#fat!Tibarn

[pangtasias-atelier]

Summoner's Sedentary Supports: Tibarn

Finally got around to writing this after getting out a huge funk. So might be complete nonsense since like hrghh blorbs that I'm blinded and ofc I like it lmao

Warning: This is a fetish story!

In the very distant, most remote wing of the Order of Heroes brick white castle—the area originally physically remodeled a couple of years back before being magically reinforced another year afterwards—the entire wing is only occupied by the Order's summoner and all of the men he's supported. The area would appear vacant from the lack of activity in the expansive hallways, if not for the loud whirring of machines sounding out from every room alongside the small yet incessant tremors that ring out from varying unknown gurgling sources, said sources all ones that Kiran intimately knows and takes care of. The only room that currently displays some different sort of sound is Tibarn’s.

“You ready for another helping, big guy?” Kiran calls for Tibarn from the comfort of Tibarn’s enormous chest. Tibarn’s own tits large enough to make a transformed dragon seem reasonable, the summoner gladly takes advantage of the pillowy breasts, which serve as the finest bed Askr has to offer. 

The position where Kiran rests is a bit of distance from Tibarn’s head with his mountainous figure that only manages to stay within the shelter of his room with the aid of Kiran’s magic altering the dimension of his quarters. The distance, when coupled with the gurgling of his own enormous gut that only continues to grow hungrier the more he gluts out and stuffs himself, makes it difficult for Tibarn to hear Kiran. Though he also focuses on devouring the last remaining bits of his buffet sized snack, the magically controlled food gushing into his ravenous mouth that’s surrounded by his own lard from his puffed out bloated cheeks and several, countless rolls of lard for a neck and chins. 

Kiran teleports up to Tibarn, a miniature portal—as small as it can be to fit his prodigious 600, pound figure—created by his own magic much like the other portals the world of Zenith is known for. “My, you’re so greedy,” Kiran pouts at Tibarn’s sunken pile of lard for a face. “Can’t even bother to give me an answer,”

With as much energy he can muster up when he weighs several tons, Tibarn looks up at Kiran’s visage. And to his credit, Tibarn does look apologetic, the immobile Hawk King sporting a faint crimson blush on his rich, dark-tanned skin. “S-shouhrry,,,” The act does expend a lot of Tibarn’s energy. His face even turns a bit brighter. “I didn’tsh -huff- heahrr,” Tibarn continues to eat all the while; the act is the only thing he can do when not shrunken down to more reasonable weights to allow him some mobility when he craves moving around. 

“Shoo whaatsh-” Tibarn gets forcibly shut up by more food, the immobile blob willing to slow down his eating just for Kiran, only to have the summoner feed him faster.

Kiran conjures up another banquet for Tibarn to feast on, buttery rolls, grilled chunks of meat, among a myriad of other treats flung into Tibarn’s mouth with little more than a thought. “It was nothing. If anything, I shouldn’t have bothered you while eating,” Kiran adjusts himself to lay back down on Tibarn. “I promised I’ll take care of you and since you’re so hungry, I better do my part,”

Tibarn's own body is a testament to Kiran's promise. The Hawk King’s body, which is surprisingly still clothed with swathes of fabric that could clothe multitudes of people, is a far cry from his original appearance when he had been first summoned; long gone is his muscular physique that many other's envied. Instead, Tibarn’s body is a mountainous blob of fat, his immense weight now making him even larger than the transformed state of his dragon laguz brethren. But the largest aspect of him is his gut, the bulging stomach surges out in front of him, taking up the entire expanse of the magically enhanced room. Kiran’s spell meant to enable Tibarn’s gluttonous habits and give him ample enough room to grow—not that he can outgrow the ever growing room that's meant to keep up with his ever expansive size—has his current room far surpass Tibarn's throne room back in Phoenicis. Tibarn's lake-sized gut spills out in front of him and past his useless legs, leaving them looking more like overblown mattresses. Tibarn forgoing a shirt, unbelievably not because of his current size, his quivering gut is only covered up by his deep green coat. His coat remains unbuttoned to show off the splendor of his enormous girth rather than his former well built and maintained pecs and abs which seem impossible to have ever existed on his whale like body. The flaps of his coat splay down both sides of his stomach—portions of said coat caught in and outlining the shape and heft of his countless folds of fat—the sea of green also broken up by the light green lining. That, and the exposed tanned mass of his gut; Tibarn’s gargantuan belly is composed of numerous folds of blubber. His stomach has multiple rolls to it. His stomach’s largest roll is the bottommost one. It cascades out in front of Tibarn, spreading out dozens of feet in front of him. His stomach seems close to caving in on itself with so much fat packed into it, the uppermost portion of his lowest stomach roll lurching ever so slightly further than the rest of the blubber it rests on, the roll of stomach fat squishing down on his cavernous belly button, his navel pitch black by all the lard surrounding it. Tibarn’s upper roll of his stomach has much less weight to it compared to the lower section—not that the comparison is very fair to it, the still massive roll of lard far, far bigger than anything else in Zenith that isn’t one of Tibarn’s fellow residents. It sits comfortably atop the bundles of lard for a stomach, the pressing amount of fat lightly squishing the fat underneath it. His stomach billows out on both sides of Tibarn; not to the extent it does in front of him, but it does manage to ooze out onto the expanse of his thighs. Tibarn’s mammontine thighs are covered up by the beige, ever-stretchable fabric of his pants; likewise, his over bloated legs that are sunken into his cankles which in turn sink into his legs are covered up by his black boots.

While Tibarn's lower half hasn’t received quite the same amount of size and girth as his gut, his immobilized limbs still spread out far and wide, the outermost parts that aren’t smothered by his gut. His enormous, useless limbs cover up TIbarn’s crotch with the help of his mountainous stomach. Tibarn’s bulging fat pad is a rounded, squished mass of lard that remains hidden without the assistance of Kiran during more intimate moments. Meanwhile, Tibarn’s breasts have no trouble making themselves known with how much space they occupy. Tibarn’s swollen tits are large enough to make any other being jealous, what with each generously sized breast filled with a heaping amount of lard, more than enough lard to leave Tibarn’s tits larger than entire sitting areas, each. His chest demands attention with how much space it takes up on top of his monumental stomach. The two massive features of Tibarn completely obstruct the rest of his corpulence. Like Tibarn’s useless arms, his biceps filled with enough lard to leave them nearing the size of tables and causing them to sink into his own expanse, the upper portion of his arm fat swallowing his forearm like they do to his wrist and hands and fingers which he can barely even move, the simple act causing him to tire out. Hidden behind all of his splendor are his wings. The massive wingspan that the Hawk King sports—a domineering feature he enjoyed as the bird laguz with the largest wingspan in all three tribes—now seems so miniscule with his expansive blubber that far surpasses it. His wings are now completely useless, the extra appendages nothing but another adornment on his bloated blob of a body. 

Kiran stops for a brief moment, ceasing the flow of ludicrous amounts of food straight into and down Tibarn’s gullet. “You still got room for more, big guy?” Kiran peers down at Tibarn’s smothered in food cheeks that jiggle and wobble from breathing alone. Kiran cleans up Tibarn’s face with towels that he summons, grinning down at Tibarn while reaching into the depth of Tibarn’s crevices where sauce has even dribbled down into his chin and neck folds from his voracious eating. In truth, Kiran merely wants to hear Tibarn demand more, the summoner just as greedy as Tibarn’s endless cravings for food when it comes to seeing just how gluttonous Tibarn has become.

“BouuRRPP, I’m jussht.. haaahh gehttin’ shtaahted….” Tibarn’s stomach gurgles, the always starving throne room filling gut causing its own miniature earthquake with the way the walls rumble—the tremors thankfully being only in the room with extra enhancements from Kiran’s magic.

Kiran traces his own portly fingers over Tibarn’s cheeks, the overflowing jowls framed by Tibarn’s pitch black hair. “Just what I love to hear,” He summons more food, the entirety of it meant just for Tibarn.

But Tibarn makes him stop for a brief moment with him continuing to speak, albeit as sluggish as ever. “Whaashh nouht… tuh -hnnngh-.... love? I -nggnhh- goot'sh… goooohd -wheeze- f-food and better …-aaahhh-... c-company….” Tibarn’s face is bright red. Practically left panting from speaking, his hunger oly grows from the precious calories exerted, calories wasted to the two men.

“My, you do know how to sweet talk,” Kiran closes the portal of food only to open another one. He pulls out two tubes and shoves them into Tibarn’s mouth who begins to voraciously guzzle the liquid with zero hesitation. “How ‘bout a nice few barrels of milkshake to cool you down. And after that, I’ll make sure to give you a dozen plates of everything a big guy like yourself deserves~,”

[swiftscion]

TOA anniversary munday!

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

tagging: you. yes, you.

Name: Orokara

Pronouns: he/they

Birthday (no year): February 3

Where are you from? What is your time zone? Canada; EST

Roleplay experience: I have no idea but probably something like 7 or 8 years at this point

Got any pets? Just a few fish, if you can count those

Favorite time of year: Spring! It feels really nice when the days start to get longer

Some interests and things you like: Mythology, music and playlist making, reading, animanga, cooking, random video essays, biology

Some fun facts & trivia about you: I used to moderate a few roleplay groups and a Pixelmon server myself, though those interests all died. I share a birthday with Hilda Goneril. I have an awful habit of starting things and then never finishing them. I like wearing bracelets and golf clothing. I crack my neck like all the time.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Currently, Honkai: Star Rail, League of Legends, and Flight Rising. I'm also a big fan of the Pokemon series (and fan games), Project Moon games, Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, Ultrakill, and Omori. Currently looking for people to play Stardew Valley with me ehe

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Ghost and Grass. I used to be a grass-type gym leader on the Pixelmon server i helped run, and Appletun was my ace. Did you know that due to its ability thick fat and partial dragon typing, it actually resists fire moves? Many of my challengers didn't ;) my other faves are Hisiuan Zoroark, and Altaria!

How did you get into Fire Emblem? I liked Ike from Smash Brothers Brawl and on a whim decided to play Path of Radiance one day. It was one of my first emulator experiences. I let Rhys and Soren die on the first map they were available and never reset for them. It was bad.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? All mainlines at least once, plus feh

First Fire Emblem game: Path of Radiance!

