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#making the most of a bad situation with movie references

riality-check · 11 months

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daisy jones-adjacent au. part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. tw substance abuse, ptsd, references to past torture (canon, the russians.) part 7.

ao3

Writing the album is, somehow, the easy part, even after Steve put his foot in his mouth.

He had his suspicions, but he shouldn't have asked that. It was a dick move, and he's been trying not to be a dick for the past few years. So, he apologized and didn't bring it up again.

Eddie softened after that. Like he wasn't expecting Steve to apologize. He accepted it, and things have been good since.

Well, more than good, if Steve's being honest. Things have gotten a lot better since.

He's noticed a few things, even after their permanently discontinued game of "truth or truth." Mostly, the things Steve has noticed have been about Eddie, like:

He laughs at the dumbest things.

He quotes books and movies constantly.

He has an accent that he masks unless he's tired.

He hates strong smells.

He deflects by becoming bigger.

There's more. A lot more that Steve has noticed, but listing everything about Eddie's brilliance and stubbornness, his courage and obnoxiousness, his gorgeous face and sharp tongue would take all day. Steve has noticed a lot over these few weeks spent hunched over instruments and notebooks at his house, and he thinks Eddie has noticed him in return.

He hopes so.

It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be noticed beyond the superficial adoration of fans. It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be known.

There are a plethora of reasons for why that's a bad idea. Steve is able to forget them momentarily when he sees Eddie smile.

All too soon, after far too long, they're done writing. They start recording, and that is the hard part.

It always is. There's always something wrong with the levels or slightly out of tune, or someone sneezes right into the mic on the first good take. There's things that work and things that don't, and, always, songs on paper that have to get fixed before they can be songs on the radio.

The album has good bones, though. It's angry and hopeful and scared and sad and triumphant. It's music, it's art, it's life.

And once they can make it work, it's going to be great.

That's what Steve is doing now. Making it work. He's awake at 4 AM on a Tuesday, sitting at a piano and trying to rework the bass line to stop it from clashing so much with the melody.

The only good thing about this situation is that he's made it to seventy three hours awake for the first time, courtesy of a well-timed line right before he got to work.

If it keeps working, he might trash the pills entirely.

He plays the introduction to the song again on his right hand and starts adding low notes on his left. As it is, it sounds empty. To much distance. But if he raises it a fourth-

"Steve?"

He freezes, fighting back against the instinct to jump away from the piano like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He forgot that the band has been crashing at his house - it's close to the studio and he has the rooms to spare - and because he forgot that he wasn't alone, he failed to remember that most people aren't awake at this hour, nevermind working.

So, he calmly turns around to see Eddie, in pajamas, standing in the doorway, blinking sleep out of his tired eyes.

Steve swallows and hopes that Eddie is too tired to catch him openly staring.

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers.

"Reworking something," Steve says. "Trying out something different for the bass line in Envy, the one that's giving us trouble."

Eddie covers his mouth to yawn. "Couldn't sleep?"

Steve wonders when the last time he thought that was a bad thing was.

"I can be quieter," he says. "I was just trying to fix this. But that can wait until morning."

"Steve," Eddie says, and he's got that look on his face.

Steve hates that look.

Eddie looks at him like he can see inside his skull, inside his heart, and read his DNA letter by letter. He looks at him like he can see everything about Steve: past, present, and future.

And there's pity in every second of it.

Steve can't stand pity.

"I just- I gotta see the whole picture, you know?" he continues so Eddie doesn't get to voice that pity. "And you guys all have your instruments, but piano gives me everything. I can play the bass and the guitar and sing and- I'm just able to get it better that way. Where are you going?"

Eddie is almost out the door again. "I- I can't be here, Steve."

"Why? Are you tired? You can go-"

"You're high, and I know that if you offer me something, I won't say no."

Oh.

"Eddie, I wouldn't-"

"And even if you don't, if you take something in front of me, I know I'll ask for some," he says, like it's a fact, the same way the sky is blue.

"I'm not- I wouldn't do that to you," Steve says. No point in denying that he's high, not when they both know it. "I wasn't- I'll get off the piano. I'll read, or, well, reread something instead."

He gestures aimlessly at the bookshelf on the wall near the door. It's crammed full of recommendations from Dustin and Robin and Erica and Nancy. All of them have been read at least once, most of them twice.

"You like to read?" Eddie asks.

"No, I hate it," Steve says, completely genuinely.

Eddie huffs out a quiet laugh. "I will never understand you."

"I know."

Because that's the thing. No one can understand it, can understand him, unless they were in Hawkins, Indiana, too. Unless they saw what he did. Unless they signed the same NDAs. Unless they fought the same monsters and went to the same other world and endured the same things.

Eddie, like most other people, will never be able to understand.

So, his smile fades as he stands there in the doorway, confused.

"I like stories, but I hate reading," Steve explains. "I just do it to fill-"

"I can read to you."

Steve stops mid-word. "What?"

"If you want to hear the story without reading," Eddie says. "I like reading. I can read to you."

Steve has spent seventy four hours, at this point, awake. He is sitting at a piano bench at 4 AM on a Tuesday, high on cocaine, and is staring at a hot guy his age who, over the past few weeks, has alternated between seemingly hating him and smiling that smile.

Forgive him for making the stupid decision to say-

"Okay."

Eddie smiles, though it's tired. He takes a book from the shelf at random and walks out the door. Steve has no choice but to follow, back to the guest room Eddie has taken as his own.

Eddie turns on the bedside lamp and lays down underneath the rumpled sheets.

"Come on," he says, patting the space next to him. "I don't bite."

"You sure?" Steve jokes, but he climbs on alongside him, careful not to touch.

He really wants to touch.

He's not thinking straight.

Eddie cracks the book open and starts reading in a low whisper.

Steve can barely understand what he's saying, but that doesn't matter. What matters is Eddie's voice, quiet and rough and breathy. What matters is Eddie's voice, steady and soothing.

It's nice. It's really nice.

Steve finds himself curling up, closer and closer, until his head is on Eddie's chest.

His eyes slip closed at hour seventy-five.

And the next thing he knows, he's standing with his back to a corner, holding a metal, foldable music stand in front of him, with a voice hoarse from screaming.

Clearly, he fell asleep.

Fantastic.

Sometimes, he's able to tell what the nightmare was before he actually remembers it. It's all in the little habits he's developed.

When he finds himself checking to see if all his fingernails are still attached to his hands, blinking nonexistent blood out of his left eye, and still murmuring Robin's name, he knows that this one had to be about the Russians.

And then the memory of the bone saw, of the screaming, of taking hit after hit after hit crashes into him so hard he almost doubles over.

He reminds himself he's safe. That he's unharmed. That Robin is safe in her dorm at UCLA. That they never got Dustin or Erica.

That all of this is fucking useless.

He's gotten it all out. He's written song after song about all of it, all of the monsters and the fighting and the fear and the good in spite of it all. He writes and plays and sings close enough to all of it to almost break the NDAs.

And none of it is of any use at all because, years later, Steve still can't fucking sleep.

He swallows. Swallows again. Tries to breathe, even if it's in the form of great, heaving gasps.

And that's when he realizes that Eddie is standing right in front of him. Clearly confused, clearly terrified.

This is why, though he can never understand Steve, he shouldn't know him, either. This is why Steve can't reach out and touch.

Because even if he could explain it to Eddie, even if he would lie and say he believed him and understood, no one wants someone who can't make it through a night without waking up at least three times. No one wants to have to calm someone down from weekly screaming fits brought on by the back of their eyelids.

"Get out," he says.

"Steve," Eddie says, and there's that pity again.

Steve can't stand pity.

"Get out!" he shouts, heedless of the fact that he's probably waking everyone else up, that this is the room Eddie is staying in.

He can go to Steve's room. Everything in there is hidden, so he can't break his sobriety unless he snoops.

Steve hopes he doesn't snoop. He doesn't want to drag Eddie down to where he's at.

Eddie nods and makes his way to the door. Before he leaves, he stops and looks back.

"I don't know what you're running from," he whispers. "But when it catches you-"

"What?" Steve snaps.

"Let someone know."

If Steve were in a better state of mind, he'd ask what the hell that meant. But he's shaking and tired, so goddamn tired, that he watches Eddie go.

He sits on the floor, in the corner, still holding the music stand. The sun is up. It streams through the windows along with the sounds of birds chirping.

And Steve wonders how he's supposed to live the rest of his life like this.

He makes it an hour before he falls asleep sitting up on the floor. He makes it two more before he wakes himself up again, checking his fingernails.

#ria writes #dja au #this part is long and also a doozy #apologies #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #tw torture #rockstar eddie munson

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onbearfeet · 2 months

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Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

#kat watches moon knight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #i guess I'm processing trauma again #hello trauma my old friend

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 9 months

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Let's Talk Peter B

@iwasbored777 (Since you ask to be tagged)

Okay! I was on the fence about writing this post, but after doing this response and some encouragement, I decided that fuck it, let’s do this.

While I had seen multiple things about Gwen being a bad friend, a bad person, and other things I don’t want to say because I will start ranting- Peter B for the most part, has come out scotch free.

Don’t get me wrong, I had seen some people address his issues, but it has been a few posts in a sea of him with Mayday and people shipping with Miguel. Which hey, is okay with me, but when you see you a character you love be given the short end of the stick despite the circumstances yet another character that has much less to lose has their mistakes largely been ignored and basically be woobify.

Is not just Gwen, I had also seen people take beef with Jess as a mentor yet somehow leave Peter out of that conversation. Don’t get me wrong Jess is far from perfect (which is something I discussed before,) but again, Peter is far from perfect too.

Does this has to do with Peter being a beloved main character in the first movie? Yes. Does it also has to do with misogynoir and misogyny? Oh I don’t doubt it.

I don’t hate Peter B, far from it, I think he is a great adaptation of our spidey, and while I am not the biggest spiderman fan out there, I did grew up with Peter Parker in movies and cartoons so I do have love for this characters as well as his incarnation in Sony movies.

I will do my best to remain as unbiased and neutral as possible, but not gonna lie this entire thing is annoying me enough that I will say when I am aware of my own biases, as I always try to do.

But if you think liking a character stops me from calling them on their bullshit you are wrong.

I know this post is more about how Peter is with Miles and his role as a mentor, but I decided to address some other things I had seen people talk about because there is a reason I choose "Let's talk Peter B Parker" as a title.

Believe it or not, I am fine with this. Seriously.

Peter wasn’t here when Miles arrived, and considering they did a small tour and got an empanada on the way, I think wouldn’t be odd to say he wasn’t around when Miles arrived. My theory is that he was taking care of his own stuff, and once he knew that Miles was around, went to get Mayday to present her to Miles.

I think that’s pretty normal all things consider, he loves Miles and wouldn’t had fixed things with MJ and had his daughter without her, of course he would want the two of to met.

The enthusiasm is all things consider pretty sweet, and while I don’t approve of some things he does (like giving her a web shooter while being just a few months old?) Is one of those things that are part of superhero writing that has the children technically doing things that they shouldn’t be doing for their age, so I just let it slide because if I get hung up every time I see something like this, it would not end.

I’m the only one who is actually mad about this comment?

Yes, is a joke, I get that, and Peter is trying to take as much as steam off Miles by trying to frame him on the light that he messes up, but is just who he is.

It doesn’t make me any less annoyed.

For starters, I feel like I am rereading Percy Jackson again (No I will not explain that reference.) Because despite everyone more or less knowing what’s going on (Hobie said before he didn’t know what Miguel was hiding so how much he knows is unsure,) no one has attempted to explain the situation to Miles.

This is a trope I had seen enough (including WAY too many times in the books I mentioned,) and I really resent when characters act as if the protagonist or someone else is stupid just because they are unaware of something. ESPECIALLY if the characters saying so are aware they don’t know.

They are also letting him believe is a good thing he is in HQ, but that is actually not Peter’s fault. I am mad with Gwen on this one, but also Jessica, and Hobie well, he should have known enough to be able to tell him seeing Miguel is not good news. At least Hobie tries to warn him as subtly as possible.

Sure, Peter just got here, but the fact that he is already accusing Miles of just messing up with the universe carelessly is not something that doesn’t sit well with me. Either he knows that Miles doesn’t know and is making an insulting comment, or thinks Miles is aware of the situation and just acted recklessly. The second one is the best scenario, but I feel Peter is presuming way too much for someone that just came around and should have known better than believe Miles knew all of these details while Miguel basically has a giant banner of “Not Earth-1610 Anomalies allowed.”

Also, sidetrack but what exactly does Miles do that isn’t just your typical spidey behaviour? Yes he doesn’t always have full-formed plans before acting but you can say that about EVERYONE in the room at that moment.

“He wasn’t thinking, is not like he works!” My ass.

Want my two cents about this moment? Peter has zero business telling this to Miles.

When Miles asks Gwen about her dad, she is crestfallen, she doesn’t like to believe this more than he does; but unlike anyone else in this room, Gwen cannot return to her home dimension. The best case scenario is if she isn’t there, her dad may not die; but that’s the best case scenario, and that involves again, not stepping again in her home dimension ever again. Her best bet is never to see her home, or anyone she knows including her dad, because not only she may end up in prison, her presence may lead to the death of her dad.

And who knows, it may happen regardless; he may be dead already because he is a police officer and she couldn’t be there to give a hand or save him (As she said she did in Into the Spider-verse, by the way.)

Yet at least, she is coming to this with the idea that her life is going to have to SUCK for a few years, things happening or not happening depending on where she is but none of this is pretty or fair.

Peter? As far as we know, he is done.

Considering the age range of the Spidey-characters, chances are Peter already lived the canon events he needed to live, at best they don’t know what’s next, which means he can operate as he feels is the best course of action.

Miles asked him if he would have let his uncle die, but Peter lost his uncle over twenty years ago, he had enough time to grieve, to accept the outcome, and find happiness after it. And to top it all off, HE DIDN’T HAVE THAT MORAL DILEMMA PLACED IN FRONT OF HIM BEFORE IT HAPPENED.

I find Peter’s words hollow because unlike Miles, he was never asked to not intervene in a canon event, he hasn’t needed to deal with someone from his universe dying while he let it play out.

I am not saying he didn't suffer, he did, and a lot; yet he was unaware that this would happen, is way different having someone tell you “Oh those tragedies you lived? It’s the destiny that keeps everything together, it’s rough but it is what it is,” than someone telling you “Oh you are going to live a bunch of different personal tragedies, and you need to suffer with the burden of this knowledge because is this or everyone in every universe dies.”

(How much do you guys bet someone will use this as an example of the trolley problem in a philosophy class.)

Since we are going in kind of a chronological order, let’s go to something a tad lighter both because it deserves mention, and so I can cool down before I start ranting in Spanish (which is not going to be saying pretty things about B precisely.)

Yes, Peter recognizes this is bad parenting, which is good because it certainly isn’t good; I also have trouble believing he didn’t know AT LEAST ONE spider that could stay behind and watch Mayday while he went to the chase.

However, I do think the chase was never going to be dangerous, nor Peter thought it would be. He has been Spider-man for a quarter of a century, he has been swinging around for so long is second nature to him, I bet he has taken Mayday on “strolls” which is him swinging around.

There is also another screenshot that really encapsulates that Peter didn’t realize how dire the situation is, but that’s for later.

There is also the possibility that he asked Miguel to do this as a way to distract him, but considering this is the only time he does this and is going around him being obsessed with Mayday (Which I think is a bit too much, but I blame more the writers than Peter for that.) I am inclined to believe this is not the case.

(Sigh) I promise to try to be neutral, so I need to bring this up.

What they were talking about earlier can be lumped to a bit later on, and I decided to bring this instead of talking about it when Miles and Peter saw each other (which is I didn’t bring because what I could say would be the same as this.) Because this is something really beautiful that I didn’t want to leave out.

I think that’s what angers me the most about this, because in a vacuum? I love this.

I am a sucker for found family tropes, I love the idea that Miles would grow to see people like Peter B, Noir, and so forth as a family. I love how Peter says how much Miles means to him and meeting him changed his life for the better.

Peter B loves Miles, he said that in the last movie; I can’t just erase that.

However, is exactly because of this scene, that what happens next makes me so sad.

Oh, Miles.

I didn’t mention it in the previous image nor did I took detailed screenshots for the sake of my sanity and to not turn this way too long. (Though I may do it in another moment- Ok I need to focus.)

Miles was obviously affected by what Peter said to him, it obviously means a lot because Miles also loves Peter; of all the spiders in the gang he was the one who he spent the most time initially; he wouldn’t be the Spider-man he is today without him.

And it breaks my heart how Miles says this.

Look at the angle, at his posture; Miles can’t even turn to say this to Peter’s face because it hurts so much. He looks so small in that shot, trying to emphasize how he is just a teen, how he really loves them so much, and it breaks his heart to know that they could visit him, and they didn’t.

Let’s remember what he was doing at the beginning of the movie; he was trying to study physics. He is great at it, and he was since the first movie, however, this is clearly not his passion; he loves his art and even if he didn’t know what he wanted to do yet in the first movie, you can see how much he loves what he does.

And he was willing to leave all of that aside, just to see Gwen, Peter and the others again; because as far as he knew there wasn’t any other way. Remember, he was aiming at Princeton; he would need to bleed and work hard to get there, and even after, being in this field it was not going to be a walk in the park; getting to make the dimensional travel work (At least without seeing Miguel’s technology like Hobie seemed to do;) was also going to be hard.

Miles wanted to do all of that for them, and them? They didn’t.

Now; I don’t blame Gwen in this scenario.

I had said this much in this post before, and a bunch of others too. Gwen was stuck with the Spider Society; and yet she risked losing everything, from homelessness to prison, to spend an afternoon with Miles the second she had an excuse.

What is Peter’s excuse?

He couldn't, he couldn't.

That's what he had to say for himself.

Here is the thing: I am not sure I buy it.

Gwen makes sense to me, Miguel didn't want Gwen to be involved since the beginning and obviously doesn't trust her when is about Miles; Gwen wasn't exactly wrong to fear she would get kicked out if she acted out of line.

Peter? I have my doubts.

We don't know Miguel's and Peter B's relationship (I know some shippers have some ideas, not my cup of tea but I have no problem if people like it.) However, we know that Peter B was there when Miguel's dimension collapsed, later in the movie we saw what Miguel did to Gwen for what happened (believe me, we will get there.)

Even if that was the case; Peter’s situation is much less dire than Gwen’s. Even if Peter could be kicked out of the organization for disobeying Miguel; he would still have his wife, his house, his daughter. He would had been in the same spot he was at the end of the first movie, if not better because now he would had a chance to know both him and Miles would be okay.

I am getting ahead of the post here, but I honestly don’t know how much of Canon BS Peter believes; he clearly doesn’t think Miles is bad for being an anomaly, nor his daughter (technically because Peter wasn’t supposed to meet Miles, he wouldn’t have his daughter. Is certainly a NO in the comics.) Miguel is convinced that Miles’ presence is enough to create more holes in the multiverse; Gwen obviously doesn’t share that view. Peter? I don’t know if he thinks there is actually something to lose for visiting him.

One way or another, he doesn’t really give me a reason here; who knows, maybe when Beyond comes there would be enough information for me to admit Peter did the right thing. For now? No.

Here, we have Miles telling Peter he wanted to meet them so badly, and even if Peter doesn't have a clue of how literal Miles is; you can hear it in his voice, in his posture, how he still cannot look at Peter because to that point it hurts.

And what's Peter's response to this?

(Deep breath,) Boy at moments like this I really wish I didn't think so hard about media.

It hurts me, and it angers me, because it is a pretty sweet moment, but when you think hard about it, it just becomes messy.

I could make an entire discussion about how Peter literally ignored Miles’ feelings about not being there, about how he and others (Gwen not really, the others eehhh hard to say;) didn’t try too reach him, which obviously makes him feel like they don’t care about him as he does. And Peter decide to ignored it.

But! I will try to give him the benefit that this is a tense situation, there is hundreds of spiders looking for them, and there only have so much time. I am going to believe, Peter couldn’t address that at the moment because they had other issues.

Yet even if we omit that point, do you guys realize this is literally no different that his entire spiel about Uncle Ben, right?

Because that’s what he is trying to say, “Spider-man has to suffer, but hey sometimes good things can happen anyways.” This entire conversation is about trying to make Miles follow him, do whatever Miguel is trying to do to avoid having Miles go to his dimension (or at least stop him from saving his dad,) and basically let her dad die.

Look, there is nuance to this situation; Peter isn’t saying this to manipulate Miles, he believes this. He truly believes bad things had to happen to keep the universe from falling apart; I am convinced Miguel’s second universe didn’t fall for his Canon theory, yet Peter B was there, I can’t blame the guy for drinking the kool-aid a bit more than the others.

This doesn’t change the fact that this scene has Peter ignoring Miles’ pain, and try to tell him he needs to suffer some more because “is just how the universe works!”

(Sidenote but anyone can’t help to see this and think of a random Christian telling someone after they lived a personal tragedy “Is just G-d’s plan”? Because I saw that a lot.)

Now, I guess the next question someone may be wondering is, do I believe Peter was being honest with Miles here?

...I don’t know, I really, don’t know.

I had seen this scene multiple times, and I lost count how many times when I was in the theatre, seeing this scene, and thinking “he knew” just for the next moment thinking “he didn’t know.”

If you want my two cents, the part that keeps tripping me over is how he looks at his watch, then Miles, then the watch, it makes me wonder if he is screaming that he doesn’t have his location to Miguel, or to Miles.

I don’t want to believe Peter purposefully drive Miles away so he could get trapped, when he says to Miles “I didn’t know, I promise;” I want to believe him.

The thing is, the outcome he hoped wasn’t that much different, now was it?

He wanted it to be Miles decision, yet again, he was trying to get Miles to not just abandon his morals (as well as the ones every Spider-person should have,) but also try to tell him he needs to suffer for the good of the world.

(I am having SO many flashbacks to things I read about cults, I need to continue working on that post about the Spider Society ffs.)

This is a small detail, but I gotta say; Peter do you really have nothing on your defense?

Look, feel free to believe I am playing favourites, but unlike many people who had a problem with Gwen, I don't blame her for hiding this.

No, I don't think what she did was right. Let’s not get things twisted. I definitely think Gwen shouldn’t had hide this stuff, yet she in general NEVER, had a good idea of how much to say and how much to keep with anyone she talks to; from her dad to Jess to Miles. Once again this is an aspect I can’t get mad at her because she is sixteen and traumatized with a minimal support network and irresponsible guardians.

Now Peter, what’s YOUR excuse?

Not just for not telling something to Miles earlier, I could believe he would have done it if the situation has calmed down. No, Miles asked them about it, and even a bit later says “That’s why you guys never came to see me;” (Which I think is kind of BS but let’s not get ahead of myself on this one.) The thing is that when he has the teen he mentored being manhandled by his ‘friend,’ and said thing asks them to answer him; Peter just ducks.

Like he cannot even see Miles and admit he shouldn’t have done that.

Gwen’s excuse isn’t much better but at least she is answering and you can see in her face how much she knows she fucked up.

I am going to be honest, this little detail wouldn’t bother me as much if what has happened before and what’s yet to happened didn’t exist, yet it does.

There is a difference in “Well you did a little mistake but I can let slide” vs “There are so many things wrong here that I will call you out even for the tiny ones.” Granted Peter isn’t that bad, but is a nuance I think a lot of people don’t think of.

Could Peter haven't said anything because the scene is trying to focus on Miles and Gwen for this part? Yes; it doesn't stop me from getting annoying.

Okay, Miles says this, do I believe it? Ehh not sure.

Gwen definitely not the case, if she truly thought him being an anomaly was a problem, she wouldn't have gone to see him directly.

Peter? Again, I have no idea how much of the kool-aid he has been drinking, the fact that he speaks highly of him and his daughter as good things that has happened makes me inclined to believe he doesn't.

We don't have an answer either way, right?

Not that Peter does much to help him feel better here. Yes yes trying to keep focus on certain characters I know.

(Looks at the camera like is the office.) And now THIS is the time where I wish I wasn’t aware of how writing works.

Okay, I know what the purpose of Peter is, aside of being here as a mentor, he is here kind of as a comic relief. He doesn’t have the same narrative weight as he had in the last movie, and he is here to be cute with his baby for the most part. That’s his purpose at this moment.

It-doesn’t-change-anything.

He has this recurring joke on the third act about if he is or not a good mentor, and it kind of has to do with the last movie, specially this joke, since at the end he was also talking how he taught him something he definitely didn’t do. Last movie I found it cute, here? Not so much.

I am trying not to be hard here and why I would not address the “son of a mother” moment (which I honestly really hate,) because this is not even Peter B’s fault at this point; the writers were trying very hard to have a way to make the situation a tad lighter while also having an important character be in character. I can’t say is truly out of character, but I’m not appreciating it.

Especially having him insist on being a good mentor after letting down his protege MULTIPLE TIMES.

Don't you guys love when you see a grown-ass adult go apeshit on a teen, and his friends aren't doing anything to stop him?

Sorry, yeah I understand that for narrative purposes, they have to be stuck to the ground, but after someone pointed this out a few weeks ago, I can't stop thinking of this shot so I needed to bring it out.

(BIG sidenote but, Margo is the biggest MVP here; girl met Miles once and probably has little to no context, yet she is helping him out. Queen behavior.)

Now let's talk about some bullshit.

I know this is technically not about Peter, considering this is Miguel talking to Gwen, yet I find LAUGHABLE this response.

I will give this to the spider//dad shippers, I would also be inclined to believe Miguel has a thing for Peter B if between the guy who had the "fugitive" in close quarters for a few minutes yet did not attempt to trap him, vs the teen girl who tries to help out her mentor to catch the dude (even if she didn't try too hard,) you decide the teen girl is the problem.

Is funny because really all this scene needs is Miguel saying "If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have come here, he wouldn't had know and the Spot wouldn't have escaped," at least that much couldn't have been said for Peter B.

I think the writers were trying to make Miguel just look less and less reasonable the more we saw on screen; which is why he would go with route.

It doesn't change the fact that Mighel accusing Gwen of not capturing him is laughable.

YOU 👏 ARE 👏 A 👏 TERRIBLE 👏 MENTOR.

(This moment could be addressed individually, but they are basically the same thing and this post is DEFINITELY too long; seriously I had written fics shorter than this wtf.)

Here is my problem with this: He just decides that oh well, what can he do.

SERIOUSLY?!

Forget the "Oh but he doesn't do this the story-" for a moment; are you seriously telling me that not only this guy knows Miles is in a PRETTY fucked up situation, but also that Gwen is in her home universe where she will be homeless (because there is no way in hell Peter B doesn't know what happened to her,) and you decide to just, go brooding in your dimension?

You know is absolutely amazing how I had heard people grill Miguel and Jess for their behavior with Gwen (which I agree with for the most part,) yet I haven't seen anyone say "Isn't it a bit fucked up that Peter B should have known what would happen to Gwen if she went home and didn't decide to help her?"

Miguel is on Earth 1610 and hellbent on finding Miles, you cannot tell me if Peter B left his daughter with his wife, and then went to fetch Gwen, Miguel would have noticed. At the very least Peter could had try to check on her.

Peter B has known Gwen for longer than Jess and Miguel, even if he couldn't be a proper guardian for her because he was busy with his life, he could have been more present. He definitely could have attempted to defend her better when Miguel was screaming at her, or to look after her when she was kicked to her universe.

Jess is determined to act as if Gwen is more of an employee than a teen, but Peter B should be known better.

But is not his idea to help Miles, is Gwen's; because right now he is too focused on his life and his duty as spiderman to think of the younger generations that are hurting. Just like Miguel and Jess.

Yet not the narrative, nor the fandom, truly recognizes that.

Let’s wrap this up, you guys have no idea the amount of hours I had spend on this and I would be surprised if someone got this far.

As a small detail, Peter is seen with Mayday, and this time I DO have a problem with it.

I honestly hope Peter isn’t with Mayday in Beyond, I will pretend Peter doesn’t have Mayday during the events on Beyond in my fics for as long as I can; because this is the moment where I feel the joke is being pushed too far.

They don’t know what would happen next, they don’t know in what type of situation they are in, they know whatever universe ended was one with no spiderman so it has to be dangerous; yet he brings the baby because that’s his recurring theme for this movie.

And truly, that’s really the problem with his character here: He was given a small role to do with very limited things to do.

