.

“Thanks. It’s more than those bums deserve.” [Y/N] giggled. Then waved them off as they left for home.

Kirshima still gave the cupcakes to the guys. He wasn’t a monster.

But he did keep one more chocolate one for himself. Enjoying it as he thought about Halloween decorations and the pretty princess who made them.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #toru kirishima #toru kirishima x reader #toru kirishima scenario #the yakuza's guide to babysitting #the yakuza's guide to babysitting x reader #the yakuza's guide to babysitting scenario #kumichou musume to sewagakari #kumicho musume to sewagakari x reader #kumicho musume to sewagakari scenario #imagine #scenarios #female reader

[spurgie-cousin]

I feel like I am seeing a lot of people talking about tradwives lately. It’s super weird for a topic I would only see in the fundie snark space to be brought up in other places. What do you think is the reason for this?

"Trad wife" originally popped up as a term to refer to a growing number of (particularly Catholic) women online who actively promoted what they referred to as "traditional" values, ie not getting an outside job, doing all the domestic labor, catering to your husband (which you need to have for life to be complete), having a lot of kids sometimes as many as possible and being their primary caregiver, etc, for religious purposes. The term grew to refer to women of any denomination who idealized that lifestyle, because as the idea reached more people it grew in popularity as a type of online influencing, mostly due to the attention (and money) these women could potentially get from posting on social media. Even if most of their interaction was from people who disagree with them, interaction still = $$$, and a lot of these families trying to be single income with many children were really struggling to achieve that financially (I could write a whole essay on that topic but we'll save it for later).

So the reason people outside of fundie watching circles are talking about them all the time is because they've breached containment. They're no longer just a fixture in conservative Christian circles, they've hit the mainstream and some have gained hundreds of thousands or even millions of followers, because for people not familiar with fundamentalism it seems like a fresh or unfamiliar concept.

The main difference between "trad wife" content and stay at home mom content is whether or not the creator makes it a point to insinuate (or outright say) that their lifestyle is what all women ideally should be doing, or they purposefully are making their content "aspirational" for the purposes of promoting the values of their religion.

#trad #trad wives

[hometoursandotherstuff]

We have seen how people can ruin an historic home, but this is a whole n'other level of reno. These people have taken this 1929 Craftsman home in Johnstown, PA, gutted it, and turned it into a cowboy cabin/barn. I don't even know what to call it. 3bds, 2ba, $144,900.

The facade of the house has been re-bricked. It could've originally been regular wood siding or brown brick.

It's been completely gutted and opened up. The wood floors have been covered in carpet. A wagon wheel light has replaced the Craftsman fixture.

This cabinet would've either been on the side of a fireplace or it would've been part of a 1/2 wall and columns separating the living & dining rooms. They saved it and placed it here in the corner.

Gone is the fireplace and a small platform was made to accommodate a wood burning stove. Oh, look, there's the other cabinet.

The kitchen is just plain weird. There's no hint of the original Craftsman kitchen or its footprint. I think they wanted to make the front of the cabinet look like a farm sink.

Is that carpet on the floor? They opened the wall in the kitchen to the sun room. It could've been knotty pine, and they bricked it over and added barnwood slats.

They've made this large space into a main floor principal bedroom. The original double doors are still there, but they put up a sliding barn door to the kitchen.

The newly renovated bath is new knotty pine.

Now, we're on the 2nd level in one of the other bedrooms. This is probably the original primary bedroom.

Then this would be bedroom #2.

Remodeled bath #2. It had a nice vintage look, but the tiles don't really fit it.

And, this would be bedroom #3, b/c the room downstairs can't be counted as a legal bedroom without a closet.

Rec room in the basement has what may be a homemade bar.

The deck needs a lot of attention before it needs replacement.

Nice yard.

Barn-like shed.

.46 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/203-Walters-Ave-Johnstown-PA-15904/94996989_zpid/

#craftsman homes #renovated homes #houses #house tours #home tour

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Hi. Um. Been awhile since I wrote fic.

Here's an unsettling gothic-esqe thing about the pokemon protags. And my headcanons behind them. This has uncanny valley elements in it along with some minor child torture (kinda?) Things in it so if you're not into that. Consider yourself warned.

Lmk if you need something tagged here, I didn't really know how to tag this

The teen entered the room. The rest of the building had already been explored and this room was the last one that remained. 

To their shock, a figure actually stood in the room. It was dark, with no windows, but an ambient glow allowed them to see. There was nothing in the room except a single chair with straps and some kind of rune carved into the floor. The figure, wide and imposing due to the massive embroidered cloak he wore, stood facing away from the door. 

"I knew you'd come eventually." His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, almost subdued. As though he were lost in thought. 

The child said nothing. The door shut behind them, plunging the room into that odd, empty, not-quite-darkness. It was silent. No music played that only they could hear. 

"I've had my suspicions…" The man turned, making the light in the room surge. No light fixtures hung anywhere, but suddenly the room was much more visible. Pristine white walls, unbroken, encapsulated the space, making it feel sterile, eerie. 