Favorite Fire Emblem game: Blazing Blade, Binding Blade, and Genealogy in no particular order

Any Fire Emblem crushes? Kagetsu, Shannan, DIECK, Tibarn, Gerik, Selena/Severa

If you’ve played the following games, who was your first S support? Awakening - I don't remember but most recent is Chrom. Fates - Selena. Three Houses - Marianne. Engage - Mauvier

Favorite Fire Emblem class: Swordmaster but I use early game pegasus knights and thieves religiously. Dodgetanking is my favorite thing ever

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class? Navarre archetype myrmidon

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Fear the Deer baby!

If you were an Engage character, which Emblem would you Engage with? Emblem Ike so I can run into an entire pack of enemies and slap the great aether button

How did you find TOA? Got invited after i was struggling as like. the only fe4 fan in a discord group that mostly wrote modern fe titles

Current TOA muses: Larcei, Owain, Sain

Who was your first TOA muse? If you don’t have them anymore, could you see yourself picking them up again? Larcei! Though she has come and gone

Have you had any other TOA muses? Ough I might not remember them all but I think the list is: Lewyn, Elm, Sirius, L'Arachel, Ryoma, Idunn

Do you think you have a type of character you gravitate towards? This might sound crazy considering my muselist but edgy swordsmen... I think people who grapple with feelings of revenge, hatred, and guilt are so interesting to delve into the psychology of. Lif is probably my all-time fave, if that says anything about me

What do you believe you enjoy writing the most? Slow and steady character growth. I like it so much when my muses become long-term friends with other ones. Owain and Julius, Larcei and Edward, Sain and Caeda, etc etc. Gaining a new reason to wake up in the morning and all the implications of that is always a joy to hash out over the course over multiple posts

Favorite TOA-related memory: The time Sirius and Est kept being forced to attack eachother by an arena boss, but whiffed all their rolls. Darcy and I wrote it with this little tongue-and-cheek bit where they kept saying "now isn't the time for sparring" before misdirecting yet another attack and writing Sirius' feelings regarding her, his past in Archanea, and the present state of that arena was real fun. Shoutout to N's Leif for the incredible setting of a really dark cave, too!

How do you pronounce TOA?: Sometimes I pronounce each letter individually and sometimes I say "towah". I am mad inconsistent sorry

Got any delusions that didn’t see the light of day in TOA that you’d like to share? Fuck it have my whole delusion list: Rutger, Fergus, Lif, The Vaike, Lewyn (again), Osian, Melady, Orson, Zihark, Louis, Kagetsu, Libra, Lon'qu

[laguz]

Tibarn’s fat tits

[setethsbigbaratitties]

poofy...

[basickinkartist]

can your draw a fat tibarn

He's deep in thought...probably thinking about buying new clothes...

[thisway-imagines]

i’m so horny for tibarn like holy shit please let me h*ld your h*nd and s*ck your d*ck mr hawk king

kin

[docidoci]

PoR JP/EN script differences overview: (Part 6) ch #16 - ch #17

The Oliver and herons show.

→ Main Index — Begin reading here ←

Chapter 16

1) Oliver appears prominently. There is nothing much about him except one detail: as we start to notice in the chapter before this one, the localisation liberally sprinkles "fat" and its synonyms into speech of every other character as a means to insult Oliver. The original script doesn't have it even once.

2) Sanaki debriefing Ike/Tormod. There is a small detail that wouldn't be noticed if the translation choice wasn't tonally dissonant.

Ike: You want to expose the depravity of the inner circles of power. But you don't want the general public to know that the majority of the senate is involved in slavery. Sanaki: I thought you were as untutored as a wild monkey. You're actually quite bright.

EN!Ike: I didn't figure it all out by myself. I have companions whom I trust with my life. They helped.

"Trust with my life"? It was a simple consultation, not a life and death situation.

JP!Ike: ……I'm not thinking about it alone, you know. I have companion(s) to rely on.

What makes the original choice notable is 頼りになる ("reliable"), because Ike uses it again in Epilogue vs Sephiran:

JP!Ike: I've always had people by my side that I could rely on. That's why… it was possible to do it.

And, to lesser extent, it's the qualifier that Soren uses in his A support with Ike instead of saying "I have no friends".

JP!Soren: I have… only you to rely on.

I'm not sure if it's the same "reliable" as in "Likes: Reliable people" in Soren's official profile, but — it's likely. All in all, it seems somewhat significant for the game.

3) Muarim☆. Personally, I dislike it when Tellius translation dances around the word "love" when it should have used it, because it's a major motif in FE9/10.

EN!Ike: I know I don't know everything that's going on, but you shouldn't be trying to push Tormod away. He's dedicated to you […]

JP!Ike: I don't know what your reasons are, but don't force Tormod, who adores you so much, away from you.

Lesser detail from the same base convo points out once again how polite Muarim was trained to be. He is the only person we recruit who uses the standard "Nice to meet you" phrase and Ike replies with a standard polite phrase as well.

EN!Muarim: "May our friendship be true and enduring." JP!Muarim: "From now on, I'm looking forward to working with you."

4) Titania goes sneaking around Oliver's mansion with Mist for a reason.

EN!Titania: If we get stopped, we can talk our way out of it. JP!Titania: If something happens, women can talk their way out of anything…

5) Devdan has recruitment dialogue that is largely repeated. The only thing to note is that Soren is visibly pissed off (with ellipses) when Devdan calls him a kid twice. Sothe uses the impolite "you" on him, while Soren uses the polite "you", Rolf and Mist use "uncle" and Tormod uses "old man" plus the same "you" as Sothe. Devdan alternately calls himself a man of honor, an ally of justice (twice), an ally of kids, and once he says he will do his best.

6) Oliver says "shit" (just before Ike and co discover Reyson). It's official.

Chapter 17

1) The original script tells us that Oliver is somehow the dead last of senators.

JP!Soren: Duke Tanas is still a senator, even if the last/most junior in position… He must still have a large number of private troops with him. Surprisingly, he's a tricky opponent…

2) EN script uses "seid magic" to describe singing of herons. That is a decent choice, because JP script says "herons are galdrar, meaning singers of galdr", which is complete bullshit. "Galdrar" is the plural form of "galdr" — thankfully the localisers knew as much.

3) Unfortunately, FE10 didn't happen yet.

EN!Nasir: Herons are highly attuned to the forces of balance. JP!Nasir: They are a race that is as close to "Order" as possible.

And later.

EN!Tibarn: You must not let yourself be ruled by despair! Each member of the heron tribe is an embodiment of balance! Do this, and you warp your very existence! JP!Tibarn: Don't let your feeling of hatred take over! You heron people belong to Order… and if you violate that, your existence will be distorted!

4) Speaking of Reyson, he is getting murdery.

EN!Reyson: With permission or without, I do what I must! It is retribution for genocide! Retribution for this forest! JP!Reyson: Even if I don't get your permission, I will do it! It's my clan's revenge…! The forest surely wants it too!

6) Still speaking of herons, after they sing the revival galdr the translation says "heart of the forest has returned", but the original calls it "lords of the forest have returned".

7) Boyd making fun of Mist (about Leanne's weight) and getting a well-deserved kick is even more deserved originally.

EN!Boyd: Did you know you're two times heavier than she is!? I'm glad I don't have to carry you around! It'd be like wearing an extra suit of armor! JP!Boyd: You're "twice" as heavy as that white girl. From what I can see, your hips and thighs are suspiciously…

[radabadabing-bing]

Wager of Weights

So embarrassing story, I wrote the bulk of this in 2019 and apparently had it like, almost complete?? I don’t know why I didn’t finish it then, but I cleaned it up and got it all ready to go because, while perhaps not totally reflective of my current work, there’s no point in tossing it down the drain. I will also say it’s not totally what I usually write, and my first time writing a lot of the content present in it, so it may also not be the best? But I’m a harsh judge of my own work haha. To clarify, this was (and still is) a gift for @pangtasias-atelier all the way when they were still Kink of the Emblem. And really I have to give him a lot of thanks for helping me grow this blog in the first place, so thanks for that. If you are somehow following me but not him, do that because he makes some good stuff (and comms good stuff too). And if you’re reading this right now- You’re awesome dude, love your work, and I hope you enjoy it!

It was no secret that the Summoner played favorites, and those favorites were Grima and Tibarn. One or the other was usually found by his side, and at times even both. But the problem had laid in the fact that there were two favorites...and one summoner. Tibarn didn’t seem to mind too much about this. So, perhaps more accurately, the problem laid with Grima.

Grima was a controversial figure among the heroes themselves- something of the territory coming with being an ancient dragon with little to no regard for human life. The Summoner had pacified Grima into being passive-aggressive to most of the others...Though Tibarn usually faced the aggressive half. 

Grima had been feeling particularly vitriolic on this day. The Summoner had gone out on patrol without either him or Tibarn, leaving the two in awkward coexistence. “You know, if this vessel had the muscle your body had, I’m almost certain the summoner would enjoy my company much more. Enough to leave you behind.” “Really now?” As said, Tibarn didn’t mind the venomous words. He viewed the fell dragon as a bit of a blowhard, never really giving it too much thought. The guy thought he was on top of the world, and as a nigh impotent god he sort of was. 

“Almost certainly.” Grima retorted, unaware of what he was starting here.

“Hmm...Well, why not a competition?” A good challenge had presented itself to Tibarn, he wasn’t about to miss the chance. “Me and you- We work ourselves harder than ever. We both commit ourselves to getting stronger and stronger, and see if your little theory there holds up.” “Deal.” Not a moment of hesitation from Grima. “I’ll come out on top- just you watch.” The King of Phoenicis grinned at this. It would be an interesting challenge at the least.

Tibarn only needed to ramp up his standard workout. A little more weight. A little more time spent doing it. The rewards of this weren’t immediately noticeable, but as the days rolled on his pecs seemed to bulge ever slightly more, abs right along with them. His thighs and calves refined to a great extent, looking in shape enough to crack stone. Biceps nearly tearing apart his sleeves, Tibarn finding himself needing more bandage to cover his arm to his liking.

Even his silhouette- already intimidating from a good height and wingspan, seemed to grow ever further. A few inches on both his height and wings. His clothes constrained ever so slightly more to contain his greater apex form.

Grima had a more interesting growth period. The vessel he inhabited needed no sustenance as long as he controlled it, and similarly had a nigh boundless energy pool, meaning that it was simply what effort he was willing to put into the competition. To self improve took valuable time away from being at the Summoner’s side, but not doing it would give the hawk a free victory, and Grima hated that even more.

