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bilgisticallykosher · 4 years ago

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Happy Ending; Years Alone, Then Not

Helping Establish Yet Another Transformation Nuzzle

Who remembers this? No one? Great, good, I wrote a fic about it after I started it March eleventh of last year out of nowhere with no planning. Wrote it in a week and then didn't touch it again.

Please read the original How Easy You Are To Need by delimeful here or on AO3 here

Warnings: Uh, some possessive thoughts about people. That's it?

Word Count: 1615

Masterpost | Next Chapter | AO3

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That first full moon, he'd been surrounded by his humans. Dealing with the apparently-greater-than-he-could-have-thought misconceptions aside, it had been nice.

Mostly.

He hadn't paid much attention to it, of course, not with the I'm-a-bigger-idiot-than-even-I-knew revelation. But there had been something missing. Something off. Something that could have been better.

Over the next several months, and subsequent full moons, things changed. (He could practically hear Patton's 'You mean aside from your Shifting?' joke, and resolved not to bring up that particular turn of phrase out loud, (at least not around Logan, for his sake.))

He certainly shifted around the full moon, but it wasn't exactly a rare moment that he was found in his wolf form the other three weeks of the month. He didn't necessarily sleep while shifted, but when he did, one or more of his humans would join, cuddled around him, arm over his furry pelt like he was nothing more than a slightly oversized dog.

But that was the rest of the time. Around the full moon was another story entirely. He hadn't realized it fully back when he was by himself in the forest, day in and day out, but his personality was naturally a little…different around the time of the moon.

He'd always had a natural inclination to monitor the perimeter of his forest, watching over it. He'd always prevented it from magical damage, unnatural threats, dangerous intruders, save three humans that could have so, so easily been threats. That had been true no matter what point in the month it was, so he'd never noticed an increase in feelings when the moon was waxing.

Now, however, he'd noticed that he'd become a little more territorial. Or, maybe a little more than a little more territorial. He'd been embarrassed when Logan had idly asked him about it one day, in between moons, but he secretly felt that he couldn't help himself. Especially after all they'd been through, back when he'd had those unbelievable beliefs.

So it was now common that in the days leading up to the full moon, he'd give an extra lap or two around the forest, mine, no one touches, mine, nobody hurts it, nobody hurts them, mine, nothing comes between me and what's mine, mine, mine. His humans, meanwhile, would pile up in the big bed, able to fit all four of them with room to spare, and they would not cuddle up around Virgil.

Instead, they arranged themselves all pressed together, and allowed Virgil's big, fuzzy body to lie across all three of them as he snuggled into them.

It was thus that Virgil found himself in bed on his back, a mockery of that first time he'd exposed his weak point to them, with Patton finally giving him belly rubs. He had to admit, they were really quite nice. Patton was the only one of his humans that was ready for bed right now, but he was able to push down the urge to worry about the others, mostly because he could see them from his current position. He watched as they brushed their teeth (taking turns at the sink in the bathroom visible from the bedroom) and putting on their pajamas with the door closed.

Virgil at least had enough sense that he didn't listen to the part of him that said he had to watch them get dressed. Privacy was privacy. But even if they had been willing to have him in the room with them…well, that was a layered issue, anyway, and he'd get to dealing with that hopefully never.

For now, he enjoyed the belly rubs that Patton was so enthusiastically giving. The second that Logan came nearer to the bed, Virgil turned and jumped off, prompting a small yelp of surprise from Patton. He'd feel worse about that later, but he was too intent on circling around Logan, sniffing him to make sure everything was alright. If something had happened to him in the short time he hadn't been paying as much attention, he couldn't allow it, nobody could touch…

But he was fine. Virgil allowed himself to relax that much more, but not fully, until Roman was back, too. He listened to Patton and Logan chatting idly, determining what their sleeping arrangements were, as Logan took off his glasses and other accessories. It wasn't long before Roman entered, and Virgil enthusiastically gave him the same once-over (okay, maybe thrice-over) until he was satisfied.

Roman chuckled and scratched behind Virgil's ears. He ended in a light tap on his nose, muttering a quiet boop! Patton pulled down the covers beside him invitingly, and Roman bowed, once to Virgil to excuse himself, and once to Patton. Logan and Virgil shared an eyeroll, but he followed after him as he headed for the bed anyway.

