#i hate that final speech i hate it i hate it i hate it

[fableforger]

Sneaking in a tiny ask while I’m in the final stretch of my finals (I’m not survivin) 🫣

If the ros woke up one day and found that they had magically turned into a small and cute animal (like a kitten, puppy, hamster, little birdie… up to your choice rlly!) and at first they don’t know how to turn back, but eventually they find out that the solution is getting a kiss from the mc, how would they go about trying to communicate to the mc that they’re themselves trapped in an animal and get that kiss from the mc?

Sorry for how wordy this scenario turned out and I hope I didn’t make you too confused oop—

Ahh hi Kuura I know I’m very late with this, but - on the bright side - I’m actually happy with how it turned out! I hope your finals are going (or went?) well, and that you’re getting some well-earned rest in between 🫶

Also: thank you for planting this utterly ridiculous scenario in my head. Here’s what it turned into:

Beware: Since this is a RO-related ask, there may be minor spoilers ahead. Please keep scrolling if you’d prefer to stay unspoiled.

..............................................................................................................................

Dorian/Dione - now: an extremely offended black kitten

The indignity. The fur. The purring. They despise every second of this.

Very well. If it takes a kiss to end this humiliation, so be it. They shall use every resource they have. In the form of fluff, whimpers, and a perfect purr. All in service of one goal: reaching your cursedly kissable face.

And then - The moment you turn your head - attack. A blur of fluff, a heroic leap, and a kitten-sized smooch right on your lips.

✨ Poof. Where the kitten once stood now kneels a very naked, very smug Dorian/Dione.

They stretch - slowly, luxuriantly - like a cat basking in sunlight, all while surveying the thoroughly stunned state you're in.

"What?" (They look deeply unimpressed.) "It's not my fault you didn’t recognize me right away." Dry. Unbothered. Slightly offended. Classic. "...Ugh. I still want to lick my hands."

---

Alexos/Alexa - now: a serious-faced golden retriever pup

They genuinely consider just… staying a dog. No guilt. No speeches. No moral crises. Just chasing sticks and barking at clouds. Tempting.

But then they see you. And they know they have to turn back.

So they bark. Once. Again. Then they sit. Perfect posture. Heroic presence. Waiting.

You blink at them.

They guilt-stare.

You blink again.

They let out a single, huffy sigh, turn their golden-furred back to you with deep offense, and sulk so visibly it radiates through the room like thunderclouds. And that - that exact wounded, stubborn aura - you’ve seen it before. It hits you like lightning.

Wait a second. Alexos/Alexa?

Instinct takes over. You kneel, cup their furry cheeks, and press a kiss to their snout.

✨ Poof. And suddenly a very naked, very flustered Alexos /Alexa is scrambling for a cloak and dignity.

---

Rhaelos/Rhaela - now: a sleek black cat with eyes like cold-forged steel and zero patience for this nonsense

They hate it. They hate all of it. The tail. The purring. The fact that they are currently eight inches tall and being offered tuna.

They don’t know how this happened. But at least they do know how to fix it. They just ... don’t know how to get there.

Because how, exactly, does one convince someone to kiss them - as a cat?

So they do what they do best: Avoid.

They perch somewhere high and brooding. Refuse eye contact. Silently judge you from atop shelves and shadows. It’s not personal. They’re just panicking.

But - unfortunately for them - you take this the wrong way. You see a beautiful, mysterious, tragic little cat… …who clearly just needs love.

So naturally, you spend the next thirty minutes crawling after them through the hideout like a lunatic, whispering, “Come here, baby, I won’t hurt you!” while they dart away with silent offense.

Eventually, you catch them. Victory.

You lift them in triumph. You grin. You smooch the tiny cat face. ✨ Poof. And suddenly - you're holding a naked, extremely uncomfortable, very silent Rhaelos/Rhaela in your arms like a newborn.

---

Theron/Thera - now: a small red squirrel with green eyes

At first? They’re startled, of course. But not upset. After all… no one expects much from a squirrel.

And maybe, for once, they can just be. With you.

So they perch on your shoulder. Curl up in your lap. Play little games with buttons, bits of string, soft berries you offer on your palm.

You laugh. You talk to them like they’re a friend. And they are. They chirp back sometimes, tilting their head like they understand more than they should.

And eventually, you pause. Because the way they look at you - calm, patient, kind - it’s just… them. You know it. Those green eyes. That stillness. That quiet knowing in your bones.

So, gently, without fanfare, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the top of their tiny head.