The growth he had was more dramatic than Tibarn’s, but ultimately he could only just catch up. Just a few inches under the laguz, just able to lift a bit less than what Tibarn could, and most frustratingly seeing that the Summoner hadn’t actually changed who they spent the most time with. Proving Grima’s theory wrong. This had frustrated the dragon to no end, how could he possibly be wrong?

But during a session, where he attempted to still catch up to Tibarn, it dawned on him. He didn’t necessarily need to beat the hawk king, no. It was futile at this point, not without submitting himself further to this...mortal regimen. No, all Grima needed to do was drag Tibarn behind! And drag him very, very far behind.

Tibarn already ate quite a bit, and having a rigorous training session now only seemed to increase his appetite. Which made it exceptionally easy to slip in a curse or two on some meat. But Grima wasn’t about to make it obvious. This would be a slow burn.

At first, Tibarn’s gains seemed to stagnate. Simply stopped growing. At a glance, someone would think that he had hit the apex. He just couldn’t improve anymore. Though once a slight layer of pudge formed near his waistline, it was clear he hadn’t only stopped his growths- he was degrading.

Each passing day, Tibarn seemed to be gaining more and more weight. Getting wider rather than taller, his clothes ill-fitting not because of burgeoning muscle, but fat. With the greater weight, his workouts had become too laborious to follow up on, which certainly didn’t help the sudden expansion. Soon constrained to the ground, too heavy to even be lifted by his wings the slightest bit.

All the while Grima watched with sadistic satisfaction. Tibarn’s body swelled by the day, the laguz undoubtedly having lost at this point. Grima’s vessel had grown significantly- past Tibarn’s form before he had laid the curse. His shirt hardly fit, more akin to a crop top, and the cloak that had once only been an inch or two from the ground was now hovering near a foot. If Grima’s simple status as the fell dragon hadn’t kept people away before, his pinnacle form sure had now. His mere presence exuded a terrifying aura, though this once again didn’t keep away the summoner.

By chance, Grima had encountered Tibarn one day. Whom was waddling now, something that Grima took some amusement in. “I...I don’t know what happened.” He admitted, a slight jiggle to his two chins. “It would appear I’ve surpassed you.” Grima said with a smug cadence. “And indeed, the Summoner spends more time at my side.”

“Right…” Tibarn wasn’t exactly sure how true that was, but he couldn’t argue that Grima had indeed beaten him at this point.

A few more moons, and the hawk could no longer be found waddling through the halls. Apparently he had grown too large to even move. Music to Grima’s ears.

Until he noticed something. The summoner had started to periodically disappear throughout the day- not off to battle clearly, not with the food he was carrying. With Grima’s interest piqued, he tailed the Summoner, managing to not be noticed even with his larger size. Not the first thing on his mind, as he was far more frustrated with the destination. Tibarn’s dwelling.

It was back to the drawing board for Grima once more. He simply did not understand. He had undermined Tibarn to immobility...Exceeded his body. What was he getting wrong? There was a piece of the puzzle missing...and it dawned on him once more.

The Summoner hadn’t gone out of his way to see Tibarn before the laguz had been grounded.

Grima had been trying too hard all along. And in doing this, had let Tibarn win the adoration of the Summoner, though it was still soon enough to steal this victory back. For every curse the dragon had laid, he always had a solution. 

Night had fallen, and Grima’s final plot was being enacted. With no pesky heroes to gawk at him or see where he was going at this hour, nor the summoner’s watchful eye, the path to where Tibarn’s massive form slept was simple to traverse.

Grima would admit, he never got a good look at the hawk king after that last brief conversation. So seeing Tibarn now was something of a shock. His body had overtaken the bed, though calling it a “bed” was a bit of an overstatement. More like mattresses to keep something between the floor and the laguz. It took Grima a moment to make out limbs and a head.

It would’ve been amusing, if it wasn’t so effective at getting the summoner’s attention. But that privilege would not be Tibarn’s for much longer. A glow to his eyes and hands, he began to cast the spell. The giant tanned mass seemed to rumble, beginning a transformation, or rather, a reversion. Though this didn’t rouse the still slumbering Tibarn. Meanwhile, Grima’s form began to change- his set of washboard muscles beginning to disappear, as a gut formed in its place.

With the counter curse successfully placed, Grima could leave the room satisfied. As the hawk shrunk like a deflating balloon, the dragon’s vessel did the opposite- body expanding every which way as he returned to his own chambers. Thighs now beginning to chafe, clothes straining to contain the stolen fat. Seams popping and tearing, a smug grin on his plump face.

In the morning, Tibarn awoke, like a weight was lifted off of him. Quite literally: He could move once more. And not just move at a waddle- His adonis form had been completely returned to him. How, Tibarn wasn’t sure. But his inner laguz instincts were happy about it, ready to return to the battlefield that very day.

Though one hero was not very ready to join Tibarn out in the battlefield, which was Grima. His body anchored firmly down within his dwelling, only able to make the slightest movements as he looked down upon the summoner. Just as immobile as Tibarn had been a few hours prior.

“Summoner, it’s quite terrible!” He said in a casual, almost mocking tone. “I simply woke up like this. I certainly can’t go out to fight in this state...or leave this chamber at all.”

That wasn’t Grima’s concern. Sure, he had certainly lost the wager he had made with Tibarn, but that was all worthless in retrospect. No, the look of awe on the Summoner’s face- That was all Grima needed to know he had won.

[kanonffa]

Ooh, how about a fat Tibarn? Make sure not to stress yourself out!!

Fat chicken being sexy~

Thanks for your suggestion!

I finally manage to draw this chicken, he's so damn hot =v= I’m not the best drawing wings sorry, also weird hands oh well

Hope you like it and thanks for your concern <3 :)

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

🐷 + Tibarn for that ask meme

Askr was both like and not like Tellius, as Tibarn was learning.

War and conflict were abundant in this realm, just as it was back home. Though, admittedly, it was easier to parse out who the enemy was in Tellius. Their foes always seemed to be shifting here, one moment it was an invader from another nation, the next it was death itself that they were combating. Still, with all the fighting, there were odd moments of peace and frivolity in Askr that had been lacking quite a lot in the past few decades in Tellius.

No matter where they were all from, or who had been on what side in wars long passed, there would be festivals and other peacetime events held in Askr. It could range from something as somber as wishes for the new year, to something as silly as dressing up as rabbits in the spring. Everyone that wanted to take part could do so, and most in the Order would take part; playing games, enjoying the varied foods from across all their realms, as well as observing and sharing their customs with one another. Of course, things didn’t usually go off without a hitch, but it usually ended in all good fun.

It was bizarre to go from fighting Death one moment, to celebrating the coming of winter the next, but that’s where they were now.

Tibarn wasn’t much for the Beorcs’ many excuses to have a party, but the parties themselves were akin to the celebratory feasts back in Phoenicis that he couldn’t complain about them too much. Everyone was eating and drinking, riding the high of another victory under their belts.

And, judging by the absolutely gluttonous amounts of food at their disposal here, those belts would be loosening more than a little by the end of the night. As a laguz, eating enormous meals wasn’t unusual, but there were so many Heroes here by this point, that the sheer amount of food needed had gone up as well. At least as a Hawk, Tibarn only had eyes for the meat laid out at any given time during meals. Hailing from an island nation, fish was often on the menu, with lesser options in the way of pork or beef, so Tibarn had been indulging himself with some of the more landlocked options available to him in Askr.

Pork had become a favorite of his by far, and at the night’s meal that evening, there’d been several roasted hogs with the most amazing spicy glaze that Tibarn just couldn’t resist. Among everything else that the Hawk King had eaten that night, one of those hogs had been devoured solely by him before he called it a night.

Wings stretching out to their full span as soon as he was in his quarters, Tibarn patted his full stomach contentedly as he got ready to turn in for the night, however, he paused when his palm met with the unfamiliar sensation of bloat. He’d always been able to eat his fill without showing much evidence to that fact, but tonight, for whatever reason, that didn’t seem to be the case. Glancing down, he could see the slight bulge of his middle, abdominal muscles forced to conform some to the amount of food he’d ingested.

Shrugging, he didn’t think too much of it, and simply started to pick up where he left off, shedding his clothes in preparation for sleep. His long jacket came off first, haphazardly folded and then tossed to a rarely used chair in the corner.

As he unwound the cloth wrappings from his hands, though, Tibarn blinked when he saw the tips of his fingers darken. Thinking it a trick of the light at first, he simply tried to clear his vision and let it adjust to the candlelight of the room he was in, but this proved useless, as the dark color only seemed to spread further down from his fingers to his arm; it got lighter as it traveled, shifting from a gray-black to a shade of brown close to the coloration of his feathers. Wings flapping in uncertainty of what was going on, Tibarn grimaced as short, bristly hairs began to sprout up along his skin where it changed color. It spread all over his body, really only becoming sparse when it reached his face, and never overtaking his wings’ feathers.

So distracted by this shocking transformation, Tibarn hadn’t noticed how his slightly bloated stomach was pushing out more and more. It was only when the belt at his waist started to cut into his flesh, eliciting a discomforted grunt from the Laguz, that he pried his gaze from the fur growing on his body to the way his toned stomach seemed to be swelling out.

Covered in stiff, brown fur, his muscled physique was warping into something else. Fat piled onto his broad frame, covering up his obvious musculature and hiding it behind a firm layer of chub. With some quick thinking, Tibarn undid the belt straining under the oppression of his sudden growth, releasing a sigh of relief at the free space it allowed his gut as it continued to blimp up and out. It was wide and perfectly round, an exaggerated beer gut that hid washboard abs with no effort at all. It bounced slightly as it expanded outward, fur stretched thin at its widest point.

His pecs were quick to follow suit with his stomach, puffing up into round, juicy mounds. They didn’t lose all of their firmness, however, not sagging so much as pressing up against the opposing force of mass that was his belly.

Muscled limbs went in a similar direction as his chest, not entirely losing their impressive definition, but simply bloating up with additional mass in the form of fat added on top of hard muscle. His arms grew heavier as they plumped up with additional weight, giving his biceps softer curves when he experimentally flexed them to make sure that his strength was still there. His thighs puffed out, thick and powerful, tearing several seams wide open as they expanded – his ass jiggling as it caught up with the rest of his body. A short, bristled tail pushed out just above the rounded curve of his rear, going utterly unnoticed in comparison to the rest of the changes Tibarn’s body was undergoing.