Roman climbed on, settling next to Patton, and Logan followed suit. Virgil finally jumped on top of them, delicately, if he bruised them or scratched them or made them bleed or- and lay down with his head on Logan's chest. They exchanged goodnights, Virgil doing the best that he could in this form, and they gradually fell asleep.

At some point during the night, Virgil woke to the sensation of someone trying to get out from underneath him. Well that was just unacceptable. He growled lowly, opened his eyes, and turned his head to see Patton trying to wriggle his way from under his haunches. He growled again, and Patton frowned, not stopping his movements.

"I'm sorry, Virge," he whispered, trying not to wake the others, "but I have to pee." Virgil just growled at him again. That meant that he had to get up. Not allowed. Virgil had to be on top of him to protect him, and Patton had to be in the bed to be protected. "Viiiirgiiiiiiiiil," he whined. "I've gotta go, come on!" Virgil shook his head back and forth once. Didn't he know in the calm of the night was a dangerous time to be up and around alone?

Patton sighed. "Okay, how about you walk me to the bathroom, so you can watch over me?" How did he know that was what the problem was? Logan must have discussed his theories with them. And knowing Logan, his theories were probably dead on. He should be mortified. Instead, he was glad of the offer, even as he grumbled in apparent reluctance.

He gently rose onto his legs, careful not to shift the mattress too much, and lightly jumped off of the bed. Patton made a relieved noise as he joined Virgil on the floor, immediately heading towards the bathroom. They were halfway through the door, Virgil, alert, at his side, when they heard Roman shift, and speak. They looked back at the bed.

"Mmmm…….. cold." And that was all the warning that he gave before hefting Logan up and over onto his body like a living blanket. Logan yelped loudly, waking up immediately and struggled for a moment, until he was able to gauge what had happened. Roman, somehow still half-asleep, eyes closed, shushed Logan, patting him on the face. He huffed and accepted his fate, relaxing slightly, before giving Virgil and Patton a defeated look. Patton was shaking with silent laughter, leaning against Virgil slightly for support.

Virgil gave Logan a wolf-y grin, nudging Patton until he was upright, and came behind him to guide him the rest of the way to the bathroom. He waited outside the door, Patton's snickering eventually tapering off as he did what he needed to. Virgil kept an eye and both ears out, listening for anything off, either in or outside the house. Soon, he heard Patton call out that he was almost done, along with a flush and the sound of him washing his hands, before coming back out to Virgil. He gave him a few scratches around his ears before returning to the bedroom with him.

They had to pause at the doorway again, to allow Patton to be overwhelmed by cute. Logan seemed to have fallen asleep as he was, on top of Roman. As they composed themselves and walked closer, Logan's eyes fluttered open.

"Help," he implored, not looking all that urgent. Patton hid another snicker before getting back in bed, gently tapping Roman on his shoulder.

"Ro," he attempted to peel off one of his arms wrapped around Logan. "Come on, Virgil's back, you can let go now." He gave another tug, which seemed to wake him enough to relax his grip, and Logan was able to escape back to his spot with a heavy sigh. Roman started frowning again, hand reaching over towards Patton, so Virgil took that moment to jump onto the bed, back to his position by Logan, and returned to his protective sleep pose.

Immediately he felt Roman relax, which prompted him to relax also, safety assured once more. There was minimal movement as he waited for them to all fall asleep again, not content until they did, not able to quell his instincts until he was assured they were safe enough to stop watching over them.

Maybe at some point, they'd have to have a talk about it, or he'd be ashamed of it. Right now, though, as he felt Patton's arm swing over him, Roman clutching at his fur like a lifeline, and Logan cuddled up with his front paw between his arms, he didn't think they had much of a problem with it. In fact, he realized as he heard their breathing even out, it almost seemed as though they needed to watch out for him, as much as he needed to watch out for them.

He was asleep within the minute.

---

Hey, I've got a discord based around my cursed fic, come join!

@katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @awkwardjester @ollyollyoxinfree @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @callboxkat @legendsgates @nonasficcollection @rainbowbowtie @10moonymhrivertam @idont-freaking-know @somehow-i-got-an-account @aceawkwardunicorn @enby-ralsei @cottonwoolsocks @silverobsidion-speaks @robinwritesshitposts @a-fandom-trashdump @averykedavra @demoniccheese83 @drarrymalecsolangelo

#my stories #delimeful #heyatn #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #werewolf au

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lovedreaming · 8 years ago

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himnusz. || drabble

@chcpxn. continued from here.

(j.s. bach included with @oktova's blessing.)

she isn't actually about to kill someone (well maybe). but her eyes scream bloody murder.

these kids. these stupid kids. well, they were probably more college age than actual kids, but--how in God's name did they manage to beat up her Cho-chan?! sure, he's frail for a classicaloid, but given their inherent nature, not even the most muscular of these kids should be able to put a dent in him, no matter how many tough-looking gang signs they made to make themselves feel stronger. which meant that somehow, somewhere, they had some semblance of the power that ran through her and her fellows. could there really be such a thing?

apparently, there is.

they call themselves UPROAR, a policewoman told her when she asked about gang activity near one of cho-chan's favorite outcluse spots. they've occupied this area for the past day--we thought we'd be able to clear them out in no time, but then their leader took out a boombox and when his mixtape started playing--i don't even know how to explain it, but he used some sort of sound-force from it to keep us away. now if you want to cross over to the highway, i suggest--

don't worry, said franzi, giving the woman a wink as she brushed past her. i'm sure everything will be all right.

and now they're standing right in front of her. and now they are going to be judged.

the place is a mess thanks to them, that's for sure. the trees are all graffitied tops to roots--whatever tags the gang had, they spray-painted them vertically instead of horizontally to accommodate. it appears they've taken over a park of some sort, with benches dragged out to form a barricade with the group name plastered across a cardboard plank in bold letters: U P R O A R. they even marked out their territory with physical signs: orange cones sporting amateurishly photoshopped signs that read PASS IT, GET HIT. (ugh--the font is cheap, and she can barely read it underneath the edgy grunge overlay. did these kids have any sense of style?)

there is, so to speak, a line in the sand.

she steps right over it.

two neon blue heads turn at the clack of her heels on the concrete--two teens with too many piercings and hideous dye jobs, crouching on top of the barrier they've thrown together.

❝ay yo, who is this clown?❞ one of them yells. immediately the whole gang clambers over the barricade, buff japanese men with arms crossed, gold chains hanging from their necks--even sporting the backwards caps, nike tank tops and sagging baggy jeans in the american style she'd seen in the hip hop music videos that rapper schubert had shown her during his phase. college punks, trying way too hard to be tough. she'd never met the type before, but she knows it when she sees it. she can almost feel the insecurity radiating from their power-grubbing souls. hell, she doesn't even think they're authentic--they can copy the bare bones of the hip hop aesthetic to a T, but there's something missing from their empty display (aside, that is, from healthy emotions). it just doesn't feel real. though the black american rappers that schubert showed her were shocking at first, she could still sense a certain spirit inside them, which perhaps came from where they came from and how they'd lived--a spirit that, in these young men, is clearly deficient.

❝you hurt my cho-chan,❞ she snarls. ❝you hurt my cho-chan.❞

at her words, a giant boombox appears out of the middle of the throng, and the other uproar members part to let it through. definitely the leader--which she can tell for sure because he is the tallest, with the most buff physique, the biggest gold chain and the saggiest baggy pants. she narrows her eyes as he swaggers to the fore, giving the boombox an extra heft to show off his well-muscled arm. that thing should be too heavy for a normal human to carry--not only does he have mujik, but his mujik seems at least as far advanced as hers. not to mention--there are two other people there--do they have mujik as well?

no matter. she would beat them all. ALL.

❝hey, big nose,❞ he calls, and the whole group guffaws. ❝why don't you get that bird beak out of our business and run off crying like your limp noodle boyfriend?" he turns to uproar. ❝outdoor walker choppin'. ha. we had a ton of fun choppin' him to pieces, didn't we, boys?❞

the guffaws rise as he makes his second gaffe. she balls a fist at her side.

❝i bet my nose is bigger than your dick.❞

the group ohhhhhhs--doesn't matter who gets burned as long as the burn is sick--which the leader doesn't seem to mind. he just gives a contemptuous snort and talks right back.

