#powerlifter build

[notmuchtoconceal]

( o ) goodimpressionofmyself

[October 28th, 2020 7:40am] 

bro, i’m some kinda necrocoprofungal fringe weirdo with a fetish for bein normal

i’m the punchline to a joke from 2005

my life is the vain pursuit of an ideal of sublime banality, this horridly tacky laudanum fugue of gilded wheat fields in subdivided painted picket houses, succumbed to oppressive concrete nothingness in a time that never was

the fury of a broiling beneath. dogs in an open field. vacancies within vacancies brah

primeval growth before the white man raped the land, gnarled and gambrous with all matter of shoots, bulbs, rosettes and spores. the wasteland of hollow points here in the heartland, ancient and centipeodal as the sea animals in the dinosaur books i read as a boy when everything was doe eyed and my head was filled with air. when i was yet to be so tantalizingly leaden

when i. simply. was still here

end of time. end of memory. thoughts comin and goin in strips a nitrate film

endless carousels a shape, bro. so many so lovely

so many the same

i’ll let you in. i’ll rest my hand on your back. i’ll lean in close and i’ll say brah, gonna show you some real sick shit brah

can’t help but smile

not smart to show fear. eye to eye. teeth to teeth. funk to funky. you’ll like it, i promise. the waltz always strangles. the wires in the notes. the house lights go up and down. spirographs of flesh. an orchestra pit of sarlaac. there always comes release after a dream turns to a nightmare brah

bro, i once saw this grindrshame post where this dude was like 6′2″, built and headless in an anonymous grey hoodie, and his bio said he was gonna strangle you and chop you up with an axe or some shit. people in the comments were saying he was funny. this ain’t shameable. shame on you for trying to shame a funny man with a nice blocky torso and big strong hands

i thought brah, fuck yeah brah, you get it. you get it. that’s what i want. walk straight toward the man triggerin just the right amount a threat detection response. we gonna fuck? he gonna choke me? how hard? i don’t fuckin know brah. one way to find out. i want a fire. baby i’m lit. pour gasoline all over my dick. harder bro harder. gonna burn this fuckin house to the ground bro. run screamin into desert night. wake up in a ditch clingin to you in grit and despair. look at you. know you. see past you. to the man you were before. who you forgot you were. who i know without knowin you know for i don’t know if what i see is what you know. then i realize. none a that matters. this moment is love and love is this moment. i remember only the smell of campfires and cold. you were the best mistake a my life brah. it was deffo more than worth the arson charges 

bro?

yeah brah?

i didn’t think you’d be the kinda guy to go on night walks

haha brah? what’s that supposed to mean brah. i love all this dennis hopper shit. over there, look at that lamp post. that incandescent diner. reflections in empty windows. darker glasses hiding darker curtains. way the light ripples through the leaves. shit’s fuckin gorgeous, brah

city feels like a dream bro

brah? brah? haha, brah you ever dissociate like real hard

haha, like real hard

haha

brah

brah

for a second i thought we were like girls in a dreampop video brah

bro, don’t. don’t say shit like that bro. holy fuckin shit. for a sec i swear i felt my dick shrivel up bro

haha, kitty got claws, but i the aesthete and the visionary have the petrifying gaze of the gorgon embedded in the imago of the mother

brah, what the hell’s an ass teat brah?

it’s a dude who’s like a faggot, but he still likes pussy

don’t sound a thing like you brah

some tastes are more refined than others

the most refined taste is that of the fraternal platonic bond between men of value, whose warring passions ignite an agonsy and ectasies which blurs the lines between romance and reason

all right socrates, bend over

haha

hahahaha

brah

brah

i die a little inside when i see you smile brah 

brah

i never thought i’d be so happy

…

BRO

holyfu–

haha, watch where you’re goin brah. dumbass almost got creamed by a bus

bro, sorry bro, i’m just like… 

yeah, brah?

where am i… where are…

you’re there. i’m here.

…

bro, are you?

