#and you will have these scenes where the Hulk is just like stop I don’t want to fight

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #246

[thegainingdesk]

On Again, Off Again

As soon as I saw Mark I was head over heels. He was tall and naturally broad, a frame improved with well-honed muscles from years of manual labour. A mop of thick dark hair framed a broad, almost blocky face with dark brown eyes and a thick moustache, and mirrored tufts of hair poking out from the top of his shirt and at his cuffs. His voice was deep, but soft, with a slight Bristol accent.

He’d suggested we go to a local museum for our first date - I’d mentioned that I did art history at uni when we were talking on tinder, and there was an exhibition on the early impressionists. I spent a while pointing out some of my favourite paintings, explaining some of the techniques, the use of light, how the movement was different to what had come before but quickly noticed how quiet he was being and my initial attraction started to wane.

“Sorry,” he said after I asked him for the umpteenth time if everything was okay. “I don’t mean to- it’s just, I mean…”

I looked at him, expectantly. Despite myself, despite how flat the date was falling, I found myself crushing on him all over again, looking up into those big puppy dog eyes.

“I wanted to impress you a bit,” he said finally, running his hand across his moustache nervously.

I laughed reflexively, and felt awful as I saw him wince. “What do you mean, impress me? You don’t need to impress me.”

“I know, it’s not… You just said that you were into art and stuff, and that you work with this charity and-” He stopped and sighed. “I’m just this knob-head builder, you know? I didn’t think someone like you would really want to go out with someone like me, and I thought you were cute and the lads at the site said I should do something a bit fancy and… I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “You’re great. Really. I chose to go out with you, didn’t I?” He shrugged those gorgeous hulking shoulders, somehow looking like a scolded schoolboy, despite his size. “Go on, where would you usually take me on a first date, if you weren’t trying to go all fancy on me?”

“No, no, really,” he insisted, unconvincingly. “I’m enjoying myself here.” He pointed at the nearest painting, a Turner painting of a choppy sea, a bright red buoy at the centre. “Go on, tell me about that one.”

I took his hand, and felt my heart flutter as a smile spread across his face. “Seriously, I agreed to go on a date with you because you were a good laugh while we were texting.” A blush spread across his stubbled cheeks. Fuck, he was hot. “Where we going?” I pulled him towards the exit.

“A pub or something, I dunno,” he mumbled. “We can stay, really.”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “It's your round - you can’t wriggle out of it that easy.”

A couple of drinks in, the date was thoroughly back on track. Mark was funny, charming and charismatic - I’d go so far as to say he was gregarious, but trying to keep up with the way Mark drank turned that into a few too many syllables for me at the time. A few more drinks and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other - looking back, I cringe at the scene we must have made in that pub. Charitably, you could say we were somewhat hidden away in a corner; realistically, it was a Saturday evening in the city center and people were probably gawping.

“I told myself I wouldn’t fuck you tonight,” he grumbled into my ear, while his big square hand pawed at my achingly hard dick. “That I’d wait a couple of dates.”

I was practically gnawing at him at this point, my mouth deep into the soft crevice between his thick, strong neck and his strong, yard-wide shoulders. “This is basically our second date,” I told his neck. “The museum was number one, the pub is number two.”

I heard him laugh into my hair. “I’m serious, I’m trying to break some bad habits. Trying not to have so much casual sex.”

I moaned. “I’ll give you permission to make an exception.”

“I don’t want this to just be sex,” he whispered. “I really like you.”

“It doesn’t have to just be sex,” I whimpered back. “But it could also be sex.”

I heard him - felt him - practically growl. “I suppose if you came back to mine, we wouldn’t necessarily have to have sex.”

I nodded, and lifted my head to look him in the eyes. “Absolutely, no sex.”

The sex was phenomenal. It was like something out of an 80s romance novel. It was animalistic but sensual, passionate but slow. I think I actually swooned. Mark could throw me about like a ragdoll, and he made good use of that ability. His body was covered almost top to toe in dark, wiry hair, and his cock was so thick I could barely get my mouth around it - but by god I gave it a go.

We spent all of the next day together, nursing twin hangovers and cuddling up on his sofa. Mark explained his philosophy that the only worthwhile hangover cure is as much food as you can manage to keep down. While I nibbled on bread and butter and sipped on water all day, there was barely a moment where he didn’t have some food on the go - bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast, clearing his fridge for lunch, a string on deliveroo drivers.

By the time I felt well-enough to go home, he tried to convince me to call in sick to work the next day. Tangled up with him like that, I almost did. Even so, I managed to drag myself away, with the promise of seeing him on Friday.

We didn’t make it to Friday. We met up for dinner on Tuesday. Lunch on Wendesday. On Thursday I packed a bag and decided I could just go into the office from his flat in the morning. We were inseparable. Insufferable, most likely. But we couldn’t stop ourselves, didn’t want to stop.

The dinners out, the takeaways, the long days spent cuddled up without a thought of the gym started to add up - on Mark at least. And yes, maybe I encouraged that a little, but I’m allowed a type aren’t I? Okay, maybe more than a type - a predilection, if you were being fancy, a full-blown fetish if you were being honest. So I like them big! Is that a crime? I never went overboard - never stirred butter and double cream into all of his portions, never tricked him into gainer shakes, never slipped him appetite enhancers or miraculous weight-gain pills - I’m not the protagonist of a gainer story, after all.

All I did was nurture that healthy appetite of his. Gave him my unfinished portions, asked him if he wanted seconds, encouraged him to get dessert, muttered into his ear that no, he can’t go to the gym and leave me in bed, cold and alone, that I’d give him all the work-out he needed. He never complained, and I never made any real secret that I didn’t mind him putting on some weight.

It was subtle at first. He’d never had any abs to cover up, but there was a general loss of definition - muscular limbs got smoothed out, pecs started to go puffy, his belly started to permanently bow out into a little arc. His body, already big, sailed past 220 pounds easily enough, and you could barely tell that he’d put on any weight at all, not really, until he’d hit 240 or so.

But then, my god. It’s like some magical fat threshold was reached, almost overnight, like all the gaps in his body had been filled with fat, his whole body lightly covered with a thin sheen of chub, ready for the real work to build up over it. Smooth limbs got soft, puffy pecs drooped, his little distended belly curved out in all directions to form a proper little pot belly. Not six months into our relationship, he was sitting fat and happy at 260 pounds, a firm ball gut at his center, and all traces of that muscular hunk that tried to impress me at a museum were buried under soft, gorgeous flab. If he ever got self-conscious, he never said anything. Still, I told him how gorgeous he was, how sexy the extra weight made him, how he looked more manly, more mature.

We settled into a routine; huge dinners, hot sex, movie nights spent cradling his growing gut, an occasional date night at some new restaurant before moving onto a pub or a bar. We spent so much time at each other’s flats we both assumed we’d move in together sooner rather than later, that this would all last forever.

“Australia?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I know, I know,” he said, pacing and stroking his moustache nervously. “But the money’s so good, I can’t really pass it up.” I closed my eyes. Gripped the table. Tried to wish it away. “It wouldn’t be forever,” he said, lamely.

“It would be for a year though,” I whispered, opening my eyes.

He slumped down into the chair opposite me. One hand continued to stroke his moustache, the other sat on the shelf of his belly, stroking it ever so slightly. Even while I was distraught he could still drive me wild without even trying. “I’m sorry,” he said simply after a while. I knew there wasn’t any point arguing. That I wouldn’t want to stop him taking the opportunity. It just hurt.

We agreed we’d not wait for each other. We’d stay in touch, but we’d be free to date, and if either of us met someone over the year, or if we’d changed as people, no obligation to go back to how we were.

I spent a full week moping. I became a walking cliche - I barely ate, I barely slept. I sustained myself on a diet of Carole King songs and Richard Curtis films. Mark never had any social media - barely used his phone for anything really - a fact which I was, in turns, thankful for and furious about. On one hand, at least I couldn’t obsessively stalk his profiles all year while I missed him, on the other hand, I couldn’t even stalk his profiles all year while I missed him.

I still can’t decide if that year went fast or slow. There were points when it felt like I was going through the same old bored routines for decades, and days when I’d realise how soon I could see Mark again and it would feel like seconds. I did my best to get on with my life - I met with friends, picked up hobbies I’d let fall to the side while I spent every day with Mark, even plucked up the courage to go on a date. It was nice. He was nice. But it wasn’t Mark. I’m not even sure I could tell you his name. After that, I resigned myself to waiting.

I’m back! The text said. My heart fluttered. Want to meet up for a drink?

I tried to not reply immediately. Wanted to come across as cool and unbothered.

Amazing!!! I replied, not two minutes later. Yes! Where?

As a cucumber.

The Goose? Or maybe your flat? Up to you.

My heart pounded. Meeting at my flat was not the act of an uninterested man. Meeting at my flat was not the act of a man who’d fallen in love with some gorgeous Australian surfer.

My flat’s fine! I responded.

Great. I’ll be like an hour?

My flat was already impeccably clean - I was a bit of a clean freak as it was, but I had it practically sparkling in anticipation of Mark’s return to the northern hemisphere - but still, I busied myself cleaning every nook and cranny. I hoovered my spotless carpet, smoothed my immaculately smooth bed, dusted corners that I previously didn’t know existed.

I had just decided that the flat was too unnaturally clean, like I’d gone out of my way to clean it for Mark or something, and was in the middle of pulling various items just slightly out of position, when my doorbell rang. I yelped, and hurriedly crumpled a throw blanket, before breathing slowly and making my way to the door. It was just Mark, I told myself. Everything would be just the same as it was before. It’s just Mark. It’s just Mark.

I opened the door to a man I barely recognised. Mark was buff. Beyond buff. The fat I’d so deviously piled on him over all those months had disappeared without a trace. He’d not simply returned to the naturally broad, built figure he’d had when I’d first met him, either - he’d added hard, shredded muscle - at a guess I’d say 20 pounds easy. His face was thinner, sharper; his arms were vascular, and I could swear I saw the stitches on his sleeves almost pulling themselves apart; when he raised his arms and his t-shirt rode up, I could make out a defined six-pack even through his dense pelt of body hair. Worst of all though - he’d shaved off his moustache.

I just stood blinking for a while, until I realised that tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite it all, despite the time, despite the body, despite the fucking moustache - it was Mark. It was really, actually, fucking Mark.

Neither of us said anything, he just stepped through my door, held my face in his hands and kissed me, deeply and desperately and hungrily. We stumbled backwards through my flat, knocking perfectly placed objects as we went, pulling at each other’s clothes, never once stopping kissing, until he picked me up and tossed me onto my bed. This time, I definitely swooned.

We didn’t properly talk until the next morning, while I lay with my head on his chest, my fingers lazily pulling through the curls of his chest hair. “Go on then,” I said. “What’s all this?”

Mark yawned. “What’s what?” he asked.

I lightly slapped his six-pack. “Who invited He-Man over here?”

He laughed. “I bet you had a thing for He-Man didn’t you?” he said, running a hand down my back and squeezing my bum, avoiding the question.

“No really,” I insisted. “What happened to my sexy teddy bear I sent off?” I steeled myself. “I bet it was for all those sexy ozzy men, eh?” I forced myself to laugh.

Mark was silent, and didn’t move.

I held my breath. “It’s fine, you know. We said. Date whoever.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said simply, after a while. “I umm… couldn’t bring myself to. That’s why I spent so much time in the gym actually. To take my mind off of…” He trailed off. “Did you? You know…”

“One guy,” I said. “Just a date, you know, nothing…" I added quickly, keen to reassure him. "It was awful.” I sighed. “No, it was probably fine, it just wasn’t…” I looked over at him, took in his chiseled jawline and perfect cheekbones. “It wasn’t you.” We stayed like that for a while, just smiling at each other. I shuffled up his body to kiss him, and rolled over. “I might have to change my stance on that if you don’t grow your moustache back though.”

We were back to our old routine almost immediately, illicit feedings and all. By the time Mark had regrown his moustache, his abs had been hidden by soft fat and he was on his way back to the Mark I knew and loved. It’s like his body missed the fat - it piled on faster than it had the first time, and within a few months he’d put on all his lost weight, plus extra. His newfound muscles clearly faded a little, being neglected so thoroughly by time spent away from the gym, but they provided a firm base for all the fat to cling to, so that all his fat was perkier and bouncier than last time - I was in heaven.

“I need to lose some weight,” Mark murmured around one of his breakfast donuts one morning. I looked over to see him trying to tug a pair of scruffy work jeans closed, but there were several inches of soft fat between the button and its hole. I inhaled and set my shoulders - it was time to bite the bullet.

“I don’t think you need to lose weight,” I started, nonchalantly.

Mark laughed and shook his gut. I fought to stop myself from getting hard. “Look at me - I’m 20 stone and can’t fit into 40 inch trousers. 40 inches! I need to lose weight,” he repeated.

I stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on each side of his middle. “I like it,” I told him matter of factly, before kissing him.

He smiled and returned my kiss. “You’re sweet, and I know that you’ll love me no matter what size I am, yada-yada-yada, but come on,” he slapped his belly again. “This is getting ridiculous.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I like it. I…” I inhaled deeply. “I prefer it. Actively prefer you fat, actually.”

He stared at me and blinked, not speaking for almost a whole minute. “You… like me fat?” he asked, finally.

I nodded. "Mm-hmm," I said, as casually as I could pretend to be.

He squinted his eyes at me. “Fatter?” he continued.

“I… wouldn’t complain,” I said slowly, studying his face.

He took a few steps away from me and looked down at himself, as if seeing his body for the first time. He hefted his gut a couple of times, almost experimentally. His hands drifted upwards, squeezed his soft pecs. I just watched, knowing he needed some space. Finally, he raised his head to look at me. “Why?” he asked simply.

I shrugged. “Why is anyone attracted to anything, you know? Big guys have always just done it for me, I guess,” I explained. He carried on looking at me inquisitively, clearly expecting me to continue. “I mean… it just seems more manly, you know? Like you’re tall and you’re hairy and you’ve got this great moustache and hot face, and being bigger is just one more thing that just makes you even more masculine, you know?” He nodded and I saw him subtly flex, as if in admiration of himself. “So you’re okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I mean, if it means I don’t have to diet or go to the gym, why not?” he laughed, and carried on getting ready for work. “You might need to pop out today to buy me some new clothes though,” he added.

I nodded and smiled, happy that inevitable, awkward conversation went as well as could I could realistically hope. I started to get set up for my day working from home, and brought Mark a donut as he was about to leave, kissing him on the cheek as I passed it over.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked carefully at the donut. “Did you do this Ben?” he asked, after a moment or two.

“What?” I asked. “Yes Mark, I brought you the donut. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No. Not the donut. Me. Did you make me fat?”

