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#i mean hes not really the bad guy in that situation but i digress
bestbuybathroom · 1 year
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another selection of pins from my lucas pinterest board bc i have nothing else to post really (minor? horror tw for this one + scopophobia)
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there was this one image I was gonna put but ill do a separate post for that one bc it gets into like. "ooh hes soooooooooooooooooo fucked up bc of trauma and he like overcorrects his past mistakes" or smth like that
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originalfatfiction · 6 months
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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 juicier. 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!
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aita-blorbos · 5 months
Note
AITA for lying to save my own life?
I (21M) was born with magic powers in a village near a kingdom in which magic is outlawed. Apparently, I’m some long foretold sorcerer with a destiny to protect that kingdom’s prince.
Anyway, I can’t NOT use magic, but also, I HAD to move to that kingdom. Partially because the guy who is teaching me how to control my powers is there, but also because of destiny, apparently.
Yeah. It’s a long story. I found out through a dragon. I have a stupid destiny. But I digress.
I haaated the prince at first, but I’ve really grown to like him and he trusts me a lot. I’m technically his servant, but he lets me get away with a lot and brings me with him into battle. I save his life using magic behind his back, but since, remember, he’s sorta the prince of illegal magic kingdom, I can’t tell him I have magic or he will literally have to kill me!!
Anyway, he’s king now, and I’ve actually had to enchant him before to get him to make the right choice in a battle against his evil half sister. I didn’t feel good about taking away his free will, but he didn’t fully understand the situation. Then again, he couldn’t understand the situation because I refused to tell him. Then again, I refused to tell him because it would involve ADMITTING TO TREASON and GETTING MY HEAD CHOPPED OFF.
I really don’t want my head chopped off.
And I mean, he’s my friend. I like to think he wouldn’t chop off my head.
But I don’t want to make him choose between me and the law—and we are diametrically opposed.
It’s my destiny to protect him, but I don’t only do it because of that. I do it because I care about him, and I couldn’t bear to lose him, and he’s an IDIOT who keeps almost dying, so it’s a good thing he’s got me.
But protecting him involves breaking the law. Hence I must constantly lie to my friend and king, hiding from him a part of myself so innate that I couldn’t get rid of it if I tried. I AM a sorcerer. This fact cannot be erased. It does make me a walking crime though.
I don’t know.
I feel bad for lying, but not for protecting him. And I don’t see any other choice.
AITA?
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magichroma · 10 months
Text
Getting all Bunny Bunny
By @magichroma & @dialupmodern
Please, Clara, before you judge, let me explain. Aux (y’know, Aqua, that’s what I call her,) and I were sitting on the couch, the old fabric one we found on the side of the road. You were out, so it was just the two of us. sitting on the couch watching TV. Well not like we were sitting together, more like we were both incidentally on the couch and bored. It was already a little awkward ‘cause your dumb wolf ass left a half empty bottle of lube on the coffee table. Which is just bad manners, if you ask me, but I digress.
We had the TV playing the nature channel, you know, nice, neutral programming, and there was some kind of special in progress about bunnies. Now I'm a bunny and she's a bunny, so I figure this would be of some interest to us both. That was when the special went to an interview with some scientist putz who goes on. And this guy just starts talking about how bunnies have this “natural urge to breed,” especially in cases of two separated from their colony. I mean how the hell is this health class shit on daytime television anyway?
I think that (honestly, probably a bit perverted,) deer scientist guy said something like, "In the modern day, this can manifest in nearly any situation where two rabbits are alone." He turned to the camera, all dramatic like, "I believe the largest factor in this phenomenon is societal alienation." I wasn't really listening after that, ‘cause he had to go and get that damn thought in my head. I haven't ever really looked at Aux in that way before, but now all my mind can think about Is breed breed breed breed breed breed bre-
Damn, I got carried away there, but that's how it really was. I snuck a look at Aqua and I thought she looked a bit hot and bothered too. At least I thought she might be, I couldn't tell for sure with how much I was fucking keyed up, so I decided to play it off with a joke. "Hah. the bullshit people say about rabbits, am I right?" Perhaps the worst thing I’ve ever uttered in history, and I was about to apologize, but I looked across to her and I swear to Bunny God she was feeling herself up over her clothes. I was looking very intently for that kind of thing, you see, on account of my state.
What was a girl in my position to do? Horny as fuck and she seems to be the same, enough to touch herself in front of me (even covertly… still!) So of course I gave in a little myself, feeling up my tits, trying to be sly about it, if a little sloppy. I start acting like I'm adjusting my shirt, her hand starts moving over her crotch faster. Seeing that, I got a little more brazen, and pinched my nipple a little. I didn't mean to, but I moaned. Now she was making all these cute little noises too. Between my hands under my shirt and her hands in her pants, things were getting hot and heavy really quickly. Before I even properly realize, I’m pulling up my shirt.
Next thing I know, she's got her pants pulled down, rubbing her palm across her cute little dick, and my shirt and bra are discarded, leaving me with just my jeans. Granted, I had pulled them down a bit and was already jerking off. Both our eyes were locked on each other, each stifled moan an escalation. Without thinking, I leaned a bit more towards her, and she did the same. I could feel how the movement of her arm gently rocked the couch. We moved ever closer. I could see the budding of precum on her dick. We got closer still. I felt the warmth of her body next to mine. I couldn't fucking take it anymore.
My body moved before I could think and I was straddling her, sitting on her lap with my aching cock pressing hard into her stomach. It was all I could to stop for a moment and ask the most important question.
