#an improvement of chub

[uaremyliberty]

WAITER WAITER!!!! MORE FAT AFTON PLEASE!!!!!!

[utsuboarchive]

it's the best we'll get in canon / official art but i do like that azul is... just a little thicker / chubbier in mer form. again it's subtle, but it's there.

[ervotica]

Imagine this: youre in college, and after all those boring classes you come to your job at the donaldsons that includes riding him in the couch for as long as your legs allow you.

Tashi just coming home to thats sight and just making herself a afternoon drink unbotherd.

Dbsnhxhsb

omg shut up???🥲

warnings; all smut not much plot, older!art, so much potential for this series aghhh

a/n; art is an ear freak i literally feel it in my balls he loves it when u suck on them ears (he did it to tashi so he likes doing it to others too <3)

the front door clicks and you wander through, in this teensy little white tennis dress that art told - no, commanded - you to wear when you came to work. the dress that shows the strain of your hard nipples through the fabric, swollen into points like diamonds, the one that slips upward and reveals the perky swells of your ass, the barely covered seam of your pussy when you trounce up to him, chirruping nonsense and smiling at him like he’s the only man in the world.

he murmurs something indiscernible - a pleased noise that reverberates at the back of his throat - and you lean over the back of the couch, sliding your manicured fingers across the expanse of his chest, chin tucked to his neck.

“hi.”

“hi, baby,” he murmurs in that low, rasping way that turns your insides molten.

fast forward no more than ten minutes, and you’re both bare, art’s thick fingers curled round your waist as he uses you as a fleshlight, lifting you up and down like a ragdoll and watching, entranced, as your cunt flares and parts for his thick cock; you sob and babble, slumped forward against his chest, nails digging into porcelain skin, teeth scraping along art’s cheekbone.

“i know, baby. i know,” he grunts, and you’ve never heard a sound like it. your cunt clenches, a soft silk wrap around his cock, and he’s turning his head to suck at the corner of your mouth, all spit and drool and tongue, so much of it that it drips from your chin, globs of it pooling between your tits.

the front door clicks and you’re both too lost in each other to care as tashi comes through the living room and enters the kitchen; art hooks one of his huge hands under the crease of your knee, lifting your leg until it’s draped over his forearm, bracing his feet against the leather of the couch as he jackrabbits up into you. you make a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, and then tashi’s figure is crossing by you once more, drink in hand, lithe fingers nudging at your jaw to examine your expression. she bends at the waist, pinches your pert little nipple and rolls the bud between her fingertips, and smirks - fucking smirks - as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice; art lets out a stuttered breath, pulls you down onto him, and cums on the spot.

neither of you quit writhing against each other; he has at least another load in him, cock already chubbing back up encased in your spasming walls, no doubt an angry red and drooling precum. tashi settles herself on the armchair opposite you, already disinterestedly flicking through tv channels.

“want my mouth on you,” you whisper, face pressed just below his jaw, breathing hot air onto his neck.

“in a minute, baby,” he supplicates, grunting as he sheathes himself further into your tight warmth, balls heavy and swollen and slapping against your ass with every filthy rock of his hips.

tashi crosses one leg over the other, the picture of boredom, and says, “bite his ear. he loves that shit.”

you do just that, teeth rolling over his lobe as you suck the sensitive skin into your mouth.

he almost cums again, hands sliding up and over your back to still your movements so he doesn’t blow his load right there.

oh, tashi’s going to have fun with you. mould you into a perfect little toy for her husband, take some of his intense, fervent pining off of her, let you be the center of his world so she can focus on improving his game.

she might even keep you if you’re lucky.

[lardguz]

A Hero's Buttery Addiction

Just a little short thing this time, featuring a certain Hylian hero discovering the joys of cooking with butter! Inspired by @plumpybread whose art helps me visualize how to write larger sizes WAY better than I used to. I know he's like, a legend in the community already but if you haven't seen his work somehow, please check it out! His art is so good!

A cool breeze blew through the air in Rito Village, blowing south from the Hebra Mountains. Link suppressed a shiver, feeling the brisk chill around the bottom of his tunic. He adjusted the feather-lined garment quickly, pulling it down to cover his abdomen, but it immediately started riding up on him as soon as he continued walking. The Hylian grumbled to himself, opting to try and ignore it while he stocked up on supplies at the general store. Link walked into the cozy open-air hut, nodding at the Rito shopkeeper with a warm smile as he piled all of the goat butter the shop had in stock into his satchel. He handed a pouch of rupees to the Rito as payment before walking out of the store to head back out adventuring Hyrule. 

Link didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the Hylian has packed on some pounds in recent months. Once he had discovered the joys of cooking with goat butter, he never looked back, and the delicious, creamy, fattening substance had clearly affected his waistline. The sliver of pale, soft chub that peeked out from his warm Rito Tunic gave him a slight muffin top, and his thighs ever so slightly brushed together when he walked. Link seemed ignorant to these changes to his body, though; mentally, he attributed his tighter clothing to an ill-advised attempt at making a fan powered raft that fell apart, plunging him into icy cold water while fully clothed. To him, the cold water must have shrunk his clothing somehow! It couldn’t have anything to do with his new culinary obsession, surely! 

The pudgy Hylian sat at a cooking pot, sorting through his available ingredients. Link pulled out a slab of prime meat, a large hearty bass, some Hylian mushrooms, and a stick of goat butter. He paused, thinking for a moment. If just one stick of goat butter improved the flavor of a dish so much… Why not use two? Reaching into his bag, Link grabbed another stick of butter, and tossed it into the pot with the rest of the food, watching it melt and coat the meat and mushrooms, sizzling delightfully. As soon as his meal was done, Link immediately took an eager bite, too hungry to wait any longer. The flavors exploded in his mouth, coating his tongue in a rich, oily sensation. This was amazing! He scarfed down the rest of the pile of meat, seafood, and mushrooms, patting his pudgy stomach in satisfaction. Link knew one thing for sure now: he was going to have to keep trying butter in more recipes if it made them taste this good!

 

Months passed, and Link’s reputation for cooking rich, decadent meals for himself grew. Shops all over Hyrule knew to stock up on extra goat butter, as the eager Hylian hero would travel to each and every settlement just to get his fix. As his desire for egregious amounts of butter grew, so did his waistline. Link had absolutely blown up since discovering that adding more butter to his cooking made it taste even better. The Hylian man was undeniably morbidly obese, and many of the citizens of Hyrule were a little bit worried about how rapidly he had descended into obesity, but none of them felt brave enough to try and broach the subject with the rapidly-fattening hero. 

Link has taken to using his Purah Pad to teleport him directly to each town to minimize the amount of walking he had to do. For some reason he had been getting very tired even from brief walks lately, and his horse had been similarly exhausted just from short rides. Link materialized outside the shrine at Hateno Village, taking time to gather himself before the arduous walk downhill towards the general store. He somehow still didn’t realize the cause of his growing problems was the hundreds of pounds he’d packed onto his body in mere months. Link’s body was bloated with lard, to the point that he was nearing half a ton of fat on his once-lithe frame. His face was framed by a set of cherubic chipmunk cheeks, already flushed and sweaty just from a few slow, wobbling steps away from the shrine. His neck was buried under a ring of flab, graduating him from a double chin to a pronounced triple chin. His once-toned arms were replaced with bloated sacks of blubber the size of pillows, sagging down his sides and forcing his arms out at an angle even when not in use. His elbows were long buried under all of this lard, and even his wrists and hands were beginning to plump up at the joints, making bending his fingers and grabbing food a chore. His pecs had ballooned into flabby breasts that were just starting to droop down either side of his gut. The tunic he currently wore, his blue Champions Tunic that he was given over one hundred years ago, was stretched tightly across his chest, functioning more as a bra than a more decent article of clothing and riddled with rips and tears from stretching across so much flab. His former muffin top had graduated into a stack of fluffy love handles, pooling over the straight waistband of his trousers and , when combined with his flabby chest, were half of the reason his arms stuck out at such an angle now. His bloated thighs touched at every point no matter how far apart his spread his legs to walk, forcing him into a pronounced waddle. He couldn’t even bend his knees anymore; the flab from his thighs had long since enveloped the joints, joining his meaty calves in the downfall of his once-proud stride.  