I am not saying this is bad writing; I may not like Peter’s decisions in this movie, and I am really hoping beyond gives a big ass cup of “Adults need to start protecting the younger generations instead of insist they need to toughen up” to all of them. Because more than his role, I am annoyed that neither the movie nor the fandom is addressing the failings of Peter B.

He is not a bad character, I don’t even think he is a bad character in this movie. I like him, and even if writing all of this down made realize I am more bitter about it than I would had liked; I just don’t think is fair.

I want Peter to be better, as a mentor, as a father; and I am really hoping the next movie shows him grow that way too. I do believe the writers can pull it off.

Now, the fandom addressing that?...That I have MUCH less confidence. But not gonna lie this post was made mostly to get this out of my chest rather than expect a reaction out of it.

If anyone made this far, first of, wow; I know some people were interesting in reading this, but even I think I went for a while I put a lot of things that are small details but you guys now me, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t do that.

Be thankful I don’t talk about micro-expressions in frames or this would truly would had ended up as a novelette.

Second, thank you for reading! Give a like and your opinion if you want; because I am pretty sure this post is doing to have fewer notes.

#peter b parker #atsv files #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman #gwen stacy #miles morales #miguel o'hara #analysis

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pearl-tarotist · 1 year

Text

Author's note: This PAC is inspired by Anna Karenina (movie 2012). In the story Anna feels she is being stripped off her honor as she falls in love with a man that's not her husband. She has an affair that, even if it's against her senses, makes her fall in love with Vronsky. The PAC will answer what absurd, non-logical and senseless happiness your spouse and you will feel when being together (even if you feel you are leaving behind your morals and logic).

I love this movie so much I just hope I am able to reflect in this PAC one percent of what the movie made me feel.

PILE 1

New experiences and adventures make both of you feel closer. The development of projects that are still unfinished, the celebration and ecstasy of hopes makes both of you feel one. The intimacy of creating something together while it is not finished offers both of you the opportunity to relax in a time of peace where you both are unaware of the result of it, without having to worry about if the end is going to be a disappointment or not.

The indecision of which project must be the final or which path will be sailed to rock will lend both of you space to breath and enjoy the small things of your relationship: the kisses, the touches, the secret affairs of midnight and the moans spilled in each other’s mouths…

This will be unwilling to the female side as they could be more logical and efficient. She could enjoy the moments with her husband a lot but then she has the guilt of not being efficient and controlling. She has opposite feelings of pleasure and disappointment, indecisive of what’s good or bad.

I see this as fight between doing things correctly and enjoy lust and love. Probably, your relationship could start as a friends with benefit situation or a forbidden love.

“Sometimes she did not know what she feared, what she desired: whether she feared or desired what had been or what would be, and precisely what she desired, she did not know.”

Song recommended: Illicits afairs – Taylor swift.

PILE 2

There’s guilt over starting a new life with your future spouse. There will be a transformation that will make you leave your past life behind, to the point of moving and not coming back. Being happy itself is what makes you feel guilty. I think you or your fs will be guilty for leaving whatever you both are leaving behind, even it was not good. Still, these will make you happy and will make you feel as if you are maturating and evolving in your life. Happiness will surpass the guilt, but, of course, it won’t make it disappear.

Nevertheless, you will be happy when good things happen to you and the way both of you will explore romance will be be emotionally rewarding. Specially, the male side will have a splendid way with words that will elevate the most normal situations to the most romantic ones. I feel that your spouse will be the one forcing the moving too. Maybe, he feels at blame for “forcing” you to move and he will try to balance it being more attentive and meticulous. Even more pointed, he will gift you flowers, roses…

There will be a bit of self – destruction and self-created crisis from your part to try to justify these “bad” or nor-pleasing feelings. And even in those, when you both are fighting, you will feel happy to be next to your spouse.

“Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed.”

PILE 3

This couple is probably the nastiest one! There’s something that will be kept a secret that will make both of you extremely happy. This stuff will be kept a secret and that’s probably what makes both of you guilty, not being able to express what you truly are or what you truly like to others.

TW: Mentions of sex, 18+.

Now, in reference to the stuff…I think it’s probably sexual stuff. Both of you could be really kinky and adventurers in the 18+ ambience, it could even be something non-moral to the general public (never surpassing certain limits, you know?). Probably, cnc, an open marriage or maybe, even some of you are cheaters… For the majority I do not think it could be cheaters as the cards do not indicate pain or betrayals…

In conclusion, both of you together could enjoy things that are not as moral or “politically correct” to the normal public, so you both keep them as a secret. These are the type of things that should NEVER be spoken of in familiar meals/meetings.

“All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”

#PAC: What makes your FS and you happy (even against your wills)?#fs tarot #future spouse tarot #tarot #love tarot #future spouse #pick a pile #pick a photo #pac #free tarot readings #free tarot #tarot reading #love reading #ana karenina #anna karenina

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lovelycleon · 4 months

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Hello there

I recently had a horrific argument because some people can’t let a ship just be a ship. I genuinely have my fun and love for Cleon and it getting attacked was too much. However the person I got into a fight with also told me to count up 3 reasons why they should work. And I couldn’t believe that I had to think about it and it took longer than it should have. Out of curiosity…if you had to count up three reasons what would it be?

Hello!

I'm pretty sure I've already answered a question like this at some point, or at least the answer is spread out somewhere in several of my posts over the last 3 years.

But don't worry, I will try to make a short summary of the 3 things about Cleon that would make them work as a couple:

1.They have a lot in common.

Although their work occupies most of Leon and Claire's lives, through the franchise they have shown very similar everyday interests and hobbies:

Such as love for motorcycles. Capcom made Leon and Claire the official bikers of the franchise, always putting little references here and there in games and movies;

Their whole style. The taste for custom leather jackets, obviously, but also many other alternative outfits. Believe me, of almost all of Claire's costumes, Leon has one somewhere to match.

Even the same kind of sense of humor, with similar one liners, bad good jokes and literary references that I posted here many times before;

It would be easy to imagine what their life together would be like outside of work, on a daily basis with so much in common and the banter they have when they are together.

2.They have the same morals.

Despite following different paths in the fight against bioterrorism, Leon and Claire carry the same code on how to act in certain situations:

Like the idea that both have already stated about not giving up the fight in the name of their comrades who died alongside them (Damnation, Heavenly Island);

The strong will to protect those in need, like Sherry, Ashley and others, no matter how impossible the mission seems or what has to be done;

Not blindly believing in something and always questioning and digging deep when something doesn't feel right (Degeneration, Infinite Darkness);

Trying to understand all sides of the situation and even sympathizing with some of the villains they faced (Annette, Rodrigo, Jason, Buddy, Dr. Taylor and more);

Along with many others, sharing these characteristics can bring stability to their relationship. Having them always on the same page, knowing what each one stands for.

3.They can understand each other.

Besides the shared trauma in Raccoon City, Leon and Claire went through very similar traumatic events even on different missions years apart and, in one way or another, felt the same type of pain:

Being kidnapped, infected and subjected to a race against time to save themselves and others (RE4 and REvelations 2);

Having to see their superiors whom they trusted (and are somewhat emotionally involved) become monsters obsessed with power. (Neil and Krauser)

Being used, mistreated and framed... Leon by the government and its corruption; Claire (along with terrasave) by willpharma and later on by Neil and the FBC;

Witnessing friends sacrifice themselves for them... some even in a very similar way: like Gabe and Mike exploding in a helicopter while Claire and Leon can only watch;

Don't get me wrong, a lot of RE characters have trauma and they all can bond through that, it's undeniable. But here, about Leon and Claire, I'm not just talking about "what happened and their reaction", but also HOW it happened and the physical and psychological similarities of each event for them. As if the narrative chooses to create parallels between them.

And this opens the door for a deep interactions (like the one in Degeneration) that can add new layers to their relationship and find comfort in each other.

Now just let me give you a little bonus (because I would like to write a lot more, but that is already too far from the short summary I promised)

4.Their amazing chemistry.

Haters will always try to deny it (and that's expected since they are haters), but the chemistry between Leon and Claire is great.

Not just the way they look and smile at each other, but how they act together and how they care for each other. I mean, Capcom didn't write scenes like Claire's big smile when she sees that Leon is okay, or Leon giving up of himself for Claire's safety, or them flirting cracking jokes in the middle of a zombie outbreak, or running and screaming each of their name in despair as soon as they see the other is injured for nothing.

It's to highlight their chemistry. The chemistry they are writing for Cleon.

Again, haters will always deny it, because it's inconvenient for them, but it's there.

Leon and Claire love and care for each other deeply, they can have fun hobbies, overcome hardships and find comfort together. The entire basis for a healthy relationship is there, written by the devs at Capcom themselves.

We just need to wait and see what they do with it.

#claire redfield #leon kennedy #ask #cleon #claire x leon #leon x claire #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #resident evil death island #resident evil degeneration #resident evil 2 #resident evil darkside chronicles

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guitar-spear · 23 days

Text

Posting my headcanons bc I’m a silly billy ‼️‼️‼️

Lute Headcanons

Christian (duh)

She/Her

Bisexual with a preference for Adam (but she hasn’t admitted she’s bisexual yet)

Badass 🗣️🗣️

Hates most people except for Adam, Emily and Sera. Emily’s like a younger sister for her, Sera like a mother and Adam a role model, best friend & partner (in crime and in romance)

Trained herself in self defence as well as fighting (though it wasn’t necessary til the events of episode 8)

Loves horror movies

Doesn’t like musicals too much but actually got pretty into school of rock cuz of Adam

Loves fighting, would willingly kill anyone who fucks with her or the people she cares about

Easily jealous, especially when Adam’s literally flirting with others or calling other people hot (which is often)

Reserved in public, clingy in private (especially post episode 8 following the theory of Adam being down in hell now ‼️)

Scared of being abandoned

Has never cried around anyone nor will she ever cry around anyone (she’d only ever cry around Adam if she absolutely had to, for example episode 8, but that’s RARE.)

Autistic.

Adam Headcanons

Christian (DUH???)

He/Him

Pansexual (took forever to admit it, a combo of “$20 is $20” and “if there is a hole there is a goal” mentality)

Alex Brightman enthusiast

Loves rock (like he’ll only listen to rock or rock-like music)

School Of Rock fan (his favourite song is stick it to the man)

Egotistical, self-centred prick (but he still loves Lute)

Pro guitar player

Will only ever cry around Lute and it’s also very rare cuz it makes him feel weak

“All women belong in the kitchen (not Lute tho she belongs in my arms 🗣️🔥💕)” Adam, probably

Clingy both out in public and in private

Not easily jealous but if anyone tries ANYTHING he WILL get defensive asf like “mf that’s my woman” type shit

Terrified to love (bc of Lilith and Eve, though it was his fault he doesn’t think it’s his fault)

Gets terrified watching horror movies and spends majority of it not actually watching it

Scared of storms 😭

Joint (Guitarspear) Headcanons

Lute and Adam defo play instruments together (Adam plays guitar and Lute plays piano or sings)

They hang out and gossip about the other Exorcists or the fuckers in hell every night while sitting on a rooftop and drinking alcohol (they probably stargaze too if they can)

They have matching bracelets that say danger tits and dickmaster for sure (Adam rarely wears it when out with Lute since he doesn’t think men should wear jewellery but he still wears it whenever he can when he’s not out in public)

They’re that one duo that judges anyone and everyone, if you’re judgable you’re being judged by them

They hype each other up constantly (examples: Lute in Hell Is Forever, Adam in You Didn’t Know)

Adam probably tries to impress Lute with his amazing guitar solos

Adam fell first Lute fell harder

They count down to the extermination like it’s New Years 😭😭

Lute could NOT handle Adam’s death (very sad 😔)

(Post Episode 8)Lute defo goes down to hell just to make sure Adam’s okay even though that’s extremely risky for her (BC WE ALL KNOW ADAMS GONNA BE DOWN THERE)

They both love drama so they just cause chaos together

They refer to themselves as partners (but use the excuse of it being partners in crime)

Adam is extremely bad at giving or handling physical affection and Lute is extremely good at both most of the time (it depends when)

Adam randomly picks up Lute to piss her off (the height difference is laughable)

Lute has selfies they both took prior to each extermination stuck up on her wall

Adam can’t handle horror movies at all so during watching horror movies Adam would be terrified (though too egotistical to actually admit it) while Lute is just being critical about killers and enjoying the movie

Adam is usually the one to incite flirting, whenever Lute flirts she’s just taking advantage of the situation

Lute only calls Adam by his name if she’s pissed and usually calls him sir

They tell inappropriate jokes 24/7 for fun (half the time the jokes lead to flirting 😭)

Lute has a horrible sleep schedule and so just falls asleep randomly during the day if she’s not gotten enough sleep (averages like 2 or so hours max if she’s lucky) and usually either falls asleep on Adam or Adam has to catch her if she collapses

Pillow fights.

Adam has to take care of Lute’s wings bc she’s reckless and usually doesn’t give a shit about her wings but Adam cares and so usually is the one to preen them and make them look better

@gothlute i wanna tag you in this cuz you’re the reason i decided to post these so enjoy!!

#guitarspear #guardrock #adam x lute #lute x adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin #headcanons #headcanon #hc #my hcs #lute #adam #i’m obsessed with this ship oh my god #THIS IS MY LIFE NOW #inspired by rambling to my friend #live laugh love friends that’ll listen to you rant abt ur interests

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kz-i-co · 11 months

Text

Don’t Fall In Love: Part 5

Summary: You are one of the most popular bloggers on your campus, telling enriching stories of your personal heartbreaks anonymously. But your readers are not ready to handle the newest heartbreak of finding out your best friend dating your ex.

Paring: Lee Haechan (Donghyuck) x f!reader

Genre: college au | angst x smut

Warning: story may contain strong language, mentions of drugs and alcohol - sexual references - reader discretion advise.

Words: 5k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Masterlist | Nct 127 Masterlist | Nct Dream Masterlist

Taglist: @lovingvoidgoatee, @lunaryoongie, @matchahyuck, @yixingtion, @mosviqu, @ohmyhuenings, @nctzennikki09, @rosiejunnie, @roxyvogue, @5seos, @aaphroditeprjde, @fullsunkist, @emvrd, @atinypurr, @liliansun

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #56 I hope you guys are enjoying my beautiful story telling because my career is over. I know I'm being dramatic but wouldn't you? I felt fear that I never felt before - that everything was gonna blow up and force me away from the people I love. I don't like this feeling. In fact I hate this feeling and I wish it would go away.... :::

"Umm - yeah." You didn't know what to say - you were busted.

"Why is it at Haechan's place?" She grew frustrated.

"Actually....Jaemin gave it to me. She must of forgotten it at his dorm." Donghyuck saved you once again when he probably shouldn't.

"You really are hooking up with Jaemin? I was hoping you were joking." She said even more frustrated.

"Guilty." You pursed your lips. "Thanks for bringing it." You said as Minjeong practically dragged him into your apartment changing your girls night immediately. "No really thanks." You said with more attitude the minute Minjeong stepped away to gather some drinks.

"Don't mention it....Ever." He rolled his eyes. "Keep track of your shit."

You huffed as you took your purse wanting to admit defeat and go to bed. "You don't mind if he joins our movie marathon do you?"

"No of course not." You smiled.

"I don't know, I think I really should get going, I have studying to do." Donghyuck rubbed his neck nervously from the accidental invite.

"Aww, just one movie." Minjeong begged.

"Yeah....sure." You could see the frustration in his expression as soon as she made her way over to the couch.

You tried to keep cool as you payed attention to the movie. Donghyuck was to your right as Minjeong was to his right laying on his shoulder. You wanted anything to get out of this situation. Fake sick? Pretend to fall asleep? Anything?

You were ready to tell Minjeong the truth but now it was much harder with him here. What should you do? You didn't like confrontation especially when it could have a bad outcome.

"This movie is really scary huh?" You spoke up getting ready to leave.

"Yeah." Minjeong spoke through a yawn.

Donghyuck moved slightly to get more comfortable, accidentally brushing over your bare thigh but immediately retracted and moved the blanket more covering him and Minjeong. You didn't know why but the slight contact gave you chills alone and you wanted nothing more than to pounce on top of him but you had self control.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #56 How far must I go? How far will this lie go until I can't take it anymore. Because by this point my relationship with my best friend is over. I betrayed her - I betrayed myself. And I'm officially done - Xoxo peace :::

You felt yourself move closer and closer to Donghyuck that you didn't even realize your hand making it's way under the blanket to a place you probably shouldn't. Self control was overrated.

But you did it anyway and his immediate reaction wasn't to stop you. "(Y/N)." He whispered next to you and you just smirked in response.

"Hmm?" You bit your lip as you rubbed more steady already feeling him grow underneath you. You were just lucky that Minjeong gets so focused into movies, unless you would've already been caught.

You heard him groan and fake a cough as he finally grabbed your hand stopping you. "Everything alright?" Minjeong asked as you froze from your hand still on top of his growing member.

"Oh yeah."

"I'm sorry I doze off a little." She giggled.

"If you're tired, you can go to bed." He said sweetly.

"Only if you join me." She said to both of your surprise which just made you more and more upset.

She was dying to sleep with him and it almost sounded desperate by this point and the worst part was Donghyuck was clearly avoiding it. Was it because of you?

"I can go to my room if you guys want." You tried hard not to sound disappointed.

"Oh no (Y/N) - I'll try to stay awake." She spoke and you all just settled back into a comfortable standby, except the fact you were still resting on his thigh without even noticing it moving closer.

Once things were settled again, he looked over at you and you just acted like nothing was wrong.

"What are you doing?" He whispered.

"You started it." You fought back.

"How did I start it?"

"You touched my leg."

"That was an accident." He said in self defense but couldn't help but smirk to himself.

At this point you couldn't tell if it was natural or he meant it because smirking was just part of his everyday face and he probably does it in his sleep but in this case you still felt he did purposely and he wanted you to suffer when he most likely knew, touching him was forbidden at the moment but jokes on him thinking you were scared.

"Sure it was."

"Shall I make some popcorn?" You asked raising your voice and waiting for Minjeong to responde.

"She's asleep?" Donghyuck answered.

"Hmm." You leaned back getting comfortable once again.

"Don't even think about it (Y/N)." He whispered next to you once again as you just started making your hand under the blanket again.

"What? She's asleep." He looked at you questionable. "You know I was gonna tell her everything - until your ass knocked on the door." You pouted.

"Really?"

"I think it's obvious I want you back." You flirted rubbing him once again. You kept apologizing in your head the moment you pulled him out from underneath the blanket. You constantly felt regret with every action but you just couldn't help it - you wanted him. You weren't sure how Donghyuck was feeling but he seemed to let you do whatever you wanted so maybe he still had feelings for you too. You wanted to know - you needed to know.

He softly moaned and leaned his head back as you picked up your motions.

"Hmm? What do you say?" You flirted some more. "Like things never changed."

"We can't (Y/N)." He leaned back up to look at you as your speed slowed down. You heard him sigh from the look on your face. "I told you...We can't just get back together....Minjeong will be too upset."

"Do you even want me at all? Even after everything?" You took your hand back as your tone sounded bothered.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." He shifted putting himself back together, clearly uncomfortable from leaving him hanging.

"Just say yes or no Hyuck."

"Yes (Y/N)." He whispered louder but was quick to tone it down. "Can we just watch the movie?"

He wanted you as bad as you wanted him. You couldn't help but smile just thinking about it. But he was right - after everything, you couldn't just get back together in these conditions - if Minjeong knew the truth or not, it would be too difficult.

"First thing tomorrow morning." You spoke and leaned your head against his other shoulder.

"What's that?" He looked down at you.

"I'm gonna tell her everything." You looked up at him.

"Everything?"

You nodded and he pursed his lips thinking for a moment and looked down at your lips slightly leaning in but was hesitant before turning away.

"I'm gonna get going." He started to move making you sit up straight and watched him help Minjeong lay down against the pillow that rested against the arm chair.

"Are you sure you don't want to just sleep here? It's past 1."

"I'll be fine - I only live a few blocks away." He smirked. "You worried about me now?" He grabbed some of the soda cans and made his way to the kitchen.

"Of course not." You smiled as you grabbed the garbage helping clean up as well.

"I don't know how tomorrow is gonna go but if you want to stay with Minjeong - you have my permission."

"Are you throwing yourself a pity party?" He asked with his eyebrows arched in amusement.

"What? No...." You said tossing the garbage in the trash.

"I just told you I wanted you." He said leaning closer.

"Well.....knowing you, I wasn't sure if you just told me what I wanted to hear to shut me up."

"You're right I do, do that a lot." He smirked again.

"You're so annoying." You said playfully.

"It's not my fault you never shut up." You made of face of amusement causing him to smile sweetly - a smile you will never want to go away.

"So you want me still? Even after I was a terrible girlfriend." You leaned up against him that you could practically feel his breath against your lips.

"Well you admitted you were wrong so...-" He shrugged.

"I was so wrong." You spoke before finally filling in the empty space.

You would never get used to kissing him - like every time was the first over and over again. Refreshing. You could sense the desperation within his that you already wanted to drag him to your bedroom but you know this couldn't go further tonight - not again while Minjeong was literally a few feet away. And especially not here in this kitchen again or you will never hear the end from Jimin.

You pulled away slightly catching your breath. "I want you to fuck me so bad."

"We can't."

"I know." You could hear the disappointment in your voice. "But I'll think about it tonight."

He groaned. "You can't just say that shit."

"Why does it turn you on?" You started trailing your hand down to his evident bulge.

You reached in kissing him again until you heard Minjeong groan immediately pulling you both apart.

You both looked in her direction to see her getting up and stretching before opening her eyes yawning. "I'm going to bed....are you staying the night Channie?"

"Oh um- I think I'm just gonna head home."

"Goodnight baby....goodnight (Y/N)." She spoke on her way to her room.

"Night." You both said in unison.

"She's like a zombie when's she's sleepy." You giggled.

"Yeah." He said more serious to your surprise. "I'll see you tomorrow (Y/N)."

"There's really no convincing you to stay? You can just leave before she wakes up?" You were practically begging.

"Minjeong wakes up before the both of us."

"I can come over and stay with you then?" You just didn't want to leave him by this point.

He smiled at you sweetly. "Maybe next time." He approached the door but you didn't let him off the hook that easy as you kissed him like it was the last time.

"Just in case that was the last time."

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #57 I'm walking on eggshells here....what to do now? I love him and he confessed he still loves me but does that mean we can get back together? I'm gonna tell her everything- I owe her.... Especially during this risky game I'm playing with D since we can't keep off each other- even when my best friend is around....like playing a game of hide and seek. She was asleep right? She didn't see anything....right? :::

"On second thought - maybe it is pretty late." He said closing the door behind him and you smirked dragging him to your room.

This was so wrong on so many levels but you loved him and he loved you and it just felt right.

"I fucking hate you right now." He said bringing his lips towards yours as your bedroom door was shut and locked behind you.

"Why? Because I'm irresistible." You smirked again.

"You're so fucking irresistible." He pulled you up as he carried you to your bed laying you down and immediately towering over you as his lips were placed on yours. You thought the last time was an act of desperation but this took the whole cake.

It didn't feel as risky in here which gave you both more room to play with your hormones. The only problem was you still had to manage to stay quiet because there was no explanation this time and Minjeong wasn't drunk to keep her asleep.

Donghyuck always had a talent of leaving chills trailing down your body with just a brush of his lips, from your lips to your neck and even now your hip where he was currently removing your shorts, along with your thin lace panties.

God...you missed this.

The only thing you didn't miss though, was how much of a tease Donghyuck was. He loved to pleasure everywhere but where you needed him most and at the moment your impatience was wearing thin. "Hyuck Please." You begged causing him to chuckle.

"I'll get there." He sucked above your clit some more as you felt his fingers slowly explore your folds. "Is this where you want me?"

"Hyuck." You warned again.

He smirked before moving where you wanted him and sucking your weak spot causing you to immediately moan out. "You need to stay quiet if you want me to continue."

"I'm trying."

He hummed against you before continuing his slow pleasurable movements that you regret even starting since you had no self control in the tone of your voice. You bit your fist trying to hold back but you were screaming on the inside. To make matters worse he pushed two fingers into you causing your vision to daze and you knew you weren't gonna last long at this rate. He always knew how to work his fingers and you were only getting the subtle version on what he could really do.

"Oh my fucking gosh." You cried as you felt your climax to hit any second now.

"Too much?" You can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Don't you dare fucking stop or I'll will actually kill you." You complained from his sudden holt.

The teaser will always be a teaser.

He enjoyed your suffering too much so he continued giving you exactly what you wanted and not too long, you were screaming into your pillow as your high was taking over in probably the best orgasm you've had in a long time. Donghyuck still taking the throne as your best contender....sorry Jaemin.

"You still want me to stay?" He asked sweetly hovering over you, surprising you once again since he was just purposely teasing you seconds before.

"More than you know."

"Are you sure?"

"Donghyuck if you don't stay here and fuck me, I will make your life miserable." You grabbed his buckle and undoing his zipper once again and was quick to pull him out. You gave him a few pumps before guiding him to your needy area.

Once he pushed in, your walls were already clenching from being extra sensitive. "Fuck." He moaned against you and started kissing down your neck. He was working against you in a slow steady motion but once you loosened up, he didn't hesitate to pick up the pace.

"Oh f-fff." You bit your tongue from crying out.

You may have succeeded in being quiet but the soft moans and heavy breathing were enough to concern you, especially now since the soft creak in your bed was your newest issue.

"Hyuck....maybe we should- oh fuck." The pleasure was blinding you.

"What's wrong?" He kissed down your chest.

"It's just-" He was hitting the perfect spot that you couldn't stop him now. "Nothing...."

You moved your hands down his back and pushing his pants to finally pool on the floor leaving him only in his tshirt. He was much quicker than you having you bare underneath him and leaving marks on your exposed chest.

You both were lost in the moment that you didn't even realized the room light up from the only light source that was coming from under the door. "Wait wait wait."

"Hmm?" Donghyuck didn't stop as you stared to the right at the now visible light coming from the hallway. "What?"

You both heard a door slam and the light suddenly turning off. You knew Jimin said she wasn't coming home tonight so it had to be Minjeong.

Did she hear you? No....she couldn't have.

"She was probably using the bathroom." He spoke.

"Shhh." You tried to listen closer but heard nothing. "Maybe you're right.....try to keep it quiet." You teased.

"Me? Really?" He arched his eyebrows as he started rocking against you again.

"I'm not the one making the bed creak."

"Maybe you need a new bed." He sassily responded.

"You're so annoying."

"Good." You grabbed his shirt making him lean down and kiss you again as he gyrated his hips in a sensual manner making your stomach erupt with butterflies.

"Oh my god.....that's it." You moaned making him chuckle against your neck. He love hearing you so vocal.

You didn't know he constantly found your weak spot making you twitch sporadically. "I'm close." You cried softly.

"Hold on baby." He picked up the pace that had you in a fear of not only getting caught but more moans to slip out accidentally.

You felt like any minute, Minjeong was gonna come pound on your door about to expose the both of you.

The risky game was fun but also terrifying.

His movements became unsteady that you couldn't hold on any longer and laid there letting your pleasure take over. He stopped and quickly pulled out, letting his juices cover your stomach. His soft moans causing another stir in your stomach from just how attractive he is.

"Sorry, I wasn't sure if you took your pill or not."

"I did but I couldn't help but noticed you didn't ask me last night." You teased.

"Maybe I was expecting you to speak up first."

"You should learn not to assume." You flirted. "But it's easy to say I never miss a day." He got up grabbing a towel to clean you off.

Once he settled and laid down next to you, he pulled you from behind into a spooning position.

"I missed you." You said softly.

"I know." He spoke bringing his lips towards the back of your neck.

"Do you miss me?"

"Of course." His voice sounded more low, probably already falling asleep.

You wiggled wanting to be as close to him as possible. "(Y/N)." He warned. "Stop moving."

"Whats wrong? You don't want to go again?" You teased.

"You exhaust me."

"Because I'm irresistible?" You giggled.

"Yes baby....now go to sleep." He said practically asleep but you turned around and cuddled into his chest finally letting sleep overcome you as well. You missed times like this where you two could just sleep and cuddle and not worry about anything else in the world.

That is until tomorrow...