I swallowed. Hard. “What? Mark. How could I make you fat? I can’t eat for you,” I pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I put on weight almost as soon as I met you. You’ve always given me half of your dinner, told me to get dessert, stopped me going to the gym.”

“Mark, you can’t seriously be accusing me of manipulating you into gaining weight,” I told him, feeling myself shake a little. "You have a big appetite." Was I trying to convince him, or myself?

“But did you?” he pressed.

I paused just a little too long and he sighed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not like I forced you to eat anything!” I protested. “You enjoyed the food, you wanted it, you never cared about putting on weight, never enjoyed the gym. I just tried to give you permission to let yourself go a bit.”

“But you didn’t Ben!” he snapped. “You didn’t give me permission because never had a choice!”

“Mark, come on,” I reached towards him, but he knocked my hands away. “I’m sorry for being sneaky, but that’s all it was - a bit sneaky. I never lied, I never convinced you to do anything you didn’t want to, I just made the choice a bit easier.”

He opened the door. “I’m going to stay at my parents for a bit,” he said.

“Mark, no,” I pleaded.

“I just… I just need some time to think.” He moved through the door.

“Please Mark, I love you.”

He sighed. “I love you too,” he said. “It’s just a lot.”

The door closed. The day was a write-off. I spent the whole day cleaning and tidying, scrubbing floors and counters and remaking my bed. I thankfully didn’t have any meetings, and the only work I needed to do was busy-body work that no-one would notice was getting done badly. I fell back into old routines - didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, Carole King, Richard Curtis.

Staying at his parents “for a bit” meant a couple of weeks, as it turned out. I was mid-Notting Hill when I heard the door open and I turned to see Mark walk in, an old band t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of his gut. I rushed over to him, but stopped before I reached him, unsure of what was about to happen. He closed the distance and pulled me into a hug. I melted into him, and we stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I overreacted. I… freaked out.” He scratched his gut. “You were right. It could have happened in any relationship, I just…” He closed his eyes. “I’ve been fit for a really long time, you know, and I’ve never done a proper relationship, and I always felt like people just use me for sex and all of a sudden I find out that you’re a big part of why I’ve put on so much weight and it just felt like… Like you were changing me.”

I shook my head and hugged him again. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to change. You’re exactly what I want, any weight, I promise.”

He hugged me back. “I want to change for you,” he murmured into my hair. He pulled away and held my shoulders, smiling. “I spent a lot of time trying to figure stuff out and… you're right. It’s hot.” He slapped his gut. “I get it, I think. I like being big and I like eating and I like that you like it.” I must have looked skeptical because he carried on. “Okay, I’m not, like, thrilled with putting on quite so much, but I also don’t care enough to lose you over it, and I can see where you’re coming from.” I didn’t know what to say, so just kissed him, running my hands under his t-shirt and up his love handles. He pulled away. “I want you to get fat as well though,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I think you should put on weight as well,” he said again. “To see what it’s like.”

“Mark, I… I thought you’d forgiven me. I said I was sorry.,” I said.

“I’m not saying it as some kind of punishment or whatever,” he said, and patted my own flat stomach. “I’m saying that I think you’ll like it. That I’ll like it.”

“I think you might be confused,” I told him. “I don’t want to gain weight,” I explained. “I just like fat guys. It’s a different thing.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I didn’t want to gain weight either, and it turns out I kind of like it.” He squeezed his gut for emphasis. “You already like all this stuff, and I just think you owe it to yourself to see whether you like all the aspects of it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You want this?”

Mark shrugged. “Why not? Maybe it’ll be hot, and if you don’t like the first twenty pounds, you can lose it all faster than I’ll be able to lose all this.” He slapped his gut and sent it shaking.

“I uh… okay,” I agreed. “Yeah, I’ll try it out.”

The changes to our classic routine were unsettling at first. No more subtly suggesting dessert or quietly giving extra portions, now Mark would quite happily take seconds and snack throughout the day. He also made sure he wasn’t alone though - everything he ate, he would make me match, to the point that most days I’d end the day cradling my too full stomach while he gently rubbed it for me. Being more open about my preferences meant that we could start introducing food into the bedroom as well - sex now meant ice cream and chocolate and whole-cakes, all eaten off each other’s bodies or while Mark was deep inside of me.

While Mark’s gains kept up a good pace, especially for a man his size, the weight hit my body like a freight train. Without the base of muscle that Mark had, my gains were much softer, and spread across my body as opposed to Mark’s firm core ball gut and fat covered muscles. I found myself loving it - I'd get distracted by the way my flesh would slide past itself, the gentle restriction of clothes just on the verge of being too tight, and the pillowy softness of my body. I would find myself in work-meetings slipping a finger between shirt buttons to stroke around my navel, and it became one of Mark’s favourite jokes to point out when I’d mindlessly pull my shirt up while at home so I could play with my underbelly.

"You not going to lose too much weight while I'm gone, big guy?" Mark asked, kissing me on the cheek as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

I swallowed the last of the custard slice I was eating. "You're only going for a week," I pointed out. "Besides, you've managed to put nearly a hundred pounds on me in less than a year, I don't think I'm likely to stop losing weight anytime soon."

"Oh, I see," Mark said laughing. "It's me who put all that weight on you is it? You didn't have anything to do with it?"

"I should be more worried about you!" I said, changing the subject. "Going with all those skinny twigs - they're hardly going to make sure you're eating right."

He gripped his gut with both hands and lifted it. "It's a stag do," he said simply. "My diet's going to consist of beer and kebabs. I don't think you have to worry."

I kissed him goodbye, our guts melding into one another, and he left to get his taxi. I made my mind up to give him something special to come back to - as much weight as I could conceivably gain in the week he was away. I was sure I could put on five pounds (we both did that easily in the week between last Christmas and New Years), but how much more could I do?

Me and Mark were both used to four enormous meals as standard by now, so I added multiple tubs of ice cream and gainer shakes each day on top, to really kickstart my growth. I spent the next week bloated, groggy and uncomfortable - it was one of the hottest things I've ever done.

By the time Mark was back, I'd managed to push eleven more pounds onto my body, bringing me up to a cool 267 pounds. He walked into me lying prone on the sofa, shirt off, fresh stretch marks covering my gut, melted ice cream dripping onto soft moobs. I struggled to sit up to greet him, burping through a smile.

"Uhh, hi," he said, not moving from the doorway. His gaze hovered somewhere over my head.

"How was Berlin?" I asked, finally managing to sit up with a soft "ooft".

"Yeah it was…" he trailed off. "You know, fun. Good to see the lads." Still by the doorway. Still no eye contact.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, the ice cream sitting less comfortably in my stomach by the second.

"Yeah, no, it was just…" He finally moved away from the doorway, pacing around the room, eyes looking at everything except my expanded form. "They kept on taking the piss out of me," he said eventually. "You know, for being so fat."

"Right…" I said slowly. "But you're… you're okay with that, right?" I stood up with some effort and moved towards him. He moved towards the kitchen, still not meeting my eyes. "You've said you find it hot?" I felt self-conscious now, and looked around for a t-shirt I could put on.

He sighed, and finally looked at me. "Maybe not everything has to be hot," he said simply. "Like, yeah, it's great for sex but… Christ Ben, I'm over 24 stone now! Look at me!" He gestured down to his body, swollen with fat in every direction. "Every fucking day was just me trailing behind everyone else, completely out of breath, putting up with fucking jokes every other minute about my double chin and moobs and rolls-"

"Okay, your mates are arseholes!" I said. "Does that matter? Your workmates make jokes like that all the time."

"It's not my mates!" His voice was growing louder. "They're right! We've- I've-" He sighed and rubbed his face, his double chin moulding under his fingers. "We've taken it too far." He looked at me in the eyes. "This," he gestured down at himself and looked guiltily at me, "isn't just 'being a big guy' anymore. It's really, properly fat."

We tried to avoid talking about it for a few days. Then talked about dieting, going to the gym, building muscle, what weight might be a good compromise. Every conversation turned into an argument. Every meal, every shopping list.

I'd gotten so used to over-eating that I'd sneak off in the middle of the night or when he was at work to gorge. The couple of times he caught me turning into raging arguments. The times I caught him doing the same weren't much better.

Three weeks later, he'd packed his bags and gone to his parents. Whereas in the past I'd have stopped eating, I'd now fundamentally rewired my brain. Comfort eating was now de rigueur and every day seemed to overshadow the last. My snacks would have left a grown man satisfied, my meals turned into feasts, ice cream filled the time between like it filled in gaps in my stomach.

I ballooned. My tits drooped, my stomach swelled, my thighs chafed. I was grateful my job was mainly work-from-home, since my old clothes became restrictive to the point of pain. Buying clothes became a matter of adding the biggest size available to my cart and hoping for the best, waiting for the day I had to move to big-and-tall shops. Whenever I did have to go into the office, button-ups strained, my belt dug in, ties became comedically short. I saw my coworkers talking to each other, jokingly at first, then with concern. How could they not? I took up twice the space that I had done not long before, my face was round and jowly and soft. HR sent an email asking if I'd like a stronger chair. Emails were sent round reminding people about the gym memberships that the company offered, ostensibly office-wide, but I knew who they were targeted at.

When I reached 325 pounds I realised I almost weighed as much as Mark had when he left. Would I celebrate, I wondered, once I passed that milestone? Eat a cake to myself? Would that even register at this point?

I heard the door open and close, and I twisted around as best as I could. My flexibility had reached a critical point - now every action came with resistance, as fat bunched against fat and stretched around the sheer bulk of me. I looked around desperately at the mess around me, the ice cream cartons, cake boxes, tubs of cake frosting eaten straight.

"Ben?" Mark asked. I stood up as quickly as I could, tried to pull down my t-shirt so it covered the rest of my gut, did my best to button my shorts. I felt his hands on my arms before I even had a chance to get a good look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I looked up, finally. "You've lost weight," I said. It was true. His gut, his double chin, his tits, all were still there, big, but diminished.

He chuckled. "The lads at the site still call me a fat bastard," he said and shook his belly. It was true, I supposed - by anyone else's standards he was still obese. "You, erm, haven't," he added, quietly. "Lost weight, I mean."

I felt huge. Disgusting. "I can lose it," I promised, tears welling up in my eyes. "I just missed you so much and-"

"No," Mark said.

"No?" I asked.

"No," he repeated. "I don't need you to lose weight, I don't need…" He sighed. "I thought I needed to get fit again. Lose all the weight. I started going to the gym, dieting. Started seeing results. Got down to two-sixty."

I peered at him. "You're not…" I began.

"No, I'm about two-eighty now. Probably a bit more," he answered my unspoken question. "I realised being smaller wasn't making me happy. Once I stopped dieting, the weight piled back on." He ran a finger across his moustache and looked around nervously. "Then I realised the reason I wasn't happy was because I wasn't with you." I noticed for the first time that he was holding back tears.

I moved towards him and help him for a while. He gripped me tight, his strong arms sinking into my soft back.

A while later, we were sat at the table, a chinese takeaway in front of us - a small attempt at normality.

"So," Mark said, looking at me sideways and speaking slowly, as if to test the waters. "What are you weighing at these days?" he asked.

I sucked air through my teeth. I knew this was coming. I wasn't upset as such - by this point, our relationship was defined by fat. It was a shock though, him coming back having lost so much weight, me having put on so much. "Three-two-five," I said, as calmly as I could. "Well, a couple of weeks ago at least."

Mark whistled and reached over to slide a hand across my belly, as if in admiration. "God, did you ever imagine you'd be the bigger one in the relationship?" he asked. I felt my face go red, and I started to stammer a response. "I've got to be honest," he continued. "I'm pretty jealous."

I choked. "Jealous?" I managed to spit out. "Of being this big?"

He sighed wistfully. "I've always been a big guy, you know? And then when I started going out with you I got used to being the biggest guy in most situations. And I definitely never thought I'd be smaller than you."

I smirked. "Fancy changing that?"

He chuckled. "Just you wait," he said. "I'll be the bigger one again in no time."

I grinned and picked up a rib. "Good," I said. "No man of mine is going to be under three hundred. You'll have to hurry up and catch me though," I told him. "I'm going to be a moving target."

He smiled. "Sounds great." He spooned some food onto his plate. "See you at three hundred and fifty pounds?" he teased.

I grinned. "At least."

[kombuuuu]

oh I have a request! Miguel x reader where he teaches you how to dance? your so bad at ballroom and Miguel was trained in it when he was younger and can't help but intervene when he sees you messing up the steps.

Hold my swaying Heart.

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

“I don’t know how to dance..” “I’ll teach you.”

i had to research how to waltz and why is it so confusing

He’s so baby 😻 (there’s bugs whispering in my ears)

To say that Miguel didn’t like a lot of people would be an understatement.

He thought most of the people he was protecting, the people he’d risked his entire life for—,

,We’re at best naïve, and worst, plain stupid. Believing that they were out of harms way because of the gift they’d been given.

You were an exception.

He didn’t see you as a burden, or an idiot. Naïve, maybe a little. But not in the way where you could get hurt physically, but more emotionally.

He rather saw you as someone he could care for, as you had done rather terribly caring for yourself.

Being dependent and trusting compared to the Spidey people he met day by day. You were sweet, loyal, and god you would not leave his head.

So when Peter had invited him to some stupid dance, and said you were coming with a sly smile on his face, he’d begrudgingly agreed.

Which is what led him to right now.

—

God you looked gorgeous. A sleek white dress complimenting your features, slit running down from your thigh. It hugged every sweet form of your body, giving him a view he was rather thankful for. Sheer white gloves covered your hands, and the pearls you wore sat nicely against your collarbone.

You looked elegant, and he couldn’t get enough.

Off dancing with Hobie, stumbling and stepping on his toes. Laughing with him while he told you how dancing was just a social construct, anyways. Though he laughed with you.

The scene was pretty, he’d admit. It was a gorgeous hall, oak wood floor expanding enough room for eight seat rounded dining tables with tea light candles on white cloth, and a dance floor. The band was set on the elevated stage at the corner of the room. Playing nice, easy classical.

Roses and fancy spoons, along with an over the top chandelier.

Everything looked rather expensive, it suited his taste.

He caught Hobies stare from across the room and the brit smirked.

Miguel glared at him.

Don’t.

He watched as Hobie leaned down to whisper in your ear, making eye contact with him the whole time. His fingers twitching in anger and jealousy.

The brunette’s back straightened, his figure hulking over most in the room. Adorned in such a restricting suit probably wasn’t helping his case. Biceps straining against the thick fabric, he wondered if something had gone wrong at the tailor, or if the woman who had done his measurements had also done this on purpose.

His attention refocused when a new song had started, a song he knew very dear to himself. Years of his childhood as a dancer paying off, his memory jerking at the familiar notes.

Waltz of the Flowers.