✨ Poof. And now they are there. Real. Warm. Human. But... naked. Standing beside you with tousled hair and a peaceful smile that doesn't quite hide the wistfulness in their gaze.

“It was a beautiful day with you.” (a pause, a soft exhale) “I almost didn’t want it to end.”

---

Zephiron/Zephyra - now: a pale little songbird with silver-tipped wings

The moment they realize what’s happened… They laugh. (Not out loud - birds don’t really laugh. But you can feel it in the way they circle once, twice, then soar into the wind.)

They can fly. And oh, how they do. Looping through the clouds, skimming rooftops, vanishing into sunlight.

But still - They never stray too far. Always return to your shoulder. Your hand. Your path. They land in your hair like they belong there. Because they kind of do.

At sunset, as the air cools and the sky softens, they perch silently on your outstretched palm. And then… they bow. Eyes closed. Precise. Graceful. Familiar.

It’s their bow. That odd little gesture you’ve come to know.

Your breath catches.

“…Zephiron/Zephyra?” You whisper it like a secret.

They lean forward, and their tiny beak touches your lips in a feather-light kiss.

✨ Poof.

And suddenly - your palm is pressed to the lips of a very naked Zephiron/Zephyra, kneeling before you, serene as moonlight.

“Thank you,” they murmur, voice calm as falling snow. “For the beautiful day.”

They rise, your hand slipping from theirs.

“But lucky for us both…” (their smile deepens - soft, but with a shadow behind it) “I’ve got my body back.”

And Gods help whoever looks a second too long.

---

??? - now: a tiny, ridiculously fluffy rabbit with ears too big for her body

She thinks it’s funny at first. “Oh nooo, I’m cursed~,” she tries to squeak dramatically, but it just comes out as a tiny sneeze. Being a rabbit? Adorable. Hopping around? Kinda fun. Fluffy? Always.

But after a few hours… it’s not fun anymore. She can’t hold anything. She can’t touch you the way she wants to. She can’t kiss you.

And oh, she wants to.

So, naturally, she tries to turn back.

She hops over, climbs up your leg like a tiny, fuzzy ladder gremlin, reaches for your face with her stubby paws -

You:

“No. No. Off. What are you even doing -?”

She climbs again.

You:

“Can someone take this rabbit? Does she belong to anyone?!”

But before anyone can stop her - She launches. A wild leap of love and desperation. Her soft little nose smacks right against your lips.

✨ POOF.

There’s a flash of color and tears and suddenly - ??? is standing in front of you, gloriously naked, slightly trembling, and blinking fast to keep the tears back.

She looks at you with this soft, wrecked smile.

“I just wanted… to come back to you.”

And Gods. You feel like a monster.

You wrap her in every blanket you can find. You carry her around. You give her tea, and apologies, and laughter until her smile returns.

And you whisper -

“I loved you as a bunny. I love you as a Goddess. I just - love you.”

She sniffles. Then beams.

---

Drakon - now: an exotic wolf cub with sharp amber eyes

He hates this. Absolutely despises it.

He’s tiny. Fuzzy. His paws are too big for his legs. It is humiliating.

He won’t beg. Won’t nuzzle or mewl or curl into your lap like some tragic fluffball.

Instead, he launches.

Straight at you. Snarling (in theory). Teeth bared (though still baby-small). Full fury in twelve inches of fuzzy rage.

You scream and then you run.

He chases you through the entire rebel camp, knocking over crates, scaring birds, and causing a full-on panic. You zigzag behind tents. He barrels through. Until finally - pounce.

You’re on your back. He’s standing on your chest, panting. You stare at each other. And before you can even process it, he leans in with his soggy puppy snout and smacks a wet, squelchy kiss right on your lips.

✨ BOOM.

There’s a very large, very naked, very smug Drakon suddenly on top of you. Muscles. Scars. Heat. Now very real. And you? You’re making a sound only dogs can hear. Probably steam coming out of your ears.

He glances down at the situation.

And slowly - very slowly - his face cracks into a wicked grin.

“Well. That was a crap day…” (tilts his head, still on top of you) “But I can’t say I’m mad about how it ended.”

[charliegyrth]

Larry the Model

A Weight Gain Romance

“Look at you! Big City Brad!”

I smiled. Carly made it sound like I’d just gotten back from New York or London, not freaking Cincinnati. “Glad to be back,” I said.

I guess I meant that. Flaws and all, this was my hometown. While I was already getting annoyed by the summer heat and lack of trees, I had this weird sense of comfort knowing that Hardyville had barely changed in the last decade. Sure, there were more apartment buildings near the river, and yeah, they’d added a bunch of traffic lights to handle the bigger population. But the atmosphere, the dusty desert vibe of the town, felt lost in time.