"Do you want this?"
She blushed, "Yes."
In a split second I was upon her, with a ferocity previously unknown to me. I grabbed at the collar of her shirt and, in one swift motion, I tore it all the way down to her stomach . Her chest was nearly totally exposed, save for the shreds of her shirt that remained, and the sports bra she was wearing underneath. I felt her cock push up against me weakly and moisten slightly. I felt almost feral as I alternatively kissed and bit her neck. I began playing with her breasts when she grabbed me by an ear and pulled me in.
"Gods, Coz. Just fuck me already," she whispered in my ear, almost growling with insistence.
Who could say no to an offer like that? I grab her hips, pull her close, and flip her over me till she's face down tail up on the center of the couch. I go to grab the bottle of lube that has been burning a hole in my mind ever since we started this (your fault, may I add.) I put some lube on my paw and rubbed it down the length of my cock, throbbing with need, taking the rest in my paw I spanked her ass, holding my hand tightly I spread it on and into her. 
I gripped tightly onto Aqua’s hip, lining up carefully, and on a whim I reached up and gathered her hair up in a fist on the back of her head. She moaned, begging for more in all but her words, we were long past that now. Pulling her back into me, I pressed into her.
A rhythm was established quickly, I plunged in, a gasp escaping between my lips, causing her to buck back into me, trying desperately to get more.  fell back slightly, pulling her hair tight. The softness of her fur between my digits was so much softer than it would feel with my own, I wanted more. I needed more.
More, I pulled her back on me. More, I moved my hand from her hip to her shoulder to grab her back harder. More, I let go of her hair to grab both hips with both hands, doing everything I could to fill her as deeply as I could. MORE, I wrapped my arms around her chest and pulled her vertical up against me as I came. My grip on her staying tight until I finally stopped shuddering.
We laid on the carpet, leaning against the couch as I caught my breath. "I- I don't know what happened to me back-"
"Shut up, Coz," Aqua said, climbing into my lap "I'm not finished yet, and that means you aren't either." Now, perhaps that doctor on TV would have called it rabbit physiology, but I know that my body is smart enough to obey the extremely hot woman on top of me. I was fully hard, hell, I might have been even more alert than before. She patted me on the head and called me a good girl, making me drip some precum onto her stomach. "And so eager too," she cooed.
She rose up, straddling me, lining me up to penetrate her again, but right before she looked down at me, seemingly reveling in the pleading look on my face. We moaned in concert as she settled down on my cock. She took a beat before she began riding up and down on me. My paws found their way onto her hips again, and quickly I began to explore her body, my paws running up and down her fur, finding where her bra clasped in the back. With no small effort I undid the mechanism, freeing her breasts from beneath her ruined shirt.
Seeing this, she took off the tattered shirt and shrugged off her bra, leaving her totally naked on top of me. I wasted no time in exploring this newly revealed part of her, grabbing exploratorily at first. I quickly gave in to my baser urge, a paw firmly on her back pushed her chest into my face as she rode me. Her breasts rubbed up and down with her movement, I grabbed her left tit and put it in my mouth, creating a whole new chorus of moans from above.
She bounced up and down on me as I grabbed and groped and sucked whatever I could. The pace rose again, as she grabbed my head and pushed me deeper into her breasts. I kissed harder and deeper, desperately trying to milk whatever pleasure I could out of her. Her moans kept rising, her voice became shakier, composure slipping bit by bit, until it finally came to a screaming crescendo. Grabbing me close and holding me tightly against her as she cried out, tightening on me to the point I might cum again.
She held me close against her soft fuzzy chest for a while, playing gently with my hair, but I wasn't ready to stop yet. I kicked up, causing her to jolt a little, but before she could properly react I had picked her up by the thighs and carried her behind the couch to the kitchen counter. I set her down on the cold tile, about to frot her, when I heard the most terrifying sound of my life, the key in the door.
“Shit shit shit,” I grabbed her again and ducked us both behind the counter, you were home. Aqua whispered to me, "when we get the chance, we should sneak into the bathroom and clean off." Thinking her plan a reasonable one,  I nodded silently. It was a few minutes until you went back to your room, griping about how we were leaving clothes everywhere (still your fault, by the way!)
As soon as we heard the door close, we made a break for it.  Before we could reach the bathroom, your door started opening, so thinking quickly I pushed us both into the closet, and gently closed the door. Through some twist of fate you still hadn't caught us, but the adrenaline was still pumping. As I took stock of the situation, I realized there was a beautiful, desperate, panting bunny girl in front of me, so of course, I kissed her. 
Well, I was about halfway through thinking of any of these things when she kissed me, pushing me against the back wall of the closet. Her hand wandered down to my crotch, grabbing both of our cocks. Frotting us. I moaned weakly into her kiss. Aqua pulled back, and whispered, inches from my ear, “best be quiet or we’ll both get caught. and then you wont get to cum.” 
My cock bounced up, precum budding at the tip, held softly in her paw. "Aww, do I have a little exhibitionist on my hands? You’re secretly hoping we'll get caught, aren’t you! You little slut." She was whispering in a knife sharp tone, as the smell of sex began to fill the closet, driving me deeper into a desperate frenzy.
She looked down at me, clearly reveling in this bit of power she had over me. As much as I hate to say it, I was putty in her paws. All I could think about was how close she was to me, and how soft and warm she felt, and how good she smelled, and… and… she took her hand off me. whispered, “aw, did the little bunny think she was allowed to cum? When you didn't even beg! For shame.” Her voice carried a sharpness, a glimmer of sadistic joy in her power, her control.