- ::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #57 I'm ready....I'm ready to unfold everything of this badly written dumb twilight fanfic I have created. Okay so maybe I'm being dramatic..... but I never felt more terrified about anything in my life. I thought I left all this drama behind in high school but here we are in a new open canvas I would like to call my life. Thank you God. Barely a month ago I was pining over J - a fuckboy who didn't want me... and crying over D like a stupid jealous ex who probably couldn't stand me and vice versa. What has happened? Why did you make me fall in love with you again - well I never fell out of but you get my point. Why are you here making my life a mess again? Why are you here making me feel like an asshole for even breaking up with you. Why am I here ruining everything? I'm sure by now the people in my life know who I am and ready to confront me because this kind of shit doesn't just happen to anyone......it only happens to shits like me.....but hey at least it makes for good story telling.....especially to my kids one day. I'm sorry to everyone I hurt, especially you my best friend who will probably hate me by the end of today....just know that I love you and I'm sorry for what I did and didn't do. Well.....that's it for now - I'll let you know who decided to stick around in my fucked up life after I spill the beans. Hopefully I'll be okay to even continue this blog...thank you guys for listening. Xoxo peace. :::

"Morning." You yawned grabbing a cup of coffee as Jimin was on her laptop doing work. "What are you doing up so early?"

"My term paper is due tomorrow." She spoke taking a sip of coffee as well.

"Shit, so is mine." You rolled your eyes not wanting to process this day. "I hate Sundays."

"Being dramatic already are we?" Jimin laughed.

"We have classes again tomorrow." Jimin just laughed some more. "Is Minjeong still sleeping?"

"Oh no - she went over to "Channies" for breakfast." She giggled keeping up with the lie as well. Donghyuck was gone when you woke up but you didn't know how early since you also liked to sleep late.

"So you haven't told her yet?" Jimin broke your train of thought.

"I was going to last night but he showed up and I didn't know how to with him there."

"That would of probably been the best time to (with him there)."

"It's my lie though - I rather tell her alone." You confirmed.

"Alright - just make it quick because things are taking off."

"Are they?" You asked still feeling questionable.

"Well that was until you two started sleeping together behind her back." Jimin shrugged nonchalantly.

"It was once- twice....and maybe last night - but it's not happening again until I tell her this time."

"That so? I was wondering why I caught him sneaking out this morning." Your face went pale. "Relax, Minjeong was still sleeping."

You sighed. "Just say it Jimin.....I know you're thinking it."

"I'm not saying anything." She shrugged.

"Call me a slut, bad friend, homewrecker.....I know." You scoffed. "I already hate myself because of it."

"You're in a tough spot right now." She shrugged stepping away from her laptop. "Tell her the truth first.......then we'll see what happens - you at least owe her that."

"I just don't know what to do.....I can't lose them both."

"Well, we don't know anything yet.....Minjeong is a pretty forgiving person." She smiled softly. "But in the meantime....maybe you two need to stay away from each other."

"It's so bad Ji - I never wanted him more than I ever had." You whined.

"It's because he's 'unavailable'.....you want what you can't have. It's a mental desire." She spoke. "But he's giving into it as well which is probably making it harder for the both of you."

"Morning ladies." Minjeong came through the door perky and even bought breakfast for the two of you.

"Why are you so happy?" Jimin asked.

"Nothing." She shrugged. "I think I'm gonna give myself to Channie tonight."

"Give yourself?" You asked.

"You know.....give up my virginity." She took a deep breath before smiling.

"Really?" Jimin said side eyeing you.

"Yeah. He's been a little distant lately so maybe this will be the thing we need to jump into the next step." She sighed. "I've been hesitant because I don't want to come off desperate but I can't take it anymore....I'm gonna go for it tonight."

"I'm afraid of him getting bored because I'm not giving him any." She continued shrugging.

"I'm sure he's getting plenty." Jimin slipped causing you to nudge her.

"He asked me to dinner tonight so I think it will be a perfect time." She smiled some more. "I promise I will keep it down unless it hurts as much as they say than I'm sorry."

You turned your back opening the fridge. You didn't know how to hide your emotions this time. You figured this was the test to find out Donghyuck's true feelings on what he wants to do.

"Oh by the way.....do any of you have.....condoms?" She whispered like it was forbidden.

"He's a guy....he will have some - probably in his wallet." Jimin laughed but was quick to tone it down from how bothered you were.

"How do you know he's ready for that - you guys only been together for like 3 weeks." You spoke not turning around.

"You're the one that said guys are impatient and he's probably just being a gentleman - well I'm done waiting."

"I just want to make sure your first time is special that is all." You shrugged finally closing the fridge.

"I've been together with a guy for almost a month and want to sleep with him but you are the one who hooks up with guys left and right shamelessly and you expect me to listen to you?" She snapped.

She sighed as the silence was tense. "Look I'm sorry (Y/N) but I don't know what your deal is lately....you act like you're against relationships but now I feel it's only targeted towards Haechan - why don't you like him? He's been nothing but sweet to me, I just don't get it, I finally found a guy I like what's so wrong with that?"

You didn't know what to say and better yet - how were you suppose to tell her the truth now? She was angry at you already and she didn't even know the truth yet.

Minjeong started walking away and Jimin got up stopping her. "Wait, (Y/N) needs to tell you something."

Thanks Jimin.

"No offense but I really don't want to hear it." She spoke up.

"She's right, who should listen to me anyway." You said being the first to leave and go back to your room focusing only on your paper you needed to get done.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #58 I think it's time to call a quits. My so called best friend is 'there I say it' in love? Well? Maybe or maybe not but she definitely is on her way there more or less and she's not planning on leaving him anytime soon....I guess it's all up to D now and if he truly loves me like he said he does, and continue this love affair - but I'm done with all of it anyway. My heart is broken and I can't handle it anymore......I might need another vacay before I drown myself into a como:/ xoxo peace. :::

You needed a break from this damn paper with a nice refreshing can of redbull. The funny thing was you were sneaky about it, afraid Jimin was out and about, hogging the living room like earlier. You had enough of her continuous nagging and just wanted to crawl up into a ball and forget this day ever happened. "I told you to tell her the truth." Not like you felt shitty enough.

Target acquired and the coast was clear once you made your way to the fridge and opened it, reaching inside for your refreshing can that.....wasn't there. "Dammit Ji."

One thing you were looking forward to in this shit storm of a day with your pathetic paper that was due only in a few hours and all that was left was 400 words and all you wanted was your damn redbull. You reached in and grabbed her monster instead - not as good but it will suffice it's purpose you suppose.

You were just about to make a speedy exit towards your room until you heard the door slam shut, startling you more than it should.

You heart sank as soon as you saw Minjeong sniffling and tears down her face. "Oh hey." She said trying to show a smile.

"Hey." You were clearly hesitant seeing your friend so upset. "You okay?"

"Ah huh." She lied placing her keys on the counter. "Not really actually."

"Haechan broke up with me." She continued causing you to become speechless.

"What?"

"Hmm....yup."

"What happened?" You asked further.

She shrugged. "Everything seemed fine, we had a nice dinner - even kissed a little. I can tell something was bothering him though but I just figured he was stressing about the paper tomorrow." She wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. "And then he just drove me home and said the 'we need to talk' and just like that we're over." She took a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry." You began.

"He said he couldn't get over his ex and he needs some time to be alone." Your heart skipped a beat. "Can you believe that."

This whole mess was really all your fault. But where did it all start? The night you broke up in the first place or the other night when you slept together. He seemed fine before when you both were tearing at each others throats but now you had to get in the middle and confusion everything all over again.

You wanted to tell her. You wanted her to know the truth but why does it seem like every time is the worst time. The truth now will admit that he is still in love with you.

"Now I know why you are so bitter with relationships. You aren't over your ex either....I wonder who his ex is? Maybe she's prettier than me."

"You can't think like that.....You will find someone else I promise."

"But he was so hot and funny and charming." She whined.

"There's tons of hot guys in this school - trust me." You spoke trying to reassure. "And funny ones."

"Maybe we can go to the club together and find someone."

"I'm done with that actually because I was thinking you were right - that lifestyle is too dangerous and I rather meet someone the safe way and so should you."

"But that clearly doesn't work." She whined some more.

"Yes it does - not every relationship is going to work out." You sighed. "There is a frat party tomorrow night, how about we go together."

"Okay." She nodded agreeing.

You had to go see Donghyuck. You need to know what was going on from his side. Your term paper was the farthest from your mind at this moment.

You got what you wanted but was it right? Are you a horrible person because of this? Maybe....

too be continued in the next part....

©property.of.kz-i-co

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matthias-the-tulip · 10 months

Text

my updated list of parts i hope they keep in the red, white & royal blue movie

(updated after i reread it in a day) (a lot of these are just funny lines that add absolutely nothing to the plot but they make me laugh)

• the MAGAZINE 😭

• “he has the personality of a cabbage.”

• “i want to hear you gush like he's your fucking prom date.”

• alex makes a long loud fart noise 

• “i'm going to throw up on you” at the stables (doesn't look like they're at a stables in the trailer 😒)

• “i'd rather be waterboarded” also at the stables (again, doesn't look like they're at a stables)

• “i bet he has a secret lovechild,” nora says. “or he's gay. or he has a secret gay lovechild.”

“it's probably in case i see his equerry putting his batteries back in,” alex says.

• midnight ice cream on instagram

• “i didn't know you wore glasses.” (henry's wearing a suit not pyjamas and alex is not wearing glasses what's that all about!)

• awkward fist bump on “this morning” (does not look like it’s a chat show in the trailer but also would a royal even go on this morning)

• star wars stan henry 🥹

• “not impressed, just surprised.”

“at what?”

“that you actually have, you know, feelings.”

• henry is beginning to smile…

• “do you MIND?” in the cupboard at the hospital

• “you're not the prince of me” 😭

• “i'd rather not be the little spoon.”

• henry's feet in a mop bucket

• “locked in a cupboard with your elbow inside my rib cage.”

• “i cannot believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”

• “are you psychoanalysing me? i don't think royal guests are allowed to do that.”

• “is that the time you threatened to push me into the thames?”

• “no booty calls.”

• “it was like you were trying to set him on fire with your mind.”

• june's (nora now i guess 😟) plot to murder woody allen

• “don't let the papers print lies about me after i've garroted myself with my tie.”

• “you are the thistle in the tender and sensitive arse crack of my life.”

• “yes, famously the most sinister of all animal sounds, the gobble.”

• “cornbread knows my sins.”

• the whole turkey situation really

• “buy a summer home in majorca with the turkey”

• MR WOBBLES

• “jabba” cakes.

• henry watching bake off

• “you're jeff goldblum”

• “yo there's a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe”.

“I BEG YOU TO NOT”

• “it sounds like you did your best.” 🥹

• the new year’s party being referred to as “the legendary balls-out bananas white house trio new year's eve party” (white house duo now 😭)

• “please do not attempt to steal my shine. you will fail and i will be embarrassed for you.”

• “says prince fucking charming.”

• get low playing at the new year’s eve party

• alex’s reaction to get low playing at the new year’s eve party

• “christ, you are as thick as it gets.”

• alex falling while running with june (nora now i guess 😟) cause he was thinking about henry

• “he's gay and you're hot, so.”

• “still waters, deep dicking.”

• “prince henry is a biscuit,” nora says, “let him sop you up.”

• they know each other's sleep schedule and alex gets in a bad mood when he doesn't talk to him 🥹

• “you're not going to kill him, are you?” she says. “probably not,” alex tells her

• “shut up, shut all the way up, oh my god”

• alex pushing henry up against a wall!

• “i mean, er, should we, i dunno, slow down?”henry says, cringing so hard at himself that one eye closes. “go for dinner first, or-“

• hooking one knee around the back of alex's thigh 😉

• ”i'm going to die,” henry says helplessly.

“i'm going to kill you,” alex tells him.

“yes, you are,” henry agrees.

• alex fixing his hair for him 😢😢😢

• henry singing god save the queen (king i guess) to make his 🍆 go away

• “i am going to do very bad things to you, and if you fucking ghost me again, i’m going to get you put on a fucking no-fly list. got it?”

• “you were jealous,” alex says. “you want me.”

• henry calling alex bossy 😂

• alex literally just insulting henry while he’s going to town on him

• “do you ever stop talking?” henry says. “such a mouth on you.”

• “hi,” he says, when he reaches henry’s eye level.

“hello,” henry says back.

“i’m gonna take your pants off now,” alex tells him.

“yes, good, carry on.”

• fucking eyelashes

• when he's done, he presses a sticky kiss in the crease of alex's leg where he'd slung it over his shoulder

• the mattress shifts, and henry moves up to the pillows, nuzzling his face into the hollow of alex's throat. alex makes a vague noise of approval, and his arms fumble around henry's waist, but he's helpless to do much else.

• the tip of henry’s nose catching on alex’s

• “for fuck’s sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me goodnight.”

• monocles for babies 😂

• “i don’t like that look,” amy says. “you look…sweaty.”

• “what in the rich-white-people-sex-dungeon hell?”

• the whole polo kit situation. henry slowly putting his boot back on the floor

• “i’ve thrown men in the dungeons for less.”

“hey, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

• paris!!! leaving directions to the cheese

• “you're a mad, spiteful, unmitigated demon, and I'm going to kiss you until you forget how to talk.”

• birthday floggings et al and the buttercream!

• alex’s heart going weird at henry on the boat and having to put his head in his hands

• “i don't give a damn what joanne has to say, remus john lupin is gay as the day is long, and i won't hear a word against it.”

• “i will staple your dick to the inside of your leg”

• “i did get both of the gay kings.”

• “deflowering the darling of the republic.”

• “i'm not ... historically great at talking about things,” henry says.

“well, i wasn't historically great at blowjobs, but we all gotta learn and grow, sweetheart.”

“wasn't?"

“hey,” alex huffs. “are you trying to say i'm still not good at them?”

“no, no, i wouldn't dream of it,” henry says, and alex can hear the small smile in his voice. “it was just the first one that was.. well. it was enthusiastic, at least.”

“i don't remember you complaining…”

“yes, well, i'd only been fantasizing about it for ages.”

• baby. (!!!)

• “i miss you,” alex says before he can stop himself. he instantly regrets it, but henry says, “i miss you too.”

• “i want to ... put my fingers in his mouth...” she moans, sounding horrified.

• just the whole karaoke bar situation. plz. toilet stall hookup!

• “bisexuality is truly a rich and complex tapestry.”

• o captain, my captain

• “if only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when american boys with chin dimples are mean to him.”

• the fruity truth: my favourite english author is jane austen.

• “when at wimbledon”

• “i want to see a cage match between your grandmother (grandfather i guess) and this fucking ghoul running against my mom”

• “and you are good. most things are awful most of the time, but you're good.”

• “he is truly a picture, wearing an expression of bewildered panic and absolutely nothing else.”

• “jesus tits”

• henry falling out of the wardrobe and just. sitting on the floor. (zahra finds him in the wardrobe instead :()

• “i thought you were getting into international relations or something.”

“i mean, technically-“

• “you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state, who is a man, at the biggest political event before the election, in a hotel full of reporters, in a city full of cameras, in a race close enough to fucking hinge on some bullshit like this, like a manifestation of my fucking stress dreams, and you're asking me not to tell the president about it?”

• all of zahra's quips tbh - “every time i see you, it takes another year off my life.” - “ask me if i'm afraid of the crown.”

• SEXUAL EXPERIMENTATION WITH FOREIGN MONARCHS: A GRAY AREA.

• EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY, BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH THE PRINCE OF ENGLAND?

• FEDERAL FUNDING, TRAVEL EXPENSES, BOOTY CALLS, AND YOU

• history, huh? bet we could make some. (the emails plz like i need at least some of them read aloud over a montage or something)

• “some saucy tart once tried to impugn my virtue against an oil painting of him, and in the halls of memory, some things demand context.”

• I GUESS THAT MAKES YOU. THE MF. NORTH STAR.

• “i thought you might need to, like, have a catholic moment about this or something?” 😭

• “santa maria is watching!”

• skinny dipping!!!

• “philip is the heir and i'm the spare, and if that nervy bastard has a heart attack at thirty-five and i've got malaria, whither the spare?”

• alex's meltdown outside kensington. very important. - “how 'bout i just keep yelling and we see which of the papers show up first!” he turns back to the window and starts flailing his arms too. “henry! your royal fucking highness!”

• “jesus, could you stop being an obtuse fucking asshole for, like, twenty seconds?”

• “i fucking love you, okay?” alex half yells, finally, irreversibly.

• “what do you want?”

“i want you-”

“then fucking have me.”

“-but i don’t want this.”

• “a whole lifetime of fine. that’s not good enough for me.”

• henry nuzzling his nose behind alex's ear.

• alex laughs and grabs his head and aggressively kisses his cheek, smashing his face into the pillow.

• “next time we shall visit some of the george Ill pieces and see if they burst into flame.”

• DANCING TO YOUR SONG IN THE MUSEUM

• “i completely fucking love you” and the ring and the chain

• “once shaan managed to dislodge him from the chandelier”

• henry’s email about memories and grief and the first time he saw alex

• “jesus, be a gay beard”

• henry and alex in the car after the fake date

• “i will physically fight your grandmother (grandfather i guess) myself if i have to, okay? and, like, she's (he’s) old. i know i can take her (him).”

“i wouldn't be so cocky,” henry says with a small laugh. “she's (he’s)full of dark surprises.”

• “your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing”

• “check the fucking news, you horny little miscreant”

• “it’s about to be gay DEFCON five in this administration.”

• “then fuck it.”

• the big group hug

• oscar saying “give ‘em hell.”

• “you're my mean friend.”

• “jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing”

• I 😭 LOVE 😭 HIM 😭 ON 😭PURPOSE 😭 they can't leave that out if they do i'll kill someone

• “what are we even defending here, philip? what kind of legacy? what kind of family, that says, we'll take the murder, we'll take the raping and pillaging and the colonizing, we'll scrub it up nice and neat in a museum, but oh no, you're a bloody poof? that's beyond our sense of decorum! i've bloody well had it. i've sat about long enough letting you and gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and i'm finished. i don't care. you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, philip. i'm done.”

• “for what it's worth,” he says to philip, “that is the bravest son of a bitch i’ve ever met.”

• “we banged it out last night” + high five

• “i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mum, philip.”

• all the support for them 🥹

• bea pouring the tea on philip's lap

• “you know, i think all that cocaine i did must’ve really done a job on my reflexes!”

• henry pulls alex close and kisses him, whispers, "i love you i love you i love you."

• never 😭 tell 😭 me 😭 the 😭 odds 😭

• “my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person”

• “you are the absolute worst idea i’ve ever had”

• “listen, you've had your first big sex scandal. no more sitting at the kids' table.”

• how to love each other in plain sight

• “holding henry’s hand atop his own knee” in the portrait

• “all this fundraising for sobriety is going to drive me to drink”

• “i'm the prince of...here” 😭

• “you spent a month of your gap year talking to yaks in mongolia, h.”

• “i know it's a lot, but you give people hope. so, get back out there and be alex.”

• the super six 😭 (fantastic five now i guess)

• the picture of them on the cover of the magazine

• henry fixing june's hair 🥹 (NORA NOW I GUESS 😟)

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #red white & royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #casey mcquiston

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hilariousrabbit · 5 months

Text

Critic of Stage in Playful Land - The Worst Event in Twisted Wonderland

I'm not gonna lie, I had high hopes for this event. The cards were gorgeous, I loved the new outfits, and we even got new characters! I'm quite a huge fan of the gothic circus aesthetic, so I was even more hyped for what's to come. Of course the stakes would be high for something like this, but unfortunately...the execution of this event has completely brought it down.

This is gonna be a very long and angry critic, so beware! I might be mean too!

The translation screenshots provided are from Ekala on YouTube. TW: Insensitive portrayal of human trafficking

The first part of the event felt SUPER stretched out. I understand, the main cast may have been overwhelmed with homework and losing the basketball match against NRC. But I also feel like they could have summarized this quicker? Plus, Fellow Honest also talks A LOT. I know it was supposed to be extended flattery to the point where it became suspicious, but it was taking so long to get to the main point that I quickly became bored.

The character's reasons for going were also very strange...but let's focus on the Octavinelle twins for a second. Floyd and Jade wanted to visit the amusement park specifically because it seemed suspicious. The twins are seen as a very shady duo, and having conflict with an even shadier duo (Fellow Honest and Gidel) is bound to be something that would be super interesting to watch.

Similarly as to how Idia played a crucial part in the Masquerade event, I thought they would have a larger role in this story, and I was disappointed when they just frolicked around the amusement park. They're not the type to just walk right into a dangerous territory without a plan/strategy, and it felt really weird seeing that happen. With them doing no preparations for this situation whatsoever, it feels like a waste to even state that detail in the first place. Speaking of that...I had heard some other fan theories on the role Ortho would play in this event. Some speculated that he would be representing the puppet in this event, as he isn't human. But then again, none of that ends up happening in the event because there was no thought as to how these characters would be used. My friend made an interesting point about the character choice in this event. They speculated it was just the company gathering up characters that haven't been in many events before book 7 ended, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if this was the case.

When the main cast was exploring the park, it was just filler content. Nothing interesting happened, at all. They explored the park that was filled with references from the Pinocchio movie. Now if this was any other Disney film, I would be like "Yeah alright, that's from the movie. That's cool". But if you know what happens in the movie, then it might be a different story. I was deadass filled with dread when they put the references in, and I was so uncomfortable. Especially during this scene:

Also this was uncomfortable to see. Like okay...I didn't need to know that.

Anyone who watched the Pinocchio movie must have known that something bad was bound to happen (most likely some form of human trafficking). So when Fellow Honest's intentions for selling guests as wooden dolls was finally revealed, the entire story went from 0 to 100 real quick. And not in a good way. I know the previous filler was supposed to put us in their shoes, and how we as the viewer could also get distracted from the carnival's attractions. However, there should have been a better way to transition these two contrasting moods of the story. Plus, I can't help but feel like this is an unnecessarily cruel twist compared to the original movie. When it comes to more darker/sensitive topics such as human trafficking, there should be some sort of caution as to how they portray these kinds of things. I felt like this was solely added for shock value to make up for the slow pacing in the first parts of the event, and I can't help but feel really uncomfortable about this. I also REALLY don't like the possible implications of this line:

The insensitivity of the topic of human trafficking is further fueled by how the chase is played out. They needed a reason for characters to be kidnapped one by one, and I know that's usually how these types of events play out. But considering the severity of their situation, I feel very weird about it. Also, the characters are unusually calm about being sold as a literal slave? And the topic is just not dealt with seriously at all.

Important Detail: The Playful Land theme park functions as a ship, which sails away from land as soon enough guests are lured into the park. This is literally a human trafficking ship, there's no sugarcoating this.

Another part I'm upset about is how Kalim dealt with the entire situation. I'm unfortunately used to Twisted Wonderland dumbing down his character for cheap laughs but this has really gone off the rails. Ace gave him a clear reality check. They were at risk of being sold as dolls to whatever rich freak paid money for them. It was clear that Fellow Honest wouldn't converse on the subject over a fancy dinner. Honestly...I need you guys to read this for yourself.

So when Ortho came back, why in the world did Ace apologize to Kalim? Sure, what he said was harsh but it was completely true! There was a real threat to these characters and it wasn't being taken seriously.

For some reason, every time there's a chance for Kalim to develop, all of that is just completely reversed. Even if this was an issue before the event was released, I also feel like the writers forgot one very important thing...

Kalim has literally been kidnapped before! SEVERAL TIMES TOO!

He was targeted several times because he's from a rich family, they were planning to do malicious things to him for the sake of MONEY. Literally, just like Fellow Honest! He should know better than anyone else how horrifying it is to be taken away from the ones you love, and having no idea what will happen to you. But noooo instead he went full on Steven Universe on Fellow Honest! I'm not even taking the excuse that he's desensitized to it because he was putting the lives of his classmates at risk by giving this human trafficker a fucking chance. While he's not the smartest in the group, his character IS compassionate. How did he give more compassion towards this stranger he met a day ago instead of his own classmates?! How did they botch his character this badly?!

Lastly, when Fellow Honest's reasoning is stated in the story...I really have no words. He engaged in human trafficking, because his former teachers told him that he wasn't a good mage? ...I'm sorry? What the fuck kinda reasoning is that?!

He's literally committing a random act of malice because of his own personal issues. I can't even say that he was merely projecting his hatred onto students alone, as there were other guests attending the park too! I don't know how old they are, or if they're even in school anymore, so these are literally just random victims to me! It looks like the writers attempted to add a tragic backstory for this character in order to get the audience to have some sort of sympathy for him, but this just makes him look fucking stupid.

During this event, he talks about school being worthless and about how he and Gidel had a hard time surviving because they didn't get an education. Like...he chose to drop out of school. Of course that would happen! What was he expecting?

This event made an attempt to go into class dynamics and it's just...oh my god. Let's do a character comparison for a second. Ruggie grew up in a poor area, but because of that he was always on that grindset. Instead of bitching about how educated people are entitled and snobby, he takes advantage of every opportunity around him. And this includes the education at Night Raven College! He even takes financial advantage of others if necessary! He doesn't mind working for others as long as he can get something out of it.

Now let's talk about Fellow Honest's unique magic. I'm not gonna lie, I do think that concept is pretty cool! However, let's take a look at how it's implemented in the event. Now this is where I get critical of this. Having an increased amount of optimism doesn't mean being dumbed down. I'm still confused on how none of the characters were at least a little bit skeptical when walking through the park. There were red flags all across the park, free food, surprise gifts, a whole ass outfit for free, and a freaking 10 minute roller coaster! It was clearly too good to be true, so I can't understand how nobody among the main cast doubted it even for a second?

Also the reasoning why a magic-sensitive creature like Lilia didn't sense his magic before is so bullshit. I'm sorry, they just needed a reason for him to not notice this in order to make this event work.

And then when the cast started talking about how great school was for them, and even offering him admission to Night Raven College... Sorry just a moment, I just need to...

He is a literal human trafficker, and they decided to sympathize with him because of his bad school past?! WHAT???

I'm not even taking the excuse that the main cast are based off villains. HOW CAN YOU JUSTIFY THAT AT ALL?!?!?! HOW???

We don't know how many people he has done this to. It's clear that this isn't the first time this amusement park has hosted customers. If this was merely his first attempt by means of survival then it might have been a different story, but he's experienced at this. There's a good chance that he has turned people into dolls before.

And then after a super prolonged chase scene and even more battles, we get to Kalim going full-on Steven Universe on Fellow Honest. Then his employer deducts his pay because of the damages in the park...and he finally had enough. He frees everyone, asks them to destroy the park, and now he's a good guy and he's gonna open a school!

...

Now I'm confused about this for a couple of reasons. So first of all, how did his opinion of schools completely do a complete 180 after talking with them for a few moments??? Change in a character doesn't occur this quickly, and we've seen this be the case with multiple characters in this game. Even if this was meant to be rushed for the sake of this being an event story, not even Rollo had a change in opinions after his event! So what was up with this?

The second reason is that Jack specifically stated in this event that his brother can't use magic but is still attending school. Magicless people DO get educated, and there's many pathways for them to choose from.

They aren't barren from society like Fellow Honest thinks they are. Take a look at the people in Epel's hometown and in Fleur city, they're pretty happy! I don't think the concept of schools for lower magic users/non-magic users is as revolutionary as they're making it out to be, and I feel like this is a super last-minute decision on the writers behalf.

Another thing is that...

Fellow Honest has NO REMORSE AT ALL for what he did.

He wanted to quit because he just didn't wanna work for the higher-ups anymore, not because he actually realized what he was doing was fucked up! Yeah sure, he might be focused on his new goal to open up a school. But is he just gonna ignore the fact that he fucking SOLD PEOPLE AS DOLLS? HUH? How am I supposed to wish him well on his newfound journey when this entire thing is just left unaddressed!

I'm also confused about another thing. Fellow Honest asked the cast to destroy the amusement park after he freed them, promising to turn the park boat around to Sage Island if they did so. This caused the boat to sink, and Ortho had to push the entire park back to shore.

They were able to get back to shore before any serious damage was done, so can anyone tell me why Fellow Honest and Gidel decided to ride off into the sunset WITH the park? It's literally sinking as they speak! So...huh? Where will they even sail to? It's pretty hard to not notice a huge ass amusement park sinking like this in the middle of the Sage Island, especially when it's right beside the port! What is going on?!

Who the hell even wrote this? I can't with this event man...