Carly slurped her Frappuccino obnoxiously (an annoying habit from high school that she sadly hadn’t kicked). She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After two hours of catching up, it seemed like we had officially run out of things to talk about.

I’d already told her about my new apartment (one of the new riverside ones) and my work craziness and the best stories from my life back in Ohio. In turn, she’d filled me in on all our high school friends who never left. In a small town like Hardyville, few people leave. And just as few actually change from their teenage selves, apparently.

“Well,” I said, “it’s so awesome to see you again. You’ll have to come over sometime.”

“Of course,” she said.

Even as we both got up to leave, I could see the conflicted look on her face. There was something else she wanted to tell me. Something awkward, maybe?

“Just spill it, okay?” I said. With Carly, it was always best to be direct.

“Spill what?” she asked coyly. “Ugh, fine. I’m supposed to deliver a message.”

“Okay? Cryptic.”

“Larry wants to see you again.” She flinched as she said that.

Larry was my high school boyfriend, and things did not end on good terms. The short version: He was deeply closeted. I wasn’t. We dated for almost three years, and despite all the great times we had together, he always ignored me when there were people around.

He planned to finally come out at graduation, and since he was giving the salutatorian speech, he told me that he was going to publicly thank me, his boyfriend, in front of everyone. He chickened out at the last minute. I felt betrayed, of course. We argued. I ended things. And then I moved away.

I haven’t thought about him much in the last ten years, but I knew he was still in town. I knew there was the possibility that we’d run into each other again.

And honestly, I was ready for it. I’d changed a lot since high school, so maybe he had, too.

“Yeah. I’d like to see him.”

Carly’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why’s that so surprising?” I tossed my cup into the trash.

Carly did the same. “You know about his modeling career, right?”

Modeling career?

No. I definitely did not. I mean, he definitely had the body for it. He was the hottest guy in high school. Tall. Built. Blond. Athletic without trying to be. Definitely model-handsome. I felt so lucky to date him, even if he made us keep our relationship in the shadows.

After graduation, if I hadn’t ignored Larry’s calls and blocked him on all social media, I would’ve known that he’d grown up to be a model.

I didn’t want to admit to my obliviousness, though. If I did, that would be admitting to Carly that our breakup had messed me up more than I wanted to admit. So I said, “Of course. Yeah. Good for him.”

“Okay. Well, if you’re interested, I’ll let him know.”

***

An hour later, after I’d gotten back to my apartment, Larry called. I was sitting on the balcony, looking out at the Colorado River. I didn’t expect him to reach out so quickly.

“Hey, Brad. It’s Larry. Carly told me you’re back in town.”

“I am,” I said. I hated how fast my heart was racing. I did not want to sound nervous over the phone. “How’ve you been?”

“Great. Finally living the life I’ve always wanted. No more hiding anymore.”

That was so good to hear. In high school, Larry was amazing in every way except his own self-doubt. If he’d been strong enough to come out back then, if he hadn’t been so worried about people finding out about us, then we’d probably still be together. I really believed that.

“That’s great,” I said.

“Listen, I know I messed things up back then, and I totally understand why you didn’t want to hear from me after graduation, but I’m glad we’re talking now.”

“Me too.”

“And, um, you know about my modeling now, right?”

“I do. I think you look incredible.” That last part just came out. I hadn’t seen any of his photos, but I wanted him to think that I had.

“Thank you very much,” he said, a bit surprised. “It’s a lot of work.”

“I’m sure it is.”

He paused for a few seconds before asking, “Would you like to come over sometime? My place?”

“How about tonight?”

***

I wore my favorite outfit, a collared shirt that was tight enough to accentuate my shoulders and red, slim-fit slacks that helped lengthen my average legs.

I looked pretty good.

Definitely better than I did in high school. I wasn’t model-handsome, of course, but I also wasn’t an ultra-skinny nerd anymore. I gelled up my long-ish brown hair and headed downstairs.

In the three hours since my phone conversation with Larry, I’d tried to look him up online. All I found were photos from his high school days. I assumed he used an alias for his modeling career, but I was too embarrassed to ask.

Didn’t matter. I’d see him in the flesh soon enough.

Larry also lived on the river, but his house was at the other end of town. I got there a few minutes late (didn’t account for Hardyville’s increase in traffic) and nervously knocked on the door.

“One second!” Larry’s wonderfully deep voice called from inside.

It took him much longer than one second to open the door.

“Holy crap! Brad? You look amazing!”