‘i’m here, you’re there’ sir, do you mistake me for a child?

my apologies, sir. your motor coordination spoke for itself

haha, real funny brah. real cute thing to hear from a tight toosh in tighty whities

haha, brah. someone’s feelin sassy brah

it’s just… i din’t think it was real funny brah

nah, nah. keep goin brah. you’re cute when you’re cunty

bro i am not cunty, that is gaslightin. i’ve been recordin this whole conversation, it’s admissible in court without your consent by illinois law, and i can establish a pattern and motive. i’m gonna sue your ass for emotional damages brah

first off double check that law book. it don’t say what you think it says. pause for effect. okay. when you check the book it’ll say exactly what you remember it saying, but you still second guessed yourself. boom. alpha dominance. you’ve been gaslit. gonna get locked in the footbox tonight, fagboy. gonna stain that fuckin faggot lung a yours with three days a heavy liftin and ballin… also ‘toosh’, bro are you a grade school church hag? are you gonna give me a time out? knock it off with that pansy shit, brah. we both agree my masculinity is sacred, stop tryin to subvert it with your estranged gayness

i’m in love with you bro. i hate it i hate how much i’m in love with you… if i admit to it, then i admit that i’m stupid. stupider than you in fact, because yes, i am in fact smart enough to know better. this is 100% my fault. my head says this’s idiocy, but my heart yearns for you with a yearning beyond yearning. it’s a heart valve of picture postcards all the way down my irony innards a chef boyardee spelling out EA Poet sole in bouquets a cankers and open sores… maybe i could only ever hope for self-destruction, to fall with you ever downward, to be the arc of a fire poppy riding the ember to completion. maybe that’s all love is bro. the theater of heroism. a stupid idiot danger. maybe my parents did have a successful marriage, but i’m not gonna say that… i’m not gonna say any of that. i’m gonna keep that all to myself

smart man, brah. that’s why i like you like you. down for a night walk symposia with a flourish of baudelaire for texture. reminds me a those ceilings in my house, brah. ones with the paintstrokes that look like canyons

[cachunk]

bro, did you just slap your head bro

bro, i dunno? did i brah?

bro, you did. you deffo did

haha, i did?

your headphones cachunked, didn’t you hear?

nah, brah, i don’t think… no wait, yeah i did, haha

haha

fuckin dumbass

dumbass meathead

dumbass meathead musclebull muscle toy andro droll androgeneticist muscle drone rubber drone rubber room retard ubermensch apeman grotesque gooner hunchback henchman dumbfuck douchebag dudebro

first of his name

king in the north

haha

hahaha

bro, stop i’m still in mourning

bro, it sucked since season five, bro

bro, how the fuck do you have your best character, the only character left who’s played by a competent actress – i’m sorry bro, that bitch with the caterpillar eyebrows cannot act. she has like white bread girl next door bimbo giggly and all the fury and drama of grade school gymnasium theater

bro, you are that, but the gay version

first off, fuck you fagboy. that’s two days in the footbox now. i’m gaggin you with the dirty crusty pair a briefs i use as a jizz rag faggot. gonna be tastin it all night fagboy, tastin my dirty alpha fuckin cock steeped in my tight white fuckin briefs. yeah, you love it. love watchin daddy’s uncut alpha bulge standin up tall and straight in his tight white fuckin briefs. watchin daddy’s hard uncut alpha cock writhin in the transparent cotton, growin fatter and nastier with every gush a blood – the mass and veiny contouring suggestive of a lunatic in a straightjacket confined to a prison a ballsweat, asylum walls of the fly some brutalist garter prison of mid-century ad copy suffocatin me in my futile role as protector and provider. yeah, you love daddy’s uncut alpha dick, don’t you fagboy?

yes, sir. please gag me with your briefs sir. i worship and adore you sir

you’re my everything bro. i wouldn’t know what i’d do without you without you in my strong arms keepin you safe and warm

bro

awgh

bro stop it bro

brah i’m a sensitive man, you know that brah. i’m really closer to a lesbian in temperament

fuckin gina gershon leather dyke 

haha, you’re like a helpless lil pray animal, bro. i wanna rape you

sorry, brah. not feasible. definition-ally, one cannot rape the willing

objection. your honor, we have established the defendant’s mind is weak and malleable. upon the conclusion of our night walk i could throw him upon my svelte king size mattress, tie him wrist and ankle to the bedposts, and fuck him senseless – your honor, i could fuck him until he was drooling catatonic with eyes tuned out like television static, absolutely fry the circuitry of his brain with pleasure… and with but a mere suggestion make him think it was the most brutal of horrors, an utterly charmless display of freakshow primate dominance which would leave the skirts fallen from the hangers. i could have him bent over lobotomized 1950′s hysterical with a hole in the head from uncle sam, crying in his sad lil victorian woman way oh you foul man you foul man you absolute brute

i give up. i’m helpless to you

i am your toy. don’t break me

i’m weak

i need you

bro i need you

bro

bro

i was missin you real bad bro

brah i know bro

god i can’t fuckin st–

WOAH

the fu–

haha, b r o

eeeeee

bro you are clueless, bro

what wa–

bro, that weren’t no bus. that was a bus stop bro

which one of us am…?

which one of us am…? bro are you for real bro?

bro, where, where am 

bro… bro

bro?

bro, pay attention. you listenin? i’m me, you’re you

bro, i’m…

bro? BRO?