His biggest asset, however, was his gut. The slab of lard was a monument to his gluttony, forming an apron of flab that sagged down to his buried knees. Every slow, measured step he took, his stomach slapped against his meaty thighs, sending his entire flabby body jiggling and wobbling endlessly. The obese hero was sweaty and exhausted after just a few steps, panting and wheezing from the exertion of shifting just under half a ton of fat with every shuffling step, but his craving for butter-soaked food kept him from giving up on his journey to the store.  

When the sweaty, huffing pile of lard finally made it, he shoved the door open with his titanic gut, dreading what came next. Link knew intimately well that doors and him didn’t mix these days, even if he refused to accept or acknowledge why. The Hylian was an absolute wall of flab and rolls, trying to force himself through a tiny doorway. The shopkeeper could only stare in horror and fascination as the legendary hero attempted to squeeze his enormous bulk into the store, wheezing from the exertion. He grabbed the doorframe with his pudgy fingers, trying to force his double-wide hips through, but his rolls and folds were firmly wedged. Link continued panting and groaning, his bulky body oozing around either side of the door frame, when an ominous cracking noise started to occur. Suddenly, with a loud snap, the wood of the doorway and the surrounding walls splintered, and Link stumbled through into the shop, his entire body wobbling from the sudden forward momentum. Barreling forward at speeds his obese form weren’t meant to handle, the lard-laden Hylian hero overbalanced, landing on his cascading gut with so much force that it shook the entire building. Merchandise clattered to the floor from the display shelves as shockwaves rippled through his body like an ocean, and he lay on the floor gasping for air after all of his weight knocked it out of his poor, overtaxed lungs. The shopkeeper looked at the damaged doorway in horror, knowing that no matter how much butter the legendary hero was here to purchase, it wouldn’t pay for the repair costs, especially with his increased visits. Something had to be done about the gluttonous hero, but what? 

After the disastrous incident at the Hateno General Store, shopkeepers around Hyrule had begun taking Link’s purchases to him as he waited outside their shops, to minimize damage done to their buildings. It was a solution, for sure, but many worried about what would happen when Link grew too large to make the short walks to their stores from the teleport points at the towns’ shrines. Many ideas were proposed: shop stalls set up right at the shrines just for Link, some sort of horse and cart system to carry the growing hero to his destinations, even a conveyor belt to carry him to the store entrances was suggested! However, Link ended up solving the problem himself while cooking one day. He’d begun using his Ultra Hand powers to help him grab ingredients once his arms became basically useless at grabbing things around his enormous bulk. As he sat on a log that his fat ass almost completely devoured, using his prosthetic’s powers to move a fourth stick of butter into the cooking pot for the large hunk of gourmet meat he was sauteeing, Link got an idea. He used his fat sausage fingers to switch the function of his hand to the Copy ability, which usually only worked for building materials. He noticed that the sticks of butter were able to be copied, somehow. Confused, Link decided to try it out, multiplying one stick of goat butter into ten, and moving the pile onto his chest where he could inspect them better. The sticks of butter had a gentle greenish-blue glow to them, but otherwise appeared to be normal sticks of butter.  

Link devoured the butter-soaked gourmet meat as he contemplated the glowing butter sticks nestled between his ample breasts when suddenly he was struck by an idea. Straining against the rolls of his arm fat, he craned his overburdened arm towards his chest, grabbing a stick of greenish butter in his fattened hands. Link brought the strange butter towards his pudgy lips slowly, his bountiful lard making it hard for him to reach his mouth with his pillowy arms. He finally shoved the stick of butter into his mouth, the oily fats coating his tongue. His blue eyes lit up as he swallowed: it was incredible! The duplicated butter tasted even richer and more delicious than normal goat butter, and that was without cooking it! Link shoved his hands under his bloated pecs, shifting their mass upwards and forcing the nine remaining sticks of magical butter directly in range of his greedy maw. The greedy Hylian began slurping down the stack of entire sticks of butter while using his Ultra Hand to create more copies, piling them up on his chest within easy eating distance. Link had no idea of the future he had just very quickly resigned himself to with this discovery, but the shopkeepers of Hyrule wouldn’t have to worry about their entryways being broken anymore. 

The citizens of Hyrule whispered about what had become of their legendary hero. Shopkeepers quickly noticed his increasingly-frequent trips to their stores had stopped abruptly, leaving them with mixed feelings of concern for what could have happened to Link, but also relieved that they wouldn’t have to keep paying for hefty repair bills anymore. Only those who were closest to Link knew where he’d ended up, and why he’d disappeared altogether. When asked by any concerned Hylians, they would simply assure them that Link was fine, comfortable, and happily retired from adventuring. 

Sidon, the newly-crowned king of Zora’s Domain, walked swiftly through the thick underbrush of a secluded forest region tucked away from any towns or roaming travelers. The red scaled Zora knew the way to go intimately, having made the journey many times over the year or so he’d been coming here in secret. Plus, it wasn’t too hard to find what he was looking for—All he had to do was follow the sounds of loud gurgling and slurping. Sidon crested the top of a hill, looking down into what had once been a lush, forested valley. The trees had long since been buried, the valley completely filled by a churning, wobbling mass of pale flab. He knew the mountainous blob below him was his most cherished partner, Link, the hero of Hyrule. 

Sidon hopped down from the forested hill, sliding on his finned feet until he landed on the soft form below. It was harder than ever to tell exactly what part of Link’s swollen body he was standing upon, but Sidon was pretty sure it was his stomach. His gigantic gut was constantly stuffed with the replicated butter that Link was somehow constantly creating more of, causing the cascading waterfall of flab to grow more and more every moment as his body worked overtime to convert the literal gallons of butter he consumed into adipose. Sidon could feel the mountainesque stomach below his feet groaning and churning, causing the blobby body of his boyfriend to always be in some sort of state of movement even after long ago losing his mobility.  

The Zora king began the long hike towards the center of Link’s growing mass, clinging desperately to whatever rolls and folds he could grab whenever a particularly strong tremor shifted the oceanic mass like tides crashing upon a shore. Sidon crested the top of Link’s stomach rolls after twenty minutes of climbing, trying to identify more parts of the blob’s body to use as landmarks. He could pretty easily find Link’s breasts due to his nipples, though they were a lot lower down than Sidon was now. Link’s tits were so huge that they’d lost all shape and form, sagging under their weight to the point that they drooped towards the lowest rolls of his gut. He could also guess where Link’s arms were from the location of his chest, gazing at the swollen pancake stacks of rolls directly above the meaty breasts. Sidon figured that Link’s hands must be buried under literal feet of flab at this point, looking at the divots where they’d long ago vanished. Even if he could unearth his fands from all of that lard, there was no way he’d be able to use them for anything aside from his Ultra Hand’s powers; his digits must be so coated in fat that they’d be barely recognizable as hands anymore.  

Once he’d figured out where Link’s useless arms were, finding his head was easy. Sidon looked at the recessed dip in the blobby mountain between the boulder-sized fat deposits that used to be Link’s biceps and forearms towards where a constant flow of glowing green liquid was manifesting and pouring downward into. Sidon swiftly scrambled over Link’s bloated cleavage, taking care not to slip; he’d once made that mistake and it took him hours to wrench his leg free from the cavernous crevasse. Once he’d crested the twin hills of lard, it was easy going from there, as Link’s chins had multiplied into a nice staircase of neck rolls. As he descended down, Sidon entered what could only be described as a cavern of fat formed by the encroaching mass of Link’s flabby jowls and collapsing back rolls. He followed the green glow of magically-duplicated butter deeper into the humid cave, the sounds of hungry slurping and desperate moans growing louder and louder. Finally, Sidon reached the end of the vast fat cave and approached his boyfriend’s bloated face eagerly.  