Have you ever been so shocked that your brain glitches? You can’t speak or move. You just stand there with your mouth hanging open and your pulse thudding loud enough to echo in your skull.

That’s exactly what happened to me when I looked at what had become of Larry.

I recognized his happy eyes and sun-kissed hair. I recognized his wide, full-lipped smile. But everything else was unrecognizable.

He was insanely fat. Not just chubby, but so far beyond obese that I was surprised he was still able to stand without leaning on something. His wide hips barely fit through the door. His stomach bulged out of him in a soft, low-hanging apron. His arms, spread out in expectation of a hug, had sacks of dangling fat. And his once-square jaw was now melded into his neck with a single roll of chin fat.

How could this guy be Larry? How could he be a model?

“You’re surprised,” he said, his smile fading. “I thought…”

Crap. I’d told him over the phone that I followed his modeling career. I said he looked “incredible.” That was the word I used.

“No, I just… It’s crazy to see you in person. That’s all.”

Larry bought it. He lumbered forward, the edges of his hips literally touching the doorframe, and he wrapped me in a soft, warm hug. “It’s so freaking good to see you! Come inside before I get all sweaty.”

He already was.

I followed him into his house, watching his massive ass cheeks rub against each other—up and down, down and up—as he gave me a tour of the place. “This is the living room. That’s where I watch TV. Just got a new couch. That’s where I do my online work. And that corner is where I do my OnlyFans videos and mukbangs and stuff.”

The place looked pretty normal at first glance. Clean, modern, lots of bright colors. But with a closer look, I saw the bowls of brownies and cookies positioned on all the tables and shelves, ensuring that no matter where you stood, there was always something sugary in arm’s reach. I also saw all the filming equipment in the corner.

And on the walls were framed posters from some of Larry’s photo shoots. They showed him in various states of undress, his flab spilling out of unbuttoned shirts and leather harnesses and even swimwear. Some were taken from magazine covers (Bear Time Weekly and Body Positive Plus, for example).

The most revealing was above his TV. He was posed on the beach, smiling into the camera, literally pulling up his belly to reveal red speedos squeezing into his crotch. It was a catalog page for BXL, the plus-sized clothing store.

So Larry was a model after all. Just not the kind of model I ever would’ve expected.

He caught me staring at the speedo picture. “Yeah. I know it’s a little tacky to have so many framed photos of myself, but these pictures help for motivation sometimes, in case I lose focus and accidentally drop a couple pounds. You don’t know how hard it is to maintain this size.” He looked up at the clock on his wall. “Speaking of.” He waddled toward a bowl of brownies and shoved two of them into his mouth.

“Uh huh,” I muttered. None of this made sense to me. At all. Larry used to be so damn hot. Not only did he choose to get to this size, but I guess he had to keep working to maintain it. I couldn’t imagine how much he had to consume every single day.

“Sit, Brad.” He gestured toward the couch, his arm flab swaying.

I sat and he joined me. It took him a few seconds to position his body over the couch, bend his knees just a little bit, and let gravity flop him down. “So you musta been pretty surprised the first time you heard about Lardy Johnson, huh?”

So that was his model name. He’d gone from Larry Johnson to Lardy Johnson. Damn.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, still not admitting that I had no idea about his body changes until minutes ago. “So like, what happened?”

He laughed. “After graduation, after I lost you, I finally said, ‘Screw it. I’m going to live how I want now. No shame. No holding back.’ So I finally came out of the closet. The world did not end, just like you kept saying. Everyone was happy for me. I’d made that decision too late for… you know, for us. That was a little hard.”

I thought back to freshman year of college. All the times Larry had tried to contact me. I really should’ve answered his calls.

“Anyway, live and learn, right?” he continued. “So after I came out and everyone more-or-less accepted me, I decided to tell people about my other secret, my hidden urge to get fat.” He sounded so casual as he said that, as if it was something I’d always known about him. “I’m sure you knew though, right?”

What?

Of course I didn’t know that he wanted to be fat! If that topic had been brought up, even once, I definitely would’ve remembered.

“Why would you say that?” I asked.

He smiled. (His cheeks didn’t have dimples back when he was thin. Those were actually kind of cute.) “Oh, right. Like you don’t remember all those times you encouraged me.”

I really didn’t.

“You know, I never would’ve considered gaining weight if it weren’t for you. All of this…” He grabbed his moobs and squished them together. Proudly. “Is partly because of you. I’ve never properly thanked you for shaping my life.”

I felt my brain glitch again. He was blaming me for how he looked? I “encouraged” him? I didn’t even know what that word meant in this context.