…

bro?

‘i’m me, you’re you’. very instructional. very confucian. i have been enlightened. thank you. thank you very much. every moment we spend together is a treasure

bro, i know it. you know i got your back bro

it hurts bro. my head hurts. my feet hurt. my spine hurts. the bud of passion lies dormant in the embers exhausted. hold me close bro?

bro, you know it bro

mmphh

feels good don’t it bro

gooood you smell good brah

like that brah? like curlin up in daddy’s smelly meathead pits

mmmph. can smell you through the leather brah. mmmmmm fuck. wanna curl up in a bearskin rug made a more you brah

get in closer. i’ll crush you

please bro. crush me like a fuckin bug

mmmphhhhh 

ahhhhhh

like that fagboy

i am an insect. i am unworthy. i cry tears of joy every moment i can smell you, see you, touch you, kiss you, you in all your earthly imperfections are what i deem a suitable enough surface onto which to project my unattainable ideal of exquisite manhood

it’s an horor, brah. use me. i’m a dumb mule fit only to serve and amuse you

flex, bro. i wanna kiss it

pffftt

hmmppph. god you’re a man. those fuckin pecs. flatten me like a migrant worker under a speedin freight train brah

haha bro what the fuck

a bray of laughter, wheezing forth like a geyser from dry reedy lungs – eyes dry reedy wells from which there are no tears to draw

i am the sun

i am the air

you’re a fire sign

a lemon lime

a soda pop

i’d rather not

please picture a barbershop quartet on fire

you were always the care

taker her sir

what a lovely image. how much did it cost?

twenty five cents, my good man

a pleasure, sir. i shall return tomorrow to view it again

why sir, you can view it anywhere

anywhere

anytime anywhere

anytime anywhere? good sir, what sorcery is this? is this one of those portable videographs i’ve heard so much about

why no sir, ’tis but the power of imagination

imagination, why what is that?

it’s when you get like pictures and notions in your head, sir

oh, that doesn’t sound typical. are you sure of that?

why yes sir. why i bet if we sat still and quieted down for a moment, we could picture all sorts of things

well… i suppose it is considered adventurous to try things once

okay… you ready…

okay…?

yeah? on the count of 3?

I

I I

I V

I I I

…

…

…

are we…

shhh… i was imaginin somethin

aw shi-

shhh

….

….

holy fuckin shit brah

bro. bro i know rite

are we allowed to do this? this can’t be legal

not just legal, bro. free

why isn’t everybody doin this? we have to tell the world!

can’t bro.

bro?

won’t listen

aw shit. what do we do now?

i dunno. we could light more shit on fire

the gumption i mire, i just wish you’d channel it more productively

hard, brah. nobody taught me how to be a man. i had to assemble it piecemeal from the shards of a collective stained glass mural detonated by the infobomb a mass media and bulldozed by the flatiron a neoliberal accelerationism

can’t tell if sperging or anime stoic

fuck off normie

my undiagnosed bipolar disorder grants me currency in your fucked up inverted mental illness values hierarchy, but joke’s on you, that’s the cost of the psychic heritage i carry, my drive towards shamanism. hear him, hear him, hear the voice of venus in cancer beyond the grave. can i getta   69   69   95 boy

brah brah

for i am a seer… for am i a liar…

BRAH

i am a seer  i am a liar

haha, naw man. he’s fine. theater guy, they’re characters, you know

my father   ran the prison

shhhh. slow down brah. you’re shakin. come ere. come to daddy. come get up in daddy’s leather  where you belong

it’s not me, it’s the wind. the autumn wind. creeping listless upon my dream of an indian summer

yeah. that’s it. get right up in daddy’s pit

mmmph. like i’m bastin in your smell bro

yeah, that’s it. my heat and my musk. cocooning you. seeping into you. staining you. makin you more and more my good obedient beta boy. like that don’t you. like bein my bitch, don’t you beta?

yes sir

say it

i like bein your beta bitch boy sir

feels good to let daddy take control. just be a dumb beta for awhile and follow along. be a good lil boy for your alpha and obey mindlessly

yes sir

fuckin your head with my words. commands feel so fuckin good snakin through your brain, suffocatin any nerve bundles tryin ta resist

i’m weak sir. i’m weak. i need you. complete me. destroy me.