❝lady, i'm gonna tell this to you once," he replies, giving his boombox another heft. "these guys all know i'm not the type to leave a nice pair of ass 'n tiddies a bloody smear on the concrete, but i mean, you seem to be asking for it. so what's it gonna be? you gonna give it to me, or are you gonna git gud?❞

she whips out her nunchucks and whirls them around, each one dancing like a butterfly in the air.

❝oh, i'll give it to you, all right. i'll give you the beating of your LIFE.❞

he snickers and steps forward. the rest of the group moves behind him like a pack, but he holds a hand up and tells them, ❝she's mine.❞ in a swift movement he flicks the switch on his boombox and the opening notes of his mixtape ring through the occupied park: A, G#, C# on piano, over and over again, easy yet deadly like he wants his footsteps to be. she knows this is mujik once she sees the soundwaves--each one washes over the scene in a different hue, sonic coatings of red, orange and yellow graffiti paint that warped the world around her at its edges. with each note, the park sinks deeper into a different place--the mujik dimension. he can take people to the mujik dimension.--until the trees are no longer there, only towering grunge-stained treelike pillars of uproar's machismo--

and then the beat drops.

❝gather 'round motherfuckers, come on, where you at, yo it's ya boy AKI D. up against a cheap hoe BACH bangin' on them keys is what gave me this magic he made me the real deal--bitch you just plastic! you know what i'm sayin', bet you don't even have dick to face me--hell, i don't think you'll ever have dick! yeah, you look okay with your makeup and titties but up in the morning, what would your man see? you heard me right, bet you ain't even a three you'll need more than a nose job to get a hot ride like me!❞

those words. those words. ordinarily they would roll off her like raindrops off a leaf, but here? it's as if every syllable is built to drain the spirit out of her, along with the sharp slices of pain in her face, so fierce that she can't even open her eyes. and her head--her head pounds with the insults swirling inside it, unable to resist: he is right. i'm not even a three. i look okay with the makeup on but without it i look like a man. i'm plastic and i don't even do a good job of being plastic. yes, i know i haven't had dick. i will never have dick in my life.

this is not schubert's rap. this is not even the rap of those american hip hop stars she heard. it is something crueler, sicker. thirsty for the pain of those it targets, instead of simply trying to prove a point. not even pretending to be righteous in its viciousness--seeking only utter degradation, damn the moral consequences. blood runs down the shredding fabric like the tears down her face. the mixtape's dubstep slams into her, one sound wave after another throwing her about. she's forgotten why she's here. all she can do is sink to her knees, covering her face in her bleeding arms over her worthlessness--

no.

NO.

YOU ARE NOT THIS.

YOU ARE A GOD ABOVE THIS.

slowly she stands, green mujik ribbons swirling around her, healing her wounds, wrapping swathes of new cloth around her once-bleeding body. not just any cloth, she realizes--but clothing, actual clothing--a traditional hungarian dress with white billowing sleeves and a flower-patterned chest and skirt. the dubstep dims to a whisper as a cadenza begins to roll and the ribbon glides away to its sway; the nunchucks melt into a baton in her hand, but no sooner does the baton than it turns again into a saber, silver-bladed, gold-hilted--she doesn't question it. it could have been an extension of her hand--she has never held a sword before in her life, and yet using it seems so simple.

a rush of anger bubbles up within her, an anger surging with rap battle rage--step aside, spineless, step aside, amateur / i bet you've never faced this level of power / ever heard of franz liszt, you whiny little spastic / don't call me a fake when i know i'm i'm a classic--but she does not give in. she will not give in. she will face him her own way. she will face him not as someone like him, but as LISZT. what could someone with such a frail sense of identity have against that? what could any mortal musician have against that?

he is an electronic musician. she is a pianist. she will face him with the piano, the whole of herself--or nothing at all.

there's no need for her to strain for this. the power's at her fingers and it's ready to scream.