The child still said nothing. 

The man watched them, his only eye unblinking as he searched them. 

"You see…" He paced a bit, turning back towards a wall. "Throughout history, there have only been… five or so documented cases. The first being in ancient Sinnoh. The next, only about fifteen years ago in Kanto. The next, a couple years later in Johto. Then a couple years later in Hoenn. Them modern Sinnoh. The few who know were wondering if and when the next would come…" 

He turned back to the child, still keeping his distance. He was on the opposite side of the wooden chair. "Please, take a seat." 

Unbidden, their legs moved left, right, left, right, until they sat in the chair. They looked up at the man. 

His seafoam green hair stuck up at all angles, adding to the air of madness in his good eye. "They're only referred to as the CORRUPTED. No one knows where or why they come…" He turned away again, allowing the child to view the broad cloak he wore. It was very exquisite, large swaths of color and design swirling into a pretty pattern. 

"Usually a child… appears from nowhere one day. The mother claims she'd always had a child, though there are no records. No father. No photographs. Others in the town are convinced the child existed, but no one actually rembers anything about them. It is as if they simply popped into existence one day…" 

He turned back to the child in the chair, watching them closely once again. "And they always appear just in time to save the world from some disaster. Usually involving humans who became too wrapped in their own hubris to notice the damage." 

The child kept watching silently, not blinking. Not breathing. Not feeling. 

His voice raised slightly as his breath hitched, staring into their eyes. Or rather, past their eyes, into what laid beyond. "It has been debated where these CORRUPTED come from or what purpose they serve. Its hard to say, as most of the time they simply fade from history. They become the champion, complete the entire pokedex, stomp the entire region under their feet, and then disappear. People forget them as quickly as they came and fade from history." 

The man walked to the other side of the room, blank eyes following them closely. No sound came from the room, except for the man's breathing. "Only one of the CORRUPTED remains. A boy from Kanto. He never speaks. He is... not quite normal. It is said that he does not eat or sleep. He cannot speak. He disappears for years at a time. However, he has said that he no longer has any memory of the events of his time during his original pokemon journey until he defeated the Elite Four," he murmured.

"It is said they have an unsettling appearance. Though never could anyone quite understand why." He swung back up, looking back at the frozen child before him, pointing his finger at them. "No breathing. Not once blinking. Blank eyes, not quite seeing. Sickly pallor. Do you eat? Can you? Do you sleep? How many townsfolk have offered you sleep or rest out of pity? How many children have you frightened? I don't believe you've even spoken!" 

The child opened their mouth and spoke after a beat of silence, as though considering their next move. 

The man shook his head and grinned, a cruel, cold facsimile of happiness. "No. You know how I know you are lying? That is not a language you should be able to speak." He watched them closely. "I do not even know what language that is, however I understood every word. I know of many languages, and that one is a language that a human mouth should not be able to make." He narrowed his eyes. "And the pokemon. They flock to you, as though they sense something off about you. As though they can tell something is happening. Legends appear before the CORRUPTED. Is your god trying to eradicate them? Are they tinkering with our world?"

He continued to watch the child as he grew closer. He suddenly snapped his fingers and the straps sprung to life, wrapping and tying the child's limbs to the chair they sat in. They did not struggle. 

"Do not bother calling your pokemon. My scientist has locked them the moment you entered this room." The and drew closer, until he stood scarcely a foot away. 

"What are you?" he hissed. "Why are you here? What calamity will befall the region? Who sent you? Are you even human?" 

The child opened their mouth again. Static was the only thing that came out, their unblinking eyes soullessly watching the man in front of them. 

The man scoffed. "No, do not lie. I have no use for your lies." He straightened up again and turned away. Dead silence ensued for a moment. Two. 

He turned back, his face enlightened by the cold smile strung across it. He chuckled. "Well, if you refuse to tell me… I will find out myself. You could prove useful to my takeover of the region. If not, I will dispose of you. You may have been sent to take care of my plans and I cannot have that." 

A machine lowered from the ceiling, mechanical and loud, though it sounded like a soft whirring in the ears of the child. They did not move. Simply watched, detached. 

The man moved back and smiled at them again, his teeth showing just a bit too much. "Let us find out exactly what you are, creature." 

The beam fired and the child's vision was engulfed in white, their mouth stretched wide, wider, static erupting from their gaping maw, louder andbrjfd louderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrŕŕ ŕ2222222222

ERROR. THERE WAS A PROBLEM. PLEASE RESTART THE GAME AND REFER TO THE MANUAL IF PROBLEM PERSISTS. 

You sigh, pressing the power button. The game flicks to black. You press it again, making the screen flash white before showing the logo. You tap on the game. That was weird. You wonder how long that took to code.

You hope your saved data file wasn't 

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#one shot #fic #tw unreality #tw uncanny #uncanny valley #gothic #ghetsis #protag #enby character #my writing #pokemon