Pointed ears grew taller and wider, brown fur covering them as well; standing out much more from his skull than they had previously. Fingers and toes became stiff feeling, blackened at their tips, but still functional. Short but terribly sharp tusks pushed forward in his mouth, jutting out passed his bottom lip, catching awkwardly at times on his upper lip as he opened and closed his mouth experimentally as his face wrapped up this transformation with a blunted snout overtaking his nose.

Snuffling at the air for a moment as his body stilled and relaxed once more, Tibarn gave himself a good look over, a ham-fisted hand coming down to heft at his gut. Strangely, he didn’t feel embarrassed by this change, but oddly prideful at his increased size and the additional power that came with it.

Flying might take a bit more effort now, considering the fact that he’d probably doubled in weight, but Tibarn was sure he could adjust easily so long as he added more strength training to his regime to get the most out of his new form.

[pangtasias-atelier]

oh and um maybe an obese tibarn fattening up reyson would be cute too.

Any Tibarn request has me foaming at the mouth. Especially when this was the only one so I went a little crazy and kinda made him bigger whoops ajnssjsnjsb. Also love this ship so I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Tibarn only gets a few moments to enjoy his meal before he discovers his secret admirer. 

Well, not quite so secret admirer, his boyfriend, Reyson watching from afar; the heron sits a couple miles away, gently seated on a tree branch as he tries his best to slowly gaze at the scenery, Tibarn the most enticing subject to look at. Even as Tibarn meets Reyson's gaze, the heron refusing to get caught by slowly turning his head as if actually admiring Serenes Forest and not watching the way Tibarn pits away the food in front of him. 

"Hey Reyson, come join me!" Tibarn shouts for his boyfriend. Despite the distance between them, the heightened senses they have easily allows for Reyson to hear his boyfriend. He waves for his heron to come over.

And Reyson does. He covers up his expression of irritation muddled with equal parts of fear and wanting. Long, majestic white wings slowly flap as he makes his way to Tibarn.

Tibarn no longer resembling his former adonis self, the first king of the united bird clan has gained a large amount of weight. A significantly large amount of weight. All of his sculpted muscles that made him resemble more like his beast brethren than his bird kin are washed away by a large wave of lard all over his body. Tibarn’s large, broad pecs are completely replaced by a hefty set of breasts that rival Queen Nailah’s own. Tibarn’s set of sagging tits that come close to rivaling the size of his head rest atop his massive stomach, both flabby breasts splaying down his gut from the sheer size of them. With Tibarn seated on the floor, his large gut uses his own thighs as a cushion; the exposed tanned skin juts out forward on the ground itself with his thick legs that are lined with numerous rolls of squishy adipose spread out to make room for his upper thighs that billow out from the flab contained in them. His thighs squish against the lower bits of stomach fat that lurch forward as well as his bulbous fat pad which struggles against his tight, brand new pants. Tibarn’s rear is squished against the large tree he uses as a backrest, Reyson and Leanne’s seid magic having a greater effect in the area Tibarn is currently in.

Reyson softly lands, his boots slowly descending upon the no longer gray, lifeless forest floor. “Didn’t you eat only an hour ago?” 

“You watched me eat then. So you should know,” Despite the small shrug of his shoulders, Tibarn’s face is taken up by the grin on his face. That and the crumbs and smears of food on his portly cheeks. 

Reyson scoffs. He also tries his best to make sure the blush on his porcelain skin face doesn’t become obvious. “I watch because you guzzle everything down like it’s going to run away,”

“That’s how I always eat. There’s just less to do now, so I can enjoy myself more,” 

“Hmph,”

“Take a seat and relax with me. Enjoy some food while you’re at it,” Tibarn pats the ground beside him and his gut as well; the blubbery gut wobbles in response.

Reyson’s porcelain face is marred by the dark, crimson blush that spreads from ear to ear.

It takes him a moment to decide, Reyson’s white wings furled behind him as he grumbles to himself, but the thin heron does take a seat beside Tibarn. 

He’s immediately met with a ridiculously large, flabby arm wrapped around his petite shoulders and nearly getting a faceful of Tibarn’s excessive weight. “See, no need to be shy. Here, I even got you some meat free things,”

Reyson picks at the slice of cake with the fork provided to him. The solid, yellow mass of dessert slightly wobbles with each prick he gives it. 

“It’s cheesecake,” Tibarn says after finishing the very last bite of his steak—his second meal for his lunch—and then he places his hand on top of Reyson’s and lifts the plate up higher to him. “At least the beorc did one good thing with all the resources they have. Everything they have tastes much better than most things in Phoenicis,”

With a final huff of air, Reyson blowing the tuft of his bangs that come close to his eyes, he takes a bite of the creamy delicacy. He quickly goes back for another bite. And then another. Metal comes close to scratching the plate. The sugary with a slight hint of saltiness in the crust pairs well with the creamy, silky texture of the cheesecake that’s more tart than cloyingly sweet. “Those beorc can cook. I’ll give them that,” Reyson mutters as he stares at his empty plate right in front of him.

“Hah!” Tibarn erupts into a burst of laughter, his entire frame jiggling as he uproariously laughs at Reyson. Something he doesn’t bother to hide, holding onto his boyfriend for dear life.

Reyson grumbles to himself. Able to peer inside Tibarn’s far too open emotions, Reyson already figures the reason for Tibarn’s behavior. But he still can’t help himself from asking. “Why are you laughing?” Reyson’s jaw is clenched. With a bright red blush, he looks away.

“You look cute when you’re hungry. I’ve never seen you eat like that,” Tibarn drapes himself over Reyson, his mane of black hair on top of Reyson’s own long blonde locks. “You also don’t do a good job of hiding how jealous you are,”

“Hmmph me? I’m sure-”

Tibarn interrupts Reyson. “Then why do you always look at yourself after staring at me?” He gazes into Reyson’s eyes, wide eyes staring back at his own taunting ones. 

“I-uh. Ugh. Am I really so obvious?” 

“It makes it easier. You clearly don’t mind me being a pig-”

“You’re not a pig. You’re- you’re…” Reyson clamps up.

Tibarn rubs Reyson’s back. He also tries his best but fails to hold back his mild laughter. “Go on. I’m what?” He whispers in his ear, the soft, gentle voice tickling against the tips of Reyson’s pointed ears.

“You look great,” Reyson mumbles his confession to his lap, his thin limbs much more fascinating than anywhere in Tibarn’s general direction. 

“I do. And you’d look good with some weight like how you want to. So,” Tibarn grunts as he stands up. Using the tree for leverage, he slowly but surely lifts up his entire bulk off the ground; his gut practically sways in front of Reyson’s face, the sagging, soft belly so tantalizingly close to fondle. “If I’m going to help you, you better get ready for intensive training,”

Reyson takes Tibarn’s hand with only the slightest bit of hesitation. The two taking the handful of dishes back, the small stop is the only detour the two have before they reach Tibarn’s room. 

The spacious bedroom is large enough to make even his old room in Phoenicis seem like nothing more than an unimportant count’s. Tibarn’s bed easily commands the most attention in the well furnished room; the enormous mattress is accentuated by the ornate furniture spread throughout his room. Of which, Tibarn leads Reyson over to the wide, sturdy couch. 

“Hold on for just a minute,” Tibarn gives Reyson a kiss before leaving his now seated boyfriend with a grin.

And for his part, Reyson does wait. Despite the rising, bubbling mess of nerves that continue to claw up his entire body, he stays seated. Any sort of shock of ridicule that could never happen to begin with—Tibarn’s entire soul on display to Reyson like the gaudy artworks the few times he’s had the misfortune to step into any of Begnion’s expansive manors—the heron still can’t repel his worry.

But thankfully, Tibarn enters soon enough and with a cart in tow. The cart carries a couple of trays along with his gut, the flabby mass of fat oozing onto the cooling metal. “If you want to get big, we got to start strong. And since you can’t eat meat,” Tibarn uncovers the first tray, a mixed combination of pastries awaiting Reyson. 

The next sight in front of Reyson shocks him, even after he blinks repeatedly to reaffirm that Tibarn is indeed standing in front of him, the massive hawk’s jutting gut saggins down to nearly touch Reyson’s lap as leans over with a still warm blueberry muffin in his hand.

“You okay?” Tibarn slightly pulls back. He cups Reyson’s face with his portly hand, thumb lightly grazing the edge of Reyson’s lips. “If you’re having second thoughts, then I don’t mind stopping. I don’t want you to feel obligated or hell, if you feel weirded out then—”

Reyson shuts Tibarn up with his lips. “I am fine. Truthfully, I was fearful that somehow you’d ridicule me regardless of how you’d never do something like that,”

“Good. I mean, I’m in no position to be ridiculing anyone,” Tibarn smacks his gut. “But you’re sure you have no reservations?” Tibarn slowly reassuming his position, his other hand using the couch as leverage so as to not come toppling down onto Reyson—an idea the heron tries not to fixate and will into existence—he lovingly gazes down at him.

“Yes. It’s rare to see you of all people worry,” Reyson mentally curses at the bloom of emotion that sparks in Tibarn, once again wishful that Tibarn’s essence weren’t so easy to read.

“I worry when it comes to you,” Despite the words that he truly means, Tibarn immediately brings the muffin to Reyson’s small yet plump lips.

And the heron obligingly eats the pastry. The dense yet moist treat is slowly but surely devoured with every tiny bite he takes as Tibarn presses more and more of it to his lips. And even after Reyson finishes that, another muffin awaits him to be fed to him. Tibarn also has another pastry ready for Reyson to eat by the time he takes a large, already tired swallow of the remnants of the second muffin. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be full after just one thing,” Tibarn rests a hand on Reyson’s flat stomach, the rail thin waist being the slightest bit distended.

“Ugh I had the cheesecake mmmphh!”

Tibarn gently smiles down at Reyson. With an eclair in his hand this time, he has the delicacy pressed against his boyfriend’s mouth as he feeds him more. “You said you wanted to get bigger, so I’m here to help,” 

Reyson slowly bites at the custard filled dessert. The thick, cloyingly sweet filling falls and spills out, the creamy inside dirtying his lips and cheeks. Any attempt at speaking is denied, Reyson forced to eat more as more of the treat is held and shoved into his mouth. He lets out a small burp after finishing his treat. A tray of cookies immediately presented to him afterwards, Reyson eats those all as well. He has his head tilted back afterwards, clearly not used to anything past the lightest snack. 