He watched as Hobie tried to lead you through the steps, a sort of urgency running through him. You stumbled again, further into the brit before you, and Miguel gave up trying to stop himself.

Slowly making his way over, he did nothing to stop the confident expression Hobie wore, the kid was doing this on purpose, this was bait.

And yet he can’t stop himself.

“Mind if I step in?”

You looked up at him in surprise, eyes twinkling. “No, of course not,” Hobie snickered for a second before covering it with a clear of his throat. “,Be careful with ‘is one. She needs a little teachin’.” “Hey!”

You lightly smacked Hobie’s arm, grinning all the while. And as Hobie detached himself from the both of you, he clapped a hand over Miguel’s shoulder, not having to lean to whisper to him. “Don’t fuck it up, mate.”

Before Miguel could reprimand him, he waltzed off somewhere to find Pavitr.

Turning his attention back to you, he’d realised you’d been staring at him. Getting caught leading to your eyes quickly darting to his chest, before you realised that kind of made you look like a creep and ended up just shutting them for a moment. He laughed lightly, stepping closer to you. “You ok to dance, Conejita?”

“Yes! I uhh—,” Your sentence broke for a second and you opened your eyes, clearing your throat. “,I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Okay.” Breathless, you agreed.

He hummed, settling his hands in yours and guiding your feet into position.

“You know how to Waltz?”

He looked down at you, eyelashes fluttering pretty against his cheeks as he blinked.

“Didn’t spend 17 years learning not to know.” He chuckled, a lighthearted jab, something you were both comfortable in participating.

“Hmm..—“ You giggled before you could stifle it, “,Damn.. If it took you 17 years to learn, I think I might want a new teacher.”

“Oh—,” He laughed a challenge. “Oh, you wanna go down that route, Querida?”

You hummed through your humour.

“No— No.. I’ll learn.” You looked up at him, the light of the chandelier haloing his outline.

A smile danced across your sweet face.

“Good.”

His voice dipped lower, hand squeezing yours just a little tighter, a little more possessive.

“Now pay attention.”

“I am paying attention.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah—, I’m not.”

He snorted, redirecting his focus to where you were slowly swaying to the song.

“Move your feet just like this, C’mon.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect, you’re doing good. Follow my lead, just like that.”

The praise made you shiver, you willed away the feeling to focus.

“Good, you’re a quick learner.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

He watched the fabric of your dress sway when you moved with him, tripping over your steps every now and again and muttering simple apologies to him. Which he promptly shut down.

He guided you through the waltz, telling you when to break off and when to halt in a pause. He talked you through every step, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you. By the end of it, you were a flustered mess.

The song came to a close, Miguel leading the whole way through it. When there was no more music, and the other dancers around you had started to disperse—,

Miguel dropped on of his hands from yours, letting it come to rest on hi shoulder, the other sliding to your hips.

“You’re pretty good, for a learner.”

You snorted, “Yeah?”

He hummed his affirmation.

“Well, you’re a pretty good teacher.”

He scoffed back, rolling his eyes and smirking.

“Think I should become a dance instructor?”

“For spider people?”

“Well, feel like they’d be a bit more clumsy.”

“Mm, it’s either that or save the multiverse so—, choice is basically already made.”

“Dance instructor.”

“Definitely.”

He smiled and laughed, avidly ignoring the relieved expressions of the small group of teens, along with Peter and Jess.

When another slow song started up again, instead of waltzing you. He’d decided just to let you slow dance with him.

Your head resting on his chest, and your deft hand in his—, something changed at that moment.

He knew you both felt it, a spark of some kind. And if five years in future “Waltz of the Flowers” was the song he chose for a wedding, it would only mean so much to you.

—

this probably SOOO ooc i have no clue how to write babydoll 😖

(pookie bear 🐻 ⬇️)

[athenasdragon]

Lemon Meringue

Pairing: Gale/m!Tav (Oran is a half-orc oath of the ancients paladin)

Rating: G

Canon compliant, established relationship, angst(ish) with a happy ending

Read on AO3

After departing Moonrise Tower, Oran (Tav) is torn between his love for Gale and his reservations about the wizard's ambitions. After all, his paladin oath charges him with protecting natural order. Could Gale's aspirations of godhood--or Oran's concerns--drive them apart?

A few scenes between the end of Act 2 and the middle of Act 3 exploring a complicated romance. Partially inspired by conversations with @blasphemyenjoyer.

Oran was having trouble focusing on what Gale was saying. They had just dragged themselves back upstairs from the Absolute’s lair; Oran could feel splatters of blood drying on his face, could smell the funk of the mindflayer lair and the dusty-sweet incense of Myrkul on his clothing. He and Shadowheart were exhausted beyond healing, leaving all four members of their party limping, bleeding, and bruised. He never felt more like a stupid hulking beast than in the wake of a hard battle. Too tired for the words in Common that were already difficult to enunciate around his tusks, he had slouched away from Jahiera seeking quiet and a hot meal. Even Astarion was uncharacteristically silent.

Gale, despite a black eye and the viscera clinging to his own hair, was speaking to him—or trying to, as it took some effort to match Oran’s long stride. “We must visit Sorcerous Sundries when we reach Baldur’s Gate,” he was saying when Oran pulled his attention to his words. “They will have the texts on Karsus to help us understand that crown. That is the key to controlling the Elder Brain.”

The idea of Gale eagerly seeking out another Netherese artifact so soon after nearly losing his life to the consequences of a first was even more difficult for Oran to understand than his apparent energy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he responded simply, feeling a prickle of anger that it even needed to be said.

Gale forged ahead regardless. “Just think of the power we would have. The good we could do! In any case, we must arm ourselves with information about the enemy we face. It’s clear Orin and Gortash are using those crystals to control the crown. If we don’t understand how it works, what hope do we have of defeating them?”

“Fine,” Oran agreed tersely. He stopped for a moment and brought his hand to rest against the side of Gale’s face where the deepest bruising was blooming down over his cheekbone. “Why don’t you find a cleric to take a look at you? I can’t heal any more until I rest.”

Some emotion passed briefly over Gale’s face, as enigmatic as everything else about the wizard, then faded to an understanding smile. “Of course. You’re tired. We can discuss this more another time.”

Oran had to stifle a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He grazed his thumb over Gale’s cheek once, conscious that the skin must be tender, then dropped his hand. “I love you. I’ll see you at camp.”

He watched as Gale turned and left through a doorway to seek healing from one of the Harpers. A large burn had bitten out the corner of his cloak. It looked fixable, but probably not until they reached the city. Only once the charred edge of the fabric had disappeared did Oran turn and keep walking towards the out-of-the-way room where they had pitched camp.

It felt wretched to think, but his romance with Gale had been leading for some time towards a set conclusion. Whatever Oran’s protests, they both knew the wizard would have to sacrifice himself to destroy the Absolute.

Then he didn’t.

When Oran had asked—begged—Gale had chosen him. In the moment it felt incredible. Who had ever chosen him in that way? Who had ever looked at him with such fondness?

But the doubts were growing louder every second. He hadn’t been motivated by thoughts of the many innocents still near Moonrise who would be destroyed in the explosion. Not one thought for their other companions nor the Harpers above nor the refugees still at the Last Light Inn. It was a moment of pure desperation, such selfish impulse he almost expected to feel the stomach-dropping emptiness of his powers guttering out for breaking his oath.

And now here they both were. Battered and bruised, exhausted, still infected with tadpoles and Gale still host to a power he could barely manage, they were nonetheless alive. And together.

So what now? How to pursue the Absolute? How to take on the other two powers holding its leash when a confrontation with one had nearly ended them? How to make up for their missed opportunity to stop the invasion once and for all?

And another slew of questions tugged still more urgently at him. Oran could see now that he had fallen prey to the charming melancholy of the dying ember—the safety of the love that could never last. He truly cared for Gale, but it had almost felt easier to fall headlong into the relationship knowing it was doomed. What if Gale’s search for power led him somewhere Oran couldn’t follow? More likely, what if Gale took new stock and found the hero he had likened to a god was no more than an ugly jaded half-orc with a few divine magic tricks?

His thoughts thus swirling ever lower, Oran was relieved to see that Astarion and Shadowheart had beaten him back to the group and were already regaling their companions with tales of what they had seen below. He forced a weary smile at those who turned when he entered and slunk off to a quick meal and his bedroll, sleep taking him the moment his head touched the ground.

-------------

The circus was a welcome diversion after the darkness and hardships of the last weeks. Though desperation was thick in the air in Rivington, the sun shone bright and Oran felt he could relax a fraction.

Perhaps he had been overthinking things with Gale. Everyone in their group was facing existential threats, both personal and civilizational. Of course the wizard wanted to learn more about the Elder Brain; if they could disrupt the crown somehow, perhaps Gortash and Orin would be unable to execute their invasion plans.

Anyway, Gale had dropped the subject since Moonrise. The second night after the battle they slept curled up together as they had grown accustomed. Oran could barely sleep, nearly giddy with the feeling of Gale’s heartbeat against him. Alive. Alive because Gale had trusted him, had wanted to be with him. To both be here in the sun once more was a great gift. He intended to make the most of whatever moments of levity they might encounter.

And thus they were playing the dryad’s love game.

“If the wizard were given the choice, what food would he be?”

Oran thought a moment. Nothing heavy, nothing common or plain. Something… luxurious, but you would have it every day if you could. He thought of the feeling in his chest when Gale had first made him laugh, and Gale’s sly little satisfied smile. There was a sharpness to his humor that surprised him at times. And there was the smell of his hair when he curled against Oran’s chest: lavender and citrus.

“A lemon merengue!” Oran blurted, remembering the treat he had savored once at a confectionary in Baldur’s Gate—a bright, cheerful memory. “Tart, and…” He hesitated over his words, thinking of the soaring feeling he had felt when they first kissed. “…light.”

To his surprise, Gale’s face twisted in disapproval. “Is that all you think of me?”

Oran’s heart sank. He didn’t know what was so wrong with lemon merengue, but clearly he had offended.

Before he could untangle his faux pas and explain himself, the dryad tutted disapprovingly and continued. “When is Gale happiest?”

This one at least was easy. Though Oran had declined Gale’s offer of whatever weave-touched lovemaking he had been envisioning, he did enjoy a tour of the wizard’s rooms in Waterdeep. Gale hadn’t needed to tell him the balcony was his favorite; he could have guessed by how vivid the illusion became as soon as they stepped out the door. He remembered the fresh sea smell and the sunset painted across the sky.

“When on his—his balcony in Waterdeep,” Oran said, tripping on his words halfway through as he doubted himself. What if he had missed something else obvious? He had offended Gale once already.

But his fears were quickly assuaged by Gale’s smile. So far so good.

“Finally,” the druid asked in her unplaceable accent, “what is the wizard’s greatest flaw?”

Perfect, Oran thought wryly. No room for offense there. Just look into the eyes of a man you confessed your love to less than two weeks ago and tell him what you think is his worst quality.

Gale raised one eyebrow as Oran hesitated over his answer.

He could name any number of petty annoyances. The interrupting, the blank stare over your shoulder when he had an idea while you were speaking, the endless practicing of cantrips at camp. And there were the more serious issues, like his obvious lingering need for Mystra’s approval and his obsession with using magic to ascend above mortality in some way. All things that had given Oran pause throughout their acquaintance.

But if the question was greatest flaw, Oran had an answer.

“He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead.”

Gale smiled with a sadness that gripped Oran’s heart. “Hearing it said out loud—yes, I fear it is true. Fate seems determined to make a sacrifice of me. But, perhaps fate can yet be defied.” He strode across the log to meet Oran, one soft hand cupping his face as he kissed his cheek. “Well done, my love. It seems we are well-suited indeed. Although there is always room for improvement.”

Oran sighed with relief as he wrapped an arm around Gale. Of course there would always be room for improvement; someone like him could never measure up to the handsome, witty archmage. He wondered privately how he would have fared without the band of intellect which had rested on his brow almost since they first met. But for now, he had passed.

-------------

Everyone was tense by the time they arrived back at camp. Their pleasant circus diversion had turned upsetting fast. Oran was still reeling from being attacked by, and subsequently killing, the facsimile of a beloved local entertainer.

Luckily it was Halsin’s turn with the cook pot and he had outdone himself with their newfound access to fresh ingredients. It seemed like the heartiest, most delicious food Oran had ever eaten. After supper he was more than happy to lean against a log by the fire and let his mind wander as he stared into the flames. They were just far enough from Rivington that the woods were quiet and peaceful as dusk fell.

To his pleasant surprise, Gale joined him. He wordlessly eased himself down onto the grass and leaned against Oran, tipping his head back to rest on his shoulder.

Oran wrapped an arm around his waist. Gale was no short man, but he didn’t need to slouch much for Oran to comfortably rest his chin on his head. There was that familiar lemon and lavender over a comforting library-ish scent. It made him wonder when Gale found the time to wash and dry his hair. Perhaps it was done with magic.

Oran’s limbs relaxed as he felt Gale’s warmth against him. Something about his presence always made Oran feel safe. Although he was frequently the one shielding the wizard in battle and picking him up off the ground afterwards, it was almost as common for Oran to find himself surrounded by foes in a poor tactical position and be suddenly rescued by a well-placed fireball or lightning bolt. More than that, Gale always seemed to know what to do next, or have something insightful to say, and wanted to be along for the adventure. Even when he stayed behind at camp Oran knew things were in good hands.

Even the thought that Gale had purposely sought him out in this moment was comforting after the tensions of the past few days. Suddenly, nodding off right here beside the fire seemed like the most appealing thing in the world.

“I’m sorry the circus was a wash,” Gale murmured, bringing Oran back from the edge of sleep. “I know you were excited about it.”

“Mmm… it’s all right. It was still nice to get some sun. Speak to some people who weren’t undead. You know, clown murder aside.”

Gale chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting to run into Orin so soon. Did you notice anything odd about that druid before she revealed herself?”

“Not especially. I was a little focused on answering her questions.”

“Ah yes… you know, I was thinking that I never got to answer any questions about you.”

The thought had not occurred to Oran at all. The fire popped loudly while he fumbled with his words for a moment. “What is there to say? You know me. I’m just… me.”

“Well, if I were asked to tell your biggest flaw, I think it would be how you undersell yourself,” Gale said with firm affection. “You’re incredible. I still have so much to learn about you.”

Oran blushed. No one had ever complimented him the way Gale did. It was nice, but sometimes his effusiveness reminded Oran of the way he talked about Mystra. Like Oran was just some heroic symbol instead of a person.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, rather than addressing the rest of Gale’s statement.

“When are you happiest?”