I know the lesson of this event is to realize the importance of going to school and being a good kid like in the movie. However...let's step back for a bit. The target audience for Twisted Wonderland is young adults and teenagers, and the fanbase DOES consist of these people. I don't think they need reminding of why education is a privilege...? Pinocchio was specifically made to scare little kids, so it just does not translate well to their target audience AT ALL. While I do love Twisted Wonderland, I really do feel like this is their worst event yet. I hate how almost all the characters were dumbed down to make this story work, and I don't care if it was because of Fellow Honest's unique magic. When it comes to sensitive topics, Twisted Wonderland is usually good at portraying them appropriately. So I really have no idea what happened with this event.

I think the company saw the positive reception with Rollo Flamme, and decided that this type of new character was something to be implemented yearly. Surprisingly, Fellow Honest and Gideon seem to have a large fanbase in Japan...so they probably took the popularity of these characters as their next material to work with. This could have worked out wonderfully if they were to treat this like its own story rather than a remake of the movie, but unfortunately that's not the path they decided to go with.

I have never felt this way about any other event, and the urge to write this critic was STRONG. I have no idea whether Yana wrote this, or if another employee just decided to pull some last-minute shit with this entire event. Regardless, I'm praying to god that this is merely a one-time occurrence and that the next event will be better. I think for the sake of my sanity, I need to pretend this event doesn't exist.

Thank you for reading my thoughts on this.

#twisted wonderland #stage in playful land #twst #twst wonderland #twst event #playful land event #I was really in denial at first but...#I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt for almost the entirety of this event #PLEASE tell me i'm not the only one who's thinking this #when the shock value from this event worn off #I was just like...what did I just watch?#when you step back and look at it...it's really not good #there were more points I would have added in this post but it was already super long and I was really close to the image limit!#thank you for reading #I would love to hear what you guys think of the event

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originalfatfiction · 28 days

Text

Mason's Gain

Mason Megalos had been my best friend for over a decade when everything fell apart. I still hadn’t gotten over how suddenly we went our separate ways. Like many sexually confused adolescents, I had fallen in love with my best friend. We were both boys, and I had come to realize my love for him was one of the worst things that could have ever happened. I heard how other guys talked. I knew that liking Mason wasn’t something I could act on.

We’d been about a month into our freshman year when I felt him slipping away from me. He had joined the football team and started hanging out with a bunch of his misogynistic, homophobic, and slightly racist teammates. Most people would say these guys were harmless, but I knew that the longer Mason hung around them, the more influence they’d have over his ideologies. He was being brainwashed! I had to win him back over from the dark side.

Mason wasn’t a hateful person, and I was determined to come out to him before it was too late. I trusted him more than anybody in the whole world; I genuinely believed with every fiber of my being that we’d be able to work through my teeny-tiny crush on him (okay, so maybe it wasn’t the teeniest or the tiniest, and I was a hundred percent head-over-heels in love with him, but I digress). I figured he’d reject me amiably and we could continue our friendship, but unforeseen circumstances had prohibited my confession indefinitely.

We’d been at my house. I had been avoiding coming out to him, as there was always something stopping me. The reasons were always stupid, like the fact there was an X-Men movie marathon coming on TV and we just had to watch it together. Like many high school aged boys, Mason sometimes referred to stuff as gay, in reference to things he considered stupid or slightly feminine. It had gotten way worse since he’d been hanging around his new friends. At one point he said it about some commercial on the TV. I felt that anxious feeling I often got, but this time I didn’t let it stop me.

“Mason, I’m gay,” I’d told him. I blurted it out, really. It wasn’t my finest moment; it wasn’t what I’d practiced a million times in the bathroom mirror.

He looked at me for a while, assessing me, and then he got up and left. With no words of encouragement or disapproval.

October 11, 2008 would forever be ingrained in my mind as the day Mason walked out of my life and never looked back. I’d really thought he was different. I’d really thought that I could tell him about my authentic self. I had never even got to mention the fact that I had a crush on him, which was probably for the best.

He hadn’t been the person I thought he was.

If losing Mason as a friend wasn’t bad enough, I was now still dealing with the repercussions of coming out. It had been three years since then.

Yes, three years of Mason’s new friend group taking every possible opportunity to terrorize me for being gay. They’d beat me up from time to time, throw slurs at me, or make homophobic jokes knowing there was nothing I could do or say to stop them. I didn’t want to make excuses for Mason, because the fact he had been such a terrible friend was inexcusable, but he never directly harassed me like his underlings; he just sort of had dominion over them, which was slightly less awful. Seriously, I think it was worth something that he never beat me up or said anything mean to me (at least not to my face). It was easier to handle his passive attitude in regard to my situation.

Those dumb jocks and future gas station attendants all looked to Mason for approval. He’d become their God—the coolest, the most handsome, the almighty. I bet if he stood up for me at least once, my days at school would go a lot smoother. I hated myself for it, but I just couldn’t let go of my idealized version of him. I told myself he didn’t mean what he did or said. I told myself that there was still good in him. Even though it killed me to hear him laugh when his friends called me a fag or a homo, I believed Mason didn’t really think I was disgusting.

I still thought he was attractive. It wasn’t like I was blind. We might not have been best friends anymore, but I lusted after him just the same as I had before. Mason had an olive complexion and it always seemed like he was glowing, like he was an angel or something. Mason’s parents were Greek, having moved to America before he was born. He had this curly brown hair that he took excellent care of now that he was older (when we were younger it was always messy). His eyes were green. His lips were full. He had the most beautiful smile. It was almost the most attractive thing about him.

The most attractive thing about Mason was his butt. He had the best ass I’d ever seen. It’s what I always looked at when I could take a clandestine glance. I had looked at his butt so frequently, I could probably pick it out of a police lineup.

“Yes Officer,” I’d say. “Butt number three is Mason’s. The sheer size of the cheeks makes it obvious, and the dimples on his lower back are also a dead giveaway.”

He was taller than me, and he definitely had to be over six feet by now. I was 5’9” and weighed only about 160 pounds. Mason on the other hand had really buffed up in our years distanced from one another; I would have to guess he was around 200 pounds. He’d been a pudgy kid, but when he joined the football team freshman year, they worked all of his extra weight into muscle. Seeing him change so much really stung, not having gotten the chance to change along with him.

I had to continuously remind myself that none of these things mattered anymore. He could be extraordinarily hot with the best ass in the entire country, but that didn’t change the fact that he hated me for something I couldn’t control. He abandoned a valuable friendship and allowed others to belittle me. My mom had told me growing up, in a somewhat blunt way I’d grown used to, “Not everybody is your friend. Sometimes people can surprise you in the worst ways possible.” I never, and I mean never, thought my mother’s pessimistic wisdom would apply to my relationship with Mason.

We were about two months into senior year, and today in English IV, the last class of the day, I noticed Mason talking to a troll named Bret Phelps. This guy was possibly the worst of the group. The others just called me names, having grown tired of wasting energy beating me up, but he felt compelled to hunt me down and physically assault me every other day. I made my way to my locker as quickly as I could and made a mad dash for my bike.

Today I was going to make it.

I was trying to be positive, which wasn’t always easy. It was a quality I admired in others, so I tried my best to emulate that positivity. I was determined to hold my head up high and to be optimistic. I knew things would one day get better, even if I had to put up with Mason’s posse until graduation.

Today I wasn’t going to get punched anywhere on my body.

I approached the bike rack quickly, wanting to make it off campus unscathed. The closer I got to where the bikes were housed, the more noticeable was the form of a guy leaning casually on an adjoining pillar.

It was Bret. Damn.

He had to have forgone stopping at his locker. He’d come directly here after the bell rang to wait for me. He must have really been in a sour mood if he wanted to catch me so badly.

I had to be strong. Even if I wanted to whine and cry and beg for him to leave me alone, I couldn’t. I refused to give him or any of his asshole friends the satisfaction of breaking me down. I was immune to this. I just had to accept my beating and he’d move on. At first, I fought hard every single time, but he’d still pummel me. That was when I came to realize that if I didn’t show emotion, he’d give me a swift punch in the gut and go about his day. I wasn’t going to give the sadist the pleasure he oh so desired. It wasn’t fun fighting someone who didn’t react.

“Hello Oliver,” he said, smiling. His front tooth was slightly chipped, and I hoped it was from someone punching him in the mouth. “You were like the first one out of class. I hope you didn’t think you were going to miss me today.” He was shorter than Mason but taller than I was. He was a stocky guy, and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d be willing to admit that he was almost-maybe-possibly attractive.

“Hey Bret,” I said in an even tone, keeping my head down, not making eye contact. “I really have to get going.”

“This isn’t going to take long.”

He walked towards me. I closed my eyes and tensed my ab muscles waiting for him to sock me in the stomach.

“I’ll handle him today.”

It was Mason’s voice. I opened my eyes slowly, letting out a deep breath and relaxing my abs. Was he going to start beating me up too? I didn’t think I could handle it if he decided he was so disgusted by me that he had to resort to physical violence.

“Yeah, okay Mason,” Bret said, reverting to his beta-male status. “You’ve got to make sure you get him in the gut, just like he likes it.” With that, Bret walked off, glad to be told what to do—but not before punching me in the arm as hard as he could.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my arm as I made my way over to my bike. I kneeled down and began putting in the combo for my bike lock.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, like he’d done me the biggest favor.

I looked up at him from the ground, and he looked like a giant. I felt really nostalgic looking up at him. Mason used to fight people for saying that I was gay. He used to defend my honor like I was a high society lady in a Victorian romance novel. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was a regular human being who made stupid human being decisions. I had to stop romanticizing the present with memories of the past.

I stayed silent. I didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. Why was he still standing there? I wanted him to leave so I wouldn’t have to feel so on edge.

“You want a ride home?” he asked.

Was he being for real? He only ever talked to me in class, and that was if it was mandated by the teacher. Now he was offering me a ride home? I wanted to say something biting and sarcastic, but nothing good would come from it. That wasn’t who I was or who I wanted to be. I did my best to push through the bitter feelings.

“No,” I said, my voice flatter than I meant it to be. I didn’t want to sound upset or anything, but I was struggling to temper out my emotions. “I have my bike.”

This was the first time in a long time I was alone with him. It made me think of that day in October three years ago when everything changed. I hated how this was forcing me to recollect our final moments together as best friends.

“We can put it in the back,” he said matter-of-factly. I knew he was talking about his Jeep, but I still pictured his ass.

I was silent again, and he just smiled at me, like he knew I was going to accept his offer. This was how things had been in elementary school, middle school. He’d always been able to charm me into doing whatever he wanted. Even now as he began to saunter off, expecting me to follow, I couldn’t stop myself from bending to his will.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the student parking lot.

“Yeah okay, sure,” I mumbled, internally berating myself for being so easily swayed by him.

I followed him over to his Jeep. It was an older model, some of the burgundy paint peeling off. The inside smelled like he did; I took multiple deep breaths. He still remembered how to get to my house. The trip was for the most part silent, which gave me time to run scenarios, and they all ended badly, with some terrible prank that would awaken my latent telekinetic powers akin to my homegirl Carrie White.

“Casa de Bailey.”

I felt myself jump slightly, having been lost in my Stephen King fantasies.

“Thanks,” I said, hopping out of the passenger’s side.

I put my bag on and walked towards the rear of the Jeep. I didn’t think he’d get out of the car, but he met me at the back and removed my bike for me. As he set it down on the pavement, I took in how strong his arms looked and how the sleeves of his t-shirt were being eaten by their size. He had biceps. He had triceps. If there were any other muscles in the upper arm, he had those too.

“Can I ask you something?” What could he want to ask me? He’d probably request that I transfer schools so he wouldn’t have to look at his loser ex-best friend anymore.

“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, not knowing where this was going and not really wanting to find out. “You can come inside.” I started around back to put away my bike; he followed. I put my bike in the garage and unlocked the back door. I walked up the three steps into the kitchen and offered him something to drink.

“Milk, if you have it.” I poured him a large glass and he began to gulp it down. He was so white, drinking milk like it was actually good. I used to give him such a hard time about it. “Thanks,” he said, wiping away a milk mustache with his forearm.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” I was curious, seeing as we hadn’t really spoken in years.

“Oh yeah,” he said. I took in his thick eyebrows, which were furrowed in seriousness. I wanted to stroke his brows with my fingers, to feel his face in my hands. I bet his skin was soft. He frowned and it made me a little worried.

“What?” I asked. “You’re okay, aren’t you?” I still cared about him and his well-being. Maybe it was idiotic of me to still be so devoted to a person that ignored my sufferings, and maybe I should have ignored Mason in return, but my gut instinct was to be concerned.

“Here’s the thing,” he started, “I’m kind of failing English and I was wondering if you could help me out. Bret and the other guys are barely passing, and you’re so smart, I figured you’d be the best person to tutor me.” He paused for a moment, glancing at me. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“That I’m helping you or that you’re failing English?” I asked, to clarify.

“Both,” he blurted out quickly.

We stood in an awkward silence. I felt my face go hot and was slightly embarrassed. He didn’t want people to know he was even interacting with me. It was kind of degrading, and I needed to have some self-worth and tell him that I had more value than that. That was what I should’ve done, but I was weak, and he was hot.

“Okay,” I said like a dope. I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks dude,” he said, a sound of relief in his voice. “You good to meet here after school?”

“Yeah, like what, Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Nah, every day. At least until I get my grade up. My parents lost their shit when they got my progress report.” Every day? That was going to take up a lot of time, and I may not have had much else to do, but I couldn’t believe he just imposed his own tutoring schedule on me.

“Yeah,” I said, even more like a dope. “No problem.”

“Well, I have to go,” he said suddenly. I turned to get the milk, ready to offer him another glass of moo juice, but he was gone out of the back door before I could get the words out.

“See you later,” I said aloud to myself, putting the milk back in the fridge.

If I put my self-respect and righteous anger aside, this was fantastic. I’d get to talk to Mason every day. I’d get to look at his gorgeous face and body every day. I’d get to imagine, even though it was ridiculous, that we were still best friends. He had come to me for help. That just proved that there was still a connection between us. Maybe, in his own odd way, Mason was trying to rekindle our friendship.

I had noticed in the previous weeks that he looked bigger than usual. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but being able to look at him without having to avert my eyes confirmed it.

He was growing.

I’d heard he quit the football team. Everyone had heard he’d quit the team. It was the hottest gossip for the entire first month of school. I knew he still exercised, having heard him mention to Bret he worked out with his uncle every night, trying to get into powerlifting. I didn’t know what that entailed, but it sure sounded like something I wanted to see. I was getting an erection just thinking about Mason possibly getting a bit of a belly to go along with the sheer size he was already putting on.

I realized I’d been keeping tabs on him without really meaning to. If his name was brought up, I listened. I was still invested in his life, and this new arrangement was going to potentially put me in a dangerous situation.

The fact he’d be coming over again tomorrow got me feeling nervous. I didn’t want things to feel awkward. I wanted to do something nice for him to show I wasn’t holding a grudge or anything (even if I was still a little pissed at him). All hadn’t been forgiven, but maybe this was the start to an important conversation.

I decided to go shopping for some snacks. He’d always been a big eater, and he’d probably need some brain food if we were to be studying. He liked potato chips and submarine sandwiches.

(“You gotta really pack on the ingredients,” he’d told me when we were younger. “I’m talking about a ridiculous amount of meat and cheese. Oil, mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes.”

I stared in astonishment at the monstrous sandwich he had constructed. It looked big enough to feed three people. This was a sandwich Scooby and Shaggy would excitedly devour.

“You really think you can eat all of that?” I asked.

“You don’t think I can Oli?” he asked, smirking.

“I think you can. You can do anything!”

“That’s right,” he said. “You wanna watch demolish this thing?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling oddly attracted to him in that moment. It was a moment that definitely raised a red flag for me. Why had I been so invested in his display of gluttony?

He finished that entire sub and a bag of family sized chips. His dad came home after a long day of work looking for the ingredients to make himself a sandwich. “Where’s the deli meat?” Mr. Megalos asked in his Greek accent.

“I ate it all, Dad,” Mason replied, not even embarrassed. Mr. Megalos playfully smacked Mason on the back of the head before sending us to the store to buy some more turkey breast. Mason used the change to buy us a package of oatmeal cream pies. Before I even got the chance to have a second one, he’d eaten the rest of them on our walk home.

I was glad that he did.)

The next day at school I really wanted to talk to Mason, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I waited the day out and went to get my bike. Mason, not Bret, was leaning on the pillar near the bike rack.

“Hello,” I said, a little bit uneasy. He probably didn’t want my help anymore. He probably realized he could find someone else to tutor him.

“What’s up, Oli?” he asked, smiling like everything was normal between us. Nobody called me Oli anymore. Just hearing him say my name with a smile on his face was enough to give me the vapors. I felt like flinging myself into his muscled arms, swooning.

“Nothing much.” I smiled back at him nervously. “I’m still meeting you at my house, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He looked at me seriously. My heart must have skipped a beat. “I told Bret to back off. If he fucks with you again, just let me know. Got it?”

“Ye—yeah,” I stammered. “Thanks a lot.” He was so hot when he was serious. He furrowed his brow in a way that made him look slightly angry. I bet he’d make a similar face while having sex.

“See you soon,” he said, swaggering off towards where his car was parked. I took in his wide back and beefy behind. He didn’t even carry a bookbag; he just had a folder, a couple of notebooks, and the novel we were reading in class. This was probably why he was failing.

I unlocked my bike, mounted it, and rode off towards home. Relief swept over me at the thought of being Bret-free. I continued to pedal and felt myself come alive. I loved riding my bike; I was pretty fit because of it, with muscular thighs and a firm, round ass. My ass was definitely a first runner up to Mason’s glorious cakes. It was nearing the end of October and when it started to snow, I would have to swap my tires for better traction. I thought about Mason on the ride home and what I wanted to do to him. I hated wanting him so badly, but I loved it at the same time. Crushes were so weird that way. It was starting to consume me, yet I didn’t really mind it.

He was sitting on the front steps when I got there.

“Oli,” he said, standing to meet me at the path to the backyard. He had his hand in his shirt, scratching his tummy. He moved his hand away. “Why don’t you have a car?” His voice was getting to me. I missed hearing his voice more than I realized.

“I can’t afford a nice Jeep like you,” I said a little sarcastically. He laughed, catching my slight insult to the Jeep that had once belonged to Mr. Megalos. It was given to Mason for his birthday last year. I remembered Mr. Megalos driving us to elementary school in that thing, so to see Mason driving it now was kind of funny. “You know it’s just me and my mom.”

“You could get a job,” he suggested. “There are lots of cheap cars. I’d help you look for one.” Mason had always liked cars and that sort of thing. His dad and Uncle Galvin owned an auto shop that Mason helped out in. Galvin was the same uncle he’d been working out with.

“I live like eight blocks from the school and I never go anywhere,” I said, feeling more at ease the longer we were around one another. “But if I ever do start looking for a car, I’d hope the offer would still stand.”

“Of course,” he said. “Consider it payment for your services.” I had put my bike away during our conversation. I opened the back door, and we went inside.

“You can go up to my room,” I said. He knew the way.

I walked over to the fridge and looked at the array of supplies I’d picked up yesterday. I’d gone overboard for sure, but I removed the ingredients and placed them on the counter. I bought provolone cheese, turkey breast, and honey roasted ham. I’d even gone so far as to buy hoagie rolls and herb-seasoned submarine oil. I stuffed those hoagie rolls full of meat and cheese and veggies, just like I knew he liked his sandwiches—at least I knew he liked them this way years ago. I cut them in half and placed them on a plate, pouring some original flavored Ruffles in a bowl. I also put half a sleeve of Oreos on a separate plate and poured two glasses of milk.

I carried the tray carefully as I made my way up the stairs to my room. Entering, I saw he was sitting at my desk, holding a photo of us at the beach when we were in the seventh grade. I walked over to him and set the tray down next to him on my desk.

“You still have this?” he asked, smiling. I looked over at the picture in his hand. His arm was around my shoulder and we both smiled wide at the camera. He had always been taller than I was, and this was before he lost his baby fat.

“Yeah,” I said shakily. I felt lame all of a sudden, still holding on to something he probably considered a piece of junk. “Could you please put it down?”

The frame was even more special than the photograph; Mason had made it for me, painting the phrase “Best Buds” in big, sloppy letters on the bottom, seashells and starfish glued all around the rest of the frame. He had burned his fingers so badly using the hot glue gun he wore bandages for a week. I remember how proud he was of his craftsmanship.

“Sorry,” he said, laughing. He carefully put the picture frame back in its place before picking up a cookie, popping the whole thing in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you all tense.”

“I’m not tense,” I said, sounding incredibly tense. He chewed, smirking slightly. I needed to get a grip. I was going to ruin everything if I didn’t chill out. I took a deep breath. “I thought a small snack would help you focus better.”

“This is a small snack?” he asked.

“I just—I remembered you had a big appetite.”

“You remembered right,” he said, reaching for one of the sandwich halves and taking a colossal bite. I felt even more embarrassed. Did he remember anything about me? Did he ever think about me at all?

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“You know Oli,” he started, his mouth half full. “I never stopped eating big, but I’ve definitely kicked it into overdrive since quitting football. If I don’t slow down, I’m gonna get fat again like in that photo.” His free hand absent-mindedly rubbed his stomach. It was like he was toying with me. He took another large bite of the sandwich. “I already eat like garbage, but I started a bulking cycle recently, really pushing myself to put on some mass. I think I’ve already put on ten pounds.” Ten pounds was kind of a lot, seeing as he had quit the football team only a little over a month ago.

“You—you carry the weight well,” I said, aroused. “You don’t look fat to me.” He had finished his first half and grabbed another.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, grabbing his slightly protruding paunch and shaking the small bit of belly he was sporting. “I eat way too much Oli.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” I said, trying not to discourage a habit I wanted him to continue.

“Get this, I ordered two large pizzas from Domino’s the other weekend and finished both of them. It was one of those deals where you save a ton of money if you get the two larges. I’m a sucker for deals like that.”

“Who isn’t?” I asked, watching him alternate between bites of the sandwich and the potato chips.

“When I got to the last slice, I was pissed. I wasn’t even full.”

“Wow Mason,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “When you put it like that, it does sound like a lot.”

“I was lucky my mom had made two trays of pastitsio the night before.” He lifted his shirt and showed me his belly, feeling the need to prove to me that he was indeed packing on the pounds. He was kind of hairy, and I liked it. He grabbed at his tummy with his strong hands, shaking it again, uncovered. I just wanted to feel his stomach in my own hands. I needed to know what it felt like. “This gut is brought to you by pastitsio, pizza, and protein shakes.”

He left his shirt up as he reached for another portion of the sandwich. I watched from my bed with my legs closed tight, as he bit, chewed, and swallowed, repeating the process until he moved on to the next serving. His large hands made those hefty sandwiches look like dainty finger food at a garden party. He pulled at his t-shirt, covering himself.

“You don’t wanna see that,” he said, laughing, his cheeks reddening slightly. He grabbed a handful of the salty chips and shoved them into his mouth. I imagined his hands grabbing a handful of my ass.

I didn’t know how I was going to be able to get through these tutoring sessions. He was pornographic. I was rock hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I was hoping I’d soften up enough before I had to stand. He kept going and going until he was chugging the glasses of milk. Only a couple of cookies remained on the plate.

“How—uh, how much do you weigh?” I asked.

“I don’t really know. You got a scale?”

“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom,” I said, affirming that I had one.

“Let’s do this,” he said, standing. I wiggled a little before getting up, making sure to minimize the obviousness of the boner in my pants. When I was out of sight, I took the time to tuck my penis into the waistband of my underwear, so it was angled upwards, and the front of my pants was flat. I brought the scale from my bathroom, praying he hadn’t noticed I was still semi-erect.

“How much did you weigh?” I asked.

“207 pounds at the pre-season weigh-in back in August,” he said, walking towards where I placed the scale in the middle of my bedroom. I sat on my knees near where the number would be displayed. He stepped on the scale and I glanced at the reading. “What’s the damage?” he asked, standing perfectly still.

“Well, um—that’s something.”

“How much?”

“Maybe this thing is busted, but it says you weigh 226 pounds.” My dick throbbed as I said it. What was so hot about Mason putting on weight like this? It wasn’t just muscle that turned me on, but also fat. I hoped his bulking cycle never ended.

“Shit,” he said, his tone surprised yet slightly satisfied. “I’m gonna be huge if I don’t start slowing down with all this eating.” I swallowed, hard.

I couldn’t help him study today. I’d get better at putting up with his natural eroticism, but today couldn’t be helped. He needed to leave before I came in my pants. I could feel pre-cum starting to coat the lower half of my stomach.

“I’m not feeling good all of a sudden,” I said. Mason stepped off of the scale. I couldn’t think straight, and I was for sure too turned on to focus.

“Really, why?” he asked.

“Like I just got a headache out of nowhere.” I was going to cum any second. It’d take me five strokes tops with how I was feeling, but I knew I’d want to go again immediately.

“Oh shit,” he said, picking up his stack of materials. “You gonna be okay?”

“I probably just need to take some Tylenol and get a nap in before it gets too late.”

“Okay.” He grabbed the rest of the Oreos. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Did I mind? Of course I didn’t mind. I was apparently some sort of freak who wanted him eating constantly. “No, go ahead,” I said. He smiled at me appreciatively before popping one of the cookies in his mouth. I walked him to the door, and we said our goodbyes.

I ran back upstairs and got undressed. I stepped onto the scale, which was still in the middle of my bedroom floor. I weighed myself: 159 pounds.

Mason was 67 pounds bigger than I was. I ran my hand over the shaft of my penis. I gave it one pump, two pumps. Fuck, I was picturing his gut in his hands. Three pumps, Four pumps. He had eaten everything on that tray. I pictured Mason getting bigger and beefier. That’s what did it; I came in thick spurts all over myself.

Tomorrow was going to be tough.

It didn’t get any easier controlling my sexual compulsions when Mason came by for tutoring. It had been two weeks since he first asked for my assistance, and I helped him with his papers and worksheets. We also spent time reading. He was so damn cute. He’d whisper things to himself about what was happening in whatever he was annotating. I had heard him say “no way” or “what” at least once per chapter.

I thought this stuff was all really easy, and I was shocked at how he let his grade fall so low in less than two months of school. He must not have done any type of work for this class until now. I considered the fact that he had a social life and lots of friends to distract him from school. I, on the other hand, spent my free time making flashcards and watching reruns of Chopped and Good Eats. Mason had always been the largest component of my social life, so when he went away, so did any potential high school social plans.

Each study visit I always had a tray with different types of snacks. I kept in mind that Mason was a big eater, and the portions remained hearty and plentiful. It was a Friday study session with an essay due on Monday.

“I’m just going to have to come back tomorrow, maybe even Sunday.” He laughed. “I’m totally hopeless.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, being stereotypically positive. “I think you’re doing great. Did you ask Mr. Gonzalez what your grade was?” He asked every Friday.

“D-plus,” he said with his typical furrowed brow. He sighed and began tossing books into his bag (which I told him he needed to start carrying). I stood silent for a moment, contemplating what I should say. “If he wasn’t such a dick and took late work, I wouldn’t have to stress so hard over this.” I wanted to make him feel like the work he was doing was valuable. I saw that he was improving; I just wished he could see it too.

“You’ve got to think about it like you’re lifting weights, you know? You could barely lift anything at the start, but with hard work and dedication you can lift things you never thought possible. You had a thirty percent two weeks ago, and you’re telling me you’ve been able to get that up over a sixty-five? Just imagine where you’ll be in just one more week, a month from now, even. You’ll have the buffest, strongest grade ever.”

“You think so?” he mused. He sat silently for a moment as he pondered what I had just said. He smiled. “I guess you’re right. Thanks Oliver.”

He lifted his hulking frame out of my desk chair and strode over to where I stood. He wrapped me in his beefy arms and gave me a bear hug. I could feel my entire body tingle in pleasure as I felt Mason for the first time in forever. I didn’t dare ruin it by trying to hug him back. My hands at my side, I could feel his warmth, I could smell the chips he ate and the aftershave he wore. They mixed together in a scent that was uniquely Mason. His arms were so solid, as was his slight gut. It was so brief, but it made me the happiest guy in the world. “You have always been the smartest person I know.”

“Thanks—thanks a lot.” He let me go and grabbed his bag. “Do you think you might want something more substantial to eat tomorrow or just a snack? I could definitely make you a meal if you wanted.”

I was doing way too much. The snacks were one thing, completely hospitable, but now I was offering to make him dinner? Did Bret do things like this for him? His other football friends? I was not being very hetero.