Link’s face was no longer recognizable, so covered in flab that no distinguishable features remained. Fat has long ago collapsed over his forehead, covering his eyes completely. His pointed ears were buried between rolls of cheek and back fat, as was his golden hair. All that remained was his mouth, though even that wasn’t enough to recognize him by. His lips had plumpened considerably, and were pinched between his engorged jowls into a permanent pout as he sucked down hundreds of gallons of melted magical butter. Sidon didn’t mind though, he loved Link no matter how fat he got. The Zora hero plopped himself down on one of Link’s cheeks, kissing his partner’s flabby face before settling down to watch him eat for a while. One thing was for sure, Link sure made a comfortable bed no matter where you laid on him now. 

[keptfatkepthumble]

You’re My Chubby Boyfriend

Text by @toptierteaser

You’ve gotten so oblivious since we started dating. You’ve been happy. That’s obvious. You can see it on your face, how content you are, how comfortable you’ve gotten. How docile. I’ve been treating you well. And you’ve let me. You’ve allowed me to spoil you, to pamper you. And all that relationship satisfaction has certainly taken a toll. On your mood, on your mental health. Everything has improved.

Everything, that is, but your weight.

You’ve ballooned, fat boy. You’ve thickened quite a bit during our time together. You’ve been letting me feed you, as you sit on that widening, pampered ass of yours. Letting me stuff you silly at dinner. Letting me bring you endless snacks, coaxing goodies and treats down your greedy throat, convincing those plump, submissive lips of yours to part for my desserts. You’ve been letting me fill you; not just filling your heart or your mind or your time. But I’ve been filling up your body as well.

You’ve changed, fatty.

You’ve let all the weight accumulate all over yourself, transforming from that handsome, fit jock I smiled at as I watched him pack away dinner, my own leftovers, and dessert as well. As I sat back, like a fox watching a plump porker fatten himself, knowing your potential, knowing what I could do to you if I put my mind to it.

And it’s unmistakable now. You’re not a fit, single jock anymore. You’re my dumb, handsome chubber of a boyfriend. A plump boytoy whose mind is filled with the thought of donuts and cupcakes and cookies and pies. All being brought to him on a plate by his loving, doting significant other. By me

You’re so obese and awkward now.

That relationship weight has accumulated all over. Your stomach, which was once muscular, is now covered in layers of lard, its dough spilling out onto your lap. Your legs covered in fat, fighting to take up space in your chair as you squeeze your enormous ass back so you can play your video games.

As you stuff your face, stupidly, watching your mind-numbing shows and scrolling on your phone. Your double chin highlighting the cuteness of your face, outlining the plumpness where your handsome jawline used to be.

But I do my best to minimize the discomfort, to make sure you don’t have to struggle into those terrible shorts with the button anymore. No, those all burst a while ago. Now, I’ve spoiled you and bought you several pairs of stretchy athletic shorts that leave little room for growth. Packing away your work shirts and button ups and replacing them with stretchy, breathable t-shirts. Shirts that crease under your juicy moobs, that rest above your belly button, exposing your chub. You don’t even notice as I hold a plate of brownies in front of you.

I love showing you off to the world, taking pictures and posting them on social media. “Look how cute my man is, everyone!” I write. While in my mind I think about how much of a pig you are. How you jiggle now, when you step. How your ass cheeks have to shift because your butt has ballooned so big.

There’s just no hope for you anymore, now, fat boy. So open wide.

[anglercrit]

Why do half these bitches in Hell and Heaven have no nose? Cyclops I get, but the rest. . . 😩 also Peter would look better with a nose. Nigga to smooth bitch ass butter scotch gelato I'll eat him up. Also Abel is a cuti, imo of course, he also is actually chub I'll take him home with me and commit sin

look I think drawing noses are hard- it sucks- but at some point you gotta Try Doing It because if you dont try drawing stuff you suck at drawing, you're never gonna improve Also wow yea it's amazing how simple an edit this is and how much better it makes him look

Finally please Abel i hope you're a decently written character I have hope in you

[piratefishmama]

I Wish | Part 3

He barely recognised his friends. He was just glad they were themselves though. That somewhere along the way to a stardom he didn’t remember going through, his band hadn’t lost anyone. That someone hadn’t been replaced.

That happened a lot, didn’t it? Bands losing members due to circumstance, arguments over direction, infighting... but they were there. Older, Gareth had a little grey in his hair, Jeff had shaved his down completely, he didn’t have braces anymore, taller too, neither as weathered as Eddie but… definitely older, and Dougie...

Fuck, he'd slimmed down.

Eddie didn’t know if that was an improvement or not, he instantly found himself missing what had once been, he was still big, still broad, but... where disarming chub that Eddie had on more than one occasion fallen asleep on had been, soft muscle resided in its place and Eddie found himself wondering just how the biggest of four of them had done it. Whether it'd been through healthy choices or godawful ones like himself.

It was muscle though, it looked like healthy muscle, so... probably healthier than him. Good for him.

“Oh look who's joined us in the land of the living!” Gareth chirped, his mouth half full of pancake, syrup dripping down his lips.

Jeff, to his left “Saw Louie stormin out kicking up a storm, that shit for good this time?” Asked with a tone laced in caution, as if the subject was touchy. God what had Eddie done in the past that made his friends think they couldn’t rib him about relationships?

That was like... their whole thing back in high school, Eddie, and his disastrous non-existent dating life. He’d trusted them and them alone with who he was, with what he liked, and while there were the obvious ‘do you find me hot?’ questions at first, the playful ribbing, the teasing, the jokes only friends could share… he had them. They weren’t afraid of him. Afraid to hurt him because they knew they never could.

How had he lost that?

Eddie looked to Steve in a bid for help, Steve wasted no time in coming to his aid “One can only hope” with obvious exhaustion in his retort, his hands on his hips, a deadpan expression that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from smiling at.

Gareth snorted a little laugh and followed with “Amen to that, dude.”

“He’ll be back though, he always is.” Dougie piped up around his own bite full of some oat concoction, it looked gross. “Once he sees his job offers dry u—what?” The other two were giving it the kill signal, twin expressions of panic, as if he’d said too much… god who was he? “You fuckers know I’m right, Eddie knows I’m right, he’s a clout chasing pretty boy riding Eddie’s coattails to fame, just cause you’re too chicken shit to say anything to him doesn’t mean I am.”

Eddie looked to Steve again as Dougie spoke, only to receive a silently raised brow in return, he was on his own. “Well—” Eddie began, the other three froze, even Dougie’s attention was on him now, all three clearly expecting something “not anymore! Dunno what I saw in him, but I’m done, Steve, if you would… uhm… make sure he can’t contact me again?”

“Want me to block his number?”

“What?” Eddie whispered behind his hand, brows furrowed in confusion, block? A number? What?

“I’ll sort it.” Steve would sort it, and of that Eddie had zero doubts. He wouldn’t doubt the genie about anything ever again. Louie and his overly manicured entire self would never darken his doorstep again, of that he was certain.

“Holy shit, who are you and where did Eddie go?” The panic gone, Gareth seemed genuinely surprised by his declaration. He'd missed too much, too many things he didn’t know, too many things he’d done that he couldn’t apologise for because he didn’t know what he'd be apologising for. it'd be cheap, it'd be pointless.

Eddie hated everything. He could have probably lived with it, with his lost time, had this not been his first experience of the day with people he recognised. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not with his friends looking at him like he were a bomb ready to go off.