A log in the fire crumbled to embers, sending up a flurry of sparks to mingle with the stars. Around camp, Lae’zel and Shadowheart were arguing with no real claws and Karlach and Wyll laughed together on dishwashing duty. Someone was snoring loudly. Yenna, the child who had joined them that morning, was feeding her cat scraps over in the old barn. The air smelled like food and pine and smoke and sweet hay. Oran was ever-aware of the parasite, but for the moment it merely picked up on the web of contentment and companionship which stretched between the minds of those at the camp.

Gale had placed his hand—warm and soft—over Oran’s where it rested against his stomach and was tracing absentminded circles with his thumb. Light seemed to bloom in Oran’s chest. It was truly unbelievable that someone so beautiful and intelligent could choose him like this. And yet here they were, together, and it seemed Gale was enjoying it too. Maybe things could go on like this. Maybe this was what un-doomed romance could look like someday, occasional discomfort and all.

“This isn’t so bad,” Oran said, indicating their surroundings with a movement of his chin he knew Gale could feel. “It’s not jumping for joy happy I suppose, but it’s nice. The company is good,” he added with a light squeeze of his arm.

Gale chuckled. “I’m glad you’re happy, though maybe when this is all over we can set your standards a little higher.”

They rested together in silence. Oran wondered if Gale could feel the pure contentment rippling off him.

“Well, what about the third question?” Gale asked after a while. “If you were a food, what would you be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Oran mused, pulling himself back from the edge of dozing. “Stew or something.”

“Because I was thinking,” Gale continued as if he hadn’t heard him, “If I were a dessert, which I’m still not sure I agree with, I might be something… heartier?”

Oran suppressed a groan. “Are you still upset I said lemon merengue?”

“Well, of course I’m not upset, but I don’t know how accurate a representation—I mean, tart and light? That hardly feels…” The wizard shifted slightly. “Unless that’s what you really think. I don’t know.”

Oran realized too late he was backed into a conversational corner. “I had never considered what food you would be, my love. I just thought of something I liked.”

That answer seemed to assuage Gale for the moment and he fell silent once more. Oran tipped his head back against the log, stewing over his lover’s dissatisfaction.

-------------

After a long and trying day sneaking around Sorcerous Sundries, Oran was eager to discuss what Gale had learned of Karsus. Fortunately the wizard was waiting for him in their room at the Elfsong; he beckoned Oran over and kissed his cheek.

Gale smiled self-consciously when Oran grinned at him. “I don’t think I deserve you at times. I’ve told you of my ambitions—the likes many would baulk at—and yet you remain by my side.”

Guilt twisted in Oran’s chest. It was precisely his doubts about Gale’s ambitions that had led to the distance between them of late. He worried Gale’s search for power was taking him someplace Oran couldn’t follow. “I want to support you. But some further explanation of what you intend wouldn’t be amiss.”

“Let me show you exactly what ascension will mean to me. To us.” Gale leaned in and gestured between them to emphasize. “Words alone are not enough. Permit me to show you. Please, close your eyes a moment.” He held out his hands, palms up—inviting.

Oran placed his hands in Gale’s. As always, they felt rough and unwieldy compared to the wizard’s soft touch. He noticed a bruise on Gale’s forearm and sent a small pulse of divine energy through his fingers to heal it, just catching Gale’s half-smile before he closed his eyes.

Gale spoke a short phrase and Oran felt the gentle lurch of their surroundings changing. He was seated now, hands gripping Gale tighter as his head spun for a moment.

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see. But don’t be alarmed—I’m here with you.” Gale’s voice was soothing as he squeezed Oran’s hands. “Now… open your eyes.”

Oran obeyed. They were on a small rowboat which rocked gently in an expanse of sunset-colored energy. Stars peeked through ribboned veils of aurora. He lifted one hand and drew it through the space next to them, leaving a bluish ripple. It was beautiful; it reminded him of the sky Gale had conjured for their first night together. And Gale looked at home here in his purple and silver brocade. His earring twinkled like another star. He looked pleased with the vision and a little nervous to see Oran’s reaction.

Returning both hands to Gale’s grasp, Oran smiled. Their surroundings were beautiful, but only Gale was real—his eyes a little tired, his smile a little strained, his hair not quite perfect, his pulse quick and strong where their skin touched. Precious and tangible and impermanent. Oran had never quite figured out how to tell him that was better than any magic in the world. He opened his mouth to try, but Gale spoke first.

“The Outer Planes,” he explained, turning his head to gesture at their environment. “This is where gods dwell. Where they observe us from afar. Where they make playthings of us. They would keep all of this from us. Power. The possibilities.” He was growing heated now. “They only want us to serve them, pray to them… and ultimately, die for them.” He gripped Oran’s hands tight and pulled himself closer. “But what if we didn’t need them? What if we wielded their power instead, and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen. I could make this illusion a reality, with you by my side.”

Grimacing, Oran watched the reflection of the aurora overhead dance in Gale’s wide eyes. His oath didn’t come up often, but surely Gale understood that this was precisely the type of upset to the natural order he had sworn to prevent. “Are you saying you want to ascend? To claim godhood?”

“No, not like that.” Gale shook his head. “I don’t want to join them. I want to better them. A god’s powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart. The tadpoles, the orb—these threats to our existence—the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind Ao. So let us act ourselves.” Now he pulled both hands free, leaving Oran’s to close on nothing. He gestured widely. “With the power of the crown, any foe would be rendered impotent. Any obstacle would be dwarfed by our might.”

Oran was speechless. There was an eerie pause as their surroundings twinkled in complete silence.

Gale’s face fell as Oran continued to look skeptical. “I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for. With you, I forget my goddess.” He took a shaky breath, leaning forward still further to rest his hands on Oran’s knees. “I love you,” he pled. “Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please.”

The idea that Gale had any question of Oran’s love was like a dagger to his side. Here he thought Gale knew Oran was so devoted it frightened him—that his love for Gale was the only thing that could rival his oath. He thought Gale was reaching for power with the implicit assumption that Oran would follow like a pup on a leash.

But no—the picture was suddenly clear as the tremble of Gale’s lip. His subordinate devotion to Mystra, his clawing and scraping to get on even footing with her only to be cast away, his lofty compliments for Oran. The rich illusions whenever he wanted to impress. The embarrassment when he’d had to explain the orb and his dutiful resignation to Mystra’s command. His off-handed self-consciousness. Gale must have thought so little of himself. And anytime Oran pulled away it must have driven him harder towards this plan.

“I think I’ve been a fool,” Oran whispered.

There was only half a second to see how Gale’s expression crumbled before he ducked his head and sighed. “I understand. I’m… sorry.”

“No Gale, no. No, no.” Oran fell to his knees between them, clutching at Gale’s hands. The wizard looked startled. “I’ve been a fool about this whole thing. I haven’t truly understood what you desired. But it’s your mortal heart that makes you great! I love you, but for the man that you are. Not the god you’d pretend to be.”

Gale furrowed his brow. “But think what I offer. The vastness of eternity to explore, the Weave at our fingertips...” He shook his head as if he was at a loss for words. “You would really prefer me as I am?”

Oran raised a hand to Gale’s cheek. “Of course. You don’t need the power of a god to make a difference. Think of all we’ve accomplished already—the lives we’ve saved, the people we’ve helped. We can’t fix it all. We’re not meant to. But you’re good, and you’re brave, and you’ve taught me so much, and somehow you love me. You’re already everything I could ask.”

Gale smiled for the first time since they had entered the illusion. “I hope you’re right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You’re everything.”

For the first time, Oran was the one who had to lean up into the kiss. This too was warm, and real, and imperfect. As everything was. As they would go on. And as Oran wrapped his arms around Gale to pull him closer, the enormity of his relief seemed echoed in the lights which danced around them.

[hacash]

does anyone remember that scene in thor: ragnarok in the arena where thor attempts to get the hulk to turn back into bruce while yelling ‘don’t worry banner! i’ll get you out!’ while the hulk yells ‘no banner only hulk!’ to no avail.

I like the idea of this being the himbos’ approach to...essentially trying to affectionately enforce a change of heart on a very grumpy nate. it’s the ‘on purpose, i’m going to care about you on purpose’ post, but with hugs and headlocks.

‘don’t worry nate bruv! we’ll have you back to your old self in no time’

‘NO. SHAN’T.’

‘just take our affection and turn good again, boyo’

‘STOP HUGGING ME YOU BASTARDS.’

‘STAY STILL AND ACCEPT OUR LOVE.’

‘I’M EVIL NOW, FUCK OFF!’

[missmungoe]

Please help, I am looking for the scene where Makino and the crew are reunited and they all line up for her to inspect how much they have changed. I absolutely cannot remember which fic it is from 😭

I've got you, anon! That would be the opening scene of chapter 2 of Tethered to Kinder Shores<3

Their return to her necessitated a thorough inspection, but then after ten years there were more than a few changes between them, although in some respects, very little had changed, Shanks thought, observing as she walked the length of her bar from pirate to pirate, his whole crew having cheekily lined up for her to inspect, standing at attention like fresh navy cadets, some elbowing others out of the way to get to the head of the line.

“Hey, I was first!”

“I’m older!”

“I’m better looking!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Yeah,” Shanks said, observing the spectacle from his seat at the bar, those who hadn’t lined up standing ready to do so, but the note of warning went unheeded, met instead with grins, and a prim look from Makino as each pirate bent down for her examination.

Changes were catalogued―beards and ill-conceived moustaches, deeper laugh-lines and grey hairs, tattoos and scars and missing fingers. Ben’s silver mane was noted, with that demure little smile that managed to say more than ten years of teasing from the rest of them combined, but, “It looks dignified,” Makino said, considering their first mate where he stood, his arms crossed and his long-suffering expression conveying that he should be above this kind of foolery, but he’d still lined up like the rest of them.

“Hear that, Ben?” Yasopp shot in, grinning as he leaned close. “Our efforts paid off!”

“I’m so pleased,” Ben deadpanned, although the grin jutting around his cigarette ruined it somewhat.

Undeterred by their teasing, “Many women love a silver fox,” Makino pointed out.

That got their attention, as every head down the line turned to look at their first mate, some of their younger members muttering under their breaths, raking their fingers through their own hair. For his part, Ben just grinned.

“Not everyone needs the silver hair to be a fox,” Shanks said. “Red foxes are a thing.” He swept his hand across himself, and saw how her eyes darted to his half-bared chest. “Exhibit A.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Boss!” a voice called from down the line. “We’ve all seen them!”

“Won’t be long now!”

Spluttering, Shanks flipped them off, although catching Makino's eyes, didn’t think she looked so opposed to the thought, and his look softened as he let their cheeky insubordination slide.

She’d stopped before Yasopp, whose grin said enough about his own assessment, as he turned this way and that to give her a better look.

“Don’t hold back,” he said, as he flexed for good measure.

“You probably should hold back,” Limejuice said.

“For all our sakes,” Snake agreed.

Her eyes smiled, and, “You look spry,” Makino chirped, and had moved on before Yasopp could choke out a reaction, his laughter chased by theirs.

Stopping before him, “Lucky Roo,” Makino said warmly, as he beamed down at her. “You haven’t changed.” Then to the hulking figure beside him, so tall even craning her neck couldn’t meet his eyes, but she didn’t cower, only said, prim, “Bonk Punch.”

That grin usually sent their enemies running, although the look in his eyes was softer, as, “Little monkey,” Bonk Punch returned, his teeth bared, but his fearsome expression faltered when Makino reached up, her palm pressed to his cheek, tilting it a bit to inspect the new scars mapping it. And she said nothing, only saw them, but Shanks knew how it felt to be in the direct trajectory of that look.

Reaching out to touch the top of her head, Bonk Punch just grinned, although Shanks saw how his fingers shook, brushing her kerchief.

Monstar chittered then, climbing down from Bonk Punch's shoulders to hers, his tail curling around her neck as she laughed.

From his seat at the bar, Shanks watched as she moved on, a gentle captain where she walked down the line, tiny compared to every single pirate in his crew, but fearless as she made a point of inspecting them all, like eager cabin boys on their first voyage. And those she didn’t know she took the time to introduce herself, to ask their names and rank and where they came from, her face open and attentive, and in that way that could turn even a sea-weary sailor flustered, and no pirate who’d been in his crew when they’d left her showed surprise at the gentle deference she compelled with only a smile and a few words.

"What do I call you?" she asked the pirate beaming down at her.

"Rockstar, mistress."

She laughed. "Please, just 'Makino'."

"Aye, mistress. I-I mean, Makino!"

"She'd give Garp a run for his money in intimidation," Yasopp mused, observing with amusement as they straightened their backs, some even going so far as to take off their hats.

"Who do you think she learned it from?" Shanks asked.

Her inspection of his crew complete, she came to a stop before him, reclining against the counter; his favourite seat that he’d returned to claim. She was so short that even sitting, she barely reached his chin, but he felt the sudden compulsion to sit straighter in his seat as Makino said gently, “Captain.”

Smiling, “And?” Shanks asked, the roughness in his voice betraying a feeling he hadn’t counted on, but then wondered why he was surprised. “What’s your verdict, barmaid?”

Soft eyes roamed his face, noting the changes, the deeper lines and the salt in his beard, and the occasional vein of silver glimpsed between his red hair, but then for all their teasing, the grey hairs were the least of his worries, observing her thorough inspection, before those doe-brown eyes met his.

He realised he was holding his breath, but before he could release it, a small hand reached for his chin, a touch so gentle it seized his whole body, as she tipped it.

Then Makino smiled, and quipped, “You’ll do.”

His laugh choked from him, and her demure cheek lasted only a second before her grin ruined it, even as the look in her eyes remained; the one that said all he needed to know, but then even if he’d acknowledged his own differences, the one change he’d feared was the way she looked at him.

Still, “This is what I get for my efforts,” Shanks sighed, as she brushed her thumb through his beard. “Didn’t wash or shave for a few days just so I’d look especially rugged for you.”

Makino hummed. “That explains the smell.”

“Hey, you’re going to have to deal with a lot worse when you come out to sea with us,” Shanks reminded her. “Consider this a trial run.”

Her smile brimmed, a feeling in it that couldn’t be contained, and turning his cheek to kiss her fingers, he felt how they shook, but then the reminder had been deliberate, because they hadn’t just come back to her; they’d come back for her.

Turning to her crowded bar, barely big enough to seat all of them now, “It’s quite the crew you’ve brought me this time, Emperor Red-Hair,” Makino said.

He tried not to latch onto the moniker, but then with her, he’d only ever been Captain, but like the salt in his beard and his scars, it was a change, to be acknowledged and catalogued like the rest.

Shanks looked at them all, wearing those stupid grins. “Rogues and vagabonds,” he said. “It’s a wonder I manage to keep them all in line.”

“You manage?” Ben asked.

Ignoring him, “It really says something about my leadership skills,” Shanks said.