“Please,” I whispered, swallowing every bit of pride I had.
“Nope, too late, you just won’t get to.” Her voice was firm, reveling in how easily she’d made me beg.
She’d let that little bit of dominance go to her head far too fast. I felt that I needed to take her down a peg. I pushed her back against the other wall of the closet, pinning her arms to the wall. As she reeled in surprise, I pulled her into a kiss to stifle her gasp. Pushing my knee up into her heat, “guess you don’t get to cum either,” deepening her adorable little moans. I ground my knee against her, feeling her helplessly dribbling girlcum on my knee. as I felt her begin bucking against me, trying in vain to cum, I let go and backed away to the other side of the closet. She let herself slide down the wall and began desperately touching herself on the floor, whimpering. I couldn't help but follow suit, seeing her stare blankly up at me, desperately trying to get off. 
The closet was hot, steamy with our shallow breaths and the scent of sex thick in the air. The sense of power growing within me was palpable, staring down at her, slowly stroking my cock. Knowing that I was the only thing in the world on her mind right now. Her pace quickened, small moans beginning to slip out of her parted lips. I stepped closer, until I towered over her, one hand steadying myself above her, the other masturbating. Her pace quickened even further, and I tried my best to match pace. She was fast, and evidently pent up. Before I knew it, she was on the brink, reaching a paw up and grabbing my thigh, the new stimulation causing me to cum along with her, spurts of watery girlcum all over her face and chest.
We stayed there, panting for a while, and soon, I think, we both came to the realization that yes, we just did all that again, and the closet now stinks of sweat and sex. Not to mention that Aux was now covered in cum.
"I think I need a shower," we both whispered between panting breaths, nearly in unison.
It was pretty simple to get to the bathroom, I was worried about the wet sound Aqua’s fur was making, but it was literally 5 steps.  I stood there awkwardly while she got in the shower, until she reached a hand back out and purred, “come on, you’ll get me looking like this but you won't help clean me up?”
It was a little awkward clambering into the shower behind her, my crotch brushed against her ass and I won't lie it took a lot of willpower to not begin this whole cycle again. Stupid tiny shower. That's when I felt something brush against my ass, behind me. Aux giggled, "I forgot I left that in here, so I decided to set it up and give you a taste of your own medicine, Coz." she put a hand on my chest and pushed me back, into the dildo I had failed to see stuck to the wall.
Fucking hell, I don't know how long it's been since I was filled like that.the steam from the shower and the mass inside me made my brain so foggy I could hardly think. Aqua pushed me back inch by inch, ‘til she figured I had probably bottomed out on it. I didn't move for a few beats, prompting a reply of, "aww, too worked up to think, little bun?"Hearing that made me make a sound that she described as “pathetic and adorable.” With one paw she grabbed my dick,  and with her other she pet me on the head and called me a good girl. Causing me to make another sound (which she would describe as ‘absolutely adorable’ later.)
Aqua pushed her paw against my chest, groping me and forcing me further back into the dildo. I leaned forward, my face pressing up against her chest, almost automatically my lips were upon her breast, kissing and licking as I bucked back on the dildo.
She held the back of my head, pressing it into her breast. Each moan I elicited from her a small victory, though it was hard to maintain a rhythm while I rode the toy.
"Fuck Coz, you are SO good at this" Aqua moaned breathlessly. I dutifully took that as a sign to continue, smiling when I realized she was desperately humping into her other hand. But then she patted me on the head, “Actually, sit down for me” Holding on to her tight, I repositioned the dildo onto the floor of the shower, staring up at Aqua. She grasped the back of my head and pushed my snout into her cum soaked fur. “Good girl, Coz. clean up that mess you made for me.” It was the best I could do to moan into her, and lick of course. I was a good girl, after all. Eventually, her fur was as clean as I could get it, and I defaulted to obediently licking her cute little cock. We were both lost in this sexual feedback loop until there was a sudden shock of cold water, rudely informing us that we had totally lost track of time. 
We both quickly did our best to get ourselves presentable (which wasn’t much, admittedly,) and snuck off to our rooms. Well, I was gonna go back to my room before you caught me, Clara. So, um, can I go put some clothes on? Please?
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tamaruaart · 4 months
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AUGHHHHHH the unyielding urge to redesign Lucifer and Adam from HH cause what.
I've heard Adam's design is 'good' and it's supposed to be simple because he was the first man and is supposed to look like the average guy.
But I will ignore that if/when I redesign him because that is stupid.
It also goes in the topic about how HH romanticized Christianity in the show (a problem most shows have when they depict Christianity but I digress)
The reason it especially annoys me when hazbin is in question is because HH and HB want to focus a bit more on the characters and lore of the bible. And instead of trying to depict it correctly they just choose to romanticize it.
You hear this argument a lot with Greek myth as well. The Greek gods were assholes, so don't romanticize their actions PLEASE. (Ex: Disney's Hercules)
But the difference between Hercules and HH is that Hercules was always supposed to be a family friendly movie. While HH is of course ment for mature audiences.
Which means there's no reason to romanticize it like they did. And when I mean 'romanticize' I mean generally how they depicted heaven with all the pastels and how the cherubs are depicted in HB which all dials down to the art direction.
Also what they did to Saint Peter. Unforgivable.