“Really?” he asked, shockingly excited. “Do you remember in sixth grade when you wanted to be a chef?” I spent that entire year working through a kid-friendly cookbook. I even started going off-script, coming up with some of my own recipes (though they were just derivative of other things I’d learned from the cookbook). I doubted Mason knew he was the reason I wanted to learn how to cook.

“Yeah,” I said. “I cooked a different recipe every day for like nine months. You ate dinner at our house every other day before eating the dinner your mom made.” He laughed at the memory.

“I gained like twenty pounds during that,” he started, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. You’re the reason I was able to grow up big and strong.” He rubbed his gut absent-mindedly. He was always doing that, and it drove me damn near insane.

“Stop playing,” I said, laughing.

“I’m serious!” he said. We began walking down the stairs towards the front door. We continued planning for the following evening of studying. “I want that chicken and cheese thing you made. Now that was delicious.”

“I could do that.”

“How’s seven for you?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my dad in the shop for a bit and then I’m gonna go lift with Uncle Galvin.”

“That works for me,” I said. “Sounds like you’ll be hungry.”

“Hell yeah,” he replied enthusiastically. “Night Oli.”

“Goodnight Mason,” I said, closing the door behind him.

What was my life? Just like every night after he left, I had to take some time to masturbate. When I finished, I saw it was almost ten. My mom would be back soon. I’d watch whatever was on the Food Network and think about seeing Mason again until she got home.

As happy as I was, I couldn’t help serving myself a much-needed reality check. I wanted to believe that things were going great. We were spending lots of time together and vibing really well. He actually remembered the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. But we still didn’t speak to one another at school. It was like our relationship existed solely in my bedroom. How well could things be going for me if I was just the gay nerd who overfed him and made sure he didn’t fail English?

I woke up around six the next morning. I was definitely an early bird, getting that worm and whatnot. I took a quick shower and styled my hair. It was thick and black. I used a coconut oil cream to make it curl. It was kind of short, only about three or four inches long, but I thought it looked pretty decent. I had brown eyes and brown skin. My complexion was the color of a caramel hard candy. Both of my parents were black. My dad’s parents were from the South. My mom’s mother was from Jamaica and her dad was from Philadelphia.

I grabbed the basket for my bike and sent my mom a text. She wouldn’t be up until around eleven, and even after that she’d be out of the house running errands before work. I was going to the store for the ingredients in my dish.

It wasn’t that long of a bike ride to the grocery store, and I’d been making the trip more frequently since I decided Mason needed to be catered to with each visit. I shopped for a while, budgeting things out, and choosing other side dishes. I got everything on my list and remembered I wanted to pick up some ice cream for after dinner. I was going to get a pint of Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion. It used to be Mason’s favorite flavor, and I was willing to bet he still loved it.

I turned back and made my way to the frozen food section. It was near where they kept the eggs and milk and cheese. I noticed Bret with some serious bed head grabbing a gallon of 2%. I snatched the ice cream from the freezer and ran for the checkout, praying he hadn’t seen me. I wanted to hurry the cashier along, but she was a kind older woman who had always been nice to me.

“You sure do grocery shop a lot,” she said, laughing. “You’re such a little thing, but you eat so much. But that’s how young men are. Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”

I conversed with her, trying my best not to appear rude, but I really didn’t need to encounter Bret on the weekend. I paid for my stuff and left the store. I went and unlocked my bike, setting it upright so I could put the groceries in the basket.

Before I could take off, I felt someone grab the hood of my hoodie. I fell backwards, my bike falling to the ground. The food rolled out onto the sidewalk.

I looked up from the pavement at Bret smirking down at me. He had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a Jackson High football sweatshirt. I normally would have just taken whatever beating he had for me, but I was fed up. Today was supposed to be a good day. I was going to make Mason his food and he’d compliment me, and I could live in my delusions for just a little while longer.

I got to my knees before standing straight up. I pushed him as hard as I could, and he stumbled back slightly. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I shouted, kind of embarrassed by how high my voice got.

“Oh, it’s on, you fag,” Bret spat at me. He set the jug of milk he’d been carrying on the sidewalk. “I’m sick of looking at you and your pink fag bike.”

“My bike is red,” I shouted. I didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea what I should do next. We looked at one another intensely.

“Red,” he said as he drew me closer to his body, yanking on my hoodie. “Or pink,” he continued. Punch in the stomach. “You’re still a fucking homo.” Punch. Punch in the mouth. Punch. Punch in the nose. Punch in the cheekbone. Punch. Another punch in the gut. I was panting as he threw me to the ground. I thought I was going to barf.

“Fuck—you—,” I managed to get out, catching my breath. I had gotten used to my one punch in the stomach a day. This was taking me back to sophomore year when our altercations left me with a new bruise every day. He didn’t seem phased by what I said, just continuing to smirk at me.

“I sure am glad I drank the last of the milk now.” He laughed, stooping to grab his milk, and walked over to his Dodge Charger.

I gathered the scattered items and checked to make sure they were all okay. They were. I put everything back in the basket. I took a few deep breaths before mounting my bike. I rode home and took another shower.

I didn’t want to dwell on the experiences of the morning. I put on some music and spent the rest of the time before I had to start cooking doing laundry and other chores around the house. One beating didn’t mean the world had to stop moving. This was nothing new.

I started cooking around five-thirty, so it would be ready when Mason got here. About five minutes after seven the doorbell rang.

“Hey Mason,” I said, happy to see him. I smiled a little too wide and felt my lip begin to bleed again. It was only a little. I licked the blood away.

“What the fuck Oli?”

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” I got beat up all the time. This really was not a big deal. After high school I would never have to deal with this sort of thing ever again.

“You look like shit,” he said angrily. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“You’ve seen me like this before. It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” he said, eyebrows furious. “Who was it? Who did this? I swear to God if you say Bret after I told him not to touch you anymore.”

“It’s fine, really.” I didn’t want to make this into a whole thing. I had spent the entire day trying to forget about it so that we could have a good time eating and studying together. I wanted him to just leave it alone. I wanted him to stop pretending like he actually cared about what happened. I’d been getting my ass kicked for over three years and he’d never so much as batted an eye.

“Oliver,” he pushed.

“The food is going to get cold, so let’s just go and eat.” I walked away from the front door towards the kitchen, hoping he’d follow. That was when he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him. We stood there for a moment. His strong, masculine hands held my upper arms firmly. He looked at my bruised cheek, my busted lip. He brought his mouth to my forehead and kissed it softly. It felt like we were standing there for hours but it couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds. “Mason—.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said.

He let go of my arms and hesitated a moment before running out to his Jeep and driving off. Had he really just kissed me? I couldn’t believe it. I was pretty sure there was lip to forehead action.

After that Mason never called or texted me, and he didn’t show up to school on Monday. I managed to avoid Bret after school and decided to take Mason his homework. He really hadn’t missed all that much, but I really wanted to see what that kiss was about. I also wondered if he worked on the essay for English class at all. I hadn’t been busting my ass for him to start failing again. It was a longer bike ride, but I made it to his place in about twenty minutes. I rang the doorbell and Mason’s kid sister Agatha answered the door.

“Oliver! Oliver! Oh my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down before reaching out for a hug.

“Hey Aggy,” I replied, embracing her. She was thirteen now. I was eighteen, my birthday at the end of September, but Mason was nineteen. His birthday was in July. It was a secret I swore to take to the grave. It was the reason why he never invited classmates to his birthday parties growing up. When he told me about why, it was like something out of a Roald Dahl novel. It was like he was Matilda or something. Mr. and Mrs. Megalos had been remarkably busy helping members of their family immigrate, starting their auto repair business, and welcoming Aggy into the world. They straight up forgot to register him for school. They waited so long that the district said he’d have to wait for the following school year. Mason never told anyone how old he was. He didn’t want people to think he failed a grade. He also didn’t want people to think he had bad parents.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll have to catch up soon, but is Mason home?”

“He’s sick,” she said with a pair of air quotes. “I know he’s lying. Sick people don’t eat as much as he does. You can go upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

I made my way upstairs, shocked by how little had changed in their house in three years. I stood outside Mason’s door, nervous about having to discuss what happened on Saturday. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? What if he wanted to pretend it never happened at all? It was now or never. I opened the door to his room. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts I’d forgotten to knock. I shouldn’t have been so careless.

“Ah!” Mason yelped, looking over at me in his doorway.

He was naked, but that wasn’t the most outrageous part. There were a ton of reasons why he could be naked and alone in his room. This was his house after all. But he knelt at the side of his bed, dick in hand and a sex toy in his ass. It was definitely the hottest thing I’d ever seen in person, but still a major shock. His ass was just made to take phallic objects. There was so much of him to take in, from the powerful arms to the beefy ass to the bloated gut. I was frozen, staring at his dick and then the sex toy he’d removed from his asshole. He tossed it in a shoe box and shoved it under his bed.

“Oliver, close the door!” he said hurriedly. I turned around and closed the door quickly. He probably wanted me on the other side of it. “I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”

“Mason, look, I’m really, uh—really sorry,” I said, turning back around and staring at him as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. All I could think about was how big his butt was. He probably did a ton of squats. His legs were hairy, as were his forearms and chest. I could tell his sessions in the gym were paying off, seeing as everything about him was getting absolutely massive. But man, his gut had really grown. He was getting fat. Fatter than when he showed me his belly the first time. He must have been eating constantly. The after-school snacks I prepared for him couldn’t have been pumping him up this much. I knew he said he was bulking, but did he mean to be getting so large?

“I brought your homework,” I said. My voice was shaking. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should probably go.” What was going on? He was into butt stuff? Was he gay? I’d heard that some straight guys were into anal. They’d have their wives and girlfriends peg them with strap-ons. I couldn’t process this right now with him in front of me. I turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called. “Can I have the work?” How was he so calm? I took off my bag and pulled out the folder where I’d put all the materials he’d need. I stood there, folder in hand, unable to walk towards him. He walked over to me, his dick still semi-erect bobbing freely in the basketball shorts. His thighs were like tree trunks. His chest was broad, and his nipples were slightly bigger than I’d seen on other guys, kind of puffy. Overall, he was looking much fleshier. I needed to focus.

“Sorry,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I handed him the folder with the assignments. He reached out to grab them and I took in his mammoth forearms. Mason was a man. He wasn’t my chubby best friend from elementary school anymore. “I didn’t come in on purpose. I swear.”

He had kissed me on Saturday. I remembered my real reason for coming over. I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up now. I had to let it go. He was just some conflicted straight boy who’d put this and any other gay feelings behind him. He’d marry some girl, have some kids, and she’d peg him well into old age. Me and this whole situation would become a distant memory.

He moved closer to me.

I moved back slightly.

He moved closer to me again.

“Mason, what’re—?” I didn’t know why I came here. I should have just ignored it. He dropped the folder on the ground and pulled me closer to himself.

“I haven’t been honest with myself,” he whispered, looking at me seriously. “Or with you.” I swallowed. He kissed me—on the lips this time. I felt them for the first time on my own lips. This was authentic lip to lip action. I wanted to grab his ass. I wanted to touch his belly. I wanted everything with Mason, but something was stopping me. He pulled away and looked at me again. “I think—I think that I’ve always wanted this.”

He was waiting on me to say something, and I could tell he started to worry. As much as my body ached for him, my mind was conflicted.

“I should go,” I whispered softly, afraid of how’d he’d react to this rejection. It was clear I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. He just took a step back, his lower lip trembling like he was about to cry. I was an idiot. I left his room, closing his door behind me. I was moving pretty quickly now, needing to put as much distance between us as possible so I could clear my head.

“Later Aggy!” I called, opening their front door. I was on my bike and out on the street in a matter of seconds. I pedaled hard, so hard I could feel the burn in my legs.

I made my way home and into my room. I wouldn’t be able to think with the erection I had. I was rock hard the entire bike ride home. I had always been an avid masturbator, but recently it had gotten out of hand.

When I finished, I tried to make sense of the situation. It wasn’t as simple as Mason and I being able to fool around. Where were things going to go now? Would he come out? Would he want to date me? If Mason just wanted to experiment with me, I couldn’t do it, even if part of me wanted to be used by him. I’d spent the last three years allowing myself to be mistreated, and I was not ready to swap one form of degradation for another.

I finished my homework in a daze, not too sure of what I actually completed. I went to bed feeling absolutely miserable.

The next day, I avoided Mason like the plague. I felt wrong, like he really had been sick, and he was making a huge mistake. I went the whole day avoiding him. I didn’t even look in his direction, so I had no idea if he was looking in mine. After school I made my way to my bike. I had to get home. I just needed to be alone to think some more. I set down my bag and started to put in the combo for my bike lock.

I fell forward.

Someone had kicked me in the back as I was kneeling. I turned and saw that it was Bret. Of course it was Bret. He wasn’t alone today. Standing slightly behind him were these other football guys named Bill and Zeke. I wished my eyes were deceiving me, but Mason was there too, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I tried to finish unlocking my bike, but Bret kicked me again and I fell forward once more. I looked up at Mason, the giant I had idealized for so long. He looked away. Bret said something obscene, but I was too intensely focused on Mason to catch exactly what was said. Our eyes met and we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

I hated Mason.

I stood up after finally getting my bike unlocked. I mounted it and tried to ride off. I was stopped and pushed over. I wondered why no teachers or staff members tried to intervene. There had to be at least one nearby. I had ripped my jeans when I hit the pavement. I tried to get up. They were all calling me names and laughing. Mason stood silent, their all-powerful leader.

I tried to ride off again and this time I got away. I was crying, but I was too far away from them to see me. I felt like I was nothing, an empty shell peddling home. Mason was—I didn’t know what he was. I didn’t know who he was anymore. We had gone down two completely different paths, and I had thought they were meeting back up. It was stupid of me to believe that. Our paths were only going to continue diverging.

I went around back and put my bike away before going inside to think about Mason some more. The way he looked away when I needed him had me seething. I pulled off my sneakers and the ripped pair of jeans. I hadn’t cut my knee at all, so that was something to be happy about. The doorbell rang. I sat on the sofa hoping they would go away. The bell kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

They weren’t going away. I was reaching my boiling point. I just needed to be alone, at least for an hour or so. I ran to the door and pulled it open aggressively.

“Can I help you—?” I asked, before registering who had been ringing the doorbell.

“Hey.” It was Mason. “Can I talk to you, please?” He looked down at my legs. I was in nothing but a t-shirt and pair of black briefs. I didn’t even care. I was still livid.

“What?” I asked harshly. “Did you come to beat me up too? I could have sworn you made the first move yesterday. But if you find it appropriate to pin all faggish activity on me I’m willing to carry the burden.”

“I’m so sorry, Oli.” I felt myself weaken. No. I needed to remain strong. His eyebrows were furrowed; his eyes were sad. Those sad, green eyes had gotten their way numerous times when we were younger.

“Okay, I accept your apology.” I began to close the door. “Goodbye.”

“Wait!” he called, using his weight to keep the door open. “I’m not finished. Can I come in?”

“No,” I said, trying my best to stand my ground. “I hope you fail English. I hope I never have to look at your stupid face ever again.”

“Oli,” he pleaded. He looked at me again with those sorrowful eyes. I hesitated for a moment, but then I moved out of the way so he could enter the house. He brought his beefy frame through the door.

“I’ve got to know,” he started, blushing. “Why did you run out yesterday?”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, when I was, you know—uh masturbating.” I stood silent, unsure of what to say or what he wanted to hear. I really wasn’t too sure what his angle was anymore. Did that incident mean something to him or not? “Is it because you don’t like how I look? I know I’ve gained some weight. I’m just trying to get some more size, and I’ll lose the extra padding eventually. I’ll start losing it right now if that’s what it takes for you to be attracted to me.”

“Your appearance has absolutely nothing to do with why I left yesterday,” I said honestly. He really thought that was the only reason I left? Had he not considered the entire situation? The last three years of our lives?

“It doesn’t?” he asked, taken aback. “Well, I’m not sure but I think I might be—you know, gay. And—and I have all these feelings for you. Hanging out with you again has only helped me confirm what I knew all along. I missed my best friend, Oliver.”

“Mason—,” I started before he cut me off.

“I’m probably not even your type. That’s so fucking pretentious of me to assume you even think I’m attractive.”

“Mason, listen,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I always believed you didn’t mean to hurt me. I held out hope that we could at least one day be friends again. But the thing that happened Saturday, and then walking in on you yesterday. It just made me angry.”

He was still looking at me seriously, taking in everything I was saying, really trying to hear me out.

“Angry that you felt you couldn’t have talked to me sooner. Angry that you thought we could just sort of hook up? I don’t really know what you thought, but it doesn’t feel like you even tried to think about me at all.”

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his eyes watering. “I fucked up. I’m a pussy. I’m sorry Oliver. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t take it, looking at him with tears streaming down his face. I’d never seen such a big man cry before, and it made me feel like I needed to give him a hug. But if I didn’t stand up for myself now, I’d always be walked all over.

“When you asked me to help you with your English work do you remember what you said to me?” He shook his head no. “You told me that you didn’t want people to know you were associating with me. I felt so worthless, but I did it anyway because—because you’re still one of the most important people in my life.”

“I’ll never make you feel worthless ever again,” he said, his voice serious and honest. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance.”

I crossed my arms, considering what he said. I believed him. I was scared that I believed him. What if I trusted him and got hurt even worse than before?

“I want us to be together,” he said, sniffling. “Being with you makes me feel good, and I want to feel good all the time.”

“I—I think that I want to be with you too,” I said, looking away from him, unsure of if it was a good idea to relent so easily.

“Really?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

It was building up inside of me, the love I had for him, the confession that had been left unsaid years ago. I felt it coming out, like word vomit.

“I love everything about you,” I started, still unable to look at him, “the way your eyebrows do that thing and the way you eat and don’t stop. And if you like bulking and powerlifting I don’t mind that. I think you look amazing and—and, I don’t know, Mason, if you gained more weight, I would still be attracted to you. Get as big as you want, really.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Oliver. You’re probably one of the best-looking guys in school and you’re attracted to me? Girls hate that you’re gay.” He took a deep breath. “I have never felt the same about girls that I do about you. I think about you every day.”

“I’m not kidding,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re hot and—and I would even want you to get bigger. I don’t know how to explain it, but the fact that you’re getting bigger makes me really—you know.” I felt like such a weirdo. So much was happening all at once. “I’ve never thought you’ve looked so good.” It felt like the time I told him I was gay. I wondered if he’d just walk out like he had then.

“You’d be okay with me being bigger? For real?” he asked. I felt a slight amount of relief. He hadn’t walked out.

“Yes,” I said, my body tense with nerves. “I would.”

“I like this, being bigger. I always have,” he said. It was silent for a moment. “I want to be bigger. I want to get stronger. This size is something I would’ve never gotten if I kept playing football.” He laughed nervously.

“What?” I asked.

“You sure you’re okay being seen with some big monster?”

“I don’t think you could ever be a monster.” He walked towards me and kissed me so fast I almost fell over. He was huge, like a big teddy bear, and I loved it. I really did, a hundred percent. He laughed, kissing me through the tears on his face. He held me close to him, my dick pressing against him through my underwear.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I guess you’re my boyfriend,” he said seriously. “If you’re okay with that.”

My whole body felt intensely warm. It was like I was in a dream. Maybe I was. Maybe I’d crashed my bike on my way home and I was in a coma, my consciousness somewhere between earth and the great beyond.

Something weighed heavily on me and I was afraid to bring it up. I wanted to squeal with joy and cry tears of relief, but I had to make sure we were on the same page. I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone.

I was quiet, not sure how to ask Mason what was on my mind. I think he hated when I got all silent like this. He was a much more direct sort of person.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just—am I, uh—is this a secret?”

“No,” he said, eyebrows serious. “I hate you even had to consider that. You’re never going to be a secret in my life ever again.”

I was his boyfriend.

He was my boyfriend.

We were boyfriend and boyfriend.

The next day in school Mason talked to me in every class. He sat with me at lunch. He stopped at my locker with me. He was trying very hard to prove to me that he was serious. He meant what he said about making it up to me for the last three years.

“Mason, what the fuck is your problem?” Bret asked disgustedly. “This whole day you’ve been acting weird.” Bret looked over at me, obviously insinuating that I was what was weird. English class had just ended, and Mason was going to give me a ride home, and not because he wanted something from me, just because he wanted to be around me. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.

“What do you mean?” Mason asked, feigning ignorance.

“The fag, Mason. The fag.” Bret spat the word fag like it was a disease.

“I don’t think you should use that word anymore. Don’t be that guy.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear you using that word or making jokes or putting your hands on Oliver ever again. You or anybody else, so spread the word.”

“Are you in love with him or something?” Bret asked, trying to get a rise out of Mason.

“I might be, yeah,” Mason replied seriously. Bret’s eyes widened before he began to laugh hysterically. “We’re dating.”

“Mason, you are hilarious.” Mason leaned over towards me. He brought his face incredibly close to mine before he touched my lips softly with his own, kissing me. It was a gentle kiss, nothing too intense, but it made me feel exposed. I’d barely kissed anyone before and never in public. “You’re taking it too far dude. That was gay as hell.”

“Probably because I’m gay.”

“You’re—you’re not joking? You’re a fag too?”

“Yep,” Mason said, wrapping his beefy arm around me. “And watch your language, dude. There’s only so many times I’m going to tell you.”

Bret ran off, probably to go tell someone. By tomorrow every single person in the school would know. I wondered what people would say. I hoped Mason would be all right. Maybe that hadn’t been the smartest decision.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, still thinking about him kissing me in front of Bret.

“It’s not like you’re my secret boyfriend.” He smiled and I melted.

He took me home and we went inside. We were going to study and hang out for a while. He told me that he wanted to spend so much time together that I’d get sick of him. I told him that’d never happen. And he said that meant we’d just be stuck with each other. We were in the second week of November, and the weather had cooled considerably. I volunteered to make hot chocolate and he happily accepted my offer. I also provided a plate of chocolate chip cookies I’d made the night before.

“Thanks,” he said as I handed him the drink. He sipped it carefully, making sure to collect the mini marshmallows. He must’ve gotten too excited because some of it spilled onto his lap. He stood quickly.

“Aw shit,” he said.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing to grab some paper towels.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “But I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of pissed I wasted some of my hot chocolate.” I laughed at his serious expression, telling him that I was more than willing to make him another mugful. We sopped up the bulk of the liquid with the paper towels, but he let me know he didn’t like the moist feeling.

“I don’t want it to soak into my underwear.”

He popped open the button of his jeans with a sigh of relief. He pulled them down and stood in my kitchen in a pair of navy boxer briefs. “I’ve got to get some new jeans.” He sure wasn’t modest. I was getting hard looking at his big hairy thighs. He could crush someone’s skull with those things. I kind of wanted my skull crushed.

“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” I said, still staring at his legs. “Maybe a pair of basketball shorts.”

“I’m good like this if you don’t mind,” he said, standing before me like a Grecian statue.

“No way. I don’t think I can control myself looking at you with your legs out like that.” He laughed, jokingly telling me that I was weird.

“They’re just legs,” he said, grinning at me. He’d always loved showing off, and I had always been a willing observer. “And who says you need to control yourself?”

“It’s not just your legs,” I said, getting excited. “It’s your ass. I’ve been looking at your butt for years.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder back at me. The fabric of his underwear separated each cheek, making his ass look even juicer. I wanted to take a bite out of it, my mouth watering at the sight of how much weight he was carrying back there. “If you’ve been checking it out for years, how’s it looking nowadays?”

“Phenomenal,” I said, zoning out. I was completely mesmerized. There was nothing that could break me out of this trance.

“You can grab it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, like he didn’t know if what he said was okay. Was he testing my attraction to him? Who wouldn’t want to squeeze his meaty ass? I walked closer to where he stood, my hands cupping the ass I’d only ever dreamed of touching since I knew I liked men. I jiggled it slightly, impressed by how I could still feel the muscle underneath its fatty outer layer.

“It definitely feels bigger than I thought it would,” I said, still touching him.

“I do a lot of squats,” he said, laughing apprehensively. “I think it’s gotten bigger these last couple of weeks. Working out with my uncle and eating like I do has changed my body faster than I thought it would.”

He turned around, and I noticed he was hard. He looked down at his penis straining against his boxer briefs and then away from me, biting his lower lip nervously. I bet his muscle-gut blocked some of his lower half from sight. How long would it be before he wouldn’t be able to see his dick when he looked down?

It was nice that he physically reacted to me feeling him up, but was he expecting something more? Would he want to bottom? Was he prepared for that today? I had wondered when things would become more sexual between us. We’d known each other for so long, but not as sexual beings with lots of sexual urges.

I turned away from him, walking towards the freezer. I couldn’t take the awkwardness. I grabbed the ice cream from a few weeks ago that he never got to eat.

“Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion,” he exclaimed gleefully.

“Yeah, I thought you might like it.” I grabbed a spoon, handing it to him along with the pint of ice cream. The little container in his large hand was really cute. He peeled off the lid and dug into the dessert greedily. This probably wasn’t enough ice cream to satiate him. He walked casually over towards a counter, pressing his butt up against it. He leaned back and ate spoonful after spoonful. He licked the spoon slowly after each mouthful.

Was he putting on a show for me? Like when we were younger?

“That was good,” he said after less than ten minutes of eating. A now empty container sat on the counter next to him. He gave a satisfied belch and put his hands on his slightly bloated middle.

“You really know how to eat,” I observed.

“It’s probably weird,” he started, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, making sure not to meet my gaze, “but it kind of turns me on sometimes.”

“It’s not weird.”

I made my way to where he stood against the counter, reaching out and placing my hands on the sides of his middle. We both stood there, silently aroused. I could hear his breathing—in and out, in and out. I lifted his t-shirt. He rested his hand on my shoulder as I massaged his gut. He gave a satisfied moan that made my dick twitch.

“This feels really good.”

“It does?” I asked. I was on cloud nine, finally getting my hands on his gut after fixating over it for weeks. I could see he was getting hard, and I couldn’t believe he happened to be on the same wavelength as I was. I knew he said he liked being bigger, but I didn’t realize he liked it in this way.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” he whispered breathily, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back and grinned, unable to suppress the expression.

I was feeling bold, wanting to take further control of his pleasure. He could be in charge of everything else in our lives, but in this moment, I knew I was the one who could call the shots. I slid one of my hands down under his gut, sliding it into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Is this okay?” I asked, wanting to get his consent before I continued.

He just moaned again, whimpering as my hand wrapped around his erection.

“Tell me you want me to do this,” I commanded.

“I want it, Oliver,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

He slid his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down his boxer briefs, so I had easier access to his penis. It was above average size and thick, but I was bigger and for some reason that really turned me on. I stroked him gently, enjoying how it pulsated in my hand. I noticed he relaxed his stomach muscles and his gut pushed forward some more. I looked up at his face and he looked back, his eyes glazed over. Fuck, was that a hot expression.

I stopped for a second, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling out my own dick. I stroked us both off, moving nice and slow. With both of my hands now occupied elsewhere, Mason took it upon himself to massage his stomach.

“That belly is looking real good,” I said, watching his expression carefully. He looked—pleased! His eyes were closed, but he got that grin on his face again. He grabbed his gut by the sides and gave it a shake.

He was close and I could tell. Seeing him so aroused was turning me on more than I thought possible. I was going to push him over the edge.

“Fuck Mason, I can only imagine how big your gut is gonna be a few months from now.”

It was a risk, but it paid off. He shot a huge stream of cum across the kitchen floor. He looked at me now, his eyes still had that glazed-over look and he fell to his knees. He grabbed at my jeans, pulling them down along with my underwear.

“Whoa, Mason, what’re—?”

He licked the head of my penis holding the shaft in his somewhat rough hand. His mouth was warm, and he worked my dick with unexpected finesse. Looking down at the top of his head, I took in his curly brown hair. I couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was on his knees giving me head. I also couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was Mason of all people.

“Mase, I’m coming.” He removed my dick from his mouth, and I felt cum erupt from inside of me so forcefully I got lightheaded. It wasn’t until I was completely finished that I was able to take in what had occurred. Mason was still on his knees, his face covered in my cum. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t seem like everything was okay. He got off of his knees, pulling up his underwear. We cleaned up in silence. He got my cum off his face, and I got his cum off the floor. He was the one who broke the silence. “That was weird.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he said, looking down at the kitchen tiles. “What was with that stuff you were saying?”