bro. bro. resist me. sustain me. complete me. i am an absence without you. this thing i am. this slightness. this frailty. it’s something no mass can overcome. the weight. a will no body could ever embody. do you see how i weep? i who was a beast who was a man dreaming he was a god

i love you bro

love you bro

love you bro love you bro

love you bro love you bro glove you bro globe you bro

we want you big brother

big brother

bro bro

bro

bro

bro, i wasn’t done. 

bro, wha-

third, i am not autistic. fourth, even if i was, autism is not a mental illness, it’s a perfectly natural autoimmune response to unnatural vaccinations. my teats are the most robust and the milkiest. my pearl necklace houses the most cum. my boots are the most patent and the leatheriest. second, bro. they had their best fuckin character standin around on a balcony all season doin fuckin nothin. after season fuckin six bro, they took her absolutely fuckin nowhere, i don’t give a shit how much trashy pirate dick she didn’t get, it was all a waste

make a wish

we never kiss’d

tears’n the rain

it’s always the same

i know, bro. hurts to fall out of love. hurts not to care. run outta stories outta service

not gonna worry about that anymore brah. don’t plan on it happenin again anytime soon. it’s all very conventional. not anything new. nice to see it reheated like a warm stain. i would rather remember the bouquet of theses tastes of yesterday, not the bilge and bile they became

bro

Bro

delete me

d e l e t e  m e

b  r  o

b     r     o

[screaming beyond the infinite]

what was i saying

that you loved me stupid

you loved yourself stupid, goonerboy

hey, look

what

porchlight’s still on

haha, fuckin dumbass

who you callin dumbass, dumbass

to sass and the spastic, forevermore shall your minds be plastic

whoooom

airplane exploding noises

tens of thousands of women and children dead

goddamn, i do love you stupid

maybe we should burn down some buildings

nother time brah. there’ll be other nights. other night walks

other nights other night walkers

bro

bro

don’t think this is gonna be no greetin card endin brah. you got no fuckin idea what’s waitin for you on the other side a that door. i could clamp a leatherclad paw over your mouth and crush your jaw into a bony fuck funnel for my uncut alpha cock. i could throatfuck you so hard i work my way right through nuttin your fuckin faggot brains out. i could rip your fuckin throat wideopen with my bare hands and garrot you with your own tongue i don’t see that fucker black with filth from the bottoma a my boots you dumb faggot. tomorrow i wanna see daddy’s alpha boots fuckin spotless, comprende motherfucker? 

the door slams shut behind you

you’re not gettin the fuck back out for a good long while

better think

long and fuckin hard about what you let inside a you brah, fuck knows if you’ll ever get the stains out

haha

haha

night walks bro

fuckin night walks

[to the boys across the street on the golf course]

cocksucker

[french-toast-enjoyer]

venom with stretch marks,,, save me venom with stretch marks,,,,,

(quick sketch, should I do more fat/muscle studies on them?)

[bigfan-fanfic]

Considering you only gain muscles by working out, and to work out, you need to lift heavy things, technically, Clark couldn't be muscular since he's way too strong to actually be able to train his muscles. Which means: Clark chubby farm boy is actually a possible and viable thing.

SO, fun fact! This is totally true, and in fact addressed often in comics.

It's usually agreed upon in canon that Clark didn't develop his powers right away, with his capacity for absorbing and utilizing solar energy gradually expanding, around the same time as the onset of puberty, probably around age 14. So though his powers' growths were rapid once they manifested, he did have some time to adjust until they reached their maximum. And it was during this time he was helping out on the farm, using that as a kind of informal training (lifting hay bales for strength, which progressed to lifting cattle to lifting tractors, etc.; practicing control and finesse with say, chickens and caring for livestock with super speed).

Remember, Clark is supposed to be potential for the high school football team in Smallville, and that immediately makes me think stocky and sturdy, not cut and visibly muscular. At the point where he's at the full strength he'll know as Superman, he's got pretty much no upper limit, and generally nothing that's going to help him train his muscles. So definitely, early career Superman is going to be more mass than muscle.

However, once he gets full access to the Fortress of Solitude and the support of the Justice League, he can get some assistance - Wonder Woman has incredible, divinely empowered strength, and as a warrior trains often - she helps instruct him in martial arts and can help him train at full strength. Meanwhile, Batman can help him train in environments built to limit his power, like red sun training rooms and such.

Considering his physiology is more dependent upon solar energy than anything else to build his strength and keep him healthy, I'd say solar energy keeps him from atrophying. But considering if he's got energy akin to photosynthesis from the sun, I'd suggest he never really gets much of a lean musculature and remains bulky and sturdy.