If it's meant for mature audiences I'd also like to see a more mature representation of the Religion you're depicting.
Also the plot doesn't really make sense when you think about it? Like purgatory is right there?? Please acknowledge your source material lol????
It honestly shocks me cause all this time the purgatory hasn't been mentioned ONCE in the show. So does it even exist??
And if it doesn't... Well, that's just stinky writing-
And for the 'romanticizing' of Christianity (in the art direction more specifically), they could've done that. However in that case they shouldn't have focused so much on religion??
If heaven was only going to be mentioned here and there then sure you could do that. But if you're going to focus SO MUCH on it and going to make it so important to the lore then please treat it with respect?
And with Lucifer- I mean, that just shows how little the writers actually care about depicting the source material semi-accurately.
You give me the literal personification of evil and make him an uwu short king with depression.
I mean that just leads me to think Lucifer is really pathetic as a character when you know a thing or two about him in the bible.
When Lucifer TRICKED Eve into taking the fruit, he wasn't doing it to give her knowledge or something. He was doing it because he wasn't supposed to, because he wants to screw Adam and Eve over. Because he's bad.
I get that's whole thing about HH's Lucifer but still. Lucifer is not HH's character. He's much more than just a character at that.
And that type of approach is also in all honesty pretty disrespectful. You took the being that ruined humanity, that screwed it over, and turn him into... Whatever you call HH's Lucifer.
Like- I mean- Look at these two people and tell me they're supposed to be the same character
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The Lucifer on the right looks intimidating and hateful while also being beautiful. Lucifer was the most beautiful angel so that makes sense. Not to mention the Lucifer on the right looks like someone who could kill you in a second.
Whilst the Lucifer on the left is a short, skinny, blond uwu-ass boy. I could take him a fight smh.
And yeah, short people aren't that intimidating I said it. I mean, I wouldn't be scared of my foe if they're the size of an eight year old-
Also, no, I'm sorry but this isn't intimidating at all
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It's such an easy fix too. Just make him a bad but helpful character. Make him rude, let him do terrible things and be sadistic, that's the whole point of Lucifer. However, make situations where he has to help Charlie, not because he cares, but because he's too prideful to be made a fool of by heaven.
BOOM! A good way to make Lucifer an actually decent anti-hero of sorts.
Not to mention Lilith isn't an actual character in Christianity. She's only a character in Jewish Religion. Which is like- Yikes-
Please do not mix religions when interpreting them in a media, because that is really easy to do wrong and it's just generally something you shouldn't do.
Now keep in mind:
THIS IS JUST MY OPINION AND MY CONCERNS ON HAZBIN HOTEL. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO AGREE WITH A WORD I SAY.
If you like Hazbin that's genuinely awesome! I'm glad you found something you enjoy, continue doing that!! And honestly everything I say is just the art of adaptation.
These are just my personal takes that I can't keep to myself since I'm the type of person that can't keep shit in her head and has to voice everything-
Tam out-
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nattikay · 2 years
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Hi, I would like to ask, what do you think about all the comments saying Jake Sully is a bad dad? Do you think he is is a bad dad? I personally don't think he is, but I would like to read your thoughts. :)
Jake is a good dad. He’s not perfect (as no one is), but it’s very clear to me that he cares very deeply for his family and is just doing his best to keep them safe in incredibly precarious circumstances.
We can see in the beginning montage that he was very warm and playful with his kids: laughing and splashing around with them in the river, teaching Neteyam to shoot a bow, grinning ear to ear for family cuddle time, beaming proudly as he marks Neteyam’s height on the pole, tenderly cradling baby Kiri, etc.
It’s only after the RDA returns that things start to get dicey--and understandably so. There’s a war going on now, and the whole family has been thrust into very real mortal danger. Of course he’s going to be stricter; making even one stupid decision here could now get someone killed.
Some people like to crap on Jake for being too harsh with Lo’ak in particular, but let’s be honest, Lo’ak spends a whole lotta time doing very dumb reckless stuff which constantly puts himself and his siblings in danger. Frankly I don’t even think Lo’ak was taking the situation all that seriously at the beginning of the movie--which, hey, understandable; he’s a young teenager who’s never experienced this type of danger until that past year or so, I don’t think the gravity of reality had quite set in for him yet (and I suspect that Neteyam’s death will have been a massive wake-up call but I digress). But can you really blame Jake, who is very intimately familiar with exactly the kind of danger they’re facing and how serious it is, for getting frustrated with him?
Some folks bring up Neytiri’s reminder that “this is a family, not a squad” as evidence of Jake treating his sons too militaristically, but seem to forget his response to said reminder: a teary-eyed admission that “I thought we’d lost them [Neteyam and Lo’ak]”.
Jake’s strictness in wartime may or may not be the ideal way to handle things, it may well have been lost in translation to his sons, but it’s certainly understandable and is borne of every paternal instinct he has to keep his family safe at all costs, his highest obligation as a father.
on another note, I’ve mentioned this before in a previous post but since it often comes up with this topic I might as well say it again: there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Neteyam and Lo’ak addressing Jake as sir. It’s called being respectful. Now, if Jake were harshly insisting that the kids only ever call him “sir” at all times, then yeah, I’d agree that’d be a bit cold and unnecessary--but he doesn’t; they call him “Dad” most of the time. An occasional respectful “sir” when they’re in trouble is an absolute nonissue calm yoselves  
Jake adores his family with every fiber of his being and every single choice he makes revolves around trying to keep them safe; we can argue all day whether or not said choices were “ideal” from a safe objective audience perspective but not being a perfect person with perfect strategies and whatnot does not make him a bad dad. It just makes him a flawed (read: normal) person doing his best in very difficult circumstances.
tl;dr jake is a good dad you guys are just mean
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your takes are interesting bc i always read it as his desire being fake and pure manipulation.