“Did you not like that?” I asked, feeling less confident than I had been during our sexual encounter. Things were shifting back into their regular alignment. Me being awkward. Mason being intimidating.

“I just—when we talked about me being bigger, you didn’t just mean muscles, did you?”

“I—I, uh, there’s nothing wrong with being bigger.”

“Were you just saying that because you figured out that’s what I’m into?” he asked. “You don’t have to, like, force yourself to be attracted to me like this.”

“Mason,” I started, “I think it’s more than obvious we like the same thing. I don’t know how we lucked out like this, but that gut you’ve got is definitely sexy.” He just laughed.

“Oli, c’mon,” he said. “You’re legit gorgeous. You could be an underwear model or something, I mean, damn, your quads are amazing.” I laughed. He reached out, grabbing my arm, and pulled me forward. He rested his masculine hands on my ass, like I had always wanted. “And this bubble butt is something else.”

“I’ve got to know Mason. When did you start thinking you might be gay?”

“The day you told me,” he said. I pushed myself away from his solid body.

“What?”

“Yeah, you coming out to me was really confusing. And I figured I should avoid you for a little while to figure things out—I didn’t think it’d be three years though, sorry.”

I just laughed. We’d missed out on years together. There really was nothing to do but find the humor in the situation, because otherwise it would be too sad to think about.

“I started watching gay porn freshman year and I bought that sex toy about a year ago.”

“You’re something else,” I said. “I guess that’s why I like you so much.”

He smiled and it just felt like it got easier to breathe. I ended up making him another mug of hot chocolate before throwing his jeans in the washing machine. Being domestic with him was turning me on, but then again, anything involving Mason was a turn on. I was starting to feel more peaceful. Mason and I would keep talking and figuring things out about this relationship. We had time. We finally had time.

Christmas break came after what felt like an eternity. Of course, people were talking about me and Mason. We could hear their not-so-whispered remarks every single day. He ignored it and held my hand through it all, which really meant a lot to me. He was an incredible person.

Mason had been so liked by everyone, that it was odd to see his old friends ignore him or mumble fucked-up things under their breath when he was nearby. I didn’t know how he could take it, falling so far from the graces of the popular crowd. I had always been on the outskirts, so I couldn’t really understand what he was going through.

We’d made it through Thanksgiving unscathed. It was a little sad we couldn’t spend the holiday together, but Mason hadn’t come out to his family and I hadn’t told my mom we were dating. He’d pushed himself incredibly hard these last couple of weeks, so if he wanted to ease into telling his parents, I wasn’t going to complain.

But that tranquility Mason was experiencing at home was short lived. If the entire high school knew Mason was gay, there was only a matter of time before word got back to people’s parents. Those parents talked to other parents, and those parents talked to Mason’s parents.

The first night of break, Mason was confronted by his father about what he’d heard from a customer in his auto shop. I hated the look on Mason’s face when he told me this story. It was heartbreaking. It felt like it was all my fault.

Mason’s dad threw him out. Mr. Megalos took him up by the collar of his shirt and threw him out the front door. Well, he grabbed his collar, yes, and likely pulled him by it, but I doubted he could actually lift Mason to throw him anywhere. His mom let him back in of course, but he packed a bag and left. He’d shown up on my doorstep a little before midnight. It was obvious he’d been crying.

“They found out,” he said. And I knew. I knew his heart was probably in a million pieces.

“Oliver, who is at the door?” My mother walked into the foyer, wrapping herself in a fluffy robe. She’d gotten in from work about an hour ago and had just finished with some self-care. I was glad she’d just taken a bath, because I needed her to be in a good mood.

“Mom, it’s Mason,” I said.

“Well look at that,” she said, taking him in for the first time in three years. “What has Katerina been feeding you?” Mason gave a half-hearted laugh, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house.

“It’s, uh, good to see you Ms. Bailey.”

“Mason, you can go up to my room while I talk to my mom.”

My mom raised her eyebrows at this, watching as Mason walked towards the rear of the house where the stairs were. That was when the begging began. She had me on my knees.

“You know he can’t stay here Oliver.”

“Mom,” I pleaded, my voice somewhat whiny. “He needs this. He’s my best friend. Please.” She laughed, and I knew it was because she didn’t consider Mason to be my best friend anymore. I hadn’t mentioned him in years; the last time she’d brought him up, I blew up at her.

(“Oliver, sweetheart, you don’t want to invite Mason to celebrate your birthday with us?” I was turning sixteen and I hadn’t talked to Mason in nearly eleven months.

She knew something had been off between us, as Mason hadn’t been to our house since I came out to him.

“It’s just another day,” I replied, feeling especially mopey. “He’s probably busy anyway.”

“I could call Katerina,” she suggested. “If you boys had a falling out, we can get things back on track. He’s been your best friend since first grade.” I was embarrassed. I didn’t know how to navigate how I was feeling. There was just so much shame and sadness that I hadn’t really taken the time to unpack.

“Can you just shut up?” I demanded. “We aren’t friends anymore, okay? It was my fault. There’s no way to fix it, so can you please just drop it?” I stormed off to my bedroom after that. I spent the rest of my sixteenth birthday alone crying in my bedroom. It was definitely a low. I knew the only reason my mom didn’t come after me was because it was my birthday. If it were any other day and I spoke to her like that, I’d probably be dead.)

“Oliver, we just can’t. You need to let his family work out whatever problem they’re dealing with.”

“Mom, if—if he can’t stay, I’ll leave with him,” I said, being dramatic.

“No, you won’t,” she replied, laughing. She was calling my bluff.

“I will,” I said, trying my best to win her over. “We’ll wander the streets, sleep in his Jeep. I might even have to become a prostitute to scrape by. We’ll drop out of high school. Do some drugs. Is that what you want Mom? I really don’t think it is.” I sounded like I was describing the plot of some made-for-TV movie.

“Oliver,” my mother said with a theatrical groan, massaging her temples. She obviously wanted to laugh at my monologue, which I knew would play into my favor. “If Katerina and Adrian come to take him home, we aren’t going to fight them on it, do you understand?”

She smiled at me gently. She was legit the best mother in the entire world. She probably only relented because she had just gotten in from work (and she’d had her bubble bath and a glass of wine). She worked as a nurse during a shift that went from three until ten-thirty, and that was when the hospital didn’t ask her to come in early or stay late.

“Yes, thank you!” I actually jumped for joy, clasping my hands together in gratitude. “You won’t even notice that he’s here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “He needs to sleep in your room because I don’t want him on my sofa. We just got that thing last year and the way he’s looking, it’d be sunken in within the month.”

I just laughed, promising Mason would not be allowed anywhere near her sofa. She likely assumed Mason was not gay. I knew right away that Mason had been outed to his family, but I didn’t make that information privy to my mother. When explaining why he needed to stay with us, I just sort of said his dad was mad about him quitting the football team and putting on some weight. I had been planning on telling her we were dating, but it was probably a good thing I hadn’t mentioned it.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind the floor for a little while.”

“Goodnight Oliver,” she said, walking towards where her bedroom was on the first floor. The second floor was an addition, and the only thing up there was my bedroom and a bathroom. “Mommy is tired. They want me to come in early tomorrow, so you kids need to keep it down.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “Goodnight best mom in the entire universe.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling under her breath. “Tell Mason it was nice seeing him again.”

I made my way to the rear of the house and ran up the stairs to my room. I closed the door quietly.

“She said you could stay here until you’re able to work things out with your family.” I was smiling at him, but that excitement was short-lived. This wasn’t some slumber party. He was here because he couldn’t be at home.

“Thank God,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“She said you have to sleep in here,” I said in mock-apology. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll have to share a bed.”

“Well damn it,” he replied. “I guess if there’re no other alternatives.” He got off of my bed and walked towards me. He put his arms around me slowly and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him—which had gotten considerably more difficult post-Thanksgiving. I kissed him a little bit longer before pushing him away.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to cull my arousal. We could not have sex right now. I felt weird about doing things like that with my mom in the house. I totally wouldn’t be able to focus.

“Yeah, I don’t really want to think about it,” he answered. “I’d rather make out with my boyfriend—among other things.”

“We have to wait until tomorrow, or my mom will hear and freak out,” I said seriously.

We’d masturbated together a few more times since the first experience in the kitchen. He’d given me head a few more times, and I reciprocated that as well. But we hadn’t done the actual deed. With him living here for an unknown amount of time, especially during winter break, we were likely going to go all the way.

“We can be quiet,” he whined. I was so turned on by the fact he enjoyed being intimate with me. Hearing him beg for it almost had me relenting.

“It will be better tomorrow,” I said, walking over to my laundry basket and throwing my shirt into it.

“Fine,” he pouted before smiling. “But don’t expect me to let go of you all night.”

We got into the bed and he kept his promise. At least for this night, the first time we ever were going to sleep together in the same bed, he had me pulled closely into his beefy body. My full-sized bed was just right, but at the rate Mason was growing, I didn’t think it would be just right for long.

I knew he didn’t want to talk about what happened with his dad, at least not yet, so we enjoyed one another in silence. Before long, I could hear him gently snoring behind me. He was very warm and that made me feel so calm, that before long, I was also fast asleep.

I was awake a little after six and immediately got up to take a shower. Mason was still sleeping even after I finished my shower, so I went to make him breakfast. I had made hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. He was still sleeping when I finished around nine.

I ate with my mom and she let me know she was going to spend the morning shopping with my grandmother. She would be home this afternoon to take a nap and get ready for work. After she left, I went to wake up Mason.

He sat up quickly when I mentioned there was breakfast waiting for him downstairs. He got out of bed. He was wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs and a white undershirt. His thighs were huge and strong looking. His ass was barely contained by the ash-colored fabric. His belly pushed the small shirt up a bit, around his belly button. His arms looked massive, and I wanted to grab ahold of them and never let go.

Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.

“You can use the bathroom and come down for breakfast,” I said finally, regaining focus.

“Okay,” he said, sleepy eyed, scratching his tummy. He went off to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I heard the flush of the toilet, then the sink turning on and off, and about five minutes later he exited the bathroom, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed. We made our way downstairs.

Looking at the table, there was a ridiculous amount of food for one person. Even with what my mother and I ate, there was way too much for Mason. I’d used almost an entire bag of potatoes for the hash browns. I’d have to get another carton of eggs, having used the ten that we had in the fridge. The toast was buttered, and the bacon was crisp. I’d definitely been excited while cooking, thinking with my dick and not my head.

“I realize now this is an excessive amount of food.”

“I didn’t get to eat dinner last night,” he said. “I’m starving.”

He wasn’t kidding. He really was.

Mason tackled the spread like a competitive eater. He took a piece of toast and carefully folded it in half before adding some of the other ingredients, making a sort of taco. He did this until the eight pieces of toast were gone. He then ate what was left of the eggs and hash browns with hot sauce. He drank two big glasses of milk too. I didn’t realize how much he could eat. I was sitting at the table across from him.

It was after breakfast. My mom wasn’t home. We could finally have at it.

“You ate all of it,” I said, touching my boner underneath the table. I was wearing a pair of running shorts that came about halfway up my thigh. I was easily able to access my dick.

“Yeah,” he said, his face going red. “I didn’t have dinner and I was really hungry and it tasted so good.” He placed his hands on his belly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at the hem of his shirt, failing to keep it down. Majority of his clothes had begun to fit this way. “I guess you were wrong about the whole me getting fatter thing.”

“I was not wrong,” I said, standing. He took in my massive erection and smiled, relief showing on his face.

“We really are a pair of sexual deviants, huh?” I walked to his side of the table and grabbed his hand. He stood up, looking down at me for a moment. He scooped me up and held me in his powerful arms. We looked at one another for a moment. His eyebrows were so serious it made me laugh. He joined in and we laughed hard for a few moments.

“I got excited,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re so excited. It means it’s not just me.” Still in his arms, he made his way towards the stairs and ran us up to my room.

In a flurry, our clothing items flew off our bodies. His t-shirt, my shorts. My sweatshirt, his boxer briefs. We stood completely naked in the middle of my bedroom, and it was all sort of surreal.

“Oli, you’ve got a body like a porn star.”

“You may not be as defined as I am, but I’d much rather see you in a porno.” He laughed.

“We could be in one together,” he said, joking. “It’d be the only video I’d ever need for the rest of my life.”

I smiled at him, my hands on his waist. I enjoyed how he’d begun to spread out. His gut hadn’t been like this back in October. He was developing love handles, with little stretch marks around where his torso met his hips.

My hands moved to his biceps and he flexed them for me. My dick jumped at how solid his arms were, craving his body. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

He nodded.

I grabbed a condom and lube from a box in my closet. I didn’t think I’d ever get to use these things, and here I was about to use them with Mason. He moved onto the bed and he put his ass out for me.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“No, but I’ve seen a lot of porn,” I said truthfully, almost half-regretting my honesty. “Have you ever had sex before?”

“No,” he said. “I hadn’t even kissed anyone before I kissed you.” I had made out with some guys before, but I didn’t want to spoil how sweet that was. Something about this whole situation was kind of empowering.

“I’ll be gentle,” I said, trying to be suave. Sure, I had seen my fair share of pornography, but seeing something and executing something were two very different things. I didn’t want to be bad at it. I was always the passive, quiet one and I had to admit, I enjoyed the idea of being the dominant one in the bedroom.

I lubed up my penis as well as his asshole. I slapped his butt, enjoying the sound it made. I did it again and he gasped softly. He arched his back a little, accentuating the size of his ass.

I entered his beautiful ass slowly. I started with just the head, not wanting to hurt him. He was breathing loudly, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain. I moved slightly, pushing a little more of myself into him, and felt a tingle go throughout my whole body. Mason continued gasping and whimpering and breathing loudly as I slowly pushed more and more of my dick inside of him.

“Christ!” he yelped. I stopped moving.

“Do you need me to stop?” I asked.

“Fuck, Oli,” he said, panting. “It’s starting to feel good. Keep going.” I did as I was told and bucked my hips back and forth, the sound of my upper thighs slamming against his fat ass creating a sort of beat. About halfway through he started tugging at his dick, moaning loudly as he came. That did it for me, and after a few more strokes, I filled the condom with my cum.

I was sure if someone were watching it would have looked awkward, but I didn’t care at all. I had never felt closer to a person. I had never felt closer to Mason.

Actual sex was way better than masturbating.

“Are you okay?” I asked, removing the condom and throwing it in my trashcan.

“That felt really good.” Mason was still panting. I walked over to the bed where he was laying down and laid next to him. “I was worried there for a second, but little Oli sure knows what he’s doing.” I laughed.

“That was possibly the best experience of my life,” I said. He rolled over on top of me, straddling me, and covered my face with kisses. I loved it.

“How much do you weigh now?” I inquired, feeling his weight pressing me down.

“Get the scale,” he said, swinging himself from on top of me. I got off of the mattress and made my way to the bathroom. I got the scale and set it in the center of my bedroom. He placed his large feet on the scale, and I read the number.

“283 pounds.” In less than three months, Mason had gained nearly sixty pounds. I was getting hard again just thinking about where he’d be three months, six months, a year from now. I stepped on the scale next, also getting off on how much more he weighed than I did. It read 160 pounds and a little extra. 123 pounds. Mason was 123 pounds bigger than me.

“You’re fucking tiny,” he said in disbelief, looking down at the number displayed on the monitor. “I never realized how little you are." I turned my naked body to face him and gestured to my flaccid cock, which admittedly, was still pretty big.

“I wasn't talking about that,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t weighed 160 pounds since the fifth grade.”

“Do you not like me being skinny?”

“I find your skinniness to be quite the turn on.” He kissed me, grabbing my ass. “And if we’re being honest, you store all your weight in just the right places.” I didn’t know why that made me so flustered, but it did. I felt my face go hot. I liked that he thought I had a nice ass.

“I’d have to say the same goes for you,” I said.

“I hope to get much bigger,” he said, stepping back from me. He flexed his arms and I felt myself getting hard again. He knew what he was doing, turning me on. He turned around, so I could look at his wide back and juicy butt. He was damn near a wall. He turned back around and looked at me with extreme intensity.

“What’s with that look all of a sudden?”

“I want to be able to keep you safe, Oli. I’m going to be big enough to protect you from everything.” I was so turned on again. He was adorable.

“Thanks Mason,” I said, reaching out to embrace him. We stood together for a few minutes before we took a shower and got dressed. Throughout the day Mason ate all the snacks we had in the house. We went shopping and stockpiled food in my bedroom. He didn’t want to let my mother know he was constantly inhaling food. We did have to keep all the milk he got in the fridge. I wondered what my mom would say about it. Two weeks of him eating this way and he’d get huge.

Holiday break could only last the two weeks; I knew it could only be two weeks, and yet the morning classes were to resume, I was an anxious mess. Mason’s constant eating slapped another ten pounds onto his beefy frame, putting him at 293 pounds. Everyone was going to notice. He was gigantic. He was still incredibly muscular underneath his recent gain though, only making him appear even wider.

The only time Mason was away from me was when he’d go to meet with his uncle to lift weights. Galvin told Mason he didn’t care that he was gay, and that Mason’s dad would come around soon. It meant a lot to Mason that his uncle still supported him.

Mason’s arms were big and strong, and his thighs were probably so large to hold up his massive bubble butt. His belly pushed up all his shirts and buttoning pants was just a waste of time, so he wore sweatpants and the biggest sweatshirt he could find. I felt bad. This day was going to be bad. He looked good to me of course, but everyone was going to stir up trouble. I didn’t want to go to school.

He drove us to school that morning and things were fairly similar to the way they were before break. That’s not to say people weren’t making comments, but there was nothing too out of the ordinary. Things were actually bearable until lunch.

We sat together, eating lunch amidst the stares of our nosy classmates. I had a fruit salad, some fries, a grilled chicken sandwich, and a banana. Mason had bought three slices of pizza, fries, chicken tenders, and three milks. It was like he didn't care about what was happening at all—all the stares, all the names, the comments, and dirty looks.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, eating a few fries, but not really feeling all that hungry. My stomach was in knots. He was already on his second slice of pizza.

“Well, I mean you kind of move your mouth in a gnawing motion after placing food in there. Like this—,” he said, taking a colossal bite and chewing theatrically. I laughed loudly. He was so dumb sometimes, able to make a joke that could distract me from my negative feelings. He smiled at me and started on his chicken tenders.

“I meant all of the people,” I said, clarifying what I was sure he knew I was originally referring to.

“I just don’t care,” he said seriously. “I wasted three years of my life caring about what other people thought. It’s 2012. Being gay shouldn’t be this big of an issue. I let other people tell me being gay was wrong. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He gulped down his second milk, nibbling at his remaining fries. His sweatshirt exposed a bit of belly as it set in his lap. “I love you, Oli. I just think about that and I don’t even notice everybody else.”

He loved me? I knew I loved him too, but we hadn’t said it before.

“I think I’ll try that,” I said. “Thinking about how much I love you.” I thought I was supposed to be the one thinking positive? I was proud to call Mason my boyfriend.

I opened my banana and heard an increase in laughter. I looked over at Bret pointing at me.

“You thinking about Mason’s dick?” he called, causing his table to erupt in laughter again. I forgot not to get a banana. I hadn’t eaten a banana at school since freshman year. I moved the banana away from my lips, visibly distraught. It was so embarrassing being made fun of in front of Mason.

“Can I have that?” Mason asked as he smiled at me. I handed him the banana. “Thanks.” He put it in and out of his mouth suggestively, making a ridiculous face as well. He then shoved the whole thing in greedily. He had me doubled over in laughter again. He was so absurd sometimes. He chewed and drank the last milk.

“Mase, you’re so goofy.”

“Thanks. That was so good,” he said loudly, for Bret and his cronies to hear. He smiled again, his eyes sparkling. Was I falling even more in love with him? He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “I’m still hungry. I think I got too used to you keeping me well-fed. I’m going to get a cookie.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a bite out of my sandwich. I felt better. Better than ever. I was almost done with my sandwich when Bret came over. That positive feeling didn’t stand a chance.

“What’s up faggot?”

“I don’t care what you call me.” I stood, looking to find Mason so we could spend the rest of the lunch period in the library. We could study for English. Anything would be better than having to stay around Bret for an extended period of time. Bret placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me back into my seat.

“I don’t give a fuck what you care about.” I looked up at him from my seat. He narrowed his blue eyes at me, making him look like a rat. This guy really hated me. I stood up again and turned to walk away, kind of afraid of what he was going to do to me. “I hate what you are. You did something to Mason.”

“Like what?” I asked, turning to face him. Did he think I was blackmailing Mason? Threatening him with violence? Casting love spells?

“I don’t know.” He took a cupcake from a tray on a neighboring table. He looked down at it for a moment, likely pausing for dramatic effect, before he slammed it into my face. “But I don’t like it.”

I’d spent years dealing with this sort of treatment from Bret, but for some reason this was actually getting to me. We were in the middle of the cafeteria and nearly everyone was looking at us now. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to take Mason’s words to heart. But he hadn’t experienced just how awful I’d been treated. I warily scrapped some of the frosting from around my eyes.

“Oh shit,” one of the girls nearby mumbled to the friend she was sitting with.

I turned, watching as Mason made his way over to where Bret and I stood. I saw his eyes travel from my face to Bret’s. Mason calmly set his cookies on the table next to me and pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The whole cafeteria was silent. It was like every sound had been magically muted.

“Mason,” I said nervously, trying to pull him away from Bret. “We need to go study for the Spanish quiz. We have to go now.” Bret was no match for Mason, and everyone else was still too afraid to even try and fight him. Mason was going to get in trouble. He used to get into fights all the time. He had never hit me, but I’d seen him pummel other assholes.

Mason yanked his arm from my grasp easily. Everything happened so fast, but I don’t think Bret landed a single blow on Mason. After about three minutes, I saw Bret was all purple and bloody.

“Fucking bitch!” Mason spat, his voice intense like the roar of a grizzly. The school security officers were coming. “You lay a hand on my boyfriend again and you’re dead.”

“Come on!” I pulled his sweatshirt and he finally stormed out.

“I should have killed him,” he said angrily, nostrils flared. He was breathing heavily.

“Okay, so yeah, Bret’s the worst,” I started, picking cupcake out of my eyebrows, “but I don’t think life in prison is going to solve anything. It’s not worth it.”

“I know, you’re right,” he said, his breathing slowing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt by him anymore.”

“By a cupcake?” I asked jokingly, trying to calm him down further.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

He leaned against a row of lockers. This wasn’t going to go unchecked by the school. They’d call his parents over this. He might even get suspended.

“I forgot my fucking cookies!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I could totally make you some!” This side of Mason was really hot, but I knew he wasn’t feeling great about the whole situation. As sexy as angry-Mason was, I still preferred when he was happy.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?” I asked, trotting behind him. He was making his way towards the exit. We ditched Spanish and English. I had never ditched a class before, and I felt like a fugitive.

He pulled up outside of my house.

“I’ll be back,” he said. I nodded and got out of the Jeep. He drove off. I had never seen Mason so upset. I was pretty sure it had a lot to do with what Bret represented. Bret was a past that Mason wanted to forget. I knew Mason still struggled with guilt about how things had been between us the last three years, and I tried to assure him I had let that stuff go, but I knew he thought about it a lot. I didn’t know how to emphasize to him I wanted to just move on. High school would be over soon, and I would get to start the important years of my life. He had read an article about teen suicide in the LGBTQ+ community a few weeks ago. He looked sick after he finished it. I remember he looked at me seriously and said, “You could’ve killed yourself.”

Mason returned. He had gone to the gym. I looked at him and saw his huge arms and thighs looked pumped. He went to my bathroom and took a shower. I sat on the bed waiting. He exited the bathroom in a towel. His belly hung over the pink fabric. He dropped the towel revealing a beautiful ass. He looked so huge. Bret hadn’t stood a chance this afternoon.

I was always semi-erect around Mason but looking at him naked in front of me had me fully hard. He walked over to me and sat next to me on the bed. He leaned his body against mine. I could hear him breathing. I felt him press into me bit by bit. He was kind of whimpering, like a big Mastiff puppy.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” he said.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I placed my hand on his monstrous thigh, squeezing it gently. “You stood up for me today, and I’m still hard thinking about how hot it was.” He grabbed me, pulling me close and passionately kissing me.

He ended up on his back in the bed and I ended up giving him head. It was the least I could do for how he stood up for me. And Mason couldn’t help himself, so I ended up getting head in return. But then I couldn’t help myself and found myself with his dick in my mouth again. It was a cycle that I didn’t really want to see broken.

That fight with Bret didn’t go unchecked by school administration. Mason’s parents had to come have a meeting with the principal and the dean. Both he and Bret were let off with warnings, but the school made it very clear that they could not protect Mason from the law next time, considering he was nineteen and Bret was only seventeen.

He moved back home after that, which was honestly kind of sad. We’d only gotten to live with one another for less than a month. He and his father did finally start talking again, but Mason told me it was strained conversation.

Nobody messed with us again until Valentine’s Day. In our school there was a fundraiser where a person could purchase a flower to send to a friend or crush or romantic partner. Of course, I had never gotten one, but Mason used to get tons of them every year. I went to buy one and I wrote a card for it. I wrote: Mason, I love you. Yours forever, Oliver.

I thought it looked sophisticated and mature. I paid the two dollars, took the carbon copy receipt, and went to class. I wondered if he even thought about those stupid flowers. Then I wondered if he got me one. I was getting all excited thinking about it, but I knew to keep my expectations in check.

I met him before first period. We were working when the flowers were delivered. I didn’t expect one this period. They measured out the number of flowers a person was to receive and equally distributed them throughout the day. If a person were to receive only one rose, they’d get it during their last period of the day. But I got one anyway, in first period, which meant I had more coming. There was no name. It was a card with one word: Faggot.

Mason looked at me to see who it was from, but I quickly put it in my pocket. “I hope you’re not cheating on me,” he joked, smiling at me.

“Of course not!”

“Well, why can’t I see the card?”

“It’s mine,” I said. This was likely Bret fucking with me again. I could not let Mason know about this. He might actually kill Bret this time, and I didn’t very much think orange was Mason’s color. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” he replied sternly, his eyebrows furrowed. He was mad. Throughout the day I got the flowers with the same card. With each one, Mason got more and more unnerved. I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me. At lunch he didn’t say a word. He ate a lot extra so he wouldn’t have to talk to me. I didn’t want him to see them. We couldn’t afford another incident like when he beat Bret to a pulp over a cupcake. He’d go berserk if he knew what was happening.

We walked to Spanish in silence. I got another card, and it said the same thing, but with a name—Bret. Surprise, surprise. I knew it was him. Nobody else would go so far to harass someone. Mason gave me a look of death and I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to go home. English came and I got my first nice flower all day. It said: I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world. Love, Mason.

I put that one in a separate pocket. Mason had gotten his first flower, which I was assuming was the one I purchased for him. He scanned it over and over. I hoped he liked it. Maybe it would make up for not showing him the Bret cards. I looked up at him and smiled. He stood up and stormed out; I followed. I heard Bret laughing as I entered the hallway.

“Mason! Wait up, what’s wrong? Mason!” He turned to face me. I saw he was trying to think about what to do. He pushed me into a locker, and it felt like he was getting ready to punch me.

“You—,” he started. He pulled out the card and read. “‘It’s over, Mason. I’ve gotten you back for three years of absolute torment. Did you really think I’d ever want to be with you, especially now? You’re a joke.’” Mason hadn’t stopped growing since moving back home. He was up another ten pounds, putting him at 303 pounds. I loved every ounce of him. I would never send that. I hoped he’d be smart enough to realize that.

“Please don’t hit me,” I exclaimed, flinching. He didn’t. Thank Jesus; he could have given me internal bleeding or something.

“I’d never put my hands on you,” he said angrily. Now he was mad and offended.

“I would never send that,” I said, pulling out the carbon copy receipt. “Look.” I handed him the card and he read it, looking relieved.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. He was getting worked up. I had a bad feeling. “I knew you didn’t send this, and it still got me emotional. I’m so sorry for pushing you. I’d never hit you. I swear I wouldn’t. But those cards you’ve been getting all day have really fucked with my head.” I reached into my pocket and handed him the cards. I hadn’t wanted him to see them, but at this point I had to be honest.

“These are the cards I’ve been getting all day, okay?” He read them and really went insane, heading for the exit.

“Mason, we’re going home, yeah?”

“Hell no. We are waiting for Bret and this is going to end today. Oliver, I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I might just kill him.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” I said immediately. “No way.”