He could put on a brave face though, even if the muscles in his face felt foreign, even if he felt tired... he could act the part. “Turnin over a new leaf I guess... self reflection, new path, bachelor life never hurt me too bad, right?” His friends shared looks, a silent communication happening between them that made Eddie feel isolated, othered, outside, and alone.

He wanted out. To run.

And as if he knew, Steve’s hand found his shoulder and squeezed grounding him in place. He was there, the Genie was there, he'd fix it if Eddie wished him to. He wasn’t stuck, Steve just wanted him to live the day. Experience it. Be brave, it wasn’t permanent.

Jeff broke the silence though, he stood up, crossed the distance between them, that gigantic chasm that seemed so impossible to cross seconds before, and clapped his hands to both of Eddie's biceps, his straight toothed smile blinding “nice to have you back then, Eds, now eat your fuckin breakfast an let’s get this stupid talk show shit over with, yeah?” Okay... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Fuck the ‘old' Eddie, the Eddie who Eddie himself had never met and never wanted to meet, he had his friends, he'd be fine. Maybe he could even stay.

“Sounds good, what's for breakfast?”

“For you? Nothin but the good stuff, man, ordered you some wholemeal toast with avocado an egg whites” so many words, so little recognition in his eyes.

What the fuck was an avocado? Was that a real thing?

“...Can I not have pancakes like Gareth?” Gareth with his syrupy monstrosity.  

Dougie scoffed around his oatmeal, swallowing before he responded because at some point during the last thirty years he’d developed manners. “With your cholesterol? Fuck off, dude, we don’t want you having a heart attack on stage.” Steve only offered him a sympathetic smile in consolation. The beautiful bastard. “It's avocado toast or oatmeal, your choice old man.”

Strike being able to stay. He wanted to go home.

Eddie didn’t like Avocados.

He decided this the moment a semi-hard glob of green mush touched his tongue, lightly seasoned, mixed with something tangy, he hated it, hated the smell, hated the unexpected texture, hated the taste but he ate it. He pushed through like a little champ when every instinct he had told him to rebel against it, to demand French fries or something stupid that definitely didn’t come as a breakfast food.

Maybe he could swing fast food later, see what the future held for the fast food joints.

Later seemed too busy though, the moment they were done with breakfast, the band were whisked away into some kind of car, something way fancier than Eddie had ever seen, to get to the venue and prepare. Hair, makeup, the usual routine that Eddie wished he had an ounce of experience with because back at the Hideout it was just… them climbing up on the rickety old stage Bev’s late husband put together on the fly and letting loose.

There was no pre-gig warming up, no hoard of professionals tugging them into various chairs and rooms to make sure their hair was the correct brand of artful frizz, or mess of floof, or women with brushes coated in powders to minimize the shine from the studio lights that’d make their skin too shiny for the cameras to work with.

Wardrobe was fool proof as they were presented with options that ranged from smart casual to red carpet. Everything suitable for a talk show and nothing fit for a ‘metal’ band, which was strange considering they were advised to go for something they could move in as they were going to be performing during their run through, maybe more than once to make sure all angles were covered.

It was a lot, it was a hell of a lot, Eddie kept finding Steve in his peripherals though. Always there, silent, and observant off to the side, close enough to step in should anyone cross any boundaries but staying out of the way of the professionals so they could work unhindered.

It was grounding in a way, him there, even if he looked so very human despite what he knew Steve to really look like, having him there, knowing the man could get him out of the chaos at any time was grounding.

All those people touching him, all the noise around him, sounds, smells, lights, the pushing, and pulling, and the tugging on his hair, he wanted to scream, he wanted to get away from it all, he wanted—

“Alright, five minute break.” Steve stepped in, his voice firm, without room for argument. “Rockstar needs a breather.” Eddie could have kissed him, genuinely. The relief as all those professionals took a few steps back was instantaneous, that feeling only growing when Steve managed to corral them out of the room entirely, leaving just them in there.

The other band members were in their own rooms, Eddie clearly some ‘big shot’ that he didn’t quite get. Sure he was the front man but… they always said they’d be equals if they made it big. They’d always scoffed at the idea of multiple green rooms, of putting single members on pedestals, that was how shit went sideways, that was how infighting and breaking apart happened. They’d stay grounded, stay real.

They didn’t want that bullshit and yet there he was. All on his own, his friends elsewhere being prepped without him. He hated it. How had it happened? “I should be used to this, shouldn’t I?”

“What makes you think that?” Eddie damn near jumped out of his skin when Steve was just. Right there. Stood beside him in the reflection of the mirror. No longer looking all that human, he looked like himself, golden and beautiful, wearing the clothes he first saw him in.

When he turned around, the human looked back at him, smiling as if he knew what Eddie was looking for. Reflections showed the truth then. Interesting.

“I’m—fuck that's a cool trick, man... but i'm a fuckin rockstar! I should be, I dunno… used to it.” At the very least his old man brain should have caught up by now, right? He should have gotten used to it all, muscle memory of thirty years having passed should have at least kicked in a little, right?

He still felt like that kid from the trailer park on the inside, still felt completely overwhelmed.

He’d just been dropped into a life with no memory of living it.

“Who said you ever got used to it?” Steve hadn’t said that. In fact Steve had painted a pretty sad story of addiction and self-destruction. “Eddie… some people aren’t meant for this kind of life, yes, you’re very talented, you’re absolutely good enough to get this far, and once you’re on stage you are incredible—” for a moment, just a moment, Eddie felt warmth, a teeny sprinkle of warm pleasure trickle through his weary soul at the easily spoken praise. “The weariness fades away and you’re… yourself, everything that you are shines through and it’s breathtaking.” Eddie really did try not to blush, but he felt the heat in his cheeks anyway, as it turned out, older men could definitely be flustered by a cute guy thoughtlessly praising them “but the rest of it… everything that goes along with it… not that I’m an expert or anything, but I don’t believe it’s who you are.”

“I can’t just adapt?” All Steve offered was that similar look of sympathy he’d had in the bathroom back at the hotel. No… no Eddie knew the answer before he’d even asked it. He’d never been able to adapt. “Why?”

“If it helps at all, there’s millions of people out there who feel seen whenever you talk about your struggles with what happens behind the glamour, so many people who love you and support you for the very things that make you struggle so much, for the fact that you keep going, you made it despite them. I’m not going into the why’s and the how’s, but adapting really isn’t something you’re very good at, Eddie, there’s no changing that. You get overwhelmed, that’s just you.”

“Can I wish to change it?” Did he even want to? Not really, something told him it’d backfire somehow, not by Steve’s design, not on purpose, but… it just would.

“You can��� I can work my magic, but you wouldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be the person your friends love, the louder than life DnD loving nerd, you wouldn’t be that anymore, and I like that person, he’s very sweet, so I really don’t want to.” There it was. At least Steve wasn’t just letting him make that mistake. “There’s a life out there that is perfect for you, and trust me you will find it, this just isn’t it. Do you want to go home?” Steve wasn’t going to force him to stay, he wanted Eddie to experience it for this very reason, to see the truth behind one of his biggest dreams, see the chaos behind the curtain of a life that maybe he just wasn’t suited to.

He could go home if he wanted to, but… “No. Not yet. I wanna experience it, just once, y’know? Even if it’s gonna suck, I think you were right, I think I need to.” If only to really drive it home that maybe fame and fortune wasn’t everything.

That maybe he didn’t have to be famous, maybe he didn’t have to be some metal legend, he could just… be. And that would be okay.

“Got it.”

“Will I at least know the song we’re meant to be performing here?” Given how little he knew about his present self, the very real possibility of his music having evolved, of new songs being written, it was an issue he really should have thought about by now, but Steve snapped his fingers, an otherwordly light flashing in his hazel eyes for the briefest of moments, and then he smiled.

“You will now.” And that made him feel a little better. Just a little. Until the chaos continued and the professionals filed back in to finish their jobs, the five minutes up.