That’s totally fair! I think manipulation plays in strongly, of course, but I think that’s not mutually exclusive from the Darkling being genuinely into her.
I feel like the narrative draws a distinct line between when he’s completely playing a part and when the desire is more genuine and I think the latter is characterized by some bitterness, definitely cruelty, and sometimes an undercurrent of violence (he sucks!)
Like when they kiss by the lake in the first book and he’s like “I don’t know why I care what you think, but I do 🥺🥺” that is 100% play acting lol
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Oh you didn’t mean? This was completely unplanned? Sure Jan.
Comparatively I think the Winter Fete makeout scene is a little more dubious. I think him ignoring her for a bit after kissing her that first time, then suddenly paying a lot of attention to her is of course a deliberate ploy. And he’s obviously trying to seduce her and overwhelm her to a purpose.
But taking into account how he’s tried to present himself through the first half of SaB, or even in the Tailor, the impression he seems to want is like nice and reasonable and personable. So the angry vibe in that scene feels very counter to his typical playbook!
This is also where we get what I would argue is his character thesis.
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This is definitely a value and perspective he actually holds, he’s not lying to her about that, in that moment. Manipulation or not. And I feel like this isn’t really a statement that gels with his persona? Like he doesn’t want to come across as the thousand year old evil wizard whose starved himself of all emotion and feeling until he’s a withered husk of a person, who in his own single mindedness keeps shooting himself in the foot wrt fairly attainable goals just because he doesn’t understand things like compassion, moderation, or common sense anymore. He’s pretending to be a spry and youthful centenarian who’s totally in touch with his feelings and soooo with the times, guys, he’s sooooo normal and down to earth. I digress.
But my point is that I don’t think he’s entirely behaving in a way that’s conducive to the front he’s been putting up! My interpretation is that the stag news has jarred him enough that he’s acting somewhat genuinely.
When Alina somehow (I don’t understand how this fucking works because it implies that it’s magical, not her just getting a vibe???) senses that he’s angry I think that’s also genuine. Like he basically says that he’s annoyed that he’s not planning the hunt for the stag like a goddamn adult and is instead making out with her in a random back room. And I think that’s… basically true, though he def seems to try to spin it as like making her feel special because he wants to make out with her that bad. When in reality (imo!) it really has nothing to do with her as a person at all, he’s just that hot and bothered at the thought of this thing he’s been pursuing for so long finally being within reach.
I think it’s telling that in the descriptions of them kissing he seems shdgdd pretty focused on her neck. He’s 100% having weird ass fantasies about the collar— which isn’t something she’s really in on, or quite grasps the significance of? So it’s not really a performance for her?
Idk! I just think that scene’s a good example of manipulation and genuine interest going hand in hand.
Post villain reveal, another case of “this doesn’t seem particularly aimed at Alina as an audience” imo is this bit, also from the first book:
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First of all this scene is so fucking insane. (Not pictured: him making her beg for Mal’s life directly above this and being creepy about the collar.)
But this is a situation where Alina has told him that she’s willing to do everything he wants, if he spares Mal. That’s her one stipulation for submitting completely. He does not do that! In fact he goes out of his way to be as cruel as possible.
So considering that he is NOT softening his behavior for her at all, I feel like the narrative/Alina noticing longing is meant to be accurate. (My reading of it is that he’s tempted by her offer but wanting is weakness so lol he’s going to tank it immediately because being affected at all like that is scary to him) And again when he kisses her like, she is not happy about it! She does not want him to be kissing her! He knows that! So it’s presumably because he wants to, and whether that’s about power or desire… yes.
I fully agree that most of the saccharine stuff he says later on in the series (“I’ve seen who you truly are and I’ve never looked away” “You could make me a better man 🥺”) are just blatant lies sjdhfd I do not think he remotely believes them!
This instance in S&S is interesting though because it’s another juncture (imo!) where he is trying to manipulate her but is also kind of being genuine:
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(LOL dismissive wave “I do not careee about your puppy love”)
He’s like “You are lonely because you’re seventeen and without much of any support system and miserable bc this power has separated you from all of your peers. Eye am lonely because I am one thousand years old and haven’t allowed myself to feel a single emotion since I was twelve. We totally relate ☺️”
Those two things are very much not the same! And I cannot imagine him not knowing that lol. But yeah, he’s simultaneously not in any other way trying to soften himself for her or try to convince her of his side of things. He seems completely willing to just forcibly drag her through whatever plan he has for completing the Amplifier set and using that for his random world domination plan? So just *generally* when he’s trying to manipulate her, post villain reveal, about how they’re Meant To Be and how only he understands her, I think that’s just with the aim of seducing her as opposed to seducing her itself being a means to an end?
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zukkacore · 3 months
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Whenever I get into the Jace hireling au it's his relationship with Ragh that I find the most fascinating. Does Jace know Ragh saw him? Does he know that Ragh told the others that he saw him? He could totally explain it away if Ragh asks him about it and pretend he has no idea about Kalina's threats, but would Ragh want to risk his mom's life trusting that this guy isn't in on it?