But again, I couldn’t just come right out and say that. “Right. Good times. Can you, um, tell me the moments that really affected you?”

His smile shifted into a very flirty half-grin. With his eyes locked on me, he reached toward the table and grabbed another brownie. He stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed without chewing. “Oh. There are so many. Remember Christmas Eve? Sophomore year?”

Nope.

“Do I!” I said, pretending to know what the hell he was talking about. “What a great moment. Why don’t you describe it for me?”

Emboldened by my question, he placed his hand on my thigh. His already-deep voice got even deeper. “We were in your room, sitting just like this. Your parents were gone and we stole some of their eggnog. We had two massive mugs of the stuff. So freaking rich. You took one sip of yours and said you hated it. So you gave it to me and said, ‘You gotta finish ’em both, big guy.’ God, I loved when you called me that. You said that we couldn’t leave any evidence behind for your parents to find, but I knew what you were doing. You just wanted to fill me up.”

“Uh huh,” I mumbled. I remembered everything he was saying, but he got it all twisted in his head. I never forced him to drink all that eggnog. I was planning to drink my mug before I realized how disgusting the taste was. And calling him “big guy”? That didn’t mean anything. He was bigger than me.

“And then afterward, you gave me a big platter of cookies that you’d made for me. And we didn’t leave until I ate every one. It was so freaking hot.”

I gulped. I remembered that part, too. But I didn’t force him to eat those cookies. I was just proud of myself for baking them without my mom’s help and I wanted to treat my boyfriend. That was it.

“That was the first time I suspected that you wanted to fatten me up,” he continued. “I didn’t really get it at first, but when you pulled off my sweater and started rubbing my belly… That’s when you convinced me.”

I rubbed his belly?

No! I’d remember rubbing someone’s belly. I would never…

But then I remembered. Yeah. I totally did. He was clutching his stomach, and I thought he was having trouble processing all the alcohol from the eggnog. My parents were going to be home soon, and I didn’t want them to see Larry drunk and bloated. So I held him and rubbed his stomach.

But it wasn’t sensual! It was just to help him process the alcohol!

Larry glanced at the clock and dutifully shoved another brownie into his mouth. “So tell me about yourself. I’m sure you have a line of guys you’ve helped fatten back in Cincinnati.”

I did not. I had one boyfriend throughout most of college. Then three more long-term boyfriends since then. I was a serial monogamist, falling in love very quickly and then watching things inevitably fizzle. Every single one of my exes was as thin as me. I didn’t think I had a preference, per se, but my dating history told a different story. Larry had been the only out-and-out muscular guy that I’d ever slept with, and I had never even considered hooking up with a chub. The thought had never crossed my mind.

“Not really,” I said evasively.

“What a shame!” Larry said, scooting a little closer on the couch. “I’ve been with my fair share of feeders, but none were as good as you.”

“Yeah?” He couldn’t have just been talking about that Christmas Eve, right? There had to be other times that I wasn’t remembering.

“All those times you took me to Denny’s. God, you were so forceful.”

Back in high school, we went to Denny’s a lot, but that was only because he liked the food there. I really didn’t.

Looking back, I could see where he’d gotten the wrong impression. I never finished my meals, so I always slid my plate over to Larry. And when he was finished with both our plates, I always asked if he wanted dessert. (Out of politeness!) But yeah, I could see how those little actions could be interpreted as encouragement. But I wasn’t forceful about it.

Was I?

I was starting to feel really oblivious. “You didn’t gain anything in high school, right?”

“No,” he answered with a note of embarrassment. “My metabolism was too strong. I didn’t get over that hump until I was 19, after you were gone. After I really started… going for it.” He squeezed my thigh. “So? Do you wanna see how much I’ve changed, Brad?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. That answer came from curiosity, but I couldn’t ignore the sense of growing excitement in the pit of my gut. Not arousal or attraction, of course. But a definite thrill. Larry, my first love, was back in my life. And he’d transformed himself because of me, even though I had no idea I’d affected him so much. Even though I didn’t like how he looked, I felt a sense of ownership over his body.

He grabbed my hands and placed them on the lowest roll of his stomach. He wanted me to peel off his shirt.

I did.

We stared into each other’s eyes as the shirt came off. His sea of flab rolled out like a tidal wave. I wasn’t surprised by his shirtless appearance because the pictures on the walls had already shown me what to expect. The deep-red stretchmarks were surprising, though. I guess his photographers had photoshopped those away.