“We can’t quit now. You only have a bit left,” Tibarn dutifully feeds Reyson a platter of tiny fruit filled knish. The deep fried battered treat ends up going all into his full yet greedy gullet despite the small bit of moans that escape Reyson’s lips. “You’re doing so well. Just focus on eating and I’ll take good care of you,” 

Reyson lets out a whimper as Tibarn rubs his tiny little gut. So much food crammed into him now after yet another plate. “Ughhhh just hnnng,,,” Reyson has his eyes closed. All his complaints die in the back of his throat, his breathing picking up as Tibarn leans further down to kiss and tend his aching gut.

“You’re doing perfect. You only have one last thing left for you,”

Reyson doesn't bother hiding his groan. He has both his hands on his gut, the thin stomach now adorned with a small belly with all his food for his comparative size. “Just, buh-uurp, make it quick,” Taking small breaths, he shuts his eyes closed once more as Tibarn brings a large cup to his flushed face.

“This will help you wash everything down,” Tibarn pours the sugary, sweet smoothie down Reyson’s mouth. He watches as he submissively chugs the entire thing without pause, Reyson’s throat bobbing with every single tired gulp he takes. His chugging is accompanied by pathetic little moans, the sounds almost drowned out by the torrent of liquid coming close to overflowing and making a mess of his face as Reyson begins to slow down. His gut grows louder, the small belly audibly churning from the mess of food stuffed inside it.

But before Reyson can give up, Tibarn pulls away the empty glass. 

“See. I knew you could do it,” Cleaning up Reyson’s mouth from the bit of spilling, Tibarn finally takes a seat.

“I…” With drowsy eyes, Reyson only leans the back of his head further into the couch. Only able to process his noisy gut, he remains silent. He does rub his churning little distended belly however, both hands caressing it. 

Tibarn starts digging into his own plates without abandon. “Just focus on relaxing for now. You did great, but we’re just getting started,”

True to Tibarn’s word, Reyson’s small little stuffing is only the first of countless to come. Tibarn keeps the sessions coming. And Reyson allows them, the tiny heron always eating everything that is handed to him throughout the days despite his stomach protests. And Reyson soon begins to pack on the pounds, a trim waist lovingly fattened up into the very beginning of a belly and even bigger as more and more days go by. The two practically inseparable before, the two growing birds are practically never seen without each other now; the two fat laguz are a sight to behold with their growing waistlines, not that either of them mind. And not that anyone dares to bring up the two’s weight as year’s and events go by, other nation’s festivities takinging into account Tibarn’s large waistline and Reyson’s own hefty one as well. The two fat laguz gaining weight, Reyson’s gains are still slower despite Tibarn’s insistence on fattening him up. Especially as Reyson himself also pushes Tibarn to eat, the small bits of encouragement and fondling initiated by Reyson more than twice so fueling Tibarn to stuff himself further. 

Like most of their days, the now married couple are currently in their room after years of living with each other. The state of all the furniture is a true testament to the fine craftsmanship behind every single piece, all of them still intact despite having to withstand so much weight. 

“Hahhh, it’s good isn’t it?” The now much fatter Tibarn grins at Reyson. Seated on the couch, the positions of the two are swapped from the very first day of stuffing. Despite having the fat Reyson draped over him, Tibarn still dutifully feeds his husband. 

The couch manages to hold up even with the obscene amount of weight that it holds right now. Tibarn seated at the very center of it, his bulk alone takes up almost the entirety of the room on the spacious seating. The absurdly large hawk manages to keep his mobility from his incredibly laguz strength, the nearly half a ton King’s bare minimum of sluggish movements for waddling still a marvel for all the fellow bird laguz in Serenes—the sight even more of a shock to visiting beorc dignitaries and the bird’s beast and dragon brethren despite the tales of such a hedonistically fat laguz royal. Though with him being so fat enough to be on the last vestiges of mobility, Tibarn is far too large for any sort of clothes to be effective in covering up his enormity with how fast he gains, the hawk king electing to wear nothing. Tibarn’s entire body is a testament to his pleasure and gluttony. His gut is by far the largest thing about him, the massive, billowing gut surging forward from him like a waterfall of lard wherever he goes. Made up of two prominent sections, the upper portion of his gut doesn’t jut out as much as the lower half, the massive sagging lower rivers of fat that are the rolls on his gut cascading down the couch. The enormous pile of fat that makes up his gargantuan gut currently rests on the floor. Partially, the rest of it that doesn’t pool on the plush carpet floor instead sprawled out on the couch. The massive gut is more than large enough to blanket an entire transformed laguz with enough blubber to spare for another. Tibarn’s enormous stomach churns and rumbles—half from hunger and half from eating too much with him never quite able to satisfy his hunger at his ridiculous furniture crushing size. His thick jutting love handles surpass the size of an arm in their width. And his large breasts that now surpass the size of an entire person’s torso, his massive tits alone close to weighing as much as the average beorc now, follow gravity’s natural pull and splay down his mound of fat for a gut to even reach and touch his love handles; the two large breasts even sag over the upper section of his gut. Tibarn’s wings are now nothing more than an adornment on his bloated figure. The two massive, powerful wings that were always a point of pride for Tibarn now come close to being matched by his own gluttonous girth now. Despite his lower half being smaller, his ponderous rear presses against the back of the couch, the furniture creaking from the strain of it along with the rest of his weight but still holding on strong. Tibarn’s massive backside is still large enough to completely smother an armchair under each shapeless cheek. Tibarn’s thighs are mostly taken up by the enormity of his upper half. Tibarn’s hips are more than five times wider than the regular laguz. His thighs are large enough to struggle with anything resembling a doorway—large enough to where that has been an issue a couple hundred pounds ago; the two ponderously shaped thighs are riddled with their own rolls of flab, bits of adipose jutting to the side as they rest on the couch. Tibarn’s legs are practically swallowed in flab. The strength that he does have left can’t remove the encroaching physical impossibility of being too fat to stand up anymore, especially with his cankle fat  that sags and spills down to absorb his feet. His knees also struggle with flexibility like the rest of him; the two doughy joints are smothered in a heaping layer of lard from his thighs. Tibarn’s arms come close to facing the very same issue. His enormous biceps are now larger than a person’s waistline. The obscenely obese hawk has the bare minimum of strength to sluggishly, lethargically lift them up. An effort he mostly reserves for Reyson at this point.

The heron far from matching Tibarn’s weight, the petite little laguz is no more. Long gone is his slim, delicate body; instead, a bloated hefty body replaces it. The new delicacies provided to him with no longer having to subsist off of Phoenicis’ climate—and the supplies they pirated from Begnion—the joy from eating such a wide array of dishes had been doubled by having Tibarn at his side. Reyson uses Tibarn as his own personal seat, his husband far more soft than even the most luxurious of furniture. Reyson drapes himself over Tibarn. His own large belly squishes against his husband’s bed sized body. Reyson weighs just a tad bit over the 400 benchmark, the heron finally surpassing his goal weight two weeks ago before deciding to indulge himself further upon the insistence of his husband along with his own enjoyment of his size and his husband’s immensity. He has a much more defined lower half. Still clothed, the ill fitting pair of shorts are incredibly snug against his posterior. Reyson’s large ass juts out behind him, the two livingly shaped rear always a marvel to watch whenever he waddles no matter how much laguz try not to stare. The two large cheeks that need their own chair now spill out from his tight clothing. And Reyson’s shirt does absolutely nothing to cover up the exposed cheeks that spill out, the white fabric taut as it hugs the large, flabby curve of his gut. Reyson’s wings rather average, the still large wingspan easily surpasses his own width. He can also still fly. Not that Reyson truly ever bothers to try so anymore when he tires so easily after a mere few minutes or so of flapping his wings a few feet above the ground. Reyson’s thighs do a much better job of getting around anyways, the two lard filled pillars for legs his only option now. His large thighs easily give Reyson a prominent bottom heavy shape even with his sizable upper half’s large gut that sags close to his groin along with two large bosoms that strain every shirt he wears and a pair of meaty, flabby arms with arm fat that sags whenever he lifts up his arms for more food.

Which he currently works on. Partially for himself, but mostly for Tibarn. “The food is delicious. But,” Reyson pauses as he feeds a heaping forkful of meat to his nearly immobile husband. 

“But?” Tibarn pauses his own action. Well, not eating, the morbidly obese laguz still greedily accepting the next bit of food Reyson gives him. But he does stop lifting up his arm for a quick break, Tibarn tiredly moving his overlyladen arms to feed Reyson the best that he can at his weight.

Reyson wipes at Tibarn’s jowls as he speaks, Tiabrn’s cheeks that are far too big to be cupped with one hand now wobbling from the care and attention. “But, I think you’re just a hog now,” Reyson leans closer. Fat squishes against lard as he reaches to give Tibarn a kiss. No malice to be found in his words, the heron simply allows himself a small, cheeky grin. 

“Yeah? Well, I don’t mind it,” Tibarn accepts another bite of food, just barely having finished his current bite before Reyson practically shoves more into his hungry maw. “And you certainly don’t mind it. Besides, what does that make you? A pig? Cause you’re certainly already there,”

Reyson laughs. Loudly at first, the burst of laughter eventually trickling down into soft chuckles. “Of course I don’t mind how big you are. If I did, well then, you’d be out of such a doting husband. And,” Reyson causes, mentally groaning at what should be a demeaning term used so lovingly and the way he enjoys it. “And I guess I am then,” Despite his acceptance of the sudden term, Reyson’s portly, rounded face is blemished by a blush. 