Oh my god SORRY this took a hot sec i got super distracted but had a lot of thoughts but they are also kinda formless and i kept dragging my feet but. I think about this so much too. And i feel bad b/c i feel like im such an opinionated bitch who loves to come to conclusions abt shit but i honestly don't know what ragh would do in that situations (that being said, i do love to hold things in both hands. So many possibilities...)
I really do love Ragh (there's a lot of refreshing queerness in FH but there is something abt him i like especially) and i love when his interiority is taken very seriously and i feel like the throughline for that is he's just so loyal w/ this sense of fraternity w/ the owlbears, w/ his friends, and how earnestly he loves his mom. Ragh is obviously a little too trusting with people he likes and respects, people who are often authority figures who can give him direction, so the question is, if Jace gave him an explanation for what happened. Does he like and respect Jace? Maybe. He probably doesn't know Jace but i imagine there's some degree of jaceporter always a duo overlap that he is somewhat familiar with Jace. Compelled also by what Ragh's relationship to Porter might be. He was obviously very attached to daybreak bc he was. groomed, and Ragh does embody a lot of the traits of an ideal barbarian in Porter's eyes so I imagine he would probably be pretty good in that class.
But he's so protective over Lydia and idk how Jace could bounce back from that if she's at risk. I don't think he's particularly good at keeping secrets tho. So If there's a chance the bad kids hear that Ragh saw Jace talking to Kalina, if they tried to keep it a secret that they know, that they're suspicious of them, would they be able to manage that? like. I don't know if Jace knows Ragh told everyone right away, but i think he could find out soon enough. I honestly don't know how to reconcile what the party would DO with jace once they knew. Or could he talk he way out of it. He could even play the stupidity angle, i had no idea, i was a pawn in this. I know he hates when ppl view sorcerers as dumb but maybe this time it can bail him out. The bad kids are often suspicious kids (i mean riz is right there in the center of all this, and Fig is fig), but i do think they have this perception of Jace that kinda underestimates him.
(He could always say give the "earnest" or earnest answer. Someone wanted to steal his goddess lol. I have so many thoughts abt him n cassankarna... Anyway Maybe that could buy him some goodwill back. I fucked up but it was for my own reasons. But i digress)
Anyway. So many thoughts. None of them conclusive. I would like him to stick around tho. Like. As much as it might practically make sense for the bad kids to ditch him. I REALLY want him in that gd nightmare forest
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meadowmines · 7 months
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Some headcanon-leaning Majima meta/rambling/bullshit
I threatened to write this up over on a Discord and I'm now like a week ahead on Day Job Shit and I have time and it's fresh in my head so brace for hc/meta dump about Majima and Catching Feelings.
There is a whole sequence of Majima's Shoulder Devil Nishitani-voiced internal monologue I ended up cutting from The Bit, and while I did manage to keep that general thread in there, I wish I could have worked in this whole scene because it really spelled out a whole lot of Majima's bullshit. Specifically, how Majima believes he can't trust his own heart because he only ever loves people who are bad for him or who he's bad for.
It's not like he just pulled this out of his ass, either. Everyone he's shown as getting even the least little bit emotionally close to either has something awful happen to them, or does something awful to him. Saejima? Makoto?
And... Sagawa. Oof.
This is definitely my headcanon but tell me Majima, fresh out of a year in the hole, wouldn't just latch right onto the first person to show him even a little bit of kindness. Tell me Sagawa wasn't the exact kind of Bastard who would take advantage of that. There is a line Shoulder Devil Nishitani drops in that deleted scene, something to the effect of:
"He knew exactly what he was doin' to ya. Easier to put a collar on a dog that loves ya, right?"
And sure, he showed his true colors eventually and sure, Majima figured him out (or hell, he's enough of a Bastard that he might have even just come right out and said "sure I've been playing your heart like a cheap kazoo but you liked it so who's really at fault here? :)" ugh god I still wish we could have thrown him off a fucking pier but I digress). But the damage was already done.
As for the actual Nishitani: I think he was a little of both! He was also a Bastard, but the kind of Bastard that's exactly what it says on the tin and doesn't pretend to be anything but, and Majima was definitely skeeved out by getting hit on by this horny weirdo but also... kind of relieved, maybe? That this one was at least honest about his bullshit right up front? It sure would have been a refreshing change of pace after three years of Sagawa's mind game bullshit.
...and then of course he watched said weird horny bastard take like five bullets in center mass for him which, I would imagine, did little to dispel the "they're bad for me /I'm bad for them" dichotomy he'd built up. So that's always in the back of his head, that he can't trust his gut or his heart or his feelings, because every time he does someone gets hurt.
Then along comes Kiryu, who is both the first Secret Third Thing he's ever encountered, and somehow also both of the other two things at the same time and Majima does not know how to handle this. He's trying to push Kiryu away and drag him in closer at the same time. It's messy and ugly and he hates it but he has 0 idea how to be an adult human person in a healthy relationship of ANY kind with another adult human person and, let's be real here, neither does Kiryu.
Kiryu has NO idea what he does to Majima when he takes that bullet at the end of The Bit.
He thinks he had one chance to keep Majima from getting his head blown off and taking that bullet in his shoulder was the best thing he could do in that situation. And he wasn't wrong! He had to spend a night or two in the hospital about it, but he was fine! Majima was fine and went on to beat the shit out of the bad guys so Kuroshi and Kei-chan could deliver them to the Third Chairman in a gift bag with a shiny purple bow on top! Solid net positive outcome, right?