I threw his shirt to the side. I took a long moment to take in the mound of fat in front of me. It was surprisingly easy to see the old Larry underneath all that softness. He was the same person that I'd loved, just much, much bigger.

Slowly, I reached out and felt him. That was what he wanted. What I wanted, too.

He tried (and failed) to lean forward and kiss me, so I slid on top of him and kissed his expectant lips. That one bit of contact, his tongue against mine, brought back so many memories. Our first stolen kiss under the bleachers. Our secret hand-holding in English class. The love letters he slid into my locker. The dates. The inside jokes. The movies. The dinners. The sex. Everything came back.

I thought of the thrill of our secret romance, and how that thrill had morphed into frustration, then anger, then heartbreak.

This kiss was wonderful. Cathartic.

And there was something so exciting about the combination of his familiar lips and his unfamiliar belly. I loved that. I loved how I sank into him, how his arms grabbed my shoulders and pulled me deeper into him.

I liked his fat. I couldn’t deny that anymore. I liked the body he’d built for himself.

What I didn’t know was whether I’d always wanted this. As the memories came rushing back, I thought about all the times I’d encouraged him to eat. Not just the moments he’d mentioned, but dozens more. At the time, I didn’t realize what I was doing to him, what path I was setting his life on, but it couldn’t have been unintentional, right? Deep down, did I want to fatten him? Did he see something in me that I couldn’t see myself?

Maybe.

Maybe I’d never know for sure.

But the one thing I did know, with all the certainty in my racing heart, was that Larry was beautifully, wonderfully fat, and I loved that.

The kiss reached its natural end and I slowly climbed off him.

“I missed you, Brad," he whispered.

I didn’t answer him with words. Instead, I grabbed a brownie from the table and placed it against his lips.

The End.

Thanks for reading! Check out all my stories here. And if you want more stories about vloggers getting fat on camera, check out my ebook Fattening Influencers. Five stories, lots of eating.

[thewholecrew]

@headstrongblake: grant & octavia. / verse: all american.

his heart was racing inside his chest, pounding against his rib cage hard enough that there was a small anxious thought he might die if she were to say no. he would understand, grant had hurt her so many times and she had given him so many, too many second chances that he knew his speech may be at risk for coming too late. he tried not to read into her expressions as he spoke as not to fall distracted and lose his train of thought but as her eyes widened he hoped they did so for a good reason.

then she smiled at him and it felt as though his heart was going to swell too large for his chest, hope causing butterflies in his stomach, something he hadn't ever truly felt any other time than with octavia. the smile had to be a good sign right? the shine in her green eyes? he had barely just finished speaking when she pulled him down, pleading with him not to leave her. he was left breathless as his eyes fell shut and his arms wrapped tightly around her, lifting her up as her lips met his and they kissed. the quick trickle of desperation had him growing just as desperate, hands grabbing to hold her tight as if now that he admitted he wanted her, that she was his weakness, she would disappear, vanish, be taken from him.

as she begged him to stop leaving her, guilt ate him up inside, brows furrowing as he gently pressed his forehead against hers, hugging her tightly as he carefully returned her feet to the ground yet still hadn't released her. it killed him to know she couldn't trust his word, that he had burned her so many times after similar confessions -- of course none quite like this, that she couldn't believe he meant what he said. he hated himself for it, how it all caused her so much pain when the whole point had been to avoid it, to cause as little damage as possible.

grant swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, an aching pain strangling him as she spoke before finally, he nodded, leaning back enough to meet her shimmering gaze, "i promise, octavia. i swear to you, i won't leave you, i never want to leave you. i want this, i love you." his expression twisted with guilt, pain, love and passion as he then cupped her cheeks and leaned in once more to kiss her more fiercely.

@thewholecrew: grant & octavia. || all american universe.

grant's immediate response surprised her. stunned octavia into even more speechlessness because there's not an ounce of hesitation from him. just certainty, like it's all he's thought about. & as he continued, more words flowing from him than she's ever thought she's heard before, she can only stare in amazement. eyes growing wider with each admission. his grand declaration of love ignites dozens of emotions inside of her. hope and love war the loudest against her fears. her desire to believe him. to believe in him and his words because time and time again, this is all she's ever wanted. all she's needed to hear. but still, needling in her heart is the idea that even if she opens herself back up to the idea of them, together, that he still might leave. that he'll wake up and need to push her away once more.

her breaths shook as the corners of her mouth lifted, watching him as she felt the absence of his hands on her waist before capturing her hands, taking them gently into his as his warm breath met her cool skin in the night. despite the hesitations, and all the evidence she has that support her fears as she stared up into his eyes, listening to the vulnerable level of his voice— octavia couldn't turn him away if she tried. whether she could tell him right now or not, she loved him more than she ever thought she could love someone. all year it's been him. always him.