Part 5

[toptierteaser]

You're my Chubby Boyfriend

You’ve gotten so oblivious since we started dating.

                You’ve been happy. That’s obvious. You can see it on your face, how content you are, how comfortable you’ve gotten. How docile. I’ve been treating you well. And you’ve let me. You’ve allowed me to spoil you, to pamper you. And all that relationship satisfaction has certainly taken a toll. On your mood, on your mental health. Everything has improved.

                Everything, that is, but your weight.

                You’ve sort of ballooned, fat boy. You’ve thickened quite a bit during our time together. You’ve been letting me feed you, as you sit on that widening, pampered ass of yours. Letting me stuff you silly at dinner. Letting me bring you endless snacks, coaxing goodies and treats down your greedy throat, convincing those plump, submissive lips of yours to part for my desserts. You’ve been letting me fill you; not just filling your heart or your mind or your time. But I’ve been filling up your body as well.

                You’ve changed somewhat, fatty. You’ve let all the weight accumulate all over yourself, transforming from that handsome, fit jock I smiled at as I watched him pack away dinner, my own leftovers, and dessert as well. As I sat back, like a fox watching a plump porker fatten himself, knowing your potential, knowing what I could do to you if I put my mind to it.

                And it’s unmistakable now. You’re not a fit, single jock anymore. You’re my dumb, handsome chubber of a boyfriend. A plump boytoy whose mind is filled with the thought of donuts and cupcakes and cookies and pies. All being brought to him on a plate by his loving, doting significant other. By me.

That relationship weight has accumulated all over. Your stomach, which was once muscular, is now covered in layers of lard, its dough spilling out onto your lap. Your legs covered in fat, fighting to take up space in your chair as you squeeze your enormous ass back so you can play your video games. You’ve gotten uncomfortable, in this new, chubby body of yours. But I do my best to minimize the discomfort, to make sure you don’t have to struggle into those terrible shorts with the button anymore. No, those all burst a while ago. Now, I’ve spoiled you and bought you several pairs of stretchy athletic shorts that leave little room for growth. Packing away your work shirts and button ups and replacing them with stretchy, breathable t-shirts. Shirts that crease under your juicy moobs, that rest above your belly button, exposing your chub. You don’t even notice as I hold a plate of brownies in front of you. As you stuff your face, stupidly, watching your mind-numbing shows and scrolling on your phone. Your double chin highlighting the cuteness of your face, outlining the plumpness where your handsome jawline used to be.

I love showing you off to the world, taking pictures and posting them on social media. “Look how cute my man is, everyone!” I write. While in my mind I think about how much of a pig you are. How you jiggle now, when you step. How your ass cheeks have to shift because your butt has ballooned so big. How your undies ride up between them and you have to tug when you don’t think I’m looking. How we go for walks and you’re always at least a couple steps behind, struggling to keep up with my long, fit legs. I give you lots of belly pats though, bountiful attention, and of course, endless offerings of food! And you  love it…of course you do! Because you’re a fat boy at heart and now, thanks to all my cooking and spoiling and pampering, you’re a fat boy all over. Now, all that chub is mine! That belly is mine to rub! That ass is mine to grab! Those love handles are mine to squeeze! Maybe you’ll go mad from all my poking and prodding, from my teasing. Maybe you’ll lose your mind from all my delicious cooking, the toll it’s taking. But you certainly wont do anything about it. It’s simply too addicting; my cooking, the way it makes you grow…the way I make you feel…

There’s just no hope for you anymore, now, fat boy. So open wide.

[dlavend3r]

Got an idea for a fic abt Adam!!

Adam is the all narcissistic person that he is feeling a bit... Self-concious about his weight? He thinks he's too.. Fat? Which he really doesn't like because, to his own standards, he's the hottest guy to ever exist, being firest man and all. And him not being all buff/skinny as he was in Eden, really.. It affects his mental health. The only person he feels okay talking about this with is his best friend, the reader! Just an idea, tho, and it can be an Adam x Reader or just those two being really close besties, lol. The reader could be that one friend in a friend group that is the therapist.

Like I said, juuust an idea ^^

Tysm for the request! I hope you enjoy it 🌙. Don’t forget my requests are open!

Self conscious! Adam x reader

Recently Adams been feeling down. Down on himself, down on his appearance. Oh especially his appearance. His the man, the first dick. He’s supposed to be the idolized man. Big, tall and buff. Not…. Whatever he is now. Anytime Adam has to look at his body all he think is how he let himself go. How chubby he’s gotten. How it doesn’t look right for his image. The big dog image.

Adam doesn’t feel like he can be the man, the first dick unless he’s perfect. From top to bottom. All he ever did was workout, but it never made a difference. Well not in his eyes. He can see that he can do more, that he can do better. And even if he did workout he’d just relapse on the routine, which made him hate himself more. He wanted this certain image that he couldn’t achieve. It all comes in circle. Adam sees a way to improve himself but his self destructive nature breaks it and makes hate himself to where he needs yo improve himself more only to fall into a loop over and over again.

Adam knew he needed to talk to someone. He had to but he couldn’t. That was until he met you. He saw how easy it was for him to be him around you. You didn’t judge him, you listened. And not listened because you needed to, you listened to him because you wanted to. This has made your relationship with Adam grew closer. He felt like he can be himself with you, and that you wouldn’t judge. You know you wouldn’t judge him, and he knew that as well.

“I just…. I have to be this chad you know. How would it look for my image that the first man, the first ever dick isn’t some fucking big buff dude. That he looks like a fucking discord moderator” He said to you, “I look like I have a fucking e kitten waiting for me to pay them for feet pics. That’s not me, I don’t want to pay for feet pics…. Unless they’re hot I mean obviously. But I don’t want to be known as a feet man. I want to be know as a big dick man, you see what I mean” Adam finished his rant with a loud ass slurp from his drink.

You nodded as you listen, “I mean there’s nothing wrong with being…. A discord moderator, or well. There is in some way but the way you look doesn’t really matter. Do you want my honest opinion?” You asked him. Adam nodded, “straight honest, no fucking sugar coating anything. Does it look like I can be on 600 pound life?”

“No Adam. You look amazing. Yes you’ve gain some chub, but hey a very well fed man is a powerful man. In the past, if you were chubby than that means you are powerful and you rule. Do you want to rule? Do you want to be the big powerful man you are?” You asked him, “fuck yeah I do!” Adam said in return, “than don’t change anything, you’re already powerful, having your own team of exterminators, being the first man. That’s some pretty powerful shit. Your voice is always heard. You are amazing the way you are Adam. If you want to work out, go do that than. But don’t sit here and judge yourself because you ate well, or because you don’t have a six pack anymore. You are amazing Adam. Inside and out”

Adam sat there astonished, the speech you gave hit him. It wasn’t ‘I Have A Dream’ good but it was good nether less. “Thank you” Adam said. Your speech didn’t clear his self consciousness but it did help him see things from a different perspective. He was so focused on the negatives that he just needed to see it from a different side.

“You’re amazing you know that.” Adam said to you, “I know” you answered as you gave a smile back. “I know you know that.” Adam said back.