Does Majima see it that way? HE ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY DOES NOT! All he sees is one more person he's fallen in love with getting himself hurt, almost getting himself killed, and he knows he can never let it happen again but "never letting it happen again" means "cutting Kiryu out of his life" and at this point he might as well cut out his own literal heart.
And hoo boy does that shit ever compel me. I love reading and looking at other folks' soft fic and art, don't get me wrong, I love seeing these two happy, but I also love putting two dudes in the Feelings Smashing Machine and cranking that shit up to 11 and these two have a lot of delicious Feelings to smash, especially Majima.
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mrs-monaghan · 1 year
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Hey! Really enjoy your blog.
I don't put a lot of stock into social media interactions as indicators of closeness but then as one of your anons rightly mentioned - the members are also co-workers and public figures who have a responsibility (kind of) to keep up an image of ot7. Given how vocal almost all of them have been about returning as a team in 2025… how does that tie in with the perceived lack of closeness and basic congratulations (on SM) for vmin?
Wouldn't there be some kind of hesitancy from v and Jimin if such a possible lack of closeness existed? Especially since they've been very loud about their friendship/soulmate status and it maybe does hurt on loosing friendships (or maybe not loosing but cooling down of) ..
Also I haven't been here in the fandom for a long time (less than a few months frankly, so maybe my opinions are not that well formed or accurate) but is this lack of closeness something that has been observed by you since some time or is it a new development?
It's a new development for me tbh. For some people they think there has always been something shady going on with Vmin. Like when V said Jimin likes men at a radio station, something that had the potential to go really bad if Jimin hadn't been quick witted with his reply. "I don't like you." But that could be chalked to immaturity and the fact that BTS did not have mouth filters back then. I mean, can u imagine 2023 BTS admitting they watch porn?
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Coz I sure can't. The bigger they got the more careful they had to become.
Another example from the past i see people giving is this one. As u can tell from Jimin's face he wasn't expecting that question
I would go as far as to say he was taken aback. As we all know Jimin is sensitive with the weight topic. So some people think V should have known that. But as usual Jimin diverted the situation and the interview continued.
But what if this was just their dynamic back then? Picking on eo? Like when every member was asked who they would introduce their sister to and they all said Jimin except V. And that other time Jimin was asked what he would do if he was king for a day he said he would make V his slave so he could stab him?? 😂😂 I can't remember exactly what he said but it was something along the lines of making V suffer. For soulmates they sure used to fight alot. 😂
I have always found them to be cute and adorable but even as u watch their early content u will notice V treats JK now the way he used to treat Jimin. He used to be all over Jimin, used to tell him I love u all the time, used to always choose Jimin, etc. But Jimin seemed to have put up some boundaries between them in recent years. If this has to do with JK, idk.
Because Jimin is not as touchy feely as he used to be... with all of them not just V. So this skinship part of things could be Jikook related. Yes I know he kissed Jhope on his birthday but I dare u to find JK "jealous" moments when it comes to Jhope. Real ones, not out of context ones. They are close to none. Very, very, few. JK doesn't have an issue with Jihope moments.
While we are on the topic have u guys ever noticed when Jhope hugs Jimin he turns his body so they're not hugging front to front but rather front to side?
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So yes... I wonder what's Jikook related and what isn't. 🤔 maybe Hobi knows how JK can get? Idk. Just food for thought.
Anyway, I digress. Back on the Vmin topic. I honestly didn't see it as anything. Not even after Jikookers started having an issue with it. But now it's kind of hard to ignore. He really is doing it on purpose and I can't help but side eye him a little bit. U know?
But like u said, would Jimin want to come back as ot7 if there was animosity between them? I think from the latest ot7 content (Jhope BB) its safe to say there is no animosity.
I'm not sure i answered your question but I'm not the best person to ask this. Because I didn't have an issue with this until I saw he keeps doing the same thing over and over without fail.
But I still maintain my stand that I hold nothing against the man as long as Jikook continue to be okay with him. And that seems to be the case rn. So if Jimin and JK don't have an issue with V, neither do I. Haters will always hate no matter what. But I can and will listen to other Jikookers who have an issue and I do see where they're coming from.
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livvyofthelake · 5 months
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what were the biggest differences btwn the book + the movie and did you feel like there were parts the movie did better than the book + vice versa 😋
girl from the summer i turned pretty tiktok sound voice oh my gosh i love this question!!!!!! ok. obviously the MAJOR difference between the novel and the film are the like. tenses with which the story is presented. and by that i mean the book is very past tense and reflective where the movie is very present tense and focused on the ephemeral moment. which is SO AWESOME btw. literally genius choice for adapting. many are not brave enough to do such a thing but thank god luca guadagnino was of our world would look very different. could you imagine if that movie came out and we had to read all that discourse for a movie that was also BAD? like i’m always saying this but at least no matter what we can always look back on that horrible era for being online and think well at least the movie wasn’t bad. but it could have been Very Very bad. can i drop a horrible piece of trivia on you all. actually i don’t know if we’re ready for that nevermind. anyway we move on. so the initial idea for the film was to have a narrator and i cannot even express how glad i am they didn’t do that. i think it makes the performances so much better that they did it all without the crutch of narration. which is not to say narration is always bad but in a lot of book to movie adaptations it really is a crutch and it sucks a lot of the time and it would have sucked a lot here so i’m glad the movie took the approach it did. like. in a book you can get into the protagonist’s mind a bit easier than with a movie but i think the movie makes it easy by really grounding the story in the moment. it’s summer and the world is beautiful and people are hard to connect with and it’s scorching outside but water is suddenly the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your life!! it’s a good movie guys trust me i wouldn’t lie to you. and i don’t even like armie hammer (me and my 12 year long beef i will never let go of. i don’t even know what’s happened with the man recently i know there was some kind of Cancellation or whatever but i don’t even care. he was cancelled to ME already before his career ever even meant anything). who narrated the audiobook which i listened to btw. so we’re all aware of the direness of the situation and just how forgiving and saintly i am. he unfortunately did kinda slay the audiobook it must be said. as much as it pains me to say.