god, he had her at wanting a life with her, but as he confessed how weak he felt for her, octavia couldn't simply stand there any longer. her love from him overwhelmed her in every way, fanning the flames of her decision as she stepped into him. quickly closing their small distance between them as her hands gently broke free from his. she reached for grant, bringing him down to her. "then don't," she pleaded, pressing her lips against his gently, then desperately. vulnerability won out while the wall she'd tried to keep cemented around her heart tumbled down. it never stood a chance. not against his honesty. "please, stop leaving me, i want you here," she murmured as her voice cracked against his lips with all of the heartache she felt from the times they've been forced apart.

she pressed a soft chaste kiss to him, caressing his neck as her gaze flickered from his beautiful honey hues, filled with a powerlessness she's rarely witnessed before. it has her believing in him all the more. yet, anxiety wrapped around her words as a painful lump built in the base of her throat. "i want you, i want this." she admitted, wanting to love him in every way he'd allow, "i can't keep pretending that losing you doesn't completely break my heart...i can't do it again. you mean everything to me grant, but i can't...you have to promise that you mean every word..." her green hues shimmered as they lifted to him.

[dollypopup]

I don't think people truly understand that in coming out as Lady Whistledown, Penelope has now humiliated Colin publicly for the third time in a row, Eloise for the second, and the Bridgertons in general once again

Because in coming out as Lady Whistledown, what she has really done is give validity to the harsher articles she has written about them. People have surely not forgotten that article at the start of the season calling Colin a fraud and a faker, and now she's given legitimacy to that, even if she herself did not stand by that article. She says it repeatedly, that Lady Whistledown had never been more wrong about anybody. But she never rescinded that article. She never assured that she didn't stand by it. She aired out Eloise's secrets of being at the feminist rallies, and claimed she needed to do so in order to keep her safe.

So, what was it, show? Was Eloise in danger because Lady Whistledown was a dangerous pursuit, and so Penelope was justified in spilling her secrets? Or was Lady Whistledown no big deal and thus easy to forgive, so Penelope was wrong to write what she did about her?

Everyone in the Ton now knows that no matter how close Penelope is with someone, she'll air out their business at best, and insult them directly at worst. Eloise tried to hide that article from him, Phillipa and Prudence themselves said Lady Whistledown raked him across the coals, and here Penelope is, proclaiming it was her, that she did it, with no remorse. She says with her entire chest that this is what she did and she stands by it, with her besmirched best friend in the crowd, and the man she insulted to the entirety of her city against the wall.

Criticizing the Queen and strangers is one thing, airing out secrets from people close to you is another.

Colin put his ego, his self-worth, and his own dreams to the side to support Penelope. I don't think ANY of us would have been able to do the same. He loves her more than he loves himself, his image, his own pursuits. And in a way, that's a form of self harm for him, and something that Violet herself urged him not to do. The entire point of his arc was to consider himself more, else why have that speech on the steps? But in having a romantic relationship with Penelope, Colin was forced to answer the question: Does he love Penelope more than he loves himself? And he said yes.

If Penelope was asked the same, I think she would say yes, too. But if she were asked 'Do you love Colin more than you love Lady Whistledown?', the answer would be very different.

I don't know, I think someone wrote the quiet part aloud: they liked the ending of Bridgerton Season 3 because they are a Pen fan first, and a Polin fan second. Because if you consider that ending from the perspective of Polin as a collective, it is very much not a satisfying climax to their story. Colin coming to tell Penelope he is proud of her, and that his purpose is to love her and soak up some of her light is just. . .it's sad. It's incredibly sad to think that this sensitive man, who has been in a pursuit to be taken seriously, to be considered as a whole person, says that his purpose is to live for his partner and live in the shadows.

And then this fandom has the GALL to criticize him for his anger? This fandom has the gall to say that Colin was dramatic for feeling hurt and betrayed by Penelope keeping this secret from him for years, and letting him be vulnerable with her, and open with her, and hiding literally half of her life from him. You have the audacity to say that Colin was in the wrong for a line or two that focuses on his own pain and vulnerability at his FRIEND, a woman he loves, a trusted person in his life, having lied to him, written about him to the entire city in a bad light, insulted and hurt the women around him? But Penelope was not ever in the wrong for the harms she committed?

Imagine you experienced even half as much as he did at her hands.

Now tell me you'd forgive her in two weeks.