[hypertextdog]

pokemon that should be turned into fat anthros:

the classics - gengar, snorlax, dragonite, appletun

personal picks - lairon, shaymin (land), simisear (see: beta sprite), yamper/boltund

okay so i dont know pokemon but i do know fat anthros so i will try my hardest for you here. the pictures are more for me than you - i assume basically all tumblr users know these encyclopedically. note we are talking about anthropomorphic versions of these creatures not the creatures themselves, etc etc...

gengar - i like his strange face, but unclear whether to make the head and the body separate entities. but then... that's the beauty of the fat guy "neck ambiguo" now isn't it. 8/10

snorlax - it's all there. 10/10

dragonite - okay. too many ways this can go:

fully (fat) human-shaped save for the funny head - strange. 5/10

fat human-shaped + furry head + digitigrade - an improvement. i don't normally care about digitigrade legs vs. not, but here it just makes him feel more cohesive in a way i like. 7/10

all-the-way dragonite - most of the appeal of the fat furry is that i want to bang him, and i wouldn't bang this cause that's just dragonite. but we could hang out. 10/10 - platonically...

appletun - this one confuses me... when you push in on the pie parts of him do they feel like pie? or like flesh? i don't know... and i don't think making him fatfur will address my grievances. 4/10

lairon - this guy seems like a brute. i like it. 8/10

shaymin - i can imagine a wholesome animal (e.g. giraffe) as an anthro. i can imagine a small (e.g. mouse) animal as an anthro. but i really can't imagine a small wholesome animal as an anthro. i can't conjure this. 🌫/10

simisear - there's too much here... i don't like that he's got hands. i don't know... i can tell you on a purely conceptual level that an anthro version of him would look good in a leather jacket smoking a cigarette which he lit on himself (he looks fire themed so i assume) with like a good amount of piercings on each of those bigass ears but asymmetrically. that's an okay idea. that works. 7/10

yamper - its little flotation device thing would make such a good asset to a fat anthro design. just a suggestion i have i think it would be funny if he were masc despite his abject stubbiness. 10/10

boltund - this i don't see as clearly, but the dog anthro is my type through and through. 8/10

ampharos - a "muscle-chub" isn't my thing but i know enough about character design, shape language etc to know that's the most aesthetically befitting shape you could give an anthro version of this thing. i'm very impartial this way. i think that could work well... nonetheless, it's not really my thing. 5/10

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 9/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

                Bradley doesn’t think he’s ever worked so hard in his life. He thought Leandro was a hard taskmaster, maybe Nonna edging him out a little. But this is insanity. Service finishes after midnight and then they’re expected to make the kitchen immaculate only to be back before six to start prep and set the dough to rise. Fresh bread every day. He’s so tired, and everyone speaks French, although the head chef does seem to take pity on him occasionally and repeat key instructions in Italian. Aside from everything he’s learning, another positive is Johan, who speaks flawless French and English. He offers to help Bradley with his French if he’ll help him learn Italian.

                He figures out that the Johan’s native tongue is Swedish around the time they exchange blowjobs and Bradley ends up with his first ever serious boyfriend. Johan specializes in seafood and shellfish, and Bradley finds out he’s paying for the privilege of being here. He wonders whether Leandro is paying for Bradley to be here and he’ll need to ask him, doesn’t like the idea of him putting himself out financially to send Bradley here, no matter how much he’s learning.

                He ends up spending eighteen months in Paris, only lasts one month after Johan moves on to London before he needs to go home to Leandro and Silvia. Then Leandro asks him to cook for them, shuts the restaurant and invites the entire family. He and Silvia both help prep and follow his direction and instructions and being in charge of the entire menu and trusted to feed his adopted family fills him with pride. It’s not perfect, there are definitely things he’d improve,  the timing for a few things is a little off, but Leandro nods with approval, toasts him with his favorite glass of red and Bradley feels like he could fly.

…            …            …

                He feels like Jake has been stalking him, watching with intent, eyes dark.

                “What?” he finally asks, gives in really, putting down the spoon he’d been using to stir and wipes his hands on his apron.

                “You ever cook in nothing but the apron?”

                “No, because I don’t want any health violations. But…”

                “At home? You could be persuaded?”

                He’s not in the habit of lying and he wants to see where Jake might want to take this.

                “Yeah. Given enough incentive…”

                “Hmm. Good to know. Turn the gas off…”

                He raises an eyebrow, can’t believe that Jake is… grabbing a cushion from one of the chairs and dropping to his knees. Holy shit.

                “Come on… make it safe and then let me suck you off. Ideally in nothing but the apron, if you’re looking at making me happy.”

                He rolls his eyes, but also he’s being offered a blowjob and nothing cooking is time sensitive so he dutifully turns everything off and puts it at the back, stripping off his t-shirt, then swearing when he tangles himself up in the strings. The whole time Jake just watches, clearly comfortable resting back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his own, still fully clothed, crotch.

                “You’re not getting naked as well?” Bradley asks, kicking off his shoes and pushing his jeans down, his cock already starting to chub up at the promise of Jake’s mouth on him, although the apron hides that at least. He feels a little silly but with the way Jake’s watching him he’s assuming he doesn’t look silly.

                “Nope.”

                “Oh. Okay.”

                Then Jake’s shuffling closer, tugging him away from the stove top and then the cold line of the bench is pressing into his lower back, Jake’s hands are running down his legs from hip to knee, where his fingers catch the hem of the apron and then he’s lifting it up and ducking under and his cock is suddenly encased in warm sucking heat. It’s odd, not being able to see Jake, but it makes him focus a little more on what he’s feeling and his eyes slip closed as Jake’s fingers stroke over his balls.

                In the four days since they’ve started hooking up they’ve figured out quite a lot about how to get each other off, how to drag it out but also how to make each other come as fast and as hard as possible. Right now Jake is pulling out all the stops, like he wants Bradley to come as quickly as possible and he knows that means that he’s already angling to make this the first of whatever this session is turning into. He’s got no reason to hold back, lets himself feel the dig of Jake’s fingers on his hips as he urges Bradley into fucking his mouth, the sloppy sucking heat of his mouth, the fingers on his balls and then the pressure of a knuckle on his perinium and then the brush of a finger over his asshole, Jake’s fingers now digging into his ass cheek and he groans and just lets himself shake and shudder as his orgasm washes through him.

                Jake doesn’t swallow, is clearly ready with a tissue or something to spit into and Bradley just rests against the bench and sucks in deep calming breaths. Jake’s head pops back into view and he looks pleased with himself and Bradley lowers himself to his knees, forcing Jake to shuffle back so they’re pressed together, their knees sharing the tiny cushion, thighs pressed together and he presses his mouth to Jake’s, kisses him and can taste himself. He can feel Jake’s hands roaming over his back and chest, the strings of the apron pulling tight when his hands stretch it tight.

                “God I love how red you get,” Jake says, and Bradley can feel the words, Jake’s breath on his skin and he shivers, is glad Jake apparently likes his uncontrollable flush when he’s aroused. Or angry. Or exercises.

                “Yeah?”

                “Mmm. Wanna mark you up…”

                “Yeah, okay…” Bradley agrees easily. No-one to see him except for Jake himself, hears the low groan Jake makes and he can feel his erection pressing against him. “Want –” Bradley pulls away, just enough to ask, but Jake is already chasing him, crushing their mouths together before he can get another word out, keeps kissing him deep and sloppy and breathless.

                “All I want,” Jake says, “is to get my cock into you. If you aren’t too sore.”

                Bradley groans, because that’s actually a consideration right now. God he wants it though, it might not hurt, but it’ll definitely ache. He doesn’t want to pass it up though, and he knows it’ll be a good kind of ache.

                “Yeah, yeah. Come on…”

                He kisses Bradley again, his hand brushing over his cock and his entire body jerks, a little over sensitive, but he knows Jake’s very goal orientated.

                “Mmm. Come on. Bedroom.”

                He already knew Jake was good in bed, has a skillset or interests that maybe align with his own. Can feel Jake deliberately starting the bank the fire of arousal in him, making his insides feel like molten rock, burning him up and weighing him down. Jake undoes the ties of the apron and drops it to the floor before undressing himself, his eyes not leaving Bradley’s and then he’s backing them both toward the bed, stripping the thin cotton blanket and sheet back.

                “Come on, on your stomach…”

                He chews on his lips but he does it, feels Jake almost immediately at his back, pressing kisses across his shoulder and neck as he puts his arms under his head and hides his face, lets himself focus on the slow drag of Jake’s fingers over his back and ass.