Above is Christopher Reeve both training and in costume as Superman - his muscles are well-formed, but his torso isn't like, eight pack abs and dehydrated - he's clearly building muscle mass and body fat in a healthy way, and it shows in his costume. He looks sturdy, and strong.

Above is golden age Superman next to a bodybuilder/powerlifter, which I think Superman's original design is supposed to evoke. He's not popping muscles through his suit, but he's clearly really fricking fit and strong. Even his waist is more close to the width of his chest than more narrow like you see in more contemporary illustrations.

My thought is that Clark's physique is a lot more like someone at the Highland Games. Built for strength and sturdiness. He doesn't have to keep lean because he's not worried about endurance and agility because he already has that from his powers. Big arms, broad chest, likely a little bit of a tummy. And if he's under layers like Clark usually dresses, he can easily be mistaken for pudgy instead of powerful.

In any case, that's my untrained viewpoint on the subject. Basically my sweet polite farmboy is basically a photosynthesizing plant with muscles. Wait, is that why Poison Ivy's pheromones can work on him???

[helv-ete]

Germany doodles I did a while ago

[muddiestpath]

Starting my little question rounds again, but this time I'm asking about people's Rooks! And since I don't really know much about anyone's anything (been avoiding spoilers like the plague), I'll just start with the basics:

Who is your Rook? What class did you pick for them and why? How did they end up with the background you choose? Please do add a picture!

Bonus question: Got any little "fun facts" about them? :3c

(Day is made! I've still got a store if bg3 asks from you that I'm saving bc I want to draw my answers)

I'll answer with my first Rook for now (have 4 but barely touched the other 3 passed CC)!

Lossan Mea Laidir! (he/him woman)

He is a warrior(reaper) with a shield based fighting style. Lots of siphoning life & necromantic damage.

He is part of the Lords of Fortune as a thrill seeker. Lossan Mea specialises in tomb raiding/dungeon delving, he is very smart about traps & puzzle. Just doesn't care about how injured he gets during a job. He joined pretty young after proving himself as a local guide to a LoF travelling through his secluded village on a job. He took advantage of how the treasure hunters couldn't tell how old dwarves are to lie & say he was an adult.

Fun facts:

"Fool's Gold" is the term I made up for a sect of LoF that are reckless & without any connections that could make them care about returning in one piece. The term is derogatory & it explains why Isabela is so curt with Lossan Mea.

Lossan Mea hates salt water & gets seasick very easily, often is mocked for it by outsiders who assume being based in Rivain & part of the LoF requires you to be good at swimming.

Despite this he can swim (had to learn when a tomb gets flooded) but Isabela calls it "surviving in water, not swimming".

His secluded village is an excuse for how his name doesn't match dwarven naming sense. Lossan Mea means "phosphorescence" Lossan being "blaze/flare" & Mea being "fat/rich/luxury".

Lossan Mea is afraid of living, growing old or just the thought of immortality. A great contrast to his Roëmænce Partnær™️ Emmrich.

He has looted a more derelict section of the grand necropolis before DA:V & is now having to work with the Mournwatchers who he is convinced know what he did.

His village is similar to Chasind in it's approach to mages & spirits so when he moved to Rivain it wasn't a shock. But he does not like the chantry.

[fitnessitaliano]

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[vishalmarali]

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[angelltheninth]

The Heroic Build

Pairing: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, banter, awkward flirting, secret crush, working out, sweet!Clark Kent, himbo!Clark Kent

Word count: 1k

Ao3

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: He would make for a great, but distracting, gym buddy.

Going jogging and going to the gym were never about you wanting to impress anyone, just doing what made you feel good. Until... you noticed that he was taking the same route as you. Clark Kent, one of your new co-workers. You only talked to him a few times but he always seemed like a very sweet guy, if a little on the clumsy side. And from what you saw he was very well built. Just your type.

Hopefully some day soon you'll be able to ask him out on a date.

That day was not supposed to be today. Today you were on your usual run, minding your own business when a mountain of red appeared next to you. "Good morning!" Clarks soft, happy voice made your heart skip a beat, which really wasn't good when you're working out.

"Good morning Clark. Is this your route too?" What a stupid question, damn why do you get like this around him? It's just a crush! You've had those before.

Clark didn't seem to notice your flustered state and if he did he politely chose not to say anything, "It's on the way to the gym I go to so yeah. Plus it passes by my favorite store and I can't say no to their donuts. I uh... you could say I'm drawn to all things sweet." You swore you saw his eyes lower to your lips just then before he straightened his head forward. "What about you? I saw you running the same route a few times."