[squea]

she didnt know the gun was loaded !! aka my courier girl polly

she looks like that one baby cat with the incredibly sad eyes and :(

[deeva-arud]

I love Cater's role in Ace's dream. Perfect amount of mischievousness and coolness, him showing his calculating side, acting kinda like a big bro for Ace..... He really shone here <33

[dove-wyvern]

I’VE FINALLY CHEWED THROUGHT HE FLESH CUBE!!! WIFE!!!

HERE I COME!!!!

I don’t think my beautiful wife likes me very much

[dotthings]

Andrew Dabb wrote both of these:

Dean: And you told me yourself that you see a way out. You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get.

8.14, Trial and Error *

Dean: You, me, Cas, toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks. Matching Hawaiian shirts, obviously. Some hula girls.

Sam: You talking about retiring? You?

Dean: If I knew the world was safe? Hell, yeah. And you know why? 'Cause we freaking earned it, man.

13.23 Let the Good Times Roll

And yet people wonder why I thought Dean was going to subvert his own outdated grim self-prophecy, when canon showed growth and development on his arc toward hope.

Like.

That 2nd speech happened. It's canon. And Dean grew over the course of the series.

I did not pull that hope out of my ass because I don't "get" SPN.

Dabb and Singer set their trap and I ate the cheese and they sprung the trap. Perhaps the hope was there just to make it hurt worse, to make us feel (because sometimes creatives lose sight of the fact there is more than one way to make people feel) when that grim prophecy got fulfilled instead of being overturned.

Anyway Dean's story isn't over. *raises glass* Here's to the revival. No, I don't expect any retcons. Heaven storyline's not going away. But something more fulfilling than what aired for the series finale, I can go for that.

[spookie-puppy]

Finalsss today through Thursdayyyy

[kismetconstellations]

Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos sacrificed two gay, disabled men, and a brown-skinned teenaged genocide survivor to elevate the able-bodied, pale-skinned son of a rugged, Southern drawl-having All-American fireman and a female alien who is a member of a species inextricably associated with bloodlust, tyranny, and supremacist beliefs.

Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos killed characters they intentionally altered significantly from previous iterations to attempt to earn themselves brownie points for "progressivism" and "inclusivity", to service the "development" of a pale-skinned, able-bodied character.

A character who went on to cite the horrors enacted upon the three characters who had been purposefully turned into members of marginalized communities and were his supposed friends, as well as countless untold others, by that bloodthirsty, savage, supremacist species, as stemming from "injustice", and a "misguided sense of self-preservation".

And, then, Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, the absolute clowns that they are, had that pale-skinned, able-bodied character, their blatant pet and mouthpiece, pledge to rebuild the merciless, fascistic Empire responsible for those horrors, while referring to himself as part of it.

[rosquinn]

oh how was moby dick btw!!! did you have fun :)

a lot!!!! The ending + the pip and queequeg chapter(s) destroyed me and I love Ishmael forever i cant form a coherent thought on the book right now because it has one million themes and it makes me very ill but i gotta apologize to melville i wasn't familiar with his writing game. I have to go whaling

[rohirric-hunter]

I think as a fandom we don't bully the Gloom of Nurn enough for being like, "I don't care about Gothmog, Gothmog isn't the boss of me, I don't have to do what he wants, I'm going to specifically do things he doesn't want just because I can, because Gothmog has no influence over how I live my life whatsoever," and then proceeding to whip out an extremely elaborate Gothmog-themed boss fight. Like, what was that about man?

[pepper-m00n]

i never tweak out and feel my veins bulge out of my skin more than i do watching nsda final rounds because oh yeah some people deserve to be there and others?.........

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i found this lore entry recently and have not stopped thinking about it since. it is HYSTERICALLY funny to me that fandaniel's villain origin story was just being a fuckin boomer

One of few great minds in a land that had seen the slow, yet steady numbing of its people's intelligence, Amon long lamented the sorry state of Allag , concentrating his early scientific efforts on developing medicines to increase mental capacity . He soon realized that it was not knowledge that the Allagans lacked. If anything, they had too much. What his people lacked was a leader. With a renewed sense of focus, Amon shifted his studies to the field of vivimancy, and soon was conducting experiments on his own flesh in order to attain his final goal - the resurrection of Xande the First.

— Encylopaedia Eorzea Volume I, p. 25

[arcadequeerz]

Good Show. Beloved Show.

[marsbotz]

ok IN MY OPINION. i like to think that sangwoo was a lot less highly strung and uptight when he was younger. i think that he was always a little bit neurotic but it was mostly the circumstances he grew up in that made him Like That in the end