“Oh, you’re shy now? After eating yourself almost three hundred pounds heavier?” Tibarn grins. Though the taunting, teasing smile is made far from menacing with smears of oils and fat on his plump lips that are attached to a rounded, bloated face. “Though if you ask me, you look even more handsome now with how nice and fat you are,”

“I’m not shy. This whole situation is simply ridiculous if you think about it. Not that I care. It’s relaxing not having to feel so prim and proper when you’re far from that now,” Tibarn huffs as Reyson feeds him more. And Reyson watches as Tibarn listens to his words, waiting for him to finish, both of them aware of where the conversation will lead like every day. But Reyson finds it difficult. Especially with his insight from his heron blood. Tibarn’s ever open soul to Reyson’s insight just feels so teasing, so purposeful, the heron able to see that Tibarn truly means every word he says. And a slight insight to Tibarn’s desires. Not that they deviate at all from Reyson’s own. So, he speaks up, his growling stomach also pushing the conversation along. “I’m sure you’ll find me even more ravishing with some more weight. So why don’t you feed me? You’ve gotten quite complacent it seems,”

“Closed mouths don’t get fed. But since you asked so nicely,” Tibarn once again resumes his sluggish movements, lifting up an obscenely large lard filled arm to bring the bit of food he has left for Reyson despite how important it is at his size.

Not that either of the two fat bird laguz truly care about such things, both of them more than content just to spend time with each other. And to glut out and grow even more like they have been.

[laguz]

i want tibarns fat cock in my mouth :(

[fostersffff]

I’m kinda in line with everyone else invested in Fire Emblem Heroes right now that the powercreep skills and sets on the new beast units are fucking insane (hello melee infantry that can move three spaces and comes with distant counter and neutralize null counter and AoE restrict movement), but I find the writing in the Forging Bonds event really encouraging.

Like, as charmed as I am by big fat anime titties, the Loki and Aversa Forging Bonds sucked because it was just them saying “player-kun, you’re so cool, I wish I could smother you with my big fat anime titties”, but using the events to actually have fun character interactions is great, like Anna trying to pitch shapeshifting clothes to sell to Nailah and other transformers, or advancing Alfonse’s concerns about becoming king by having him talk with Tibarn. And as an added bonus, they’re going in hard with Binding Blade references, presumably in anticipation of that banner, like Rayson wanting to wear armor because he saw Gwendolyn, or Leanne accidentally learning to speak English from Narcian and Sophia

[miraclelevellan]

Tibarn:Summoner!I have a problem with letting that fat sack of wasted space Oliver wandering around-what the hell are you doing?

My Summoner:Trying to decide what color bow to put on Kaden. What do you think red or blue?

Kaden:I like blue!

Tibarn:Summoner!

My Summoner:Listen....Tibarn all problems can be solved by petting Kaden.

Kaden:It's true!I'm amazing~

Tibarn:I'd kill you if I didn't love you so much.

My Summoner:Fair enough.

[docidoci]

PoR JP/EN script differences overview: (Part 4) ch #12 - ch #13

Where things are moving slowly and Gatrie has way too many conversations that are almost the same.

→ Main Index — Begin reading here ←

Chapter 12.

1) Nasir, Ike and Mist talk with marginal changes. Main additions:

JP!Ike outright asking: Nasir... you're beorc, aren't you? If you're a beorc, why are you working with laguz?

JP!Nasir: No, I'm a genuine laguz.

In the translated script, Nasir also says that he has financial reasons for involvement. No such thing originally.

2) JP!Zihark cutely saying "I've never met such a cosy mercenary group before" instead of grandstanding about how he's "finally able to do the kind of good I've longed to do for years."

3) Mistranslated Nasir talking about crows attacking the ship.

EN!Nasir: We're still out of their range, but airborne foes can be especially troublesome.

JP!Nasir: We're not in their territory, so I've let my guard down...

As we learn later, those were indeed Goldoa's territorial waters, not Kilvas.

4) A rare missed joke, instead of adding a joke. Apparently, Ike was initially hoping to move the ship from the rocks with a large piece of driftwood (there was none in vicinity). Then, he was arguing with the dragon soldiers for a while, making it more clear how Kurthnaga had time to get over to the shore and interfere.

5) A remark on Greil's child-rearing methods in Ike talking to Kurthnaga.

EN!Ike: My father had a great deal to say about my lack of etiquette.

JP!Ike: My dad used to harshly scold me for not speaking properly…

The literal verb here is "to be hit", but the meaning is "to be scolded/yelled at for some failure". Poor kid just trying to navigate the neurotypical world. That said, we will eventually find out that Greil did literally hit Ike, but not for this.

I'll say this again after reading the whole Kurthnaga dialogue — the translated Ike is too smooth-talking too often, compared to what the original intent was and the text itself says in constantly focusing on his rudeness.

Chapter 13.

1) Worldbuilding clarification:

EN!Soren: No, but it's extremely unusual for Begnion to send an envoy to meet a princess whom they do not even acknowledge.

JP!Soren: It is not natural, though, to go to the trouble of sending an emissary for a princess who is not recognised by the public.

2) JP!Tibarn and JP!Janaff (and Reyson later) pretty much exclusively use the curseword "humans"/ningen in this chapter, but their EN versions use "beorc".

3) Ike/Mist/Soren/Titania looking for the apostle joke originally front loaded some information - because the apostle's (messenger of the goddess, literally) gender wasn't obvious, since it was possible to skip gendered language for a while. Compare:

EN!Ike: I'll do what I can to find her, but I don't even know who I'm looking for...

EN!Soren: I think it's safe to assume she will be a woman of stature, a noblewoman of some sort.

EN!Titania: Well, I suppose all I have to do is keep my eyes peeled for any stowaway--anyone I don't know.

vs

JP!Ike: ...I'll be searching, but.. I don't even know what the person looks like... ...a messenger of the goddess, the emperor of Begnion ...... A fat, dignified-looking, old man?

JP!Soren: Ike, the apostles in Begnion have been women for generations.

JP!Titania: So, a woman of grace and high status, then.

Damn, there was a lot of script, but most fudging/misunderstanding of the text was really boring and not worth mentioning.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Yet Another Day In The Life

Warning: This is a fetish story!!!

Sooooo, this is a super old story that's pretty much been fully finished for about an entire damn year. I have not looked at it in so long but I do remember being excited and also a lil embarrassed when I finished this which is why ive never uploaded it here for so damn long ahdbdbdb. But hopefully it still holds up!

I figured it'd at least be perfect for today since it is the 4th year of me actually putting myself to write 🥳

So thanks again to everyone for sticking with me and enjoying my writing 🥺 and hope you enjoy more of my super self indulgent bullshit that like only I care about asbjdnsbs

The sugary sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies wafts through the entirety of the massive room for all of its fattened occupants to enjoy and bask in the pleasant scent. With all of them used to the gentle, homely smell, the joy of fresh cookies is in the back of their minds as the several dozens of cookies bake in the oven. Even as the timer buzzes and dings, all of them pay no attention to it. All except Corrin.

Reading a book as he lies on his back on a couch, the fat dragon takes up a good portion of the couch. Not fat enough to where his gut can sag off the seating, the sides of his belly manage to barely reach to the edge. A pillow to support his head, Corrin uses his pronounced chest as a resting spot for his book while he reads it. His girthy thighs substantially wide, he only fully rests one of them on the couch; the other leg hangs off the couch with not enough room for both to be comfortable together. 

Upon hearing the very first ring of the timer, he hurriedly inserts a bookmark before setting his book down. Building up some momentum to lift his big body, Corrin grunts as he rushes into a seated position. As soon as he stands up, he scurries over to turn the timer off. His snug shirt that shows the doughy shape of his gut begins to ride up from his rushed movement. Bits of his gut peak out, his stomach jiggling and sloshing from his hurried movement. Fiddling with the timer to turn it off, he nearly drops it from his equal parts excitement and panic. Afterwards, he stares at the risen cookies with wide eyes, his face nearly plastered to the oven’s glass door. His tail swishes behind his plush, padded ass from his growing impatience and nerves. His rear manages to hold a surprising amount of definition to it. The two rounded ass cheeks large enough to squash another person are held firmly in his pants. "Kiran, I think they're done!" So afraid that the cookies will burn to cinders the instant his attention is diverted away from the oven, Corrin merely flaps his hand to gesture for Kiran to come over while he continues to watch with glee. "Come on!" Corrin refuses to take out the cookies based on only his own decision, the insecure dragon unable to make many choices on his own without fear of making a mistake.

Kiran laughs at the restlessness and excitement behind Corrin's voice, the usually soft-spoken voice louder and faster. "I'll be there in a second. If you think they're ready, take 'em out. I trust you," Currently occupied in his own task, Kiran's gentle smile widens as he hears the slight clang and scraping of metal. 

Kiran rests on one of the several couches in the room. Not seated on the seat cushion, he sits partially on the arm rest. His ass on the arm rest, the rest of his body rests on the couch's occupant. He sinks in the plush, soft fat as he rests against Tibarn.

The laguz royal is absolutely massive. So preciously plump and large, his width fills up the entirety of the couch's span. The comfortable furniture — despite being a two seater with extra room — can only fit Tibarn. He rests his wide, plush arms against the top of the backrest; he sinks into the cushiony couch, Tibarn's sagging jowls quivering as he takes deep, labored breaths from having just finished eating. His titanic gut resting heavily on his massive thighs, the billowing fat seeps on forward to get dragged down by gravity. Gravity does its job in dragging his gut down, but the plush carpet does the rest, Tibarn’s gut plopped on top of it from so much fat swaddling his fine figure. His gut churns due to all the food inside him, his gut a bit less saggy as it usually is. His extra doughy chest seems to fold in on itself with so much fat, the sides of them an extra love handle to grab. His moobs cascade down onto his gut, the billowing breasts large enough to the point where a bra would be helpful for Tibarn. Tibarn’s ass absolutely massive, each definitonless cheek fills up a spot on the two seater alone as they splay behind Tibarn’s prodigious figure. His door crushing thighs are plastered to the couch like the rest of his figure. His thighs covered in squishable adipose, his roll riddled thighs make moving a struggle for Tibarn. So ponderously wide, they squish against one another most of the time. And the few moments where they manage to separate from each other, his humongous belly takes residence between the two. With movement being such a hassle at his preposterous size — Tibarn being able to move a marvel to those not used to seeing the massively fattened king — such an activity is usually reserved for a few moments, such as getting comfortable to eat food or getting food. Not having to worry about that with Kiran feeding him, he pleasantly rests on the couch as Kiran wipes away at the specks of food dusting his lips and squirrel-like cheeks. 

“You sure know how to cook,” Tibarn cocks a grin at Kiran. Lifting up a heavy hand to pat his gut, the taxing effort of merely lifting it makes him rethink his action, Tibarn plopping his arm down. 