“Not if it’s after school.” That was ridiculous. He’d so still get in trouble. We passed through the doors leading outside as the afternoon announcements came on.

“You can’t do this Mason,” I said, trying my best to calm him down. “You’ve got to let this go.” The bell finally rang and two minutes later kids surged out of the building. He ran right at Bret who had been describing what he had done to two of his own beta-males. Bret was knocked to the ground.

Bret looked up at Mason from the ground. Mason was in a t-shirt alone. We hadn’t stopped at our lockers. The sleeves in the underarm area ripped with the advanced movement of his huge arms. Mason leaned over and punched him, harder and harder.

He stood straight up, hovering over Bret who was still laying on the pavement. “You ever fuck with us again, you’ll get your ass kicked worse than this.” There was a group around us, which formed a circle. Mason then spoke to them, turning every so often. It was almost like we were in the Colosseum, Mason a gladiator orating to the spectators.

“I like men,” Mason began. “But don’t let that confuse you. I can still fuck up anybody who steps to me or my boyfriend.” People were hanging on his every word. It was amazing.

“And this bitch over here,” Mason continued, gesturing towards Bret, “Has the weirdest fucking obsession with us. He went out of his way to send my boyfriend flowers all day today. I guess you could say he has a little crush.” This had people laughing now. “Babe, you should thank him for the flowers, but do let him down easy.”

“Uh, thanks for the flowers,” I said, uneasy having been put on the spot, but excited to be standing up to Bret in front of everyone for the first time. “But I’ve already got a boyfriend, so maybe you could find someone else.” The circle erupted in a resounding ‘Ohhhh!’ and lots of laughter.

“So who started this?” Mason asked the bloodthirsty spectators.

“Bret!” the crowd shouted. “Bret! Bret! Bret!” Mason started to walk off and I followed close behind him. The crowd parted so we could pass. I had never wanted to fuck him more than now. We could still hear people chanting and laughing as we made it to his Jeep.

Once inside, he drove towards my house, eyes focused intently on the road. His stomach growled loudly. There was a slight pause after the growling ceased, and then we both laughed loudly.

“Now I’m starving,” he said. I knew exactly what I wanted to make him.

As soon as we made it to my house, I started cooking. Mason went off to take a shower, saying something about needing to cool off. The whole situation with Bret still had him slightly heated. I was definitely still wound up from that encounter too, but not in the same way as Mason. Just thinking about how he’d stood up for the both of us had me soaking through my briefs. I’d been hard for some time now, ever since Mason’s whole ‘Are you not entertained?’ bit.

I cooked and cooked and cooked until I ended up making much more food than I thought we needed. It was just the two of us, but I’d made enough for five. I just couldn’t control myself when cooking for Mason. I loved seeing how much he could put away, how pleased his face would be when he ate an excessive amount of food.

I made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. It was a dumb concept that I came up with back in middle school during the early days of my culinary exploration. The main component was a mozzarella-stuffed chicken breast that I would deep fry. I served it with macaroni and cheese. And, even though I knew it was overkill, broccoli covered in a cheese sauce (I’d even made a dozen rolls, and no, they weren’t cheese stuffed). It was a lactose-intolerant person’s worst nightmare, but Mason had never had any problems with dairy. He probably couldn’t go on living without it. I made five of those chicken breasts, a huge serving dish worth of broccoli, and enough mac and cheese for a family of four.

About an hour later he came lumbering down the stairs. I’d just finished plating the food, with parsley and everything. He sat at the table, shirtless, and I took in his quarter-sized nipples. His pecs were still firm but had a nice layer of fat over them. My mouth didn’t water when I thought about dinner, but Mason’s tits had me almost drooling all over myself. I never would have thought he would be this big. I set his plate and silverware in front of him, and then the basket of rolls.

“I made too much,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said, smiling up at me from his seat at the table, “especially since you made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special.” I felt my face go hot. It meant a lot to me that Mason remembered the name of this meal, but I needed to come up with a new one. Something that wasn’t so embarrassing. I wasn’t twelve anymore.

“I’ll get you something to drink,” I said, walking towards the fridge and pouring him a glass of milk.

“Thanks.” He didn’t waste time getting started. He didn’t even use silverware to eat the chicken breast, simply picking it up and taking a large bite, pulling the meat away from his mouth causing an impressive cheese pull.

In this moment, watching him happily eat, I realized that Mason hadn’t really changed all that much since we were younger. Yeah, he was over a hundred pounds bigger and six inches taller, but he was still the same silly, considerate, sometimes hot-headed guy I’d always had a crush on.

I must’ve been staring, because he looked up from his plate, catching my gaze. He stopped racing through the food on his plate, eating more slowly.

“What’re you staring at?” he asked, chewing, stabbing a broccoli floret with his fork. “You haven’t even started eating yet.”

“I just really love you,” I said honestly. “I can’t help staring.”

“C’mon Oli,” he said, his face reddening, “You’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not!”

“Well, I love you too,” he said, his face still flushed. “I’m really lucky, you know? Who’d ever think a guy like you would be interested in me.”

Whoa—Mason was always surprising me. My initial assessment wasn’t completely fair to him. Mason had changed. In a way that was really significant.

He’d become more courageous.

He was brave enough to come out, to date me, to change his body in a way that wasn’t considered conventionally attractive. Even if all the things I loved about him from our youth were the same, I was fortunate enough to be able to love the man he was becoming as well.

I stood, going to refill his plate. He ate this serving just like the first, like if he didn’t get it all down fast enough someone might come and take it away. I sat down and watched, picking at the portion I’d set aside for myself. I wasn’t even hungry. I had no idea how he ate so much. He’d eat a roll every so often. I was able to refill his plate once more, and he ate that with the same amount of gusto. He got up the excess cheese that remained on the plate with the last roll.

“Fuck, that was just as good as I remembered.” He leaned back, placing his hands on his belly, rubbing it gently.

“Can—uh, can I do that?” I asked. He grinned.

“You don’t gotta ask,” he said, turning in the chair away from the table. He spread his legs, waiting for me. I went to the other side of the table as he pushed away from it. I knelt on the ground and rubbed his bloated gut, my hands traveling to his sides so I could squeeze the love handles pushed up by his underwear.

I moved toward his broad chest, squeezing the flesh there as well. Fuck, there was just so much of him. He was only wearing underwear, so I saw he was getting hard. I leaned forward, and began to kiss his belly, licking around his navel. His stomach tensed and relaxed.

“You like this gut?” he asked, his eyes closed.

“I love this gut,” I replied. His dick jumped in his underwear.

He stood, pushing me back slightly. I looked up from beneath his belly, and it made me think about that day at the bike racks a few months ago. I’d thought of him as a giant then, but compared to what I was looking at now, that version of Mason was minuscule.

Mason removed his dick from his boxers, and I leaned forward, resting my mouth at the base of his penis above his balls. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of his skin after a shower. I licked his shaft slowly, raising a hand to feel the heft of his belly above me. It didn’t need my support, as it was a solid sphere that hadn’t gotten large enough yet to droop. I thought about that phrasing and it sent me to another level of arousal. Large enough yet. Mason would likely be bigger than this soon. 300 pounds was the point where most guys would fight to get their waistlines in check, but I knew Mason didn’t care about that. He’d want more, and I wanted to help him.

I heard him moaning above me, one of his hands grabbing my hair, the other on the side of his gut. “Fuck, Oli,” he grunted. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

I stopped and stood up.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.

He agreed to head up to my room, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing me ravenously first. He loved kissing, and I definitely wasn’t against it, but we hadn’t moved yet. Mason was still kissing me. On my neck. My forehead. My cheeks. He reached for his penis, but I stopped him.

“Upstairs,” I reiterated.

He nodded. His eyes had that glazed over look again. He followed me to the staircase, and as I ascended, I heard the stairs creaking loudly as he heavily padded up after me.

I wanted to fuck him with all I had. Each time I wanted more and more to have the best sex ever, and each time it was the best sex ever. I didn’t know if it was because we were getting better at it or the fact that our relationship was becoming so much more serious, but whatever it was, I hoped it continued.

He pulled off his boxers and leaned over my desk, his beefy forearms resting on top. His strong legs were spread apart, and his knees were slightly bent. In this position, his stomach seemed more noticeable. It hung down, round and bloated. I wanted to cradle it in my hands from behind.

I slid on a condom and carried the lube over to where he was waiting for me. I covered my dick in the slick substance before gently massaging his hole. “I’m ready,” he breathed. “I want it, Oliver.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed onto one of his love handles as I led my member inside of him. This ass was everything. I’m pretty sure he worked it out extra hard because he knew I loved it so much. Seeing my hands cradling his meaty cheeks was unreal. I didn’t have abnormally large hands, but he had such a massive ass, they looked almost feminine. I pushed my entire dick inside of him, thrusting back and forth more forcefully than I had before. He moaned and moaned—saying my name, telling me how good it felt. I felt the tingle I came to expect wash over me. I wasn’t sure if it was endorphins or what, but I was close to finishing and feeling amazing.

He took a sharp intake of breath, shooting cum across the front drawers of my desk. I pushed hard a few more times. I’d never felt so good before. I came loads, my legs turning to jelly for a few moments, almost causing me to lose my balance. “Aw, fuck,” I managed to get out, grabbing his hips gently.

We moved over to the bed and laid back. His belly moved up and down.

“That gets better and better,” he panted.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He rolled over on top of me. I loved that, the weight of his fat body pressing into me. It was incredible. He just laid there, kissing my face and neck until I had to tap out. He rolled back over, smiling.

The next thing I remember was waking up. We’d fallen asleep. It was now around eight. I tried to shake him awake.

“Mason,” I said. “Mason wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.

“Mason,” I laughed, “You can’t stay here. Your parents will wonder where you are.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” he said into a pillow. “Let them wonder.”

“But our homework,” I said half-heartedly, also not in the mood to complete any schoolwork or send him on his way. I got up and checked my assignment book. Nothing was due tomorrow. I locked my door and got back in bed. He turned so I could place my head on his chest. He had his arm wrapped around me. I could have stayed like that forever.

Mason dozed back off almost immediately, but I laid awake thinking.

We only had a couple of months left in senior year. I’d gotten into my first-choice university and all of my safety schools, but there was definitely something that had me reconsidering going away to a four-year university. I didn’t really have any idea of what I wanted to major in. Nothing in the traditional sense was appealing to me. I didn’t want to be a teacher or a lawyer or a nurse.

Being with Mason reignited a passion that had laid dormant for years. I loved being in the kitchen and perfecting different recipes. Attending culinary school might be what I want to do post-graduation. It might have been youthful optimism, but I could see myself one day owning a restaurant.

Mason was going to the college thirty minutes from where we lived. I knew there was a program near him that was accredited and offered lots of opportunities for growth. I could feel myself getting excited by this idea. I hadn’t even been this excited opening up my college acceptance letters. This passion had to mean something. It just had to.

I could do it. I would do it! I’d always longed for a life outside of high school, and now I was starting to see that life more clearly. Even if the future was a mixed bag of possibilities, I knew one thing for certain.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Mason.

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainer story #fatfiction #gainerfic #gainerstory #gay feeder #gay feedee #weight gain

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skittikyu · 5 months

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Final (for now :3c) lineup of Stilti and their AU selves !

More info under the cut !

STILTIKYU (CANON TADC)

The classic! Just another human trapped in the Digital World, who took the form of a 9'5'' tall humanoid stilt quadruped, perhaps struggling with being rigid and distant in her previous life now manifested physically. Yes, they're actually part of her body. No, she can't bend at where her joints should be. Being so tall has its advantages and disadvantages, as does the radical acceptance approach they brought with her from whatever therapy sessions she must have been attending before joining the circus (read more about her coping mechanisms and the drawbacks!). Creative at heart but with limbs now incapable of visual art, they distract herself from the phantom pains pass time singing and dancing, and puts her all into the performance aspects of the circus, though they still enjoy participating in the adventures from time to time. Also, while not nearly as bad as Jax (she’s not one to invade personal space or use sensitivities/phobias as jokes towards someone once she’s aware that’s what they are), they do enjoy poking fun and teasing others. Essentially at most their aim is to lightheartedly annoy or confuse rather than shock or hurt (read more about her relationships with the rest of the cast!).

"It is what it is. I'm not going to let all this eat away at whatever's left of me, but just..ignoring when I'm not feeling okay isn't any better for me. If you want to bury yourself in your little shell as protection, I can't and won't stop you. Just surviving isn't living, though."

STILTILITH (RINGMASTER AU)

Basically Stilti takes canon Caine's role as an AI ringmaster of the Amazing Digital Circus! Even her name in this AU is a biblical reference like his (but to Lilith instead of Cane!). Because she's in charge she has more control of her form than regular Stilti, and therefore has functioning limb privileges. She can also float like regular Caine but prefers to walk around because she finds it more elegant even though to the others it's probably just unsettling. On the surface Stiltilith's demeanour is calmer than Caine's and more mature than Stiltikyu's, but she can be equally as much of a menace in the right situation. It's all in playful fun, though, even if it doesn't come across that way due to her not being human. They're doing their best to learn about human emotions and social conventions and take a lot of pride in their job. Have you ever seen the movie Coraline? Stiltilith is like if the other mother really wasn't evil; they're trying her best to make the humans that enter the program happy with everything they could want, but ultimately falling short of fulfilling their actual needs due to not being human.

"You want to go home..? Silly, this is your new home now! ..hm, well, what can I do to make it just as good? Better, even! After all, since you can't leave, it's the least I ca...oh, come now, there's no need to cry..there there..I'll see what I can whip up.."

OPPOSITE AU (Belongs to campbell_soup70 on Instagram!)

Pretty self explanatory! Rather than skipping every stage of grief right to acceptance, this Stilti probably endlessly cycles through the first four without ever arriving at the final one. That is, when she isn't completely paralyzed by her absolute lack of capacity for dealing with their current situation. Without intervention, they probably won't last long.

"....................."

CARNIVAL AU (Belongs to @/sm-baby)

Keeping with the concept of the cast being evolved, boss-like forms of their usual counterparts, Carnival Stilti ("The Metronome") goes all in on the musical/dancing aspects of her personality. Her game is arcade themed, especially rhythm games like DDR and guitar hero; maybe a bit of karaoke elements in there too. She's not super aggressive in comparison to some of the other AIs, but she takes themself very seriously and probably becomes more volatile if she feels as if the player isn't meeting her standards. Basically thoughts and prayers to any users with a bad sense of tempo and/or who sings or plays off key. Her collar is shaped like a voice box and they speak/sing similarly to a vocaloid, with more roboticism/distortion the more emotional they get.

"Hmmmmm~. ♫ Come on, that's not the best you could do, was it?~ ♪ Let's try again. No flat notes or missed steps this time, kay? 4, 3, 2~!♩"

CORRUPTION AU (Belongs to /rabid-mercenary15)

Unfortunately it was likely only a matter of time until Stilti got caught by one of her corrupted co-stars..while she may be agile and quick, her avatar isn't the best at fitting through small spaces or hiding behind much of anything..they now roam around like a mindless beast, occasionally making unworldly screeching and groaning noises, a far cry from their previous singing..still, it seems old habits do in fact die hard, however warped they may become. One of the more docile of the virally-infected, the best chance at deescalating an encounter with them is music. She's drawn to and is soothed by singing and playing instruments. Of course, now the problem is her following the source of it, but hey, at least they aren't attacking! Try backing away slowly until you get to an area they can't follow due to her colossal size. Or, set up a radio/windup music box somewhere else as a diversion and get away while they're distracted! Even if they see or hear you while you're doing so, as long as the music is still playing, they'll be too enamoured with it to care.

".̶̨̛͕̼̫̯̙̥͔͍̈́.̴̧̮̫̗̘̰̩̥̀̀̏̈̈̊̾̈̆̕̕͜͠.̴̧̧̳͈̼̞̟̮̼̪͕̺͂̓̈́̒́̾̏̍̚p̸̨̨̨̛͖̹͉̼̩͓͔̤͔̫͆͂͗͗̉̃͜͜͝͝͝r̸̠̱͙͎̜͇̲̖̦̯̝̍̉̍͗͌̔ę̵̗̼̩͖̱͎͔̗̺̾̇̆͆̉̈́t̴̬͂̉̎͂̉ț̷̟̲̭̗͎̗͔̘͂͂͆́̐̂̚y̴̨̨̺̙̰͓͙̥̮̦͓̣̱͍̰͋̚.̴̙͋.̴̡̘͉͎͕͚̩̜̉̀͐́͑͠͝.̶̡͚̱̬̺̓̌̿̌̉̉̒̏͌̾͝s̶͉͔͓͉̺͎͙̮̎̇̀͗̂̂̎̈̎̓̇́͝o̵̝̙̜̙̿̊͊̒͌̈́̆͝ṅ̴̮̟̮̉̇̅̊̇̈́͌͌̓͜g̵̡̢͎̯̤͖̈́.̵̛͔̖͎̰̺͂̽̀̐̆̕͘͝.̶͇̤̺̓́͂.̸͇̙͇̌̈́͌

FREAKSHOW AU (belongs to @/hootbon)

Freakshow Stilti is all of regular Stiltikyu’s worst aspects exaggerated and potentials accelerated, basically the worst possible version of themself that lives on even more of a wire than she already is in canon verse. Walking on eggshells is second nature - at least she has great balance, even with her disfunctional limbs! Mind the splinters! While both versions of them are resigned to the hopelessness of their situation, Regular Stilti would compare hers to purgatory whereas Freakshow Stilti would (internally) compare theirs to hell. The first thing Caine did when she arrived was break her arms and legs - this was to give her flexibility for their new role as “Contortionist”, but the permanent trauma and chronic pain they also received was of no concern to him outside of frustration with her “attitude” (AKA screaming, then crying, then a paralysis-like freeze response, which was highly unproductive), but an unacceptable lack of cooperation was nothing corrective measures couldn’t reeducate. Seemingly, it worked: nowadays she’s all silly smiles, singing and practicing her performance routines off-hours for fun. What dedication! Isn’t it nice they chose to be such a team player? Well, whatever. With that twist on the same acceptance their regular TADC counterpart has, there’s also the similar (albeit darker) self awareness. She may be resigned to their existence but she’s not avoidant to its realities. On the surface they’re on Promised Neverland levels of copium and outwardly detached completely from their emotions and the horrific events that routinely surround them. However, while her persona may come across as delusional, everything they do is on her own terms. Their hyper-vigilance, a torturously anxiety-ridden constant of being, has also been her biggest tool for- well, not surviving, they’ve died plenty of times..-persisting, let’s say. Their preferred choices in strategies can all be categorized as some form of Freeze, while their last choice would be Fight, in order avoid potentially unwinnable situations. Still…we’d like to still think we have principles, but in the face of self preservation, it gets easier to abandon them. Though not their go-to, there definitely are and will be times they choose Flight or Fawn instead. Generally outside of shows, she keeps a low profile. They do their best to keep expectations of her reasonable, with not so much that they’d attract needless attention (not to mention be even more stress to maintain), but not so little it would inconvenience anyone, or god forbid, give the impression that they’re not pulling their own weight. Over time, she’s learnt all the things they have no power over and the few she does, namely their own mind. Dignity is a luxury in a place like this but integrity is something they can only take if she chooses to give it to them, and stooping to their level yields the exact same result as unwillingly being pulled down. “None of this is real” is also little reassurance in a realm where you can still experience the sensation of physical pain (not to mention psychologically directly), but “take whatever you can get in this place” was another quickly learned lesson and that includes comforts, so the fact that everything is “just” in a video game is one of many tools in Stilti’s arsenal of dissociation. They overall have attitude of “if there’s no meaning, they’ll make up her own - to them, that’s better than looking for something that isn’t there” Is it denial if it’s a conscious decision? Who knows!

An area that Freakshow Stilti is basically completely different from her canon verse counterpart is that she doesn’t crave nor seek out connection with others the way Regular Stilti does. This is likely a result of both her detachment methods in other areas, as well as a mutual lack of trust with the other members since she’s experienced and witnessed first hand plenty of times that they’re all incapable of actually relying on and helping each other. Still being a Stilti, though, part of her will always want to - she’s somewhat “attached” to others who have been personally victimized by the ringleader, possibly out of empathy or a perceived “connection” from the shared experience. However, when attempting to build bridges have an inevitably lethal outcome, she knows better than to have their hopes up in ways her other self will fortunately never have to fathom coming to terms with. That being said, not worrying about any relationships having strong foundations makes it a lot easier to have a devil-may-care attitude towards her peers and how they perceive them, so when combined with feeling her emotions more strongly in moments they’re not being actively repressed, Freakshow Stilti is a lot more unrestrained expressing her infatuation for those like Gangle and Ragatha, or contempt for those like Jax. The AI are of course the exception to this - any interaction with Caine and Aingle is with a permanently awestruck pokerface. Maybe, in some areas, that sentiment is genuine - after all, if she wasn’t impressed on some level by their technical abilities, authentically expressing respect for them as “superiors” would be impossible not to come across as tepid or overboard, both unconvincingly.

"Are you crying?...Oh, no, I don't do that anymore. Bad for my voice, you know? How about we sing instead?"

#my art #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc oc #tadc sona #tadc self insert #opposite au #carnival au #ringmaster au #corruption au #freakshow au #eye contact #blood #body horror

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whetstonefires · 8 months

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The thing about the Shazam! (Captain Marvel but they don't have the rights to call him that) movie is that overall it's pretty good? Even if I question the pacing choices made in terms of screentime breakdown for '14yo boys making mortifying life choices and humorously failing judgment calls' vs. 'character development wrt to literally anything else about this fairly large cast.'

It's hokey; it should be. It's got some decent themes and fun character bits and set up good solid hero/villain parallels to subvert.

But.

But it massively clotheslined itself with a major storytelling fuckup connected to the opening hook mystery, whose resolution is meant to be the emotional inflection point of the whole film.

Because the thing is, this movie chose to be slightly interesting in how it approached its 'family' themes. In a variation on 'family of choice' (since your foster family are in fact assigned by the government and Billy not having a choice about living with them only about trusting them is a major story element) it went for the more nuanced and kind of interestingly grimy take that the people who are actually in your life giving a shit about you matter, if you let them, and that you need to stop giving the people who failed to love you power over your happiness.

Which is not a bad premise at all! As messages for a movie about a kid being sent to a group home go, that's the most upbeat you could possibly get and still be tied to reality.

The Vasquez couple are written and played well in these terms too because they really, genuinely care, and are making so much effort, but as system graduates themselves they never had competent parenting modeled for them and god does it show.

And the mental health problems of the kids who got enough characterization to have them were similarly...realistic in a best-case-scenario sort of way.

But! Still with the but! Even though they pulled off a lot of this fairly touchy premise rather well, there's a crack in the foundation that makes the whole movie kind of collapse on a thematic level.

Because the movie (following the prologue introducing the villain's backstory) opens with a juicy emotional hook where small Billy is separated from his mother at a Christmas fair and never sees her again.

Cut to some years later, establishing status quo scene, he's a Troubled Youth rebelling against the system in an endless quest to find his mother and go home. He is committing minor felonies to get access to police information about women surnamed Batson so he can go to their houses because eventually one of them has to be his mom.

His case worker after he's picked up again refers to his mother as 'someone who clearly didn't want you,' which Billy rejects as bullshit, and he's valid! Because that is not what you say when you have actual information. That's a surmise. That's a sentence that says Child Protective Services and the police couldn't find her either.

Especially because you don't immediately chuck a kid into foster care because he's found unattended. Maybe you do that later, after a lengthy period of oversight, depending on his mom's reaction to having him returned and her race and socioeconomic status and apparent mental health and so forth. But you don't just not contact her, and you definitely don't refuse to tell the kid about the result once you have.

The only normal situation where an accessible record exists of a kid's original parentage but it's denied to the kid is in sealed adoptions, which are a formal procedure that clearly didn't happen here. There is every indication in this opening sequence that his mom was never found.

Which means she's a missing person. Either because they located the correct Billy Batson and his adult never came back to their house (which would suggest foul play or some other drama) or because despite being old enough to be in school and knowing his own name, no one could find evidence that Billy existed prior to turning up at that street carnival.

Which would constitute a very mysterious situation! What is he, from a cult? Another dimension? Did someone (in the social worker's proposed scenario, Billy's mom) erase all record of her kid somehow? Was magic involved?

So: the way we're introduced to this scenario, there's a legitimate weird mystery here that none of the adults in Billy's life care enough about to do anything but tell him to write it off, the way they have. That his missing person clearly did it on purpose.

Billy's being ridiculous because if what he's trying would work then he wouldn't need to do it; his social worker could have arranged a meeting years ago. So it's a useless self-destructive behavior he needs to let go. But he's valid, in that he's being very obviously failed by the system and is doing the only thing he can think of to try to address his situation for himself.

And then! The Big Reveal is that his mom has been living under her maiden name in the same city as him this whole time.

Which the Gamer Kid Who Turns Out In This Scene To Be A Hacker (he's about 10) learned by. Breaking into a federal database.

So he goes to her house and it turns out. She'd been a teen mother and her babydaddy walked out after marrying her, and her parents cut her off, and she was depressed and felt like a bad mother so. When she saw the cops had her kid, she just walked away. And she wants to believe he's been happy and better off without her.

And the emotional arc of the film rests on how Billy comes to terms with this. With the fact that his past will never take him back and he has to learn to find joy in himself and his present situation and his future.

Having let go of that idea, he's able to emotionally commit to his gaggle of foster siblings and realize that unlike the villain, who was obsessed with punishing the people who never loved or accepted him, or the wizard who was focused on finding The Perfectly Worthy Champion, what you needed to be good and not lost was to be part of a mutually supportive group, like the wizard Shazam was before he and his siblings were betrayed. And then they can be a superhero team, woo!

And that part is actually depicted fairly well, all things considered!

But the problem is that the audience, to vibe with this properly, has to roll with the revelation that Billy was wrong to cling to the mystery of his vanished, beloved mother and the fantasy of going home again.

We have to be willing to participate in the idea that the Resistant Child Subjected To Foster Care was in the wrong.

And he wasn't! He wasn't wrong! His understanding of the situation was flawed but it should not have been flawed in this manner.

Because this scenario as it's depicted doesn't make any sense. The cops do not just keep your kid without following up if you fail to collect him from the baggage claim. CPS does not fail to provide a kid with the readily available evidence that he's been voluntarily surrendered to them, when he keeps running off trying to go home.

Why would they do that, after all? Billy's misbehavior was a huge hassle for them. They gained nothing by denying him access to his mother and the information about her that was, you recall, sitting totally available in a government database that could be hacked by a random 10 year old asian-american orphan. They just...made their own lives harder for no reason, while extending the suffering of a child in their care.

If the cops tried to return him back when and she said 'no i left him with you on purpose please keep him' maybe she gets prosecuted for child abandonment and maybe not, but either way, billy would know about it.

But if the screenwriters had made it clear early on that this information had been offered to him and he'd chosen not to believe it, they couldn't get a proper Reveal at the end because it would just be Billy being unable to continue pretending something the audience had known not to believe all along.

And they couldn't cram a good reason for the scenario they'd set up into the space they'd accorded it.

So they were just like, it's fine, if we cram enough cliches into this space people will react to the familiarity and go 'ah yes i know this one' and go along with it, and not notice that this isn't an actual coherent reply to the question that was set up an hour ago and therefore is emotionally unsatisfying somehow.

Anyway this is an important storytelling guideline: if you put in a mystery to control either the actual plot or, even worse, the emotional storyline, that mystery and its resolution have to make internal sense.

If you pull the Real Situation out of your ass, and it's not a matter of red herrings or That One Fact you didn't have that makes all the rest fit together differently, but in fact no one involved could have figured this out and especially if the people who did say this in the first place had no good basis for it, but still get narratively awarded the Correct trophy in a way that contributes to the thematic climax so the audience has to care. Then that will not get good results. It will make it hard to deliver on your intended themes.

Some people will not notice or care! This is true! But a lot of people will, and you'll get enough of a better punch even with the other folks, if the setup and denouement fit together properly and don't require reaching, to matter.

And when people do notice at all, rather than their naturally flowing along with the climax you're steering toward and experiencing A Story, there will be a tendency to notice you standing there placing roadsigns toward the Intended Emotional Response, and call you a hack.

People call out plotholes way too vigorously sometimes, so I want to be clear: it's not the lack of supporting logic I mind. It's that the active presence of illogic, of what's presented as a chain but is broken along its length, means the central character arc intersects with the core theme in a noticeably forced way. Which is bad craftsmanship on a meaningful level.