Her grin was too sincere to be teasing, and he felt his instinctive response to it, as ridiculously gratified as it had ever been. “And you?” Makino asked him. “Who keeps you in line, my lord of vagabonds?”

He really shouldn’t be so pleased, but it was hard with that look on her face. “I thought it might be a nice challenge for you,” Shanks said. “Shake your quiet life up a bit.”

Her smile trembled, and this time there was no teasing in her voice as Makino said, “You’ve always been good at that.”

A tender beat passed, their eyes holding. And he didn’t fear what she found now, his changes acknowledged but with a fearless acceptance that made his fingers itch to pull her into a crushing kiss, which he might have done, had they been alone.

His gaze shifting sideways found his crew grinning at them, but his chagrin wasn’t even half-convincing as Shanks said, “This moment would be a lot more tender if we didn’t have an audience, but then your expectations of a sweeping romance must be well-subverted by now.”

“I don’t know if I agree,” Makino said, and the words were directed at all of them as she told them fiercely, “This is everything I want.”

Their grins wavered, their silence more telling than even the glassy sheen in their eyes, and few things could render his crew speechless, but then there were few like her.

“Speaking of inspections,” Yasopp said then, leaning forward to tap her nose. “You missed one.”

She blinked. “Who?” Makino asked, turning to the room, the genuine concern that she’d forgotten someone prompting Shanks to shake his head, his grin helplessly affectionate.

“Gents?” Yasopp asked. “What say you?”

Shanks saw the moment realisation hit her, as brown eyes darted to his, but his grin offered no assistance as she was ushered into the centre of the room. But she complied as they inspected her in turn, rough hands tugging teasingly at her kerchief and her longer hair, remarking on her beauty until her cheeks were flushed and her laughter flustered as they circled her thoughtfully, her chin tilted and her spine straightened.

“This won’t do,” they sighed, their arms crossed. “No pirate I know is this cute!”

“Sitting right here, guys,” Shanks called, and was promptly ignored.

“Not enough salt in her hair,” one said, before her hands were inspected. “And no rope burns!”

“Just the one scar,” Hongou said, touching the little one bisecting her eyebrow.

“And no weapon,” Gab said, with a look at Shanks. “Unless you count the serving tray.”

“I’ve seen her wield that serving tray,” Shanks said. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you.”

“I taught her to shoot, too,” Yasopp shot in with a grin. “Unless you’ve forgotten?”

Her blush deepened, as though at a joke they weren’t privy to, Shanks thought with a flicker of intrigue as Makino cleared her throat, her eyes making an admirable effort of not meeting his. “I remember the basics.”

“Glad to hear it,” Yasopp said, with a grin thrown Shanks’ way as he chirped, “I’m sure Boss is, too.”

“I think I’m glad to be out of the loop on this one,” Shanks said, as Makino covered her eyes with her hand.

“But being a good shot will come in handy,” Limejuice said. “And she’s nimble, as a pirate should be.”

“She’ll be climbing aloft like a monkey in no time,” Bonk Punch agreed, to Monstar’s chittering approval.

“All that’s missing is a wanted poster,” Snake said.

“And a moniker,” Lucky added.

“If she has any sense, she’d get out while she still can,” Ben said, although the grin around his toothpick held a different assessment.

Makino endured the attention, their adoration offered without mercy where they’d surrounded her, one of the most feared crews in the world, but with her they felt none of it.

Turning towards him, her eyes sought him through the crowded room, and Shanks heard the din growing quiet, their attention on him now, and their newest member, brought before the captain of the ship.

And his own inspection wasn’t as cheeky as theirs, taking her in where she stood in the midst of his crew, a dainty anomaly among his rough and rugged men, whose grins had already named her what she was, even as it was his confirmation she sought now.

And smiling, Shanks gave it. “I’ll be expecting the mutiny any day now.”

Her grin broke, and their laughter swept her up like their hands as she shrieked, but they didn’t drop her, hoisting her up, a pirate’s initiation, and her shanty lifting with their voices, until she was blushing to the roots of her hair.

And regardless of their changes, their scars and wrinkles and grey hairs, the one thing that hadn’t changed was the way they loved her―loudly and without reserve.

[rebel-at-heart713]

So I just watched Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. (Rented from Redbox)

It was good and I really liked it. If I could just change one thing it would be this. Spoilers I guess but it’s been out on DVD for a bit.

I think it would’ve been hilarious, if at some point there something like this happened….I’m not sure where, but somewhere before something ridiculous happens, like when Doric changed into the owlbear and smashed Sofina around. There’s a zoom in on Doric and she says, “I Hulk Smash Sofina into the ground.” and there’s just a disembodied voice that says, “pardon?”

Cut Away gag. 5 random big name actors sit around the table, I’m talking like Ryan Reynolds, Matt Damon, Natasha Lyonne, Anne Hawthaway and like Brad Pitt are sitting around a table. (Sort of think how in the later Thor movies Matt Damon is playing the actor playing Loki just cause cameos. Pick and choose who it is but I really like especially Ryan and Natasha as I think they’d both have fun)

Natasha: “what? I grab Sofina and just smash her into the ground repeatedly like Hulk did to Loki in Avengers.

Ryan (who I picture is playing Ed): “that would be funny”

Brad (disgruntled DM) “don’t encourage her, by the Anne roll a D20”

Anne: “wait, why?” *rolls* “4,”

Brad: “okay we’ll get back to that,”

Natasha: “I rolled a 19 on my strength check, plus I get a +4 in owlbear shape”

Matt and Ryan: “Hulk Smash Hulk Smash Hulk Smash”

Brad: “okay fine”

Cuts back to the movie as normal.

Then maybe change the mid-credit scene. As much as I found of funny, change it to this.

Cuts back to the table.

Brad: “okay I think that wraps up this session. Should we end the campaign here or should we find another quest?”

Matt: “I’m not giving up my character. I just got some killer artifacts.”

Natasha: “yeah I love my Druid”

Anne: “it would suck to stop here after we wasted the stone on me. If we were going to stop my character might as well have stayed dead.”

Brad: “okay next session, how does Monday night work?”

Matt: “I can’t, I have a late shift,”

Brad: “okay Tuesday?”

Natasha; “I work at 5am on Wednesday, I can’t stay out too late.”

Brad: “so Wednesday night will be out too cause you’ll be out by 9. Thursday?”

Anne: “Date Night,”

Brad: “Friday?”

Ryan: “My daughter has a dance recital,”

Brad: “and my in-laws are coming on Saturday through Wednesday morning for 4th of July on Tuesday”

Cuts back to the credits but you continue hearing them in the background instead of music for another 90 seconds trying to find a date. The music fades back in before one is decided.

I just think it would have been really funny. I get that in the middle of the movie it might take away from the whole one dying and the sacrifice Ed makes for choosing not to revive is wife and reviving Holga instead (which by the way got major Onward vibes from that. The whole “I never had a dad but I always had you.” Sort of being Kira never had a mom but always had Holga) if we know they aren’t real, but I really feel it would have really made it a D&D movie having actual dice gags and the whole not being able to plan a session.

Anyways, good fun movie. Might buy it so I can watch it again. I could totally see in the movie parts that were totally crit fail and successes.

I’m thinking seeing the trailers made me really finalize wanting to play it. I do a small campaign with one other person who plays a character and DMs and we have a lot of fun.

Anyways, sorry for the long post. But that’s what I thought.

[idw-sonic-fan-blog]

The worst scene in IDW

I hate this scene. I hate this fight. I hate how it paints Sonic and Eggman.

I think what bothers me about this is that Starline was too successful. This is when he started showing too much competence for no real reason. Look, if Metal Sonic, Shadow, Blaze, an entire military, two gods, and temporal anomaly couldn’t stop Sonic, a bomb in a building Damn sure can’t either. But this scene, somehow, Starline nearly managed just that.

This is where I started resenting Starline. Because he made Sonic look weak, Eggman look incompetent and stupid, and every villain that ever opposed Sonic look weak sauce. It’s the fact that Starline just conveniently had a bomb in the facility that he was taking things out of and Silver, for some reason, decided to just go in said facility this creating this scenario.

But what happens next makes it so much worse.

This is where I get pissed with this depiction of Eggman. Eggman has tried to carpet bomb Sonic multiple times. And it didn’t work. Now you can say that Eggman is puffing himself up and downplaying Sonic for the sake of his own ego, but this scene isn’t treated as that. It’s treated like Eggman has a complexity addiction. Like he is the Riddler or some shit. And we get stupid and inane questions like “why doesn’t Eggman just shoot Sonic?” like he hasn’t already tried that with his multiple endless armies of robots. Like GUN hasn’t tried that already. “Well, I don’t know, Charlie. Maybe because he runs at the speed of Mach 1 and can and frequently has broken the sound barrier, run on water, routed entire civilizations’ worth of armies.”

Starline should not have been allowed to succeed as much as he did. He should not have been able to get an upper hand on Sonic at all. In fact, the same could be said when he faced Shadow. No way in hell should Starline ‘beaten’ Shadow even with his dinky Tricore just to get Hulk smashed by Eggman.

I am glad Starline is gone. Because we can relish in the fact that he is wrong, was wrong, and has been wrong. Sonic is that powerful and warrants elaborate schemes to defeat him. The only justification for his easy success was luck. Pure and simple. He got lucky. The real tragedy is that Sonic didn’t get a chance to really go up against Starline, but I’ll settle on Sonic handedly defeating Surge, his magnum opus.

[theradicalscrivener]

Trevor: All in a Day's Work.

The hero stands on the brink of defeat. Towering, foes whose muscle-bound bodies are tough as steel are poised to snatch victory! What is our hero to do in the face of such insurmountable odds! With the fate of the world hanging in the balance, can Simon stop breaking character for just a few seconds?

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

Our hero had already pushed his powers to their limit, but the enemy was just too strong and too many. Everywhere the hero looked, titans towered over him. The hero barely reached their thighs. The titan’s bodies were coated head to toe with dense, rippling muscles. Their already powerful build further enhanced by the near imperviousness of their flesh. Their bodies were as firm and strong as steel.

The hero staggered to his feet and wiped the blood from his lip. Even now after being pushed to his limit, he refused to give up. After all, he still had an ace in the hole…

“I didn’t expect to have to use this, but you leave me know choice…” the hero groaned. He raised a hand to the heavens and channeled all of his power into this one last spell.

“You think you’re so big! Try this on for size!” the hero shouted.

The ground rumbled. The tremors were so intense that even the hulking titans that towered over the hero were knocked prone by the quake. Even the hero struggled to remain standing during the sudden, intense jolt.

“Ow! Fuck!” Simon yelped upon smacking his knee against the coffee table. During his big reveal he accidentally kicked the table that Trevor’s make-believe showdown was taking place. The action figures were all sent toppling, and even Trevor was nearly knocked prone by the sudden tremor.

Trevor ran to the edge of the table and shouted at his massive boyfriend, “don’t break character!”

Fortunately, the way Simon was doubled over put his ear very close to where Trevor was standing. Simon turned his head and glared at his tiny boyfriend. “Break character!? I nearly broke my knee!” Simon whined.

“How bad is it? Want me to kiss it better?” Trevor asked, only partially teasing.

“It’s fine. It just startled me. It’ll probably leave a bruise, but I’ve had worse…” Simon muttered.

Simon took a moment to rub his knee and wait for the pain to subside. Eventually, he looked out at the toppled armada on the table and then back to Trevor. “It looks like we already won,” he said.

“This is merely a setback!” Trevor announced in his best Saturday morning cartoon villain voice.

“It’s a pretty big setback,” Simon replied.

“I’ve had worse,” Trevor replied.

“Speaking of… want to me help you set them back up?” Simon asked.

“Nah. They’re fine where they are. It’ll make the next scene more fun, anyway… you are ready for the next scene, right?” Trevor asked.

“Uh, sure. Up you go,” Simon said and held out his palm for Trevor to climb aboard.

Trevor climbed on, and Simon steadily lifted his hand up to his shoulder so that Trevor could take his place astride the titan. Trevor wasted no time in getting back into character. Trevor placed a hand against the nape of Simon’s neck to steady himself as his did his best Jim Saotome pose.

“Prepare yourselves for the might of my mech! Ul-to-ra-man…. SEVEN!” Trevor shouted dramatically.

“Ultraman? He’s not a mech. He’s just a huge dude,” Simon said.

“Stop breaking character! And I know, but the song slaps,” Trevor replied.

Simon shrugged and rolled his eyes. The motion of his shoulder nearly sent Trevor toppling, but the little guy was used to sudden movements like this by now. Trevor quickly steadied himself and returned to his dramatic pose atop Simon’s shoulder.

“Ultraman! Prepare the cannon!” Trevor shouted.

“With gusto…” Simon chuckled.

 Simon glanced down at the figures on the table below. Even seated.  he still towered over the battlefield. The tabletop only came up to his chest, but he’d need to get even higher to deploy ‘the cannon’.

Simon steadily got up on his knees. He had done this numerous times in the past and had gotten very good at keeping his shoulders steady as he squatted up and down. Soon, his crotch was nearly level with the tabletop which, more importantly, left his exposed, massive semi in a position to flop onto the table. Simon quickly reached down and fished his huge dick up and laid his thick cock across the tabletop.

“Weapon systems charging…” Simon recited his lines in a robotic voice.

“Shit! It’s charging too slow! We can’t give them time to regroup! I’ll have to use my own power to charge it!” the hero announced dramatically.

“Understood,” the robot replied. The mech held up a hand for the hero to climb aboard. Once he was safely situated, the mech lowered its hand so that the hero could return to the battlefield.

The hero reached the battlefield and sprinted towards the front of the mech’s main cannon. He stood there and gazed down the barrel of the enormous weapon. It was easily six times longer than he was tall and some change! The barrel was so thick that even though it was resting solidly on the ground, the top of the shaft crested slightly higher than the hero’s head, and that was saying nothing for the bulbous, flared out head of the enormous cannon.

Trevor momentarily broke character as he stared down the slit of his lover’s colossal cock. Trevor had always loved how Simon’s cock looked. Even when he was his old size, Trevor had loved to admire it while working the shaft in both hands and licking at the tip, but now that Trevor stood just shy of two inches tall, he could really appreciate every little detail in his lover’s gigantic cock. Even just the head of the beast completely eclipsed Trevor’s whole body. Maybe it was just Rex rubbing off on him, but as Trevor had gotten used to being so tiny, he had gotten more obsessed with just how enormous Simon’s cock was compared to him.

Trevor leaned into the tip of his boyfriend’s colossal cock and began to rub his whole body against it. As he did so, he breathed deep the scent of Simon’s cock. Simon hadn’t worked out yet today, but even so, several hours of being cramped into a pair of tight boxers had given it a distinct aroma that drove Trevor wild. Trevor was already boning up as he made the trek along the length of Simon’s fat cock, but now he was rock hard.