No way, could you really be... "I run this route to the gym too. Its a good warmup."

Clark's eyes lit up, you actually swore you saw them flash for a moment, must be a trick of the light and glasses, "Awesome! If you want maybe, we can go together. To the gym that is! And then also maybe get something sweet after? As a treat. My treat! I mean I will treat you to something sweet!" His face was as red as his shirt by the time he made himself stop talking.

Damn it, why was he so cute?!

"I'd love to go with you. You look like you could use a good partner. Gym partner that is." You don't know why but you found yourself winking to him all the same, which made Clark gape at you and slow down to process that wink.

As was the case almost everywhere he went Clark's cute puppydog energy seemed to make people like him. When you arrived at the gym both of you were greeted by the owners and a few other people there, although Clark seemed more like the social butterfly, or rather he let people talk and offered them the kindest possible smile and reassurance when they seemed to need it.

In fact from what you observed Clark didn't really need to go to the gym judging from his build. When that hoodie came off and you saw all that toned muscle you found yourself staring, "Oh wow." You thought you were pretty quiet but Clark heard you, somehow. "Sorry, I just didn't know you were so... buff. I knew you were big but- I mean tall, you're very tall!"

"Oh well I grew up on my parents farm so I had to bulk up and help them out." He seemed a tiny bit flustered by you looking and scratched the back of his head, which made his biceps flex and bulge. Oh this was a big mistake on your part. "I really like being in shape so I figured joining a gym would be my best option. Er... are you okay?"

"Hot. Uh, I mean, I'm a little hot from warming up and all, but I could help you out if you want. I noticed you didn't get much done, running around helping others all the time." A soft smile flew across Clark's face. He seemed happy to be acknowledged.

"I like helping others." There was so much conviction in his statement, like its his true calling. It was so admirable it made your already bad crush escalate.

"So what do you need help with? What do you normally do?"

"Well today I was gonna be lifting some weights. You can count if you want." He smiled and pointed towards one of the empty powerlift benches. A part of you wanted to say that judging by his arms he didn't need that but you also wanted to see how many he could do. When you saw how many weights he packed on there you were... a little worried.

Clark though laid back with full confidence, grabbed hold of the bar with full confidence and with a tiny grunt lifted it all the way up. "Holy shit. You actually did it." If he could keep lifting those with relative ease he could for sure lift you too. "One." Clark smirked at the awestruck confidence boost he got and lowered it all the way to his chest, then up again. He was past the 20th and not even breaking a sweat. "You got the heroic build."

"Huh?" His arms faltered, a look of both surprise and horror on his face as the bar and weights almost crashed onto him, "Fuck!" Clark wheezed as he put the bar back into its place and sat up, now very out of breath, back muscles rising and falling with every breath.

"That has to be the first time I've heard you swear." It was almost funny really. You rounded up to face him and offered him a bottle of water, "You okay? That could have ended badly." Others seemed to think so too seeing as there were a few people looking your way.

"I'm fine!" Clark informed, more them then you, "Might have overdone it a little. I..." He scratched his pink-tinted cheek, "I may have wanted to impress you."

"Oh." Instead of complimenting him you flicked his forehead. It actually hurt a little, he was very hard-headed, literally, "Well you don't have to get hurt trying. I'm already impressed." The moment of silence between you seemed to stretch out forever, "I-I'm gonna go shower. Meet me at the front later, we still need to get something sweet." But first you needed to get all the frustrations and dirty thoughts out of your system.

[teddylifts]

The Spirit of Gluttony - The Bodybuilder

Looking for more of a challenge, the spirit of gluttony located Adam. Adam was a real gym rat, and was in love with his own muscles. Blonde, with a scruffy beard, Adam had a typical superhero build. Religious at the gym, Adam meticulously counted calories. Not even a spare ounce of fat existed on his body. Attempting to enter the body, the spirit was immediately rejected. No surprise there. The spirit tried the trick that had worked on Matt - whispers. Weeks passed, and there were no results - Adam seemed to be immune to the lure of fat.

The spirit decided to try a different approach. Adam was repelled and disgusted by fat, but was enamored with the idea of growing larger. If the spirit could shift the focus from growing the muscles, to just growing larger in general, he might have some success. The spirit altered his whispers, and he felt a change in Adam's mindset - maybe he wanted to become a powerlifter. The spirit latched onto the idea and fed it. Adam became obsessed with lifting and bulking, and with a little prompting from the spirit, the bulk became a dirty bulk. Adam soon found himself carrying around 30 or so pounds of fat in his midsection, and the spirit found the ground fertile enough for him to enter.