There is a loss of cohesion where you cannot satisfactorily resolve how the scenario we were initially shown came to be superimposed over the revealed truth, because that relationship between elements is very important to making a 'revelation' storyline land, you know?

In this case it's particularly vexing to me because the last-minute asspull and its thematic weight reaches back around and at the last minute moves the whole movie thematically to the other side of the line wrt whether it's approaching Billy, our protagonist, as a subject with whom we're supposed to identify or an object whom we're supposed to observe.

It makes all the high-school-freshman-posing-as-adult gags retroactively less funny because we were now more explicitly laughing at him, and takes a lot of the depth out of the emotionally sincere moments.

Up to that point I had really appreciated how, despite wavering that way, Shazam! hadn't actually fallen to the MCU Spiderman temptation to dehumanize its protagonist. Which seems to arise out of this weird tendency I've noticed to assume the natural sentiment of adults toward adolescents is bemused contempt, and that therefore if they ask their audience of paying grownups to empathize too closely with a teen hero instead of setting him and his Immaturity up as a clown for our amusement, they'll get themselves banished to the Children's Fiction ghetto.

And, of course, if they'd been fully committed to one side or the other of 'Billy is a protagonist the viewer relates to closely' or 'Billy is a protagonist the viewer relates to distantly,' they wouldn't have gotten snarled up about how much information to hand over when.

Committing to either option (giving us only as much information as Billy had and constructing a story that was solid from a being-Billy angle or giving us more information than Billy and operating confidently in the realm of dramatic irony) could have worked quite well. But because of the mixed signals and unstable narrative distance, they wound up with a distinctly weakened finale.

#hoc est meum #in real life things happen that you have no good reason to expect all the time #but in real life we know they happened for some kind of reason as in #causality exists and even in situations where we can't dig into the chain #we have cause to understand that it's there #in fiction they happened because they'd be convenient #so the rules of what information can be available and how you frame new information being revealed exist #to keep the audience from feeling jerked around #you have to earn people's trust and if you lose it #that limits the kind of results you can get #when writing fiction one of your tools is the reader's mind #if you give them reason not to allow you free use of it your composition contracts #screenwriting #shazam #and like in this case there's a profound betrayal of the protagonist and thus of the audience who connected with him wrapped up in it

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lifeiskentastic · 8 months

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gn!Reader and Luke agree to quit smoking (at least one of them)

A/N: I know it's weird but god look how many cigarettes he smoked in the whole movie I can't he need to take care of himself he's our husband after all 😭😭

Summary: gn!Reader makes a deal with Luke that they will quit smoking. But it looks like Luke has found a way around the rules…

Word count: 759 words;

⚠️ Warning ⚠️: as you might have noticed, there are quite a few references to smoking, but if you okay with it - go on!

Take care of yourself!

'You know, you need to stop smoking.' You turned to Luke as if you were seeing him for the first time. Still, it was strange to hear such words in the smoking room and from a man who was burning a cigarette between his lips at that very moment. 'It's bad for health'

As far as you know: Luke had never thought about the health hazards of smoking until you started to take up the habit yourself. And that was a little unfair. If you have to take care of yourself, it's better to take your boyfriend with you.

'I'll stop.' Your gaze grew more sarcastic as Luke smiled at you naively. But you still had something to add. 'Right after you.'

Your boyfriend raised his eyebrows and looked sadly at the burning cigare clutched between his fingers. With the most crushing exhalation possible, he threw it to the ground. As he should have done a long time ago, actually.

Of course, your health was more important to him than some tobacco smoke. He will manage, for your sake! Or at least he will try very, very hard.

***

And Luke did try hard. He tried very hard to avoid your eyes while he smoked. And for a while, he even managed to wrap you around his finger, riding his motorcycle into the most desolate corners of the city, when the desire to feel the smoke in his lungs became stronger than any agreements and arrangements. Perhaps he would have continued to outsmart you if one day he hadn't become too safe and decided to carelessly smoke one innocent cigar on the balcony of your house. What could have happened? You were sleeping soundly, so there was nothing to stop Luke's nefarious schemes from going ahead as planned.

At least, that's what he thought.

Until the balcony door behind him creaked.

'Luke...'

All Luke could do was to stare in confusion as your not at all sleepy figure stood in the doorway. That is, your absolutely furious figure.

Of course, you knew that Luke was not honoring your important agreement, but you didn't want to believe it completely...

He hadn't even bothered to throw the cigar away, even after your threatening look! You were outraged by this. So, in the end, you just couldn't leave your boyfriend alone after what you just saw.

After exhaling a frustrated breath, you walked closer to the lightly relaxed Luke, forcing him to back away a few steps until his back was against the balcony railing.

And Luke just smiled guiltily, even though he knew perfectly well that smiling in this situation was life-threatening. But what could he do with himself? Watching your irritated face was one of his favorite things to do.

And when there was only the distance of a smoldering cigarette between your faces, you slyly laughed and moved closer.

- If you broke the rules, then I can do it too, right?

Your fingers deftly snatched the cigarette from Luke's relaxed lips and brought it to your own mouth. Luke's brow furrowed, but he didn't argue with you. And he was right to do so, because at that moment you had the upper hand. Right?

He gently stared at his cigar clamped between your lips, occasionally looking up at you. And something in his gentle eyes made you shudder involuntarily. Luke knew exactly what he was doing, and this became especially clear when he gently took the butt from you and leaned closer.

The cigare flew away in an instant, and Luke's eyes, even if you refused to admit it, held you in place.

He didn't say anything, because you could have realized without any further ado what was going to happen the moment Luke's warm breath touched your lips. Something told you that he was trying to distract you from the fact that he had just broken the terms of your agreement. However, you could not stop him from fooling around with you as his lips slowly descended on yours. You certainly could not stop him when one of his hands gently wrapped around your weist and the other lovely touched your cheek.

You could sense the obvious trickery in his actions, but your boyfriend forgot to take into account one important thing: you could be sneaky, too. And when this mind-blowing kiss is over and Luke is drawn to cigarettes again, he will be out of luck. By then, you'll be ready to catch him in the act again and bravely prevent his lungs from being damaged (and end it with another kiss)!

P.S. I have a picture of Luke on my wall and he was staring at me while I was writing this… I finally lost my conscience…

#luke glanton #luke glanton is our husband #luke glanton x reader #the place beyond the pines #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #ryan gosling x reader #gn reader #fluff fic #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling fanfic #fanfiction

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remotepixel · 2 months

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Hey could I please request headcannons for how Marc and Steven would act as yandads?

Hi!! Thank you for requesting, and sorry this took longer than normal. I have mocks rn and some important exams in May and overall struggling to correctly manage my time lol.

Tw: Yanderes themes + off-hand mentions of kidnapping.

Steven:

-Panic is his main mood when dealing with you; he honestly has no clue what he’s doing.

-He’ll be the one you’re around most, and normally the one to deal out any consequences for your actions (the worst you’re getting is a ‘stern warning’ and a ten-minute timeout because he feels bad).

-He’s never risen a child before, and there’s not really any textbooks about how to parent a kid your alter kidnapped. I definitely get that vibe he would read mummy blogs though out of pure desperation (he’s trying his best </3).

-Steven is a big pushover. He’ll weakly defend himself if anyone accuse him - stating he’s just trying to make you happy - but it’s obvious enough that even he can’t defend himself properly.

-He’s pretty easily manipulated through your emotions. If you start crying, or even look slightly sad, the guy immediately backpedals on whatever it was.

-Since he’s super into Ancient Egypt, he knows how important interests can be. He’ll research into what like to try and make conversation. He’ll fully support any hobbies, skills, etc and try his best to support you if he’s able to.

-While writing this, I got this image of Steven, at like fucking 2am, half-asleep, trying desperately to understand all your ‘GenZ’ references like he’s studying some ancient literature. It’s an excuse to talk to you so he’ll take it, but god he wished you were a Ennead fanatic or something to make this a bit easier.

-He gives the vibe of randomly dropping some phrases that he hears you say to try and bond. He’ll probably give up after the first time though because you just stared blankly at him and he couldn’t deal with the embarrassment.

Marc:

-I guess it makes sense but Marc and Steven are both pretty similar in this situation, Marc just likes putting up a ‘i’m in control’ façade because he can’t correctly deal with his emotions (same).

-He’s even more scared than Steven, just better at hiding it. Obviously, his view on parental figures has been greatly screwed over by his own childhood, and despite vowing to himself he would never be the same, he always worries that he’ll cross that line.

-I think out of the two of them, he’d probably be the one to kidnap you, assuming that’s what happened, but he’ll be distant at the start.

-It’s not that he doesn’t want to comfort you, he just has no clue how to do it. And he will much rather show his love in his own way than mess up with his words.

-You’ll find little things you like around the apartment, or your favourite food just happens to be the one he brought for tonight.

-Honestly, I think he’ll also be a pushover. As much as he probably shits on Steven for being so, he can’t stand to see you disappointed, and he doesn’t have the ‘luxury’ (he never asks) of speaking to you everyday like Steven does.

-After a few months, he’ll start to be more open - small smiles, etc etc - but it depends on you mostly. If you seem happier, he’ll take over the body more, maybe for a movie night or a board game.

-If you’re just as or more angry/sad than at the start, he’s remaining firmly inside the headspace when you’re around. He’d rather live through Steven than have to confront the familiarly haunting look on your face.

A bit random but I have this cute thought of them putting more mirrors (or just any sort of reflective surface) around the apartment so both of them can hang out with you, even if only one can control the body.

#RemotePixel #platonic yandere #yandere mcu #yandere marvel #yandere moonknight #platonic yandere moonknight #platonic yandere Marc Spector #platonic yandere Steven Grant

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ask-ursa-tonypeter · 18 days

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Oh man, okay so that Peter snatching ask, I feel like I neeeed more of that. How would Tony even explain Pyrite!Peter’s new situation to him? Would he even tell Pyrite Peter about DB!Peter? Aksdkfniend I don’t know if you want to go more into detail about this because it’s technically not a fic of yours so feel free to ignore this ask if this isn’t the direction you want to go with these, I’m just infinitely curious about the scenario written in that ask and figured it didn’t hurt to shoot my shot here, so to speak.

[[in reference to this ask and then this ask-- not only did it not hurt to shoot your shot, I wrote a whole-ass fic about it, lmao. CWs for abduction/long-term captivity, gentle noncon and general very 💖loving and tender💖 emotional abuse, and all of the psychological trauma that goes with it-- but there's a hopeful ending! (Also, daddykink, which I can apparently only tolerate if one of the characters in question hates it, lmao.)]]

This older Tony told him that he was picked because he's special, but Peter isn't stupid. In the brief glimpse he was allowed to see of the other Peters out there on that monitor, he noticed that most of them were older. Stronger. Actually special.

And he sees the way that this Tony looks at him. Peter wouldn't have noticed it before, probably, but it was the same expression that his brother wore when they were… together. Dark, heated, focused. Peter had loved the attention from his brother, but it scares him from this man. He's constantly on edge, waiting for the moment that petting hands or a tender kiss might slip somewhere unbearable, like being prepared will somehow give him a way to stop it.

He knows it won't, of course. He knows he can't.

He can't stop anything.

This Tony wants Peter to call him 'Dad.' Peter tries to protest, tries to say that he already has a dad, that it's strange when his own Tony is his brother instead. But Tony insists– says that he'll be a better father to Peter than Howard Stark ever was, that Peter doesn't need a brother when he has a father like Tony instead, that his brother was never any good to him anyway.

It makes Peter regret every single time he's ever complained about his dad and every single time he ever felt ignored by his brother, and he tells Tony that, that he loves his family even if they're not perfect and he misses his mom and that he wants to go home.

But this Tony doesn't care about his tears, and Peter is afraid of him, so Tony gets his way.

That's always how it goes. Peter cries, he begs, he asks to go home. When he's at his most desperate and selfish and awful, he asks for Tony to take someone else instead. And Tony holds him and pets him and coos and hums and murmurs that everything will be okay, and he just needs time to adjust, and that he's perfect. That Tony could never let him go.

Peter knows that he means it, and Tony never seems to realize that it only makes him cry harder. But in the end Peter always ends up leaning heavily into his arms, sniffling and exhausted and cried-out, so maybe it's his fault for sending mixed messages.

He does try to make the best of it, after all. He knows it makes him a coward, and that he should fight and scream and try to make this Tony's life hell until he does give Peter up, like rehoming a bad dog. But he can't, because he's not brave, so instead he sets the table and makes suggestions for dinner and smiles at Tony's jokes and picks out movies to watch from under the arm of this man who is not his father and not his brother but who he still calls 'Dad.'

"Good choice, baby," Tony says with a smile when Peter picks out Die Hard for movie night, and Peter hates the warm, pathetic glow of satisfaction that swells in his chest at the praise. But it's better than being scared, so Peter will take it, even if it makes him feel just as cheap and slimy as the actual sex.

It doesn't take long for that to start, though it's longer than Peter expects. A few weeks, maybe, though Peter's sense of time isn't great anymore. Tony had already slipped into his bed even as early as that first night, with the excuse of comforting Peter while he cried– "oh, sweetheart, don't cry, you'll be okay," he'd crooned, pressing kisses to Peter's hair while he flinched, "you'll love it here, you'll see,"– but then he never stopped, even once Peter stopped crying himself to sleep.

So one morning it happens, inevitable. Tony's wrist brushes too low when he's untangling himself from Peter as they wake, and Peter can't bite back his gasp at the pressure against his morning wood, and before he knows it there's a hand around him and lips against his neck and a warm, morning-rough voice muttering, "Let me take care of that for you, sweetheart."

Peter tries to stop it. He does. He does.

But when he gasps, "Dad, wait, please stop," Tony only murmurs, "Shh, relax, honey," and in the end it's like everything else.

Tony is always gentle with him. It's a strange contrast to his brother, who called him filthy things and teased him until he was so red he thought he might pass out and could be rough with him when Peter asked for it. Peter liked that, yeah, but he had always wished that his brother would kiss him sweetly and tell him he loved him, too.

It's disorienting to have those daydreams come to life in the form of this other, twisted version of his brother. Peter tries to close his eyes as Tony moves inside him and take what comfort he can in the soft touches and endless praise, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it puts a pit in his stomach to think he ever wanted this from his brother at all.

Even outside of bed, it messes with Peter's head the way that Tony's so nice. It makes it too easy to sink into the lie sometimes, when he's allowed to wander the familiar penthouse suite of Stark Tower instead of being locked in some basement, when Tony remembers all of his favorite treats and movies, when Tony spoils him rotten and tells him he's perfect and never, ever loses his patience.

(Even when Peter does. Even when Peter has one of his embarrassing episodes where he loses his mind and beats his fists against Tony's chest and scratches and bites until he tastes blood, Tony just holds him and sighs "I know, baby, I know," until Peter is spent. He never even raises his voice.

But he does cry sometimes. It makes Peter feel guilty, and then mad at himself for feeling guilty, and then he gets so confused that he just lets Tony bundle him away for a nap like he really is a tantruming five-year-old. Every time he wakes up he's mortified, but Tony never scolds him like he deserves. He's just sweet and gentle and forgiving, and he lets Peter sink right back into the comfort of the lie.)

Peter wonders if Tony was kind to the other Peter. He resents him sometimes, even though he knows it's not fair. It's not the other Peter's fault that he died, or that his dad is… like this. It's not the other Peter's fault that Tony picked Peter out of all the options. But even still, sometimes he thinks 'if you were still here, then I wouldn't be,' and there's some satisfaction in having someone to blame who he doesn't have to share a bed with.

But mostly– mostly he wonders about the other Peter's life. Sometimes Tony will cling to him and apologize over and over again like he can't hear Peter at all, and Peter wonders if he was mean to the other Peter while he was alive, or if he was sleeping with his actual son, too, or if he blames himself somehow for the way that he died. JARVIS won't tell him what happened, and he's too afraid to ask Tony.

But it wasn't a secret, he knows. Even if he can't find any mention of the original Peter Stark's death online, other people have to know about it, because none of Tony's employees can stand to look at him.

He wonders what they know. Do they think he's some kind of Frankenstein's monster? Do they know he's been kidnapped? Do they think he's just an uncanny lookalike, or do they know about the machine in Tony's personal lab?

(Or do they just know exactly how close their boss is to his son, Peter thinks sometimes, and it makes him want to never come out of his room.)

Or maybe they're just afraid that if they look, Tony will see something on their faces that he doesn't like, because–

He may always be gentle with Peter, but Tony is not a kind man.

He still rarely raises his voice. When he's angry with someone, his voice goes flat and ice-cold and the room gets so quiet it feels like even breathing would be too loud.

He always sends Peter out of the room before he kills someone. It's the only time anyone will look at him, their eyes wild and pleading for Peter to stay like that would save them, but by then it's Peter who can't bear to look.

Peter hates himself for the way that he shakes for hours afterward instead of doing something. He hates himself for the way that he crawls into Tony's lap once they get home, the way he tips his face up for a kiss, all so he can hear Tony say–

"I'm sorry, baby." Rough stubble prickling at Peter's temple, his cheek, his chin. "You know I would never hurt you, don't you? Never."

"I know," Peter whispers, and by the time they're done and Tony has made him come at least twice and told him again and again that he loves him, that he's perfect, that he's the only thing that matters, it will almost feel true.

(Peter thinks about the other Peters on that monitor, and how so many of them were strong and brave and stood up to people just like Tony, and he wonders how the other Peter died.)

He does save someone though, he thinks. Just once. He can't know for sure, because it's not one of the men that regularly comes to meet Tony at the tower, but he thinks maybe he helped.

The man is making excuses. He's in charge of one of Tony's projects, and he says that Tony gave him permission to take time off to take care of his mother after a surgery, and that's why the project is behind schedule. Tony doesn't remember and doesn't care and he gets angrier with every word out of the man's mouth, and eventually he stands, those silver tendrils exploding out of his suit to grapple the man down over his desk while he wails and pleads.

Tony takes a breath, and Peter knows he's going to tell Peter to leave the room, and he abruptly can't stand it.

"Daddy, don't," he says, the babyish word coming out in his desperate horror without him meaning to say it, and he hugs Tony around the waist like that means anything, like he can stop anything, like he's a version of himself that's actually strong.

Tony freezes, and for the length of what feels like a hundred rabbiting heartbeats Peter is terrified. He's never stood up to Tony in front of his men. He's barely stood up to him at all, and it never leads to anything anyway, and he suddenly doesn't know why he stuck himself out for this stranger who Tony is probably just going to kill anyway but this man has a family and Peter misses his mom so much he can barely breathe and he can't keep doing nothing he can't he can't he can't–

Tony turns gently in his grip, because Peter can't stop him, and Peter keeps his face buried against Tony's shoulder. He can still hear the sound of the man whimpering quietly from where he's pinned to the desk by Tony's tendrils, and he flinches when the weight of Tony's hand settles on his hair, gentle.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony breathes, his voice strange– revelatory, tender, almost delighted. "Did Daddy scare you?"

The room is quiet. Peter is painfully aware of every other person listening– the guards by the door, the man on the desk, gasping in shaky breaths now instead of whimpering.

He can feel the weight of something important shifting, shifting, shifting when he nods his head, and the finality of something new settling into place when Tony wraps his arms around him.

"Get out," Tony says over his shoulder, and there's a clatter of noise as the man scrambles to the door. Tony adds, "You too," to the guards, and when the door clicks closed they're alone.

Peter shudders in Tony's arms, his body not able to reconcile the combination of relief and deep, primal fear coursing through his veins, and Tony clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"You really don't like coming to work with me, do you," he sighs, rubbing Peter's back. "I'm sorry, baby. You told me that, and I didn't listen."

He reaches to cup both sides of Peter's face, so Peter finally has to look up at him. He looks perfectly sweet, warm and fond and apologetic, and the contrast from his anger moments earlier is dizzying.

Tony strokes his thumbs tenderly over Peter's cheeks, and sighs one more time before he says, "All right, sweetie. If you promise that you'll be good, I'll let you stay in your room while I'm gone, okay? If that's really what you want."

It's so unexpected that it takes Peter a moment to understand that this is a compromise. Tony has never offered one before, and Peter had learned to stop asking a long time ago.

He rushes to gasp, "Yes– yes, please," and then, spontaneous and uncertain and thinking, adds, "Thank you, Daddy."

Tony smiles, and the chill it sends through Peter is anticipation just as much as disgust. Tony takes him upstairs to the penthouse then, and takes the entire rest of the day off work to make up for scaring him. It's almost nice, really, and if Peter doesn't like it when Tony tells him 'Daddy's got you' and 'that's right, let Daddy take care of you' in bed, it's still worth it, because–

The next day Peter gets to have four whole hours to himself until lunchtime, and then another four whole hours after that, and he can't remember the last time he didn't spend the whole day with Tony.

Things change after that.

Before, any protests Peter made would get shushed and brushed aside, Tony always gentle but never permissive. He would say that he knew best, that Peter would be okay, that Peter's way wouldn't work, and he would go on like Peter hadn't said anything at all. Requests were usually easier, Tony happy to bury Peter in gifts, but as for experiences– Tony's sense of what was too risky for Peter was broad and paranoid and stifling, and now–

It's shocking having a way to get Tony to listen to him, and Peter tries not to let it go to his head. He's careful. He doesn't ask for too much. He sprinkles in petty requests to throw off the scent of when he really, really wants something so it can't be used against him.

He acts like he really is all those dirty things his brother used to call him, and he bats his eyelashes and pouts and fawns, and he says "Daddy, please?" and "Can I, Daddy?" and "Daddy, I don't want to," and he gets what he wants.

But he knows just that won't be enough for what he really wants. Not by itself. He can't just stick out his bottom lip and simper his way into where he wants to go, so he'll need to add something else.

And Peter will give Tony this: for all that his obsession with his "son" is twisted and wrong, he really does seem to care more about making Peter come than himself. He always takes Peter in his mouth like it's a treat, but the first time Peter slides to his knees in front of him, he looks so shocked that it honestly seems like he hasn't even thought about it before.

"Petey," he says, ghosting his fingers over Peter's hair while Peter draws him out of his pants. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, sweetie."

Peter knows it's part of why Tony is so sweet to him, but it irritates him sometimes when Tony acts like he actually buys the whole innocent lamb act, like he doesn't fuck Peter at least twice a day himself. Tony knows about Peter's brother, he knows Peter's done this before; Peter's even pretty sure it's part of why Tony picked him.

Peter takes a breath and pushes it all down, down, down, and he reaches for the part of himself that means it when he says, "I want to, Daddy."

He leans in, and if it's more bitter than he remembers– well, the aftermath is what's sweet.

It's hard to keep the request behind his teeth while Tony fawns over him after, showering him in kisses and praise and making him come so many times that Peter finally has to protest, "Daddy, no more," sluggish and sensitive and overheated.

But he wants Tony to think it's his idea, so he waits until finally, finally–

Tony chuckles and nuzzles in to kiss Peter's cheek, and he murmurs, "Okay, okay, baby. I just want to make you feel good after you were so good to me. What else can I do for you, hmm?"

Peter bites his lip and looks away, and it's not all playing shy. He's nervous, and he's really not sure how Tony is going to react, and if Tony squashes his hopes here– he can't think about that.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tony croons, pushing back Peter's sweaty curls and kissing his forehead. "You can tell me, Petey; I know you've got something in mind."

"Can I–" Peter hesitates, and he'd like to say he's playing it up, but the way his eyes go wide and desperate and shiny is all real. "Daddy, can I… can I please see the monitor again? Please? I want… I want to see Grandma."

He doesn't know if it's a step too far and too false to call her that. Maria Stark would be his grandmother if he was actually Tony's son, and he's trying to– give a show of good faith, that even if he's still thinking about his real family he's accepted the false reality that Tony's made for them. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits to find out, and–

Tony sucks in a breath, staring at Peter in shock for the second time that night, but this time his expression resolves into regret and apology.

"Honey," he says softly, and Peter wants to scream, "I don't know if that would be the best thing for you. I think it'll make you sad, sweetheart."

No, Peter wants to say, but contradicting Tony will just make him dig in his heels, so instead he says, "I-I know, I know it will, but that's okay. It'll make me happy, too. Like getting older, right?"

He throws it in, a last-minute ad-lib; Tony jokes all the time about how sad it makes him to see Peter get older even though he's glad that Peter's growing up so sweet. It's a hit– Tony smiles, rueful, and Peter presses his advantage. He links his arms behind Tony's neck, cuddling close, all entirely-real doe eyes and quivering lips when he asks, "Daddy, please let me. Please?"

Tony sighs, and he leans in to scatter kisses over Peter's face when he murmurs, "You're getting too sweet for me, baby. All right, if you're sure that's what you want."

Peter's heart soars, and when he pulls Tony into a kiss he doesn't even have to fake enjoying it.

They go the next day. Tony is still reluctant about it, but he doesn't try to back out, and so they make their way to his private lab after breakfast.

It hits Peter harder than he expected. He knew it would make him sad, but he was imagining his mother bright and vibrant and happy. He barely recognizes the haggard woman on the screen, grayer than he left her and exhausted with grief, and it makes him cry so hard he can barely breathe.

"I told you, sweetheart," Tony sighs, rubbing Peter's back and stroking his hair, but he doesn't try to rush him out of the room early. "This is too hard for you, baby."

"I'm okay," Peter forces out between tears, because he can't lose access to this. "I w-wanted this. I'm s-so happy to see her. Thank you, Daddy."

It's going to be hard to play at being cheerful the rest of the day, he knows, but he'll have to if he wants Tony to ever let him come back to this room. Because even despite his tears, he did get what he was actually after: he watched how Tony selected a universe from the massive, awe-inspiring constellation of choices, and he memorized the coordinates that Tony punched in to pull up his true home.

And if he's ever going to get an opportunity to use them, he needs to get back in that room.

He makes it work. He's extra-sweet all day long, enough to curb Tony's concerns about the effect of their field trip on his mood, and he keeps it up after that. He pulls Tony into kisses and buttons his shirts for him in the morning. He pushes Tony back to ride him after work, their hands clasped together between them. He gets on his knees, he wakes Tony in the morning with a warm hand or slick mouth, he waits for Tony at lunchtime wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else.

He's afraid at first that Tony might be put off by his new boldness, or at least suspicious, but Tony swallows the bait whole. He seems delighted that Peter is finally settling into his new life, eager to believe that Peter really has just grown more comfortable and mature in their relationship over time, and he even starts to trust Peter more. It's not even something that Peter asks for, but a week or two into his change of attitude, Tony gives him permission to access the rest of the suite while Tony's at work.

And that's not Peter's goal, but it does have some potential.

He does get to go back to the private lab. Peter doesn't ask for it every time, or even every other time, but Tony doesn't even hesitate to say yes, now. Peter plays up his excitement of the idea of the multiverse and of Tony's genius for making the machine; he plays up his interest in the other Peters; he checks in on his family.

And he watches the way Tony uses the monitor. He examines the construction of the machine. He pays attention to what features Tony uses when he navigates the 'verse map, and more than that, he pays attention to what features Tony avoids ever using in front of him.

He figures out slowly that his first plan won't work. As far as he can glean, the machine isn't built to have a way to send people back, and he knows he's not smart enough to figure out how to build that feature. He's smart, but even though the year on the calendar isn't even a full two decades ahead of Peter's actual universe, the technology may as well be a century more advanced– if the machine can only pull people to this universe, he isn't going to fool himself that he can change that by himself.

But still, every time he's in that room, he watches, and he thinks. He watches how Tony grows less attentive to his every move, more complacent in the idea that Peter is happy with their life. He watches how every day Tony gets closer to giving him permission to go to the lab by himself– it's not like he can use the machine to leave, after all. He watches how JARVIS sometimes lets him get away with things for a beat longer than he should, if Peter can make it look enough like an accident.

And he still watches the other Peters on the monitor. The ones that are older. The ones that are geniuses. The ones that save their cities from men like Tony. The ones that save the world.

Peter's not strong. He's not brave. He's not special.

He can't stop anything.

But he thinks he knows who can.

#fic: double blind #fic: pyrite #pyrite: peter #double blind: tony #prompt: multiverse #multiverse: kidnapping au #fic response #ursa interlude:#this is quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written #we are truly getting to CLAMP levels of masturbatory multiverse drama here but I love it #ANYWAY. UM. ENJOY?!

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