Trevor began to rock his hips which caused his own thick cock to glide against the lower rim of Simon’s dick slit. Simon’s cock was so huge that the slit was almost as long as Trevor’s torso. The lower edge of it was nearly even with Trevor’s crotch and the upper end was pressed between Trevor’s pecs.

Trevor’s grinding had had a nearly instantaneous effect on Simon’s cock. Simon was already borderline boned while Trevor sprinted across the table, but the feeling of his little lover grinding against the sensitive tip of his dick got him rock hard in record time.

Trevor dug his fingertips into the thick, rubbery flesh of Simon’s shuddering glans. He could feel it pulsing and flexing. He could feel it swell as it flared up. He could feel, and smell, and taste the pre as it oozed out the tip of Simon’s massive, shuddering cock. Trevor was so turned on by the mere existence of Simon’s gigantic cock head that he could have cum just from being in the presence of such a fantastic specimen, but the sensation of his own fat cock gliding against the lower lip of the titan’s pre-slicked slit felt fantastic in its own right. Trevor shuddered. His cock lurched. He struggled to maintain control, but he was quickly reaching his limit.

“Weapon… almost… primed…” Trevor murmured between tremors of orgasmic bliss. There was no one to hear him, and even he had mostly given up on the roleplay. Even so, Trevor played his part to the best of his ability.

Simon meanwhile had completely abandoned his role as “mech”. His cock was rock hard, and he could both see and feel his little lover throwing his entire body against the oversensitive tip of his fully-boned cock. Simon was so close to creaming that he had to slam his hands down on the tabletop to steady himself as his entire body shuddered.

“I’m… I’m gonna…” Simon tried to moan a warning to his little lover, but the sounds of the titan’s moans just spurred Trevor on to work harder. Trevor pushed past his previous limits and gripped the tip of his lover’s cock even tighter and dug his dick even deeper. Yet, despite how tightly Trevor had gripped, it was not enough.

Simon let out a cry of bliss. His cock lurched hard, sending Trevor staggering backwards. Trevor regained his footing just in time to see the massive, Lavos-like maw of his lover’s cockhead tremble, and then everything went white.

A blast of cum hit Trevor square in the chest so hard that he went flying backwards. He hit the tabletop and skidded several inches, which at his size, felt like several meters, across the wooden surface while more and more thick spurts of jizz arced through the air and crashed down all around him.

Trevor was dazed, winded, and a little bruised, but despite this, he was as horny as ever. The feeling of being so thoroughly coated in his lover’s spunk was the final push he needed. His own cock bucked and lurched. His body writhed and wriggled with orgasmic bliss. Cum erupted from his own thick cock, but his own load was so small compared to the massive deluge of his titanic lover’s spunk that it was completely lost in the muck.

Simon managed to fight through the afterglow and stay coherent enough to reach forward and scoop his tiny boyfriend up from the massive splatter of jizz on the table. He quickly lifted the tiny figure up to his face and asked, “Are you ok?”

Trevor laughed. He was better than ok. He was amazing! He raised two big thumbs towards the titan’s face and managed to croak out, “all in a day’s work…”

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

[fizzigigsimmer]

Steve is a struggling superhero trying to gain entry into The Defense League, where the top tier superhero’s work together to save the galaxy. But his powers are unruly. He’s kinda like the hulk only instead of going smash, when he loses control of himself he spits out solar energy. He can cause a lot of damage if he’s not careful, and his origin as a hero is pretty messy. Rich boy doing penance: it’s been done. He’s not even president of the club (that’s Tony). Steve’s gadgets aren’t nearly as cool as the tin man’s but Dustin and the rest of the nerd squad certainly keep him in the most unique gear. The indestructible bubble gum actually does adhere itself to any surface. He had to buy a new laundry machine, but he certainly can’t fault them for imagination.

Steve may be a third string hero, but he must be doing something right because he’s already got an arch nemesis. ‘The Hurricane’ blows in about once a month to terrify Saturday afternoon shoppers and trash the downtown in the name of anti-capitalism or whatever, and Steve seems to be the only one who can stop him. The Brain? Turns out her cloaking ability doesn’t hold up to torrential rain. Freeze Frame? Won’t get near the guy after Hurricane picked him up and blew him right into the giant fish tank at Bob’s Seafood. Prism (Robin to those in the know) was done with him from the moment Hurricane started playing rock music from the city alert system whenever he started a rampage.

“He just wants attention. He’s your problem Steve because you give it to him.”

He didn’t put any thought into it at first. Then Hurricane starts showing up every couple weeks instead of once a month. Then it progresses to once a week, and now twice in the same week. It’s troubling… also annoying as fuck because Hurricane always shows up at the worst times, and he just talks so much. He talks more shit than even Billy Hargrove, the super critical and overly suspicious personal assistant (read babysitter) his father stuck on him to make sure Steve isn’t running the Hawkins branch of the company into the ground. The guy’s got his nose so far up Steve’s business that Steve’s 90% sure he is a corporate spy, he just hasn’t found the proof yet.

But he can’t focus on the problem of Hargrove with an overgrown super baby throwing tantrums to Metallica every five seconds. When Hurricane attacks for the third time in the same week, Steve has had enough. He calls it in and leaves before the others even confirm they’re on their way. He knows better than to rush in without backup but he’s so sick of this bullshit. He’s gonna put a stop to this once and for all. He takes the nerd mobile (as Robin likes to call it since Dustin and the other kids in R&D are always coming up with excuses for more test drives) and arrives on the scene in a cloud of smoke and screeching tires.

Jesus he’s going to have to have a talk with the kids about why his car needs to spit flame out the back. The smoke is so black and thick! Though it does look cool (he’s got to admit) when he emerges from the dark cloud, his cape fluttering behind him in the wind.

The sky is an ugly purple overhead, thunder booms and lightning cracks, and the wind whips around them like a twister, tossing droplets of water in every direction. In the center of it all, the eye of the storm, is the man who started it all.

“Hurricane!” Steve shouts to be heard over the howling wind and the super villain's manic laughter.

He turns. Glacial eyes spark with life when they recognize Steve. And it is Steve he recognizes, not just the costume. Cause the one time they thought to send in a fake to do this, Hurricane literally fed the poor guy to the fishes. Blew him so far away they had to fish him out of Lake Michigan.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Pretty Boy?” Steve’s so done with him he doesn’t even bother reminding him that his name is Photon Blast.

“Yeah yeah it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

Hurricane laughs like a lunatic. Because he is a lunatic. And the sky crackles with lightning.

Right about now, usually Steve’s backup would be sneaking into place in order to spring a trap on Hurricane while he’s distracted; only Steve didn’t wait for them so there is no backup.

“Brave of you to challenge me alone.”

“Man, what are you talking about?” Steve huffs and Hurricane blinks at him in obvious surprise. He presses on, “Have I ever come at you alone? We banter, we fight, I let you pin me, and just when you think you’ve won, my team appears and you get captured. It’s the same shit every time.”

“Your prison cells can’t hold me!” Hurricane growls, eyes narrowing in Steve with rage like he thinks he’s being insulted.

“Yeah no shit. This is the third time we’re doing this.” Steve rolls his eyes, fists his hands on his hips. Taps his foot. “What gives man? You need a hug or something? A cuddle buddy?”

He’s expecting Hurricane to explode. Is ready for it. Aching for it if he’s honest, because it irks him that he never really beats Hurricane no matter how many rounds he ‘wins’. When the guy keeps breaking out of custody like it’s nothing and coming back, it feels like Steve’s trapped in a game with rules he doesn’t know. So he’s ready for a fight but what happens is worse.

“Are you offering?” Hurricane asks.

Steve stares at him, his mouth dropping open. Did he hear that right?

“What did you just say?”

The whipping rain parts for the leather clad villain and he saunters towards Steve. The fang of some poor creature dangles from his ear and his teeth glint in a sharp smile as he stops in front of Steve.

“I asked if you’re offering.”

“No fucking way dude!” Steve snaps without, thinking and immediately regrets it as the sky booms with thunder.

“Too bad. I give great hugs.” is what he hears before a gust of wind slams into him, so strong it smacks him right into the side of a parked car.

Steve groans. Partly in pain. Mostly in misery. This guy is fucking insane and for some reason, he’s obsessed with Steve and like only Steve.

This is his true penance, he thinks as he struggles back onto his feet before a small tree comes hurtling at his head like a toy carried on the wind.

Oh well, all the greats have their villainous groupies. Stark has too many to name. Wayne has a clown and Steve has a walking storm.

“You finally ready to put up a real fight Pretty Boy?” Steve’s personal pest in bondage gear calls out to him as the hero is reaching for his utility belt. “Or are you still playing around with toys?”

Steve pauses, chest heaving with anger, fighting for breath. He reminds himself that he can’t use his powers because they’re too unstable. People could get hurt and he’d never forgive himself if that happened again. But he’s so tempted.

Because Steve’s not nearly as good as he tries to be. Hurricane is laughing again, those eyes cutting into Steve… and all he wants in the world is the chance to show him what real power is and shut him up for good.

[meganwasbored]

The Dragon Prince Thoughts Season 4 Episodes 3 and 4

Episode 3

-he’s really pretending to read a black page in a book just to not look at her

-you’re telling me callum was really able to fall asleep after all that?

-so you had this in your back pocket but instead you went with “hey”

-with her bare hand?? that love right there

-she’s gonna be gone when he wakes up AGAIN??? girl where are you even going

-soren being soren

-i hope we get to hear zym talk someday because i’m thinking about all the possibilities for what his voice might sound like and all of them are hilarious

-if the passageway is opened by a dragon sized button why are there human sized stairs leading down into it

-ibis’s timing is always impeccable

-i love how bait is there for literally everything like he even had his own seat at the council table i wonder if it was like this when bait was harrow’s pet

-ok everything else that went wrong today was an accident but the painting was definitely sabotaged something strange is going on here

-claudia pulling a jafar

-an eleven year old just gave that speech

-IBIS DID NOT JUST DIE TAKE THAT BACK

-THERE IS SO MUCH HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

-CRYING

-OMG HES ALIVE DOES THAT MEAN HES GONNA MAKE IT???

-NOOOOOOO

-RAYLA WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE THIS IS NOT THE TIME

-WOAH HE CAN DO THAT THATS SO COOL BUT ALSO HE JUST DIED THIRTY SECONDS AGO SO IM HAVING SOME VERY MIXED FEELINGS

Episode 4

-UHHHHHHHH WHY IS CALLUM IN THE SPARKLY PLACE NOW

-oh you can already tell that ezran is gonna be their marriage counselor from this point on

-zym hiding like 8 year old me getting picked up from my friend’s house

-viren contributing absolutely nothing like dude they could’ve done that while you were still dead

-WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

WHY DID IT CUT TO THIS AFTER SHE SAID THAT

-i love opeli so much but why is she so insistent that ezran leaves?? like i’ve never seen her smile so much in any other scene?? she just found out the world is once again in danger and she’s happy??

-OMG DO YOU THINK SHE HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE PAINTING

-stop it megan now you’re just grasping at straws

-why is ezran so chill about literally everything like rayla randomly shows up after two years of nothing and he’s just like “of course you’re coming hop on”

-also rayla apologized to ezran the second she saw him but she hasn’t bothered to apologize to callum??? as in the one she actually wronged??? and she’s expecting him to be cool with that???

-girl you could’ve just asked him if he can go start the flame a safe distance away from camp?? like can you at least try to come to a compromise?? this is why y’all were thrown out in the first place

-this is foreshadowing if i’ve ever seen it and i DO NOT LIKE IT

-Luna Tenebris is such a cool name like that alone tells me how awesome she was

-“a young human girl uncovered a great secret of history” and yet she’s not important enough to remember her name?

-my question is what does aaravos get out of all this? why did he start doing this in the first place?

-Terry buddy if anyone can help claudia at this point it’s you i’m sorry you even got dragged into this

-“I have always been willing to do anything to protect my family, however dangerous, however vile” oh so that why you told soren that it doesn’t matter if he died and tried to use him as your guinea pig for the weird demon-hulk-soldier spell?

-SAYS THE MAN WHO HAD A PANIC ATTACK ABOUT A LITTLE MOUNTAIN

-OH I REALLY REALLY DONT LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING

-my question is why would they write “in darkness, gaze upon a fallen star” on the mirror like that just makes aaravos sound like a savior or something

-you’re really scared of a little spell? why don’t you take your own advice and get a grip?

-HE CANT BREATHE WHY ARE YOU ALL JUST STANDING THERE HELP HIM

-OH THE CREATURE IS WORSE THAN I IMAGINED

-HE CAN SHATTER THE MIRROR???

-SERIOUSLY HIS SOUL CAN GO OUTSIDE OF THE MIRROR HE CAN POSSESS PEOPLE OUTSIDE OF THE MIRROR AND NOW HE CAN SHATTER THE MIRROR??? HAS HE ALWAYS BEEN ABLE TO DO THIS???

[current-obsession-hoard]

So I watched Across the Spider-verse some time ago and here’s my thoughts:

Btw this is coming from a girl who watched Into the Spider-verse once and never rewatched it so I personally liked the recall thing at the start

DISCLAIMER: Spoilers are ahead, I do not know nor claim to know psychology or the comics, feel free to correct me on either of those topics and the fact that I have not watched the first one in a really long time

I love how we got a bit of Gwen’s POV and everything

OKAY YALL HEAR ME OUT ON THIS:

The coloring was so good oh my god

You know the scene at the beginning ish when Gwen comes home to her dad and goes to her room?

HER ROOM IS SAD AND DISMAL AND DARK COMPARED TO THE REST OF THE HOUSE AND HER DAD WHICH YOU CAN SEE AS HER DSD STANDS IN THE DOORWAY

BUT

BUT THEN SHE HUGS HIM AND THE LIGHT SPREADS TO HER

AND

WHEN GWEN AND HER DAD CONFRONT EACH OTHER AT THE END, AFTER THEY MAKE UP ITS SO GLOWY AND STUFF AND ITS LIKE SHES GETTING HER HOPE BACK AFTER CONVINCING HERSELF THAT HER DAD DOESNT LOVE HER ANYMORE AND IS GONBA DIE FOR THE PAST LIKE 3 MONTHS

So yeah that happened

Moving on,

That cliffhanger? Did not see it coming at all

But to be fair I did not know it was gonna be a two part thing so I was fully prepared for a full swing NOT LEAVING RIGHT AFTER MILES GETS CAPTURED BY HIMSELF.