♫❝Mujik is asskicking--asskicking is MUJIK!❞♫

the cadenza stops dramatically--in this context it almost parodies the dubstep's beat drop--and in its place the fierce chords of a hungarian march surge forth like the pounding of soldiers' boots in battlefield dirt. a sea of red, white and green washes over the dimension, wiping out the tidal wave of mujik spray paint. the others rush forward with CDs of their mixtapes in hand, flinging them at her like discuses, but a wave of furious fortissimo chords cuts them down--and smashes the bench barricade that they’d made to block the path. as aki d. looks on in shock, she slices the air with her saber, and a massive wave of sound sends them all flying back, splattering them in the hues of the hungarian flag, the hues that just replaced their gang colors on this turf.

❝I saw right through you from the start,❞ she snarls. ❝I don't know why the hell Bach-sama would give such strength to people as pathetic as you--but whyever he did, even he wouldn’t want you to use it like this!!❞

❝ayy, you gotta rap!" aki cries. ❝you're not allowed to do that shit, you gotta rap!❞

he turns up the volume of his mixtape. the red, white and green quivers, and the red, orange and yellow begins to seep its way back in.

❝so even music such as this has rules,❞ she says, using the sheer force of her hungarian rhapsody to speak over the noise. ❝well, i got news for you kids. i don’t play by the rules.❞

her blood strums to a boil in her veins as the march theme builds to a punishing row of descending and ascending intervals. and now here comes the army for whom this piece was originally written--scores of hungarian soldiers and their cavalry lining up behind her, each man tall and fit with a cockade pinned to his chest, each horse’s dark pelt shining with health, rippling with strong muscle underneath. as one they advance with franzi in the lead, surrounding aki d. and his three-man band--no way out. as the volume climbs and then descends, the troops immediately around her begins to melt, infusing her with their strength, as the rest of the troops stand guard from behind, and it is with their strength that she begins to speak.

they are strength of a thousand men in one. the strength of franz liszt.

❝Mujik is the expression of the soul. I’m surprised you three can use it when you don’t seem to know your souls at all. You talk tough and you fight hard, but your power--there’s nothing to it. There is nothing here you have that is your own--not your clothes, not your confidence, not even the culture that you’re trying to ape with all this posturing. You have nothing. YOU ARE NOTHING.❞

frantically aki d. cranks the boombox to full blast--but she hears only own mujik, feels only the surge of ecstatic confidence and the strength of a NATION that two hundred years ago poured out its entire heart to her. for she sees them. they are nothing. once you see nothing as nothing, it can do nothing to hurt you.

❝I see how your mujik makes others helpless. You prey on those who don’t know their true selves, just like you, and so they let you define them in the only way you know how: through a view of the world that makes everyone your inferior. But your reign has breathed its last--I know who I am. I’ve always known who I am. I am Hungarian. I am a pianist. I am a woman. I am Liszt. Who are YOU? WHO ARE YOU?! WHO ARE YOU?!!❞

she doesn't wait for them to reply. several troops rush to restrain them, pinning their arms behind their backs as she strides toward them, into the circle of men and horses. one slice of her sword--and all their manhoods vanish, just before the troops shove them to the ground. each uproar member seizes his crotch, screaming in pain, undoubtedly noticing that nothing is there as they hold and hold but feel nothing.

❝I'll tell you what you're not, she breathes. A man who uses his strength to harm the weak is no man at all.❞

❝YOU BITCH!" the uproar leader howls, clutching his dickless crotch. ❝YOU BITCH!❞

she cocks a hip to the side.

❝You know, I'm not actually sure what to fire back because I don't know who the hell you are.❞

the mujik fades out with the end of the piece, restoring the park’s scenery in a clamor. she returns to bach skydiving out of a helicopter, his epcot ball wig descending from the sky onto his head as he makes a perfect landing with his capelike celestial jacket billowing around him. ah, yes--the uproar leader himself said that bach gave them their abilities, so perhaps he can sense if they are misused, but why was this even an issue in the first place? if he's so great, shouldn't he be able to tell right off the bat they were terrible people, even if they tried to hide it? franzi crosses her arms, but says nothing.

it's the same as before. it’s the same as every other time she’s tried to face that man. she can't say anything.

he looks briefly down at the perfectly castrated privates of the now-unconscious aki d. the others appear to have regained theirs, for a stage 2 mujik user’s changes usually only last in the world of mujik. but their unfortunate ringleader seems to be the victim of a common phenomenon among untranscended classicaloids: as they get stronger, some of the changes they make in the mujik dimension become permanent in this world as well. no blood drips there in graphic fashion--instead his dick and balls have simply disappeared, leaving empty flesh behind.