Adam's body definitely did not fit the spirit - it was much too small, but instead of pushing out to make the body more comfortable, something the spirit knew would lead to being immediately rejected, the spirit contented himself with the ill fitting body - he would take his time on Adam. Admiring his relatively thin body, the spirit concentrated Adam's attention on the fat, and triggered the arousal. Adam got instantly hard, and the spirit was quick to jerk him off, planting the thought in Adam's mind that the euphoria after release was even better for the growing belly.

Without knowing why, Adam found himself posting pictures of his growing body online, and he rapidly found a following. Men and women alike were in love with his powerlifting physique. They loved his firm, solidly round belly. He found himself starting a Patreon, and soon money came pouring in - people were paying to watch him lift and eat. He found that people were more willing to pay for the eating challenge videos, and so his focus shifted - less lifting, more eating. He found that he was able to pack away more and more food, and what once was a challenge was now simple. His belly grew, and his round powerlifter~ass swelled out, round and fat.

The day the scale read 301, Adam's hands stopped exploring his belly. 300 pounds?! What the fuck? How did this happen? The spirit of gluttony was pushed out of the body by the rising horror the man felt. Adam turned to the mirror, and gasped as he really saw himself for the first time in months. He was still heavily muscled, but fat dominated his belly and ass - his face round and full. He decided this needed to end, but as he pulled out his phone, he saw notifications from patreon - more followers, and requests for more eating videos. One more video, and that would be it. He would cut the fat.

The spirit watched in satisfaction as one video turned into two, then three, and more. Adam was working on his belly himself - the spirit didn't need to help out anymore. If Adam wanted to make a living, he was going to have to keep growing fatter. If he wanted a satisfying release in sex, he needed to keep growing.

[pettyprocrastination]

Leg Day

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female Powerlifter!Reader

Summary: You first catch Art Donaldson's eye in the university gym when all you want to do is hit back and biceps before class, the tennis player finds himself quite caught in your physique.

Warnings: foul language, smut, oral (f receiving), Art eats pussy and likes your thighs a whole lot. Reader is described as muscular. One line describes reader as not looking like Tashi in terms of physique.

Word Count: 1k

Author's note: Forcing myself to get back into writing at the same time im forcing myself to get back to the gym :') take this lil ficlet as a sign of my love for those who still follow me on here lmaoo.

Art adored your thighs. 

You didn’t look like Tashi. Not that there was anything wrong with that in his mind, of course. But the physiques differed greatly. The star tennis player of Stanford had a lean build from her years of training and perfecting her sport. Long legs that covered the court in smooth strides and toned arms that delivered a vicious backhand. 

The same body he and Patrick had nearly shared that one fateful night in a dingey hotel room when they should have been sleeping before their match in the morning. The same body he had found his gaze lingering on a touch too long to be appropriate for his best friend's girlfriend. 

And the same body you called him out for drooling over in the campus gym when all you wanted to do was a simple arm workout before your 10 am. 

“So are you actually going to use the bench or are you just gonna sit on it and stare at her like a fucking creep for another twenty minutes?” 

You were not Tashi Duncan. 

Strong arms crossed over one another as you waited for him to either say something or move, neither of which his brain could comprehend as you stood before him expectantly. A powerful, if not a tad intimidating physique supported by thick, muscular quads built from years of lifting heavy in sweat-filled weight rooms since you were a little girl that grew tired of soccer. 

Then cheer. 

Then volleyball. 

The gymnastics. 

Powerlifting was the one sport that finally stuck. 

“It makes me feel strong.” You had explained your love for the sport to him one night. With his head laying in your lap, the textbook he had carried with him to your dorm under the excuse of needing help studying now laid discarded on your floor as he listened to your story. “Seeing how much I can lift, how it feels to finally make a weight you’ve been struggling with for so long. It feels like you’re proving something, you know? Especially when you’re one of the only girls in the weight room.” 

Art could feel the testament to your craft under him. The thick corded muscle of your quads beneath his head as your fingers carded through his hair absentmindedly. Legs that were hugged by every pair of shorts you wore or hidden beneath the same pair of Stanford sweatpants whenever you felt a chill in the air. He found himself dreading the coming of winter as the two of you began to spend more time together. 

He wasn’t sure when the admiration began to shift into something deeper, slowly turning from one athlete showing respect for another’s commitment to their sport into a hormonal college freshman staring at your ass in spandex shorts each time he bumped into you at the campus gym. 