Also I think Miles has such good reasons to be mad at Peter and Gwen and I think after they like save everyone woohoo, they need to sit down and talk because keeping that big of a secret from your friend is life changing dude

And literally my heart was gonna burst when Peter told Miles that he wanted a child because he wants a kid like Miles and just UGHDKSJDJF

That whole chase scene was so funny though because there were like a bajillion Spider-Man’s who could hypothetically stop Miles but they just. didn’t.

And I find that so funny

I also find funny that a random girl who Miles had never met before until like a couple hours ago helped him escape rather than his only friends. And like I get it, loyalty woohoo but also your friend is going through smth rn and as a 15 year old Spider-Man, y’all should be grateful he didn’t take it harder tbh

And now miguel o'hara.

Okay look at the start I loved him, he seemed like an Oliver Queen type who gets shit done but just is so easy to tease it’s funny

But then ya know he blew up

So just a disclaimer I know nothing of psychology and I won’t claim to, but here’s what I think

Miguel should NOT be leading a group. Like sure maybe in the future but now? Hell no

So I don’t know how recent the whole ‘messing with canon and destroying my whole family and myself in a universe thing’ was but it’s obviously very unresolved for him

There’s no way he can get closure for it, and also he’s very open about it so I feel like he’s aware that it will garner a sympathetic reaction and uses it on people to manipulate them and in turn thinks his trauma is resolved but really he’s just trying to squash it down with all this spider team for anomalies and stuff.

It’s not working.

He’s very prone to anger, pretty egotistical if he never listens to anyone but himself, apathy, probably sees himself as a monster, never trusts anyone, and basically he’s a dangerous gremlin who’s also the Hulk at the same time.

I think with his past (I have also never read any of the comics so feel free to correct me on any of this) hes very structured and just like ‘no mistakes’ which is understandable but really sad

He isn’t a good guy and he’s not a bad guy and he’s kinda like the police in like every superhero movie ever where they’re trying to tell you to follow the law/canon and everything, but it still doesn’t work.

Also Hobie? Top tier, he is the goat

So yeah that’s my thoughts in a brain dump

Personally, I already want the third one but that’s a whole 9 months away so

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted talk if you’ve made it this far

Enjoy the gif

[authortobenamedlater]

My conclusions about Infinite, which I keep meaning to post and not posting:

Definitely more fun to play than Halo 4. But my old junky piano with a cracked soundboard was more fun to play than Halo 4.

For real, though, this was one of the more enjoyable games in terms of just playing for me. The grapple shot makes moving around and keeping up way easier and was handy when I ran out of ammo and needed to stun a few bad guys.

Jen Taylor should win an award for playing Cortana, Weapon, and Halsey in one game. I enjoyed Esparza’s Just Some Guy Forced To Rise To The Occasion vibe, though I do wonder why they were so cagey about his name until the final scene.

Infinite should have started with a doomed mission to defend Infinity so we can get an idea of just HOW BAD things have gotten. The last thing we saw was Lasky’s “we’ll run until we can fight” line at the end of Halo 5. Clearly they couldn’t fight, so let us see how desperate things are. Maybe drop some info about the general state of the universe after a year of Created rule. An explanation about how Infinity lost 11000 crew in one year (I have my Opinions about this number but this is not the place). I know things are rough under Cortana’s undid iridium fist but geez. Show us the Banished boarding and ripping through Infinity like she’s tinfoil. Bonus if we get Chief and Palmer both stopping Lasky from launching himself at Atriox. We all know this happened. Make us understand how Infinity fell in four minutes. THEN give us Atriox going Hulk on Chief’s Loki.

The game could be kind of…repetitive. The side quests were all pretty much the same: Liberate FOBs, find Spartan cores and audio logs, boss fights, assassination missions, take out propaganda tower. But it’s pretty. 4 was ugly and 5 was…alternately oddly dark and OK-looking.

I liked how Chief’s relationship with Weapon is sort of inverse to his relationship with Cortana. Cortana always knew more than the Chief, but in many ways Chief knows more than the Weapon. Like in CE it’s Cortana who tells Chief about Halo’s purpose and in Infinite Chief has to tell Weapon. And, Chief chooses the Weapon. Not the same way Cortana chose him, but he still chose her when she said “You should just delete me.” It’s a good way of doing the same thing over again without doing the same thing over again.

I wish the gameplay would pause during audio logs because they’re staticky to begin with and I only heard about half of the logs while I was fighting bad guys.

Big questions:

Palmer and Roland are conspicuous in their absence from any audio logs. Where are they?

I’ll ask again what will happen to the Weapon in seven years. I have ideas but just. Do not put us through another Halo 4. Please Microsoft.

All this Endless stuff makes me think we’re nowhere near done with the Master Chief’s story. Steve Downes is 73. I hate to be morbid but what are they going to do if he dies before the story is finished?

I don’t know what to think about Weapon naming herself Cortana. It makes sense and I’m not sure I want it. Also wouldn’t be surprised if that “I think I have the perfect name” line turns out to be a bait and switch since Microsoft has commitment issues when it comes to storytelling decisions.

How will those little time travel portals become important? Weapon didn’t talk about how they traveled three days into the future just for fun. Read on for my theory.

Are the Endless the new Flood?

Headcanons and such:

Esparza’s family is not gone. We’ll eventually find them and Chief will get adopted into the Esparza clan against his will.

Whenever the time comes Weapon will find a way to cure or delay rampancy. Or we’ll just exist in a 6.5 year time loop for the rest of the games. Because again, one Halo 4 is enough.

Infinity is either drifting aimlessly in space or crashed on Zeta Halo, but she will rise again.

Next game we’ll find a bunch of Infinity crew, notably Lasky, Palmer, and Roland, through one of those time travel portals. For them it’s only been a day or two and they’re all like “Wow, Chief, that was fast” and Chief has to tell them it’s really been more like two years. I have a fic idea or two about this.

[straightfacedstrangeness]

Broly movie semi-liveblog because of reasons

I only ever watched the original Broly movie once or twice cus of the suuuper long fight scene ending (and I think it came out, or we borrowed it from Blockbuster, around the time I was losing interest in DBZ)…which is great cus watching it now after the reboot movie has me going in almost totally fresh

Krillin’s puppy song (and how he just pauses then keeps singing after the ship lands X’D so you just hear him wailing in the background during Paragus’ big speech)

Paragus: I’m starting a new planet and I want you to be king Vegeta: :/ Paragus: Uhh…there’s also this big strong bad guy and only YOU can stop him! Vegeta: :/ Trunks: Dad, don’t go with him Vegeta: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! *goes out of spite*

Vegeta gets to the planet, gets his ear talked off by Paragus, sees Paragus’ whole army, doesn’t react to anything, but takes one look at the big buff shirtless dude covered in jewelry and decides “I want to be alone with that guy for a while” (Trunks: “DAD NO” Vegeta: “DON’T KINKSHAME ME”)

Son “cat trying to convince you it didn’t just eat five minutes ago” Goku

“Golly, who could the Legendary Super Saiyan be?” *shows a whole flashback of Broly being the Legendary Super Saiyan and names the movie “Broly: The Legendary Super Saiyan”*

Still gets me that the fan-favorite His Power Is Maximum villain’s weakness is that he flips out at the sight of the guy who cried in the crib next to him when they were babies

I’d still fight Master Roshi if I could risk getting within ten feet of him but thanks man for deflating the tension every time it gets serious here. And more importantly, giving my boy Oolong an actual reason to be here (designated driver). Which kinky freak on staff came up with that sequence of the two of them in bed together though?? XD

Realizing I haven’t seen the old DBZ movies since before my dad got his giant TV, and watching this thing in HD on a huge screen with surround sound blasting the doofy 2000s grunge rock songs shoehorned into the soundtrack just feels so wrong X’D

With Paragus’ whole thing being about trapping Vegeta on this planet so a comet can smush him, how much funnier would it have been if Goku had just shown up and immediately IT’d everyone back to Earth

This version of Broly is SO annoying, OMFG. Hulked-out glowing guy cackling about how he was gonna kill a child, “What do you expect from a true freak?! Wahaha~” Like 100% one of those guys who saw The Dark Knight and went “the Joker’s so dark and edgy, I wanna be just like him” Shut up already

Actually Broly’s fixation on hurting Gohan to upset Goku plus the Trunks-Vegeta dynamic could’ve made for an interesting subplot about father-son relationships, but nope I guess. Gohan and Trunks aren’t even in the reboot movie where they really dig into Paragus’ abuse of Broly (just a brief scene of Goten and Trunks calling Bulma for two seconds to tell her plot stuff)

Piccolo dragging Vegeta to the battle by his hair

I also actually love sad scared Vegeta because it makes him so much more interesting. Goku’s an excitable child whose relationship with martial arts is basically like a good work ethic, so he hears about someone stronger than him and gets all excited cus he wants to test his strength by fighting them. Vegeta’s an arrogant jerk generally used to getting his own way, so he hears about someone stronger than him and his first instinct is to go “pff, no way,” then when it’s clear the person IS much stronger he just shuts down. Probably a remnant of being terrorized and probably physically beaten by Frieza or his minions as a kid, cus you KNOW he wasn’t gonna just start taking orders from some guy who isn’t even his king dad

The classic DBZ squeaky foot noise when Broly walks...bless

“I’m the prince of all Saiyans, even you, Broly” “Then please try your best to make me kneel before you” Get a ROOM

“Did he really think I would die just because this planet is about to explode?”

*gives you my power, but in a tsundere way*

I’d been wanting to watch the first bunch of movies for a while since they use clips from em in the Ocean dub opening, but wound up with the 2nd movie set cus I found a good deal and the Broly reboot made me curious to revisit the original…now I’m torn between going on to Return Of Cooler & Super Android 13 my dumb funny beloveds, or going back to the 1st movie set and working my way up to truly Earn them XD

[wonderlandmind4]

Okay, I’m FINALLY home from work. It’s 6pm and I’m finally able to watch She Hulk. (it was when I started watching) LETS GO.

🚨MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD🚨

…did I absolutely miss something? Was that “female lawyer of the year” nom in an earlier episode? Did they just sneak that in? Am I crazy? (Edit: I just forgot because I’m dumb)

Oh fuck. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG I’m fucking, I’m panting, I’m, did I just run a marathon!? Matt just fucking comes WALTZING THE FUCK IN MAKING BLIND JOKES IMMEDIATELY I CANT I FUCCKING CANT OMG WHY AM I SO GIDDY I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES WHY CANTI BREATHE

Gotta calm down to watch the rest of the episode *paperbagging it* my heart is racing. I’m sweating. Fuck. I had to pause and rewatch the seven 3 times

Omg the Sovokia Accors have been appealed!? Fuck yes! As in like completely gone? No more? Thank fuck. (Which I’m assuming that’s 100% Marvel confirming this Matt and NMUC Matt are the same Matt. Right? )

Omg he’s so fucking smug! MATT stop showcasing your own abilities in public as yourself! 😂😂😂

I looovvveeeee watching Matt lawyer it up!

I honestly wasn’t expecting to have that reaction…I couldn’t fucking BREATHEEEEE

…he’s such a smug beautiful snarky son of a bitch. I love this devil asshole

”we” “WE” MATT SAID WE!!!! That was as close to a Foggy name drop as possible, I’ll take it

…..who’s calling you Matthew???? Also……super secret because his phone wasn’t set up for the robotic voice Id 🤔 so that was definitely his DD phone and clearly upgraded to a smart phone instead of a burner

God, I fucking missed that smile, that crinkly eyed happy smile

“We’re all feeling this right? It’s not just me?” Oh Jen, HONEY, you have no idea how many people are combusting right now. I love Jen so much

…..bro that cgi was *ahem* could use some alot work during that fight scene…BUT I DONT CARE BECAUSE MMAATTTTT. (I really hope they don’t use a lot of cgi for the new DD show)

Matt was so tiny next to her 😂

She just ripped his helmet off omg, pick him just like an empty bottle of mustard

Was that…oh my fucking they used the original Daredevil music!!!! 😭

….that charming little fuck…oh I am loving this side of Matt so much

It was a mini hallway fight scene!!! 👏🏼👏🏼They’re GIVING it us aren’t they!? 😭

I HAVE NO ONE TO FREAK OUT TO ABOUT THIS!!!

Okay…okay…okayokayokay….the suit was still super menacing even with the gold because the light reflected off the horns and yeah…all of that was hot. (The fighting was better too)

…FUCK YESSSSS JENNIFER!!!!! YES GIRL GET IT!!! Fuck that devil for all of our sakes! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 I am LIVING for this!!! He was kissing her in the suit! HE WAS KISSING HER IN THE SUIT *dies* (lol at trying to figure out how to to get Matt out of the suit in the first place)

(Hey, um @pastafossa ….. this is reminding me a lot of TRT 🤔😂)

Daredevil casually doing the walk of shame! 😂

We get Matt and Nikki looking hot as fuck in this episode? My Bisexual heart is too fragile for this

Where’s Pug. Oh nvm. I found him!

Not that asshole filming Jen on top of stealing her blood. And not the other asshole biding on a Dora Milaje spear 😡🤬

Are we honestly going to blame Jennifer tearing down the screen as she was CLEARLY recorded without her knowledge!? I’ll fight them for you Jen! No one messes with you!

Listen. Best episode. I said what I said. And holy shit, I am LIVING right now! Matt was just sooo…I’m gonna say awesome and himself just a happier “in a better place” version of himself. He reminded me of college!Matt, happy and giddy and that stupid beautiful smirk of his. That smug, charming, quipping beautiful beautiful devil man. And his abilities!? That was perfect! Le sigh.

I missed him.

And this makes me…..cautiously optimistic about the Daredevil Born Again series.

…..Jen letting us know how absolutely satisfied Matt left her…

[villains4hire]

Ash Von Graven. (Final Space) (Fanon Reboot)

1. I will just open up with: yes this is an extremely overpowered character, especially for her prologue I plan on doing as her main, really only verse other than flashbacks if you'd like to be in her backstory before her main verse, which I do welcome. Her max power however is plot only, as that's quite literally something she wouldn't use even if she died if it meant using it in a populated galaxy. But think like the incredible hulk but as a Psyker to put it bluntly, she'll always have a pretty heavy power scaling but pulls her punches because of what can happen if she doesn't, but can lose herself to her rage. I am aware she possibly died in the original intended ending, but with Mooncake with her? I doubt it, thus my iteration and continuation but I would've done it anyway.

2. On that note: you can expect self-harm, suicidal tendencies, eldritch-induced insanity, hallucinations and more when she's unstable, but expect whacky humor and her being odd, cute and occasionally creepy best girl when she's stable or just usually fine, and I will stop using the tag when it's no longer an issue. I don't mind putting it where she's just herself. As I do combine both aspects of Eldritch God and Ash together for her personality (including her old self with a mature take but can still be immature like Gary for example), granted, she has more restraint now that she's whole again. There will be times where I will do the new addition to her personality of raging but being in control. I do know how to write mental break and all that, but I really do enjoy her whimsical, odd nature at times and I think it might be neat to combine, so I will stress that while some of it may resemble real-world mental illness, it isn't that entirely and there will be far too many aspects that overshadow it.