                “Mmm. Gorgeous. There you are…”

                Bradley feels oddly exposed, can hardly believe this is only their fourth day together, that Jake can apparently read him so easily. Just trusting him so implicitly and giving up control. Give it to someone who knows what they’re doing, someone competent and a bit of an asshole. Willing to take the reins without being a dick about it. Well, too much of a dick. The right type of dick. He moans, his mind starting to feel a little hazy as he feels the press of Jake just pinning him to the bed, not forcefully, but more like a comfort. He doesn’t think he’s gone more than twelve hours without Jake fucking him since Saturday night.

                He hears the tearing of foil, can feel Jake shifting around on the bed and he shifts, giving him room between his spread legs. Instead of being encouraged he hears Jake tutting and then his legs are being tugged back so that they’re together again and he flexes his hips again, doesn’t quite know what he’s asking, what he needs.

                “Yeah, you’ve got a gorgeous ass, don’t need to show it off…”

                Oh. He hadn’t thought of that. Then Jake is murmuring perfect under his breath and his knees are pressing on the outside of his thighs.

                “Shouldn’t be too uncomfortable like this, plus I just get to hold you where I want you…” Jake says, like he knows it’s exactly what Bradley wants and needs to hear right now, as he palms his ass cheeks and spreads him open. Bradley keeps his head down, grinds his cock against the mattress helplessly, hears the squelch of lube and Jake leans over him, the head of his cock poking against Bradley’s hole, Jake’s fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, and he wonders if this is what Jake meant by marking up, his fingers hard enough to bruise. He grinds against the mattress again, but there’s not enough of anything to get him going.

                “I’ll take care of you. After. My turn now…”

                Bradley groans, feels the press and slide of Jake’s thumb as it catches on the rim and spreads and pushes lube into him, he’s not loose but he’s not tight either. Then Jake leans in, hard press this time, pushes all the way in, bottoms out in the space of one breath and Bradley keens, shoves himself back and maybe gets an inch. It’s not deep, but it doesn’t need to be, it feels all encompassing, Jake over him and in him and pressing him down and not being able to move or see. The press and grind into his already aching body has him feeling it everywhere, his stomach, balls, beating a sharp tattoo in his chest and he groans again.

                “You okay?”

                “Yeah. Yeah. So okay. So good… don’t you dare fucking stop.”

                “I got you sweetheart.”

CHAPTER TEN - AN INTERLUDE

[benny-the-spaceman]

DO YOU HAVE ANY LEGO MOVIE 1&2 CHARACTER HEADCANONS!?

HI ANON. YES. YES I DO.

A LOT ACTUALLY. I'll leave it the characters I do the most with for now BUT YES ANON I HAVE MANY HEADCANONS

Emmet:

Wasian (specifically japanese and white [totes not projecting])

Everything he likes is the most average response possible (basically canon) and people do use this constantly. If you want to know the most basic, agreeable sandwich to buy for someone you don't know, ask Emmet.

After TLM2, Emmet takes up gardening as a hobby. Of course he always had planty, but now he has an entire front garden. His favorite flowers are sunflowers and daisies.

Emmet is a surprisingly good singer! He doesn't sing much unless someone asks him too though. He was definitely in choir during high school.

Speaking of high school, Emmet was on the wrestling team. He never medalled or anything, but he was there.

Emmet has tried to learn other languages. That's the end of that conversation. He's monolingual.

The type of guy to make the most awkward jokes. Not in a weird way, just in an unfunny way. He tells those rly boring jokes that u at most half chuckle at but otherwise u just kinda stand there awkwardly and the conversation falls flat.

This isn't to say he *isn't* funny, he's just not funny when it comes to jokes. When he's just naturally speaking he's very entertaining to have conversations with.

Emmet is the master of pointless small talk.

Emmet's favorite food is waffles with whip cream and strawberries!

He secretly doesn't have his ACI certification but still handles concrete anyway. Tsk tsk

He's been in charge of a lot of reconstruction efforts after armamageddeon, really putting that construction background to use.

Emmet is wicked good at monopoly and uno but no one knows why.

He's tall and buff. this man is like pushing 6'7" and is jacked, that's hidden under a bit of chub though.

Emmet is a heavyweight drinker. No one knows why this is either. He can keep going for ages and he'll still act completely sober. Doesn't really like drinking though.

Benny:

Vietnamese

Youngest sibling haha, point and laugh

Not young though, this guy is like in his 50's

I am a firm believer in non-conventionally attractive Benny. Hair's a tangled mess, horrible fashion sense, you name it. Also he smells bad. No one has or probably will dissuade me from this. Sorry to mars specifically

Often spends days at a time working on projects, often with little to no sleep. When he focuses he *focuses*. This ties back to the previous statement about him.

Absolutely stacked education. Phd in aerospace engineering and a certified welder, mahcinist, pilot, and avionic technician. He does it all.

He may be smart but he is not a good cook. If he serves you glop do not eat it you will get the worst food poisoning of your life, Lord knows how he survives.

Has a pet miniature automated mirror cart named Castor. This is how he gets food and drink during his several day work periods.

Metalbeard is his best friend! They have Tuesday draft reviewing sessions where they show their latest ideas and critique each other. Despite the major differences in what they do, these critique sessions help both of them improve.

They also have tea parties with Unikitty. Unikitty tends to convince Metalbeard to participate in shenanigans and Metalbeard tends to force Benny into those same shenanigans. When those 3 are together it's an omen.

Metalbeard:

He's my favorite. The URL wouldn't make you think so but he is.

Wicked good dancer. The robotic body does not hinder his ability to do a fun little jig.

Metalbeard has had 3 ships, his parent's old ship, the first ship he built himself, and the sea cow.

He's stubborn as a mule. Once his head is set on something you will not convince him out of it.

Does not have any official education. He's a 15th century pirate for crying out loud.

Swears...Surprisingly little? He's a pirate so you'd expect him to have a pretty bad sailor mouth but no. He's pretty tame in that regard.

His favorite food is pineapple

Not a big risk-taker. Firm believer of calculated decision making. I mean it's in the rules of the sea: Always abandon a lost cause. He isn't looking for fights all willy nilly.

Old as shit. I covered it in my thread on Metalbeard's ship but based on the age of it he's several centuries old.

Unlike Benny, Metalbeard is quite good with and also quite likes newer technology. His 15th century currack has a steampipe coming out of it for a reason.

Knows Spanish and Portuguese.

When he was younger, he used to go fishing with his parents very often. He doesn't get to go as much now, but he tries to go fishing with them at least a couple times a year.

The one thing he misses the most about having his limbs is swimming. His present-day body being made of wood and metal doesn't it make it very amicable to swimming. He'd kill to paddle around in the ocean again.

Unikitty:

Incredibly mischievous. Has a habit of roping people into little pranks or games.

Eats mostly sugar

Misses her homeland often. She doesn't talk about it much, but she wishes constantly to have Cloud Cuckooland back. As much as she tries not to hold it against GCBC and Lord Business, she does.

Surprisingly strong. She can lift Metalbeard in his full robotic body like it's nothing.

Impromptu cuddles are her jam. If Unikitty is rushing towards you, it's a 50/50 shot of whether if she wants a hug or if she wants to tackle you like a linebacker.

Has a diary that she does not let anyone touch. Except Wyldstyle.

Her, Wyldstyle, and Mayhem have girls nights where they mostly just hang out build stuff together. They more or less are used for talking about their feelings, Wyldstyle started them after she realized none of them had particularly good outlets for their emotions.

Unikitty's tail is edible.

Sometimes Unikitty will glow if she's having a good day.

Unikitty can speak every language. She was just born that way.

Sometimes Unikitty feels as if people don't take her seriously, mostly on account of being a cat. This does bug her a lot but she tries not to let it get to her.

Unikitty's favorite thing to do is make people happy (:

She gives Benny haircare tips constantly and he ignores most of them much to her dismay.

Business:

Mr. Money Launderer

Wears really stupid graphic t-shirts with dad or golfing or fishing jokes on them.