❝…permanent change," he muses, after several moments of silence. ❝you're making progress.❞

❝b-bach sama?!❞ she stammers, mouth falling open. isn't he going to comment on the fact that the guy doesn't even have a dick anymore? her first instinct is to make a big speech to justify herself, telling him of how they'd beat up her cho-chan and then tore at her with beats like knives. but as it turns out, he just--understands.

❝you've done enough. stand back.❞

his voice is almost a growl. she obeys.

she watches from a short distance as he raises his baton, and the well-tempered clavier begins to play. long rainbow threads pour from the three bodies into his baton, not haphazard ones, but rather--music strings. he's taking the mujik from them. the two other uproar members leap at the hem of his coat, seizing it and begging bach-sama, oh, bach-sama, PLEASE--but he continues to let the mujik play, sweeping his variations through the air as his gift disappears back into the wand from which it came. the notes are ever so repressedly controlled, but she can feel the anger rolling off him like a series of arpeggios. no--she can see it in the shining gold aura that surrounds him, so hot with sunlike rage that it causes the whole park to heat-shimmer.

he turns to her when the ritual is done, as though expecting her to say something. and oh, there's a thousand things she wants to say--you can give and take mujik? why did you give it to them in the first place? how did you give it to them? i thought you didn’t like rap. are you upset with me? would you be upset if i asked you how the hell you missed the fact these are objectively terrible people if you’re supposedly omniscient? but they don’t give each other any time to converse. she nods to him, he nods to her, and then he turns and dissolves back up to his helicopter in a ray of golden light as though he were never there at all.

the two uproar subordinates gape at her, then gape down at their leader’s crotch. saber in hand, she slashes the air between them with a yell--to which they seize the arms of their still-unconscious friend and hurry away as fast as they can--they don’t even stick around long enough to see the sword turn back into nunchucks.

as for aki d.?

he never did get his dick back.

❦яάкσ́czι мαяcн: υηƖσcкєɗ.❦

#;drabble #chcpxn #oktova #classicaloid #|| eNJOY

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years ago

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Henry Cavill Explains How To Look Good In A Suit When You’re Built Like Superman

https://fashion-trendin.com/henry-cavill-explains-how-to-look-good-in-a-suit-when-youre-built-like-superman/

Henry Cavill Explains How To Look Good In A Suit When You’re Built Like Superman

Being Superman, there’s some expectation placed upon the extra-wide shoulders of Henry Cavill, an action hero who has mastered the art of both dressing sharp and being immensely stacked – not to mention rocking a moustache with old-school Hollywood flair. We spoke with the British actor, who stars in Mission: Impossible Fallout, to discover his tips on tailoring for those as bulky as he is, plus fitness advice for those who want to be as bulky as he is.

What can you be found wearing day to day?

I’ve spent the past five weeks doing nothing but training so it’s either comfortable shorts at home or gym gear for training – and then I’m back home in comfortable shorts. When I come on press days, it’s all nice clothes so it varies enormously. I do like dressing up in nice clothes but I just don’t have much of an opportunity to do so in regular life.

Chiabella James/Paramount

Who are your style inspirations?

I don’t know if there’s a who, but I typically like quite classic styles when it comes to suits because I’m not off the peg. I have to select clothing that’s quite particular. Tapered trousers, for example, don’t look great on me. I look like I have turkey legs – big thighs and a big butt. It doesn’t work on me. It’s more classic stuff that tends to fit.

What are your two wardrobe items of choice?

I would say two tailored suits of different styles. Navy blue is always a good one. For the summer? Linen suits are good. I really like a summer suit in a cream colour. The problem is they do wrinkle and crease really easily and you get that weird bunching behind the leg. But they look super sharp, especially if you go to generally hot countries. The weather we’ve been having here is perfect but you’re not really guaranteed constantly good weather living in England.

Chiabella James/Paramount

What are your tips on tailoring for a big guy like yourself?

It would be to just try and work out what you like. There’s a lot of opinion out there on what should be worn and what shouldn’t be worn – what’s cool, what’s not cool – and everyone’s body is different. Just work out what you like for your own and what you think you look good in and enjoy that. It’s supposed to be enjoyed and not stressed about!