What he did know was that the night he finally found himself between your legs was one he would never forget. How quickly the pair of you shed your clothes in one anothers embrace, turning your room into nothing more than a collection of discarded study packets and kicked off Stanford merch telling the story that Art would no doubt replay in his mind for the entirety of winter break. 

The soft smile on your face as he crawled on top of you, pressing fervent kisses to every inch of your body that you would allow him access. How he memorized each microscopic reaction, that a kiss to your neck would make you giggle but turn into a shuddering gasp if he dug his teeth into the skin. How you softened in his arms when he ran his tongue along the scar lining your hip, one he would have to ask you about someday. 

But dear God, he could write poetry about your legs. 

The feeling of them wrapping around his head while he lapped at your cunt with tentative kitten licks that soon turned into devouring you with a desperation that could no doubt be heard through the walls. Your muscles twitching and trembling from his touch as you cried out his name with an arched back and scrambling hands, desperately trying to reach him until you found purchase in his soft curls, gripping just tight enough to verge on being painful. His own moans mixing with yours, poor bastard getting so lost in giving you pleasure he didn't even realize when he began to grind his hips into your mattress, desperately searching for a release while helping you reach your own. 

To hear your voice pitch into an airy whine as your thighs tightened around his head. Tighter and tighter as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm, hips twitching against his mouth still working away against your dripping cunt in a way that verged on being gluttonous until you pulled him away with a sharp tug on his hair. 

In the aftermath, a silence settled over the two of you like a soft blanket. Spit-slicked lips laid feather-light kisses against the still twitching muscles of your thighs, pressing against the blooming bite marks that he knew would just barely peek out from the cuff of your shorts you wore during your morning training sessions. A minuscule stake of claim that he had no business branding you with given that he was too chickenshit to take you out on a real date. 

Had you opened your eyes, you’d see that his were already trained on you with a softness you weren’t yet ready to see. Admiring the rise and fall of your chest with a faint smile on his face and the desire to take you out properly. To scrounge up enough money from his bank account after the room & board payments bleed him dry to some small burger shop or maybe the local theater to see you outside of the walls of your dorm or the university gym, wearing something nice and laughing at his jokes before kissing him goodnight. To sit in the stands of his next match as his girlfriend and congratulate him on his win with an overly obnoxious kiss that he would swear was humiliating but made him preen under your praise like a peacock during mating season. To do all of the downright nauseatingly romantic bullshit every nineteen year old boy wanted to do with the girl he was too afraid to actually make a move on. 

But not yet. 

“Have you ever considered wrestling? You’ve got a killer leg lock.”

[mintyeggs]

tma shitposts

i am part of the martin powerlifter build truther gang

[elder-moth]

Okay, real talk though I'm a little disappointed that Halsin has more of a bodybuilder build than a powerlifter build.

Like, if he had the power lifter build he could be a bear in more than one sense if you catch my meaning.

Like, would a build like this not suit him? Am I crazy?

[lesbianhalflifeposting]

Anyone that doesn't depict Chell as having the build of a powerlifter with thighs thick enough to crack skulls like walnuts is blind to the wonders of the universe and that's just where I'm at.

[sfde8871]

Any chance on bears/powerlifters with the bulk build?

[buyakasha]

finally posting this girl! couldn't find time to write up her info woops, under the cut. thank you to everyone in the discord who helped make her with the build a character meme!

Name: Elle “Rebelle” Shaw

Age: 29

Gender and Pronouns: Cis female, she/her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Height: 5'6”(human), 6’4”(werewolf)

Personality: free-spirited, go-getter, intense, sarcastic, witty, protective, empathetic, quick to anger but even quicker to forgive and forget

- born in Scotland, her family being a branch of an old clan with eveb older werewolf lineage. They have a lot of influence in their community, and we're pretty judgemental when Elle started finding her punk style and outlook on life

- moved to North America when she was 25 when she got fed up with her family breathing down her neck. eventually found her way to Pale Lake and settled right in

- vocals/guitar in the band, takes turns leading or backing up Eli depending on the song

- nicknamed by the band, they worship her

- has 3 younger siblings and little cousins back home, takes on a big sister role in the band/friend group instinctively. always has good advice

- vegetarian, meat makes her feel I'll. tofu lover supreme 

- good friends with Evie from the rival band

- loves cats, horror movies, collecting vinyls, thrifting/customizing her clothes, powerlifting, socializing. if she didnt choose the rock band route in life, she'd be a journalist