His first name is Jolly! (I stole this one from superpeeboy, lol)

Cares A LOT about his appearance and is very meticulous. Wakes up at least an hour early to get ready.

OCD king. He really should do ERP therapy but he won't because there's absolutely nothing wrong with him how could you dare imply that.

Cheats at golf.

Gets all of his clothes ironed and drycleaned.

Absolutely not gay. Never. He'd never be gay. He doesn't know what you're talking about. He's normal. Not to say being gay isn't normal but he's not that. Totally. 100%. He isn't in denial

Does the white mom thing when they go to a restaurant and are like yknow what? I'm gonna be *bad* today.

Says he's 50 years young (I also stole this from superpeeboy)

Picky ass eater. Doesn't like spice and also really likes how mayo tastes but don't put too much mayo and his sandwich shouldn't have too much bread and why is the steak cooked so little and why does the meal have flavor but also why doesn't the meal have flavor.

Also here's some other posts of mine related to hcs I have. I really like. making headcanons.

How Masterbuilders Draft

Emmet Construction Certifications

One of My Favorite Post Chains Ever Please Look at All the Reblogs on This

Metalbeard's Ship

Emmet's Internal Clock

.

[foxgirlintestines]

I don't remember who said it, (was some criticism of Thor in Endgame iirc) but the idea of "a character becoming fatter as a sign of healing" is such a good tool to show character growth. The character I am playing in a current tabletop campaign started out skinny and lithe because her character creation gave her an incredibly difficult upbringing (the game we are playing has you roll for life events and stuff as a part of character creation to establish a background for your character and the dice were not so friendly to her; her social status was almost as low as it could be, she was an orphan in a criminal hotspot, and she started the game in prison on death row before being bartered out as part of a deal to join the party). She started out looking like a caricature of a professional athlete because she was in constant life or death situations and had no guaranteed food, so her skin looked like saran wrap over her muscles. However, almost a year has passed in game and as part of the crew her life has improved a lot. Now the once scrawny stray-dog has had her features soften a lot and gained a bit of chub to show she is happier and not constantly stressed. She has gained enough weight that she has lost her 6-pack, her veins are no longer painfully visible under her skin, and her cheekbones are now hidden under a healthy rounder face. This is all treated as a positive development for her and not like her getting lazy or losing her edge, in fact, she has become far more terrifying and strong now that she is no longer malnourished and less anxious.

[fruitfulfetus]

Doc doodles while i procrastinate HC's :(

Big ole rant about HC's and my artstyle below the cut cuz im frustrated

So my dillema is that doc is very important to me at the moment, i FWEAKING LOVE HIM, and need to get his HC's right to draw/think of him in a way that makes me happy. I'd make him trans since i am, too, and i like to project onto my favs. But im stuck on making san or dei trans, or both (t4t hehe). I dont want 3/4 of the sq to be trans though, where would the diversity be? The same goes with whether or not i give doc chub, since I'd like to give it to sanfuck, too. I'd like to give doc his own little look of my own since i absolutely love the way the fandom builds and relies off of each other. But it's becoming a chore. Im starting to hate the way i currently draw doc, i really need to change it.

That bleeds into something else that's frustrating me. My art style in general. In my opinion my art style is very chibi-like, since my art only started advancing in recent months. It's a definite upgrade from where i started in January this year, but it's not where i want it to be. In complete honesty, theres been multiple occasions where I've wanted to draw NSFW art, but afterward, i just feel gross since my art is too child-like. When being in a fandom like madcom, i look around me at all of the artists who are able to properly draw these characters due to their nature, and i just get so unbelievably jelous. I want to improve, I'm tired of my art. But to improve, i feel like it'd be a very difficult step forward. At the same time, i still pride in my ability to perfect the childlike style for fandoms im in, like dandys world and tadc. I dont want to disappoint my 2k followers i gained from said fandoms on tiktok. Im just frustrated, and im so proud of my progression, but im tired of it at the same time:(

Thanks for reading my rant if you did (i heavily doubt it) hnfnsmkay bye

[the-sun-falls-like-a-guillotine]

admittedly, I just love feedism content in general, but the reason I love it so much in TMA fanworks is because The Magnus Archives is about hunger.

it's about thirst — bloodthirst (MAG112, MAG176), thirst for knowledge (MAG92, The Eye) — and hunger — hunger for power (Jonah Magnus), statement withdrawal (MAG148), feed your patron or it will feed on you (MAG89, MAG184). Any food and drink mentioned are often corrupted, whether literally, by memories, or by paranoia, like the human teeth apple from the anatomy students in MAG34, or the oolong tea offered by Also Martin in MAG186, or when Martin offers Jon a sandwich and Jon is so suspicious that he actually comes to the canteen to make sure it isn't tampered with (MAG53).

one of the only actual physical descriptors we get of Jon is scrawny (MAG185), so there's something very satisfying to me about relationship weight; about him recovering from years of deprivation and neglect; about a squidgy little belly in the palm of Martin's hand when he spoons in behind him. the thought of Jon and Martin safe and happy and healthy and together delights me, be it curled up on the sofa with tea and a bun, or making soup, or going out for ice cream.

I love the idea of Jon's much-improved appetite still not quite stretching to finishing his plate and he always insists that Martin finishes it without so much as one guilt-tinged word because he looks so ridiculously gorgeous when he's full, one big broad hand resting contentedly on the crest of his belly; or that scene I still have to work in somewhere where Martin catches Jon engrossed in their own reflection, studying the little roll of chub that now swells out over the waistband of their boxers, and Martin begins to panic because when he does that, his mind is loud and swarming with the voices of his mother, of other kids in the school playground, of the shitty men he settled for because he just wanted to be touched: oh, don't wear that top, Patricia, it makes you look fat; my mum has big tummy like you but there's a baby in hers; sorry, I don't think I can go through with this. I don't like girls and your hips are just... too wide. but Jon just turns to him and smiles with sparkling eyes and says I look... loved.

I'm also working on a polychives au where the worm bites across his back and shoulders restrict Tim's movement so working out isn't really an option anymore, and one by one all his coping mechanisms fall through leaving only food. the weight begins to pile on, stretch marks spreading like lightning across his belly, his chest, his hips, and for a time he feels so horribly conflicted about it because it feels good, but it doesn't feel like himself in any way that he's used to. then Sasha tells him in no uncertain terms how much she likes it, and once a miscommunication is sorted with Martin, and Jon begrudgingly agrees to try the four of them being together, he starts to love his swelling belly, his puffy little tits, every bit as much as they do.

I love love LOVE picturing Tim with this big lovedrunk smile, absolutely boneless in a cuddle puddle as he jokes that he should get a ouija board planchette tattooed around his belly button because of how often they each have a hand on his pudgy belly, like they all do now.

just... the softest of soft recovery and comfort against the cruelty of the original work.

[thefemurbreaker]

I started this ref sheet for me and my Lyle selfship but I probably will toss it for multiple reasons:

-lyle doesn't look right, he looks too standoffish and rushed

-my body doesn't look right, yes I'm busty but it looks as if the tits and chubbiness is not aligned in a way I'm satisfied represents me

-lyles face shape is SO BAD.

-lyles clothes genuinely make him look so boring, why did I take off the jacket

-shading is pretty mid but still not my best (last post was my best work in this regard as someone who never liked shading imo)

-i got a new tablet which is what this is drawn on, I need to desperately find my old pen I have on my phone but ibis is being difficult so line work COULD be improved

-for some reason I didn't add the shine to all my hair, just one selective area.

-lyles just looks genuinely bad for my standards

-i made myself look okay, but the lack of my chub actually being there is actually pissing me off.

-when I shade, it starts as cell shading then I blur it using the blue brush, usually it makes it look good but this time it really wasn't doing great, no matter the opacity

-lyles arm makes me mad.