It’s taken me a long time to get to a place where I’ve found stuff I’m comfortable with. If I’m ever getting something tailored, I’m like, ‘Guys, trust me – this is what works on me.’ It’s just about the experience with your own body and learning what fits you.

What’s your grooming regime like?

As much as I’d like to groom every day, I typically don’t. I try simple things – wash my face, use moisturiser. Washing your face in particular is really important whether it’s first thing in the morning or last thing at night. I just don’t do it enough but we really should. The air, especially in cities, isn’t great and you end up with gunk all over your skin. If you let it in all the time, it does mess it up.

What’s your advice to those starting out in the gym?

Gyms are intimidating for anyone going in – you suddenly feel like everyone’s looking at you and at how much you’re lifting. The truth is it doesn’t matter what they think. You lift what you lift – just don’t injure yourself; people can be silly and lift things that are too heavy. Don’t lift too heavy too early. Also, if you’re doing lots of heavy weights and not much in the way of reps, you’re not really doing much, so just go light and ease into stuff. You don’t need to be a hero on day one. Start doing very small amounts.

For example, if you can’t do pull ups – or you can only do a few – start with a few and do some more each day, then slowly over time you’ll get better and better. Don’t dive into doing 15 pull-ups on the first day – you won’t be able to move for a week. Don’t let your ego rule you. Just take everything at a nice slow pace.

Chiabella James/Paramount

What surprised you most about fitness when you started training?

Knowledge base is so important. It’s key to have someone you can go to and talk to and write programs for you and stuff. I know that’s not a luxury everyone can get stuck into but there’s a lot of information on the internet. Also, consistency is key – don’t start and stop. I did that for years with various movies. The first time I started training properly was for Immortals way back when. Then the big lifting and weight training came with Man of Steel onwards.

Before that, I’d stop and get out of shape again then would get back back into shape for another movie. It’s about setting a goal or making it a life choice rather than wanting to do something right away. Make it a healthy life choice. There’ll be days you want to crush it and days where you don’t. Take it easy on those days.

Henry Cavill’s Super Suits

Dressed up or down, Cavill knows how to wear tailoring to make the most of his XL body. Tip one: don’t wear your pants on the outside. Beyond that, see below for suped-up suiting.

Kind Of A Big Deal

Classic tailoring is classic Cavill. A generous Savile Row fit flatters his bulk but gives him room to breathe (muscle-fit fans everywhere take note). Knowing that checks and other patterns will only make him look wider, he often sticks to clean and neutral colours. It doesn’t have to be boring, as that tartan tie will attest.

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

As every Englishman abroad should know, a linen suit (or separates as Cavill wears here) will keep you cool and unflustered if the weather is decidedly un-British. As well as breathability, the material drapes nicely over superheroic body parts, rather than casing them up like sausage meat. Pastel colours are flattering on bigger guys, too.

We’ve Been Expecting You…

Henry Cavill is one of the names frequently mentioned when it comes to the next James Bond. Here’s why. The man fills a tuxedo like few can and doesn’t look like a casino doorman while he’s at it. Everything is classic here with the only point of difference being the textured jacket, which helps to soften the sheer heft of the guy.

Double Trouble

Honestly, a double-breasted suit shouldn’t work on a man of Cavill’s size, so we’re assuming he’s not at his biggest here. Also, the lapels aren’t too wide and the jacket reaches down to the top of his thighs, helping to elongate the body. The muted check doesn’t scream for attention, either, so kryptonite dodged.

Blue

It’s not a surprise that the Man of Steel makes this blue look good, is it? Styled the wrong way, this would make you look like a cruise ship entertainer but Cavill pairs the loud jacket with muted colours on the rest of the outfit. Also notice the way his blazer flares out at the hips, balancing those super-shoulders out nicely.

Rogue’s Gallery

Henry Cavill’s moustache in Mission Impossible Fallout is a thing to behold. It gives his Clark Kent features a roguish edge and that’s followed through with this casual take on the three-piece. The open collar adds some attitude to an otherwise traditional get-up, while men with rugby-player quads should look at the trousers closely. That’s how yours should fit.

Mission: Impossible – Fallout is released on 26 July

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