3. No offense to the creator, as I have zero idea what went behind the scenes for Final Space, but S3's ending with Fox, Ash was all really weak and flimsy as why she'd betray the crew unless being corrupted by Invictus since HE killed Fox, straight up without even hiding it, so it's why I gave her an even better reason of doing it to save them from Final Space which was canon anyway as the cracks faded from them once he was freed at the end. As I will say Invictus on that note will be replaced with Darth Bane's or voice done by Mark Hamil from 2008, 2014 or 2019 or some other booming voices like 'The Many from System Shock 2' would be really creepy as I couldn't take his voice seriously otherwise. I've watched too much Joel of Vinesauce and his 'Shock Master' if you've seen it.

4. This character is considered to be my OWN RUN of the character like someone else writing a reboot of a character in DC or Marvel comics and out the gate starts at the age of 19 to 23. Why? The series got canned and I wrote my own fanon ending, continuation and conclusion already made. Her characterization has been expanded on but kept to canon-compliant along with slight redesigns to give her fin ears and a tail since her people are canonically lizard people from her homeworld and Olan more or less even wanted her brother’s race to be a race of dog people originally like Lil Cato’s species being a cat people so eh, I’ll do it my way to make her still an alien but adult alien lizard lady. On that note? She is shippable in any verse now due to my massive visual edits, but if you flirt with her? It is presumed she is MENTALLY WELL ENOUGH in the timeline and may just say some odd things here and there and not only that, to put her in inappropriate situations such as joking a little far et cetera. This was done mostly to assure people how committed I was to this change, as I have a total of around 440ish edited icons for my reboot version of this character and more or less I believe Olan would’ve kept her either as a child or would’ve had her be an adult from the get-go rather than do the weird real-time aging up on screen as he was forced by investor meddling. By all means, I am using the story of Final Space, but only up to S3 and even my S3 is heavily rewritten and I may or may not borrow upcoming graphic novel ideas but may simply reject them in its entirety.

5. I suggest reading my ->Final Space Disclaimer<- for my characters.

This is my faceclaim for her visually and I realize the fin ears are bigger for her icons but it looked weirder with them small since the model wasn’t designed for it compared to my S3 redesign. So this is what she looks like before her glowup after S3 and is no longer temporarily insane.

My Ash reference! Where her eye was missing on her old form is now a void eye like when she uses her powers, though is just like that now. Granted her other eye also changes to the same color when using them, then I will say that the mohawk period exists but is such a brief time period? That I won’t be using most of the icons from there. As at the peak of her timeline with you/is brought out of her temporary insanity? She grows her hair out again, it flows more similar to how it did in S2 when she was a fluffball when she uses her powers, and both eyes become a void eye and so on. While the mohawk version of Ash exists still? It is a very brief period to the point that I will no longer be using those icons other than the ones I salvaged.

Do I want them to die: Yes, go ahead, talk it out with me though. She’s not going to be easy to kill at all really. Will I have/get icons: I have a lot to them all edited personally. They are available ON REQUEST but you have to give me direct credit for them, so this one time I will ask to tell me if using them and you’ll be immediately approved if I see a link to my blog that stays up. Removing the link is considered you’ve stopped using them in public. Tag: void inheritor (main continuation verse) She doesn’t take Clarence’s middle name until this verse | happy again (her second reference with her hair grown out again) |  stable | unstable | always been you: this is the verse for Ash before her S3 conclusion and my ending and continuation for her as a character. This is for fun interactions as with my main verse Ash and both are intended to be used in conjunction with each other to establish how they know your character. This character is shippable in any verse, void inheritor is now presumably just fused to happy again as a verse if happy again as a tag is used and happy again will remain end game verse. Age: 19-23 verse dependent. Sex: AMAB (Granted she's an alien and literally an Eldritch Being) Gender: Trans Female by human standards but her family, even if human never made many remarks about it. It's the future and in space, I doubt they care. Goes by he/she. Race: Serepentian (Simply her default appearance) Eldritch God (Pretty much her entire being?) Sexuality: If she likes you but she's pretty open so long as you're an adult. I will only smut with her by the way when she's stable, it's kind of weird otherwise in a not okay way I feel. I am fine with her getting a little frisky with it though while stable. Personality traits: Her personality includes even parts of her eldritch half: such as sadism, possessiveness. masochism, trigger-happy, rage-filled. Prone to fits of maniacal laughter and sometimes comedic ramblings, sayings, or just as part of who she is now. As for her more known side? I'd say she's loving, sweet if not a bit odd but can be adorably sweeter now yet is more mature, but is a goofball deepdown and can be pretty cute in how she is if she's really comfortable with you as she will say stuff like ‘pew pew pew’ in one translation when shooting lasers at something with you. She's less weird when it comes to having people like when she met Little Cato as 'property' or a 'pet' and really reserves that kind of behavior more or less to put her boot on some jackass. Has some pretty big rage issues. Has no real sense of shame other than when it comes to hurting others, but is pretty shameless when it comes to herself. Pretty blunt, upfront. Cares, but often too much though it’s why she can tap into so much anger to fuel her powers. Self-sacrificing. Mental traits: Eldritch Insanity spiking can be a problem at times, especially if first coming out of the prologue. This eventually will go away completely once she's older and fully matured as an Eldritch God, but can become more stable given enough time or intervention. This was only a problem due to her refusing to let Invictus mutate her into a mature, yet servile inheritor Eldritch God Spawn of his should anything had ever befallen him after he had completed his goals. When a fully grown Eldritch God? She will no longer experience this as it’s two opposites with her beyond what should exist yet does for her void spawn side, then her original, alien life existence side conflicting and melding together is why to settle down fully it takes a bit of time. It’s like a form of hybrid puberty with her. Physical traits: Expect all caps when talking in her Eldritch Tone: Stands around 4′8 to 5′2 depending on verse and is flat-chested due to her species being a lizard race. Has fins on the side of her head to replace her previous canon ears, then a plain looking reptilian tail that isn't out in the open unless she likes you, feels like it or it's the happy again verse. It reaches to the ground, she can stand on it, hang upside down and it's rather flexible and can stretch. Then can vary from 10’0 in her rage form to 30ish ft tall. See above when she grows out her hair again, but I will note that her 'always been you’ verse I do have her slightly more 'built’ and is 4′8 to reflect the canon change I made I addressed earlier in the bios from how weirdly this character was handled. There’s no real difference other than subtle thickening of the limbs, neck, then only so slightly to the head and waist- a good reference to this bodytype would also be an altered shape of Madeline's as it'd just be the body and limbs with less thickness in the legs, lazy, I know, but eh, close enough. She carries a tablet of Clarence and Fox on it in her continuation verse, and also Fox’s dogtag with her and now his photo in it on the back, reading ‘Fox 7821, the Unbreakable.‘ Powers: Dark Energy Manipulation - Beyond God Levels. But she can only tap into this at great risk of losing control, so I'd say that she could probably blow up a small continent without risk. But to go further is to tap into her Eldritch Blood to a point of great risk. So like, think the Incredible Hulk but not at his Max Power as I'd have to plot that. So I will say at full power that even the likes of someone like One Punch Man, Bill Cipher, or Goku would die for example as it's literally dark matter used by an Eldritch God that you'd expect out of HP Lovecraft levels of incomprehensible horror. Telekinesis - It works how you would expect, she can on that note of mind powers also mind control people, but rarely does it for personal reasons. Flight - not needed to be explained. Pyrokinesis - This is her eldritch flames, it plays into the dark energy manipulation. Eldritch Immortality - she can die and be destroyed after great effort but will resurrect in the void of space and rage-based regeneration as a Void Spawn, so the angrier she is? Yeah, you get the picture and relative theme to the character in canon or otherwise. Regardless, the weapon that was used on Invictus was a one of a kind but not impossible to recreate, it would just take forming an entire galaxy until you found the material you needed in the countless fabrics of reality he ripped through and unintentionally he created for how I headcanon it. I don't plan on perma-killing her other than in bad ends where she's not fully awakened, as in Final Space? There are countless iterations of the characters that have died including Ash as Ash unawakened is simply where she dies, as it's part of Invictus's deal to awaken her. Eldritch Veil - Ash has a true form that looks like her own variant of Invictus when she goes berserk, though can tap into it if she's in control of her rage. Otherwise, her 'humanoid' form is simply her original, default form. Corruptive Nature - if you somehow managed to absorb her, let alone soul suck her? You would either have her prison break or if it's you in particular or someone else? She would act as a parasite that'd rapidly kill the being in question eventually, regardless of who they are. Teleportation - if she knows the location? It depends how far she is from it, though could teleport anywhere if she got angry enough but again, the above. Serepentian Biology - Less relevant in her canon post-verse, but I do have Ash’s species be like reptilian aliens. They’re highly durable, able to survive extremely harsh conditions, then have regeneration, have scales but it’s very smooth and have reptilian teeth, claw hands and feet and has little gecko pads on her feet to climb things like even glass windows, then has a relatively strong bite force, she could bite off a limb for example of a human. Can hiss similar to a crocodile and has a bit of sproing in her jump. She has venom glands that she can shoot out a jet of venom from her mouth about 10 feet, then a diseased bite more akin to a far more lethal version of a komodo dragon, but has to stimulate herself with fighting to produce the diseases and bacteria her body accumulates, so her just nibbling you would do nothing. As for her tongue? She uses it to taste the air to track and if people are well or not and can remember the people she likes via that ability. It is a long teal, chameleon tongue that can be used to snag probably up to medium-sized bird or small dog for its strength at a length of around 6 ft. As for her ‘hair’, it’s more of a purple-down like feather quality that can flex and fluff but grows back like hair. Her species age wise is immortal and usually die from being sacrificed rather than of natural or unnatural causes. Parasites cannot survive in her species bodies, bacteria is also only able to survive in her saliva and digestive tract but ultimately is not effected by viruses or diseases and most forms of poison, pollution, and radiation. Notably, these traits can be strengthened with well, ‘hurting her’ and it’s a part of the culture she was previously that’s a literally cult world filled with weirdoes, but of course not all of them. There’s more to this biology since I’ve been requested stuff already for her post fanon ending verse for smut, but I won’t go into that here. Motivations: Above all, her family and loved ones. To regain better control and then revive Bolo to help rebuild the realities and the damage done... and if possible? Revive her lost loved ones though it’s not something she’s willing to go obsessive over. To be loved and to love. To have fun. Maybe take up a few odd hobbies here and there. To explore. To see the universe and all the realities in the endless spans of existence. Backstory:

I am using the same backstory as canon Ash. But she had one last conversation with her adopted dad, Clarence that made her break down into tears as she had contacted him and wanted to see him- only for him to hesitantly answer in the last few minutes of his life as they said their goodbyes, caught up with what they could and his regrets, how he wished he could take it all back and Ash finally forgiving him, along with Clarence softly sniffling with a few tears somewhere in it for learning Fox was dead, but trying to keep strong but then Ash watching him die.

The similarities end however with my ending of ->sacrifice<- if you click the links, her ->let go<- prologue - her continuation as a character ->goodbye<-

Then her motivations are more or less the simple change that she was subtly going insane, being corrupted by Invictus. Then ultimately her conversation went along the lines in response to Gary, Quinn, Avocado (Quinn not being there) more or less, angry they kept it hidden from her. Though deep down she sensed something was terribly wrong and I base it on her overhearing Avocado saying they were going to die but also the fact he killed Lil Cato’s parents. I will say that Gary ‘killing’ Fox is less relevant here since Invictus made ZERO attempts to hide he did it, but it did start the first major crack in her mindstate which was apart of his plan. Thus what led to the breakdown, bringing Lil Cato more or less with her out of instinct rather than being any form of mentally well. Then her attempted murder of Gary and Avocado would’ve threaded the needle as she would’ve just snapped their necks with telekinesis but instead pushed them away the only way she knew how out of instinct when first breaking and couldn’t control herself, as they were wearing suits, etc. Then it ends with her unable to find Moon Cake at the time before she left with Lil Cato as let’s say he was ‘out’ for whatever reason. Then that led to the whole scenario where they confront her at Invictus and Gary apologizing for failing her, failing Fox and failing to save them all from dying, but begging her to not do this to which she replied, which wasn’t her real feelings, rather all the resentment, being upset, driven insane, yet an unhinged, odd snapping calms mixed in throughout it all, “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU; I HATE YOU! Though... I guess that’s just how I always end up with my family, isn’t it? HAHAHA. But I’m going to save you all. So. GET. OUT. OF MY WAY.” Then things play out as normal with the Lord Commander arriving and then getting shafted, the added note is that she teleports Moon Cake out after she’s done with him, again, out of instinct and what gives Gary, Moon Cake and then later Bolo who reaches out to them using an artifact they find while on the Arachnitect’s journey to build the weapon which has taken countless dead universes to build should Invictus ever truly return.

As for the Lord Commander? The odd man out from all of this? Eh, we can make him and his forces a reoccuring villain but he’s too afraid to face Ash directly. Otherwise fuck em’, we don’t need him as I like him as a villain and he was cool, but I don’t think he was too important and most likely served a purpose perhaps after S4 since a S5 had been planned. Though the cliche is him taking Invictus’s power something, I suspect it might’ve had to do with time travel again to correct the wrongs with Ash, Fox etc and maybe get the entire gang together, but who knows, we may never know but I think I did a relatively decent job tying things together at least on Ash’s end and totally left it open to mesh with other endings from rper’s without being too intrusive as I’m fine with different people appealing to Ash, just Lil Cato, Moon Cake made the most sense since she liked them the most.

Then for a little tidbit on Bolo though if there are ever any Bolo rpers? I will admit my main ending with my Ash does involve Bolo being her Commander as he leads the new, albeit limited number Titans to rebuild at the behest of Ash. As the two become rather good friends with the whole mind thing, reviving him to the point I’d say besties and act a bit goofy sometimes as Bolo has shown. As for why Bolo was bodied so easily by the Lord Commander? I will say that he had worn himself down an incredible amount in his Titan Massacre that took place off screen/my fanon imagined s4+ flashback. He had unintentionally broken himself into madness in the end, but was glad to have a successor such as Ash deal with the Invictus if he ever came back, and he was totally eating Astral Popcorn as he watched Invictus get blasted and then Gary and Sheryl shoving the Arachnitect weapon into his head, then later exploding probably after they escape going, “WOO! IT TOOK A THOUSAND LIFETIMES BUT WE GOT YOU IN THE END YOU SMUG BASTARD!” Or something like that, as he had honestly thought it was the end so let him have this.