“Only the finest,” Kiran gently dabs at Tibarn’s cheek with a damp napkin. Upon finishing cleaning Tibarn’s face, he leans in for a quick smooch. “And you sure know how to put it away,” Kiran whispers in Tibarn’s ear, one hand draped over Tibarn’s arm for support while the other hand leisurely rests on the top of Tibarn’s substantial gut. His hand slowly and gently rubs the parts of Tibarn’s gut he can reach.

Tibarn guffaws. His raucous laughter slowly peters out into light chuckling from his jiggling corpulence upsetting his still stuffed gut. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” Despite his own self assuredness, Tibarn lets out a few interspersed huffs from his turbulent tummy. Though he quickly tries to cover said discomfort up with another grin. His cheerful yet cocky demeanor is unable to hide his slight discomfort or the way his eyes seem to droop, a food coma calling for Tibarn after his feast. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I have an eye for talent,” Kiran gives Tibarn’s gut one final rub. Using his now free hand, he brings it to Tibarn’s face. He cups a hefty cheek with the palm of his hand, Tibarn’s jowls squishing against and filling up the entire palm, and kisses him once more. Enjoying his presence and his everything, it takes him a few more peaceful moments before Kiran manages to pull himself away from Tibarn. “I’ll let you digest your food in peace,” Kiran grazes Tibarn’s arm while he gets up, as if to savor Tibarn’s presence as long as possible. 

Tibarn lets out an agreeable hum as the coils of sleep tighten their grip on his stuffed laguz. He smiles fondly all the while by the time he manages to fall asleep.

Now finished, Kiran goes to check on Corrin. But first, he stops by the seated Seteth and Duma. 

The task of summoner a daunting job filled with a multitude of tasks, the job had gotten easier for Kiran over the years. Exceptional helpers also eased the burden, especially with Seteth's experience as being the second hand man in running Garreg Mach Monastery.

The two of them are accompanied by a small handful of papers and a multitude of snacks for them to mindlessly munch on. While both of them work on their own respective task of assigning heroes for different jobs and tasks, Duma's is reviewed by Seteth afterwards. A fact that the divine dragon loathes. Which he makes evident by his furious scowl on his plump face and his whitened knuckles from gripping onto each paper as Seteth gingerly grabs it. 

"What is the issue this time?" Duma's pointed ears are down turned while his brows are furrowed. His irritation is normally something to behold, but his fattened form gives him a softer, cuter appearance. A much, much softer appearance. Nowhere near as large as Tibarn's bloated self, Duma's size still puts others to shame with his fattened state. All of Duma's musculature befitting one known as the War Father is now gone from his engorged figure. Incredibly wide, Duma uses two reinforced chairs to withhold and withstand his weighty girth. Not that the chairs fully encompass all of his width, Duma's large ass oozing off both ends of the chairs. The armor that once adorned his cutting figure no longer remains. Instead, Duma wears plain clothes that are strained by his corpulence. His shorts bunch around Duma's meaty thighs, the big, lardy legs slightly squished from the hems at the bottom. His thighs also struggle from the table with wood digging into his bulging thighs. His gut also struggles against the table; the sturdy wood presses into his squishy lightly tanned belly that overflows onto the table. The bottom portion of his gut seeps out from his tent-like shirt. And the part of his stomach that is covered up stretches out his shirt, his chest bulging and straining the tight fabric. 

Waiting for a response, Duma's pudgy fist is clenched while Seteth considers how to gently explain things.

"The team you planned out has no problems in terms of performing their tasks. But perhaps considering their preferences would be beneficial to them in adjusting to a world such as this," Seteth smooths out the partially wrinkled paper and points a pudgy finger at the planned out team. "Take Micaiah for example. While I am sure she would perform exceedingly well regardless of her allies, being in a team where all her allies hail from Jugdral would make her feel left out. So," Seteth strikes out one of the names before writing down Sothe underneath it. "How about we help her feel more comfortable by putting her with someone she already knows,"

Seteth's plump cheeks dimple as he joyfully smiles at his own decision, having seen the way Micaiah speaks of Sothe similarly to the way he speaks of Flayn. 

"Is that all?"

"Well no. But you've already quickly caught on to the other points," Seteth gingerly places the now complete paper with the rest of his stack. "Excellent work,"

Duma grumbles to himself, the praise feeling rather hollow despite the earnestness behind Seteth's voice. At least finally finished with his small amount of paperwork, he reaches for a brownie and rests back into his seats. His plush jowls are unable to hide his frown, even as he finally bothers to acknowledge Kiran.

"It seems that your ideals require much more babying than I once thought," Duma shoves the entire brownie into his mouth. Chewing away his anger, he refuses to make eye contact with Kiran despite his criticism.

"It is not babying," Kiran enunciates the word as he responds to Duma. "If we are to endure hardships, then is it not best to have those we appreciate by our side?" Kiran places a hand against Duma's bulky, flabby bicep; the layer of flab squishes under Kiran's hand while he gently pats it.

Duma grunts in acknowledgement of Kiran's response. The petulant dragon is partially mollified, Duma still sulking in his slight irritation. Yet his attitude is better as can be seen by the mild blush on his face, Kiran's meaning not lost on him from the way Kiran now drapes himself over Duma's wide, stout back. "Perhaps," Is all Duma can mutter, unwilling to admit his flawed thinking. 

"I know I much prefer experiencing stuff with you at my side. All of you," Kiran reaches down to grope at Duma's gut. Grabbing a meaty handful of his plump belly, Kiran uses his other hand to bring a brownie to Duma's mouth. 

"I enjoy your presence as well," Duma murmurs. Never having thought of being in his current situation, the powerful divine dragon can't find himself able to complain. Especially as he opens his mouth to devour the treat offered to him.

"Keep up the good work," With one final pat and a quick kiss, Kiran leaves Duma alone to mull over his notion of ideals and to also stuff his face in the process. Walking around the table, he heads on over to give Seteth a kiss as well. 

"All of the rest of the month's tasks should now be accounted for. All we need is your approval," Ever serious, Seteth promptly relays his completed work to Kiran first upon recovering from the kiss. 

"Thank you for your dedication," With the way Kiran's eyes linger on Seteth's pot belly, his meaning is made apparent to Seteth. "Enjoy some well deserved rest," 

"Gladly," More accustomed to rest and relaxation from his time in Askr, Seteth gratefully accepts the leisure time rather than forcefully attempting to find something to work on like before. He returns Kiran's earlier favor by giving him a kiss as well before the summoner walks off.

Finally checking on the ever anxious Corrin, Kiran grins at the pudgy dragon's struggling little peppy bounces. Despite the chubby dragon’s fears and worries, Corrin is able to work at a steady pace when tasked with doing something by himself.

Corrin leans against the counter to meticulously take his time frosting the edges of the hexagram sugar cookies; his plump tummy squishes against the edge of the counter while he leans forward for a stable position. He maintains a stiff, rigid posture while consumed by his task. 

Taking a peak at Corrin’s progress, Kiran nods appraisingly at the dragon’s effort in coming so far at applying himself to the culinary art of baking, Corrin now a far ways off from his nervous struggling when it came to anything resembling mixing and his unyielding nature of uncertainty which used to lead to either undercooked or overcooked sweets — sometimes both at once. “They’re coming out great,” Kiran takes a spot against the counter as well, resting an elbow on the surface as he stares at Corrin’s face and the way he ever so slightly sticks his tongue out while concentrating.

Corrin’s eyes never falter from the cookies; he simply hums in approval of Kiran’s praise. Dedicated to ensuring the treat comes out as pretty as he can make it, Corrin only really making the sickeningly, sugary confection cause of an offhand remark from Grima craving said cookies — a fact that Kiran secretly and forcefully made Grima aware of — Corrin only takes his eyes off of the cookie after giving the last cookie a small tap with the piping bag to anchor the frosting as he lifts up the bag. With him finally losing his concentration, Corrin notices Kiran’s staring and immediately begins to blush. He fiddles with the piping bag before the tube slips out of his hand which resultantly causes him to scramble and catch it before it unceremoniously plops safely away from the cookies or anything else important and onto the counter. 

“I-I thank you,” Corrin blurts out with little thought. His chubby face is a furious red while he fiddles with his fingers. 

“For what?” Kiran teasingly challenges Corrin’s random thank you, a small smile etched on his face as he waits for his reaction. When none come, Kiran softly lets out a cheerful huff. Deciding to no longer make him suffer, Kiran closes the already insignificant bit of space between them. 

Corrin instinctively leans into the embrace despite his increasingly reddening face. His nails dig into the back of Kiran’s coat as the summoner kisses him, Corrin tilting his head up due to the height difference. His mind no longer registers the way Kiran’s arms barely wrap around his waist, instead choosing to concentrate on getting as physically close as he can get. Corrin’s firm grip begins to loosen when Kiran slowly pulls away with an adoring grin. Taken out of the heat of the moment, Corrin doesn’t tense up like he used to but he does lose a portion of his confidence. So he quickly ushers himself back to his work of finishing the final step of flooding the sugar cookies, to which Kiran gives him a reassuring gentle pat on the back and a final chuckle before leaving him to his hobby. 

Checking up on Grima and Freyr last, Kiran heads to the two's secluded little corner of the room by the makeshift library. Though only Grima is taking advantage of the varied texts available to him; Freyr instead practices his playing as he plucks his harp.

Grima an absolute sight to behold, the wondrously eyeful of the obese fell dragon is juxtaposed from the monotony of him simply reading in contemplative silence. Seated in a wide two seater, the entirety of Grima's bulging hips fill out the couch's width. The fabric of his beige pants work tirelessly to contain all of his ponderous poundage. Ridiculously pear shaped, his thighs smoosh against the worn out couch, a massive Grima sized divot down the center of the couch.  Grima's legs are spread as far wide as they possibly can to allow for as much room between his fat smothered, doughy thighs. Though, most of Grima's thighs are obscured by his bulbous gut. The stuffed lard is exposed from his too small shirt that barely goes far enough in barely covering his bulging breasts that can smother a person's face. His stomach sags down his spread out thighs. Despite the several pounds of food currently being digested, the ponderous orb of fat shows no difference in firmness or fullness from its already great size. It wobbles occasionally from Grima's breathing. The lower half of his gut oozes on down past his bulky calves and onto the soft carpeting on the floor; meanwhile, his upper half is upheld from his broad thighs, the rolls of flab bulging onto half the width of his thighs. Grima's calves are slightly pushed further aside from his drooping gut, his feet also slightly absorbed by his bulging calves. Despite reading, Grima's bulky arms are too taxing to hold a book for an extensive period of time. The barrels for arms rest uselessly to his side at an angle from so much fat bunched up together while he leans back into his chair. Instead, Grima uses his magic to maintain his book in an upright position; the large volume rests on the exposed skin of his upper chest. 

While Grima silently reads on his massive couch, Freyr plucks his harp while seated on a specially reinforced ottoman. Unfortunately for the obese goat, the walnut finished harp is now harder to play not only from his sausage finger but also from his gut and thighs getting in the way. Particularly bottom heavy, the big, heavy set man’s ass juts out off the ottoman. His door wide hips partially seep off the edges of the ottoman as well, the piece of furniture made in mind for someone a couple hundred pounds lighter than the massive dream king. At least, Freyr’s outfit is made to accommodate someone at his weight: his flowing maxi skirt is amply wide enough to wrap around his entire waistline and cover his doughy rear and hips — though he still leaves a generously high slit up the left side that goes up past his knee all the way up to his upper thigh. His stomach sits contently on his thighs to cover up the waistband of his skirt, Freyr’s generous heaping love handles drooping far enough to cover the waistband from the side. The fabric bulges out at the end of his waistband from having to cover his large ass. His gut partially obscures the dangling gold jewelry that lines his waist, the brilliantly gold metal draped around his rotund thighs. Freyr also has sparkling bands of gold on his arms and legs. The jewelry is snug on his flabby biceps, the metal slightly big enough to where it squishes his flab but still isn’t uncomfortably snug on him. Despite his upright posture, his gut takes up the small portion of the ottoman not taken up by his thighs, the flabby pile of fat is plopped onto the soft fabric while also being slightly squished by the harp’s soundbox from Freyr angling the instrument. His thighs also struggle to stay somewhat close together with him needing to use the pedals at the base of the harp.

But, he ignores his minor setbacks to instead focus on his playing. Freyr plays a slower piece than usual, both in part to fit the environment of relaxing and also to give his bulging arms an easier time with moving to pluck at different strings. Freyr only pauses for an ever brief moment when Grima speaks after several minutes of comfortable silence between the two.

"Enough with your enchantments, you fool," Grima's eyes stay fixed on his book even as he flips the page with magic. 

Freyr lets out a deep, breathy chuckle to himself. Continuing his melodic playing, his eyes never once open as he responds to Grima's claim. "You and I are both well versed in magic that even I know that sneaking anything of the sort past you would be far from trivial," Freyr lifts one of the pedals to play in a sharp tone. "And what sort of effect do you suspect me of casting on you,"

Grima refuses to give Freyr any sort of immediate response as he fumbles to come up with an answer. The fell dragon still struggling to come to terms with his own evolving emotions, Grima couldn't help but shift the blame onto others — especially with his growing sense of ease and comfort in Askr. So, instead of a proper response, Grima elects to scoff and resume reading as if he had never said anything in the first place. 

And the two return to their comfortable silence, Grima reading and Freyr playing the harp. Even when Kiran takes a seat and joins the two, silence continues to envelop them. He basks in Freyr's music, the instrumentation sounding like no other when played by a divine being. It's only when Freyr finishes his piece and slowly places the harp back in its upright standing position that the silence is broken once more, this time by Freyr himself.

"What did you think?" Freyr's eyes are partially opened. His soft, doughy cheeks appear even more rounded as they dimple from him smirking at Kiran's expression of awe. 

“I’ve never heard that song before. It was wonderful,” Kiran shifts in his seat to rest leisurely on the arm rest. 

“It was a song of my own invention, so I would hope that I would be the first to play it for you; I needed to alter my usual melody so as to not accidentally infuse any of my magic into the sound, lest those who would wound my character with baseless accusations find an actual case,” 

“Do not even think to speak on my correct ideas; just because you are under contract does not mean you are powerless to tap into your full power,” Grima snaps his book shut with magic. The purple aura radiating from the item slowly dissipates before falling down with no more magic holding it up; it falls down onto Grima’s chest, getting caught for a bit from the plush landing surface for a moment until it slides down Grima’s gut and eventually reaches the floor. “These contracts may hold those weakling humans, but it is nothing more than a formality for us,” Grima’s biceps strain and wobble as he sluggishly pulls himself off the creaking and groaning couch. 

Freyr and Kiran are now both turned to face the irritated Grima; the two watch him exert all the energy in his short, obese body to simply lift himself up off the couch. It takes a couple minutes for Grima to fully stand up. Despite his access to arcane magic from having divine dragon blood infused to him, lifting up his serious poundage is no easy task, which leaves him with his entire face a bright, exhausted red as he huffs to regain his breath. He keeps a meaty hand on the armrest of the couch to keep himself standing. 

Freyr allows Grima to indulge in his brief respite before speaking, Grima pausing his waddling upon hearing him speak. “You are correct in stating that the contracts hold little sway over those like us. Yet, I would never wish to directly interfere too much in the future of other realms. So why is it that you have not acted upon anything when you have much more reason to do so?” Freyr calmly maintains his posture while on the still too small ottoman. With his hands no longer occupied by his harp, he has his hands collapsed together in front of him, the mitts for hands resting on his exposed blubbery gut. 

Mulling over Freyr’s words, Grima’s eyes narrow as he finds himself cornered. 

Before anything more can possibly come out of Grima’s explosive temperament, Kiran finally stands up. He places a hand on Grima’s portly shoulder while looking down to make eye contact with him. “What Freyr means to say, is that we realize the changes you’ve made in Askr. And no one is criticizing you for it. In fact, we’re proud of you. I’m proud of you,” Kiran has to really bend down to give Grima a peck on the cheek, Kiran pressing against swathes of fat to reach his jowls. But the fell dragon relents, standing still and grumbling to himself with a now pinker hue on his face from embarrassment — praise from Kiran always getting to him. 

“Now, why don’t you join the rest? Movie night is about to start,” Kiran gives Grima a small push, the impact doing nothing to budge Grima even an inch. Kiran shifts his attention over to Freyr who still has a small smirk on his face. Kiran offers him a hand, pulling up the large goat from his seat. 

“You didn't say anything wrong,,,” Kiran groans to himself from being unable to find any ill intent or poor choice of words from Freyr. “But-” Kiran is interrupted by Freyr taking initiative and kissing him before he can say anything else. One hand on Freyr’s back, Kiran’s other hand rests against his chest, getting an overflowing handful of Freyr’s tits. 

“But, next time I shall go easier on him,” Freyr pats Kiran’s head before heading off to join the others without another word.

Kiran now left groaning and muttering to himself like Grima earlier, he scoffs after gaining back a semblance of coherency. Leaving for a quick moment, he goes to the dining hall to go grab the night’s dinner.

By the time he returns with an entire cart loaded to capacity with food, Kiran’s face slowly begins to hurt as his smile widens at the sight.

Corrin ever eager to prove himself, the chubby dragon moves at a brisk pace to ferry over his immense stash of baked treats from today. His blubbery lil tummy constantly escapes past his tight black shirt despite Corrin tugging the fabric down every so often. And his tail that drags behind him occasionally bumps into furniture from the rush. His efforts are clearly visible however, the multiple tables around the living area filled with several trays of confectionary goods. 

Seated to the side, Duma is in charge of the popcorn; he refuses to make them any other way than his own. With a large metal pot beside him, Duma supplies his own fire to heat and cook the kernels. Stopping at just the right time, Duma perfecting his technique, he immediately fills up a mega tub with nothing but the cooked snack. Despite working with such direct heat, the immense divine dragon only has a smidge of sweat on his portly face which he fans his shirt in an attempt to cool himself.

Tibarn at a far too large size to provide much assistance in getting ready, he simply provides his presence. He still has the dignity to at least wait to fully dig into the snack provided, instead only occasionally putting away a treat like the rest. Seated at the center with only a slight angle, Tibarn has a direct view to the empty, barren wall. Unwilling to quiet begin his binging, TIbarn does at least leisurely drink, unaffected by the amount he puts away.

Grima much the same, he sits on his couch with nothing much to do but wait. Filling up the entire space, he tiredly waits for the movie to start to begin his binging. In the meanwhile, he does tear through the entire tray of sugar cookies at record speed. Grima has a dusting of crumbs and sugar over his chest, the remnants of his snacking landing perfectly on his jutting chest and expansive gut.

Seteth holds several tomes in his hands. Seated on a two seater, he only takes up half of the space. He slowly goes through the pile of tomes to remember the synopsis of each one and to pull out the ones most recently watched. Tables taken up from food, he places the much larger pile of watched films to the empty side of the couch and places the smaller pile of movies on his sizable belly to hold them. After going through the entire stack, he stands up to hand the pile of available movies to Freyr.

Freyr seated by himself between Duma’s and Tibarn’s seats, the obese man has a generous portion of room left for himself. Though if another were to sit with him, the accommodation would be uncomfortable for the other person. Upon receiving the stack of tomes, he places them beside himself, the books nearly wedged between plush lard from his gut and the armrest. With it Duma’s turn to select the film, Freyr reads out the synopsis of the works.

Kiran arriving has the group’s attention diverted for a moment as they settle in and make their last minute adjustments to get comfortable. Handing out everyone’s tray of food, Kiran first grabs the selected film from Duma. 

“The Dragon Wore Black,” Kiran inspects the cover of the tome as Freyr hands him it.

“Duma preferred something a bit more intense,” Freyr responds to Kiran’s confusion about the movie on revenge. Freyr in turn accepts his two plates of food from Kiran in exchange for the book. 

“I wish to see the human’s depictions of dragons. And to know if they truly comprehend the depths of our willpower,” Duma smiles to himself, having low hopes for the movie but curious to see how it plays out regardless. 

Kiran says nothing else as he places the magical tome upright into a stand. The summoner not entirely sure of how the thing works, the device — which works similar to a projector — had been for sale by one of the Anna’s who claimed it could display fantastic works for private viewing. Light envelops the entirety of the empty wall, the movie immediately starting with the tome slotted inside the device. Quickly handing out the rest of the food, Kiran only sits down when the only platter that remains is his own dish. Seated on his own seat next to where Seteth and Corrin sit, Kiran smiles to himself before finally paying attention to the movie, glad for his time in Askr.