as for other differences. a huge one to me is that in the book when elio cums in that peach oliver literally eats it. the movie was LAME AS FUCK for only having him joke about eating it. literally make him put that thing in his mouth i’m not kidding. another one is how the movie did part three and four, essentially cutting a lot of it for the sake of keeping the story present which we already talked about. but also there was just a lot of crap that happened in those sections that was boring and i liked that the movie was just like yeah they went to rome <3 like real say less! and the goodbye scene in the movie was also muchhh better for the movie i feel… i understand why the book didn’t get into it, because it was meant to feel like they weren’t actually saying goodbye and felt they would in many ways always be with each other if only in memory or whatever. but i liked the finality of it in the movie being this whole Event and he has to call his mom to pick him up from the train station bringing you back down to the crushing reality that he’s still only 17 and despite getting to like play grown up for the summer with oliver he literally still has to go back to high school in a month and he’s sad and he wants to call his mom to take him home… like that was crazy stuff wowie… i love it when timothee chalamet cries in a car. you guys should watch hot summer nights. it’s a terrible movie <3 i digress.
ANOTHER change i wanna talk about is that frankly the movie never gave misogyny vibes to me with how it treated the women in the story. where the book. well i said this earlier but. i don’t think andré cared about any of those women he wrote. elio’s mother in the book is so nothing and i loved how the film made her more of an active participant in both her son’s life and her own marriage. like she’s not perfect and she was never the weirdly omniscient figure her husband is but she’s presented in the film as very loving and kind and real where the book i swear literally forgets she exists. and then there’s marzia, elio’s sort of girlfriend sort of friend. it’s complicated. it’s not like he ever cheated on her that would imply they had an exclusive relationship understanding that was literally never real. that being said her involvement in the book was like. purely sexual and it was odd. now. this is a book about sex in many ways that must be acknowledged like. elio is like. incredibly horny the entire time and he’s so fucking annoying about it and i love him dearly. but marzia is reduced to a Female Body in a way oliver is never quite reduced to a Male Body and it comes off strange. like oh my god elio we get it you’re bisexual shut UP people like you are why people are biphobic jesus christ. that was a joke but also so real. marzia’s involvement in the movie is a lot more like. she’s a person with her own inner life. which i love naturally because it literally makes a narrative more interesting and juicy when the side characters are also human beings. not all men understand this.
my FAVORITE change from book to movie however. the “is it better to speak or to die” scene…. here’s the rundown. there’s a book elio reads about a princess and a knight who are friends but also in love, and she asks him “is it better to speak or to die?” wondering if he would rather die in peace and honor before getting to experience the love story they could share, or speak the truth and face consequences but finally have it known that he loves her and maybe get to experience even a brief moment of being truly known and loved. you guys all get it. you must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known to get the rewards of being loved!! anyway so elio reads this book and then talks about it with oliver as a subtle reference to what’s between them as friends with the potential to be more. this is like an act one scene btw i should have clarified that earlier but you understand. anyway in the book it’s just that elio reads this book and tells oliver about it and then they spend the day together inching towards Talking About The Implications before they finally get into it. in the movie the book is read TO elio by his mother, which functionally changes nothing about the plot but EYE like way more because we get elio saying to her “i’d never have the courage to ask such a question” and then we cut to him trying to ask it but skirting around it and using the pretense of just making conversation about a book… also i think the movie’s way of doing that whole deal goes harder because we actually get to see oliver react to it. where the book is very elio focused the movie can have a lingering shot on oliver’s face as he reacts to what elio says from ten feet behind him… it’s my favorite part in the movie genuinely but it was kinda lame in the book… if it had been shot in a way that lent itself to the timeless video it would have been in the timeless video but alas :( like that scene is the whole reason they made it into the timeless video for real…. like IS it better to speak or to die!!??? let’s get into it!!!
something i liked about the book though that’s not in the movie is the inclusion of this character who’s like a little girl that lives near them. and she has like cancer or some horrible illness sorry to her i do not remember but she was friends with oliver, and frankly it made him in the beginning so much easier to forgive for the way he acts there. to be fair this was intentional she’s literally written to personify his redeeming qualities in the midst of elio’s hatred in the earlier stages. where the movie didn’t need her because film has the ability to show things a book can’t. but i liked having her hanging around :) her bailey the sisterhood of the traveling pants realness!
i probably have more to say but these are the big things i’m thinking of right now and this is already so long wow. i literally TOLD y’all i was gonna have boatloads of shit to talk about !!!
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tameodesza · 2 years
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💍 Househusband AU: Headcanon 1
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a/n: Sadly, school, work, and moving has taken over my life. I’m still working on fics with whatever free time I have, but in the meantime, here’s some HC ideas I’ve been collecting (also, I need to clear up some space in my notes, 🫣)
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 What do they like most about each other?
💍Shawn really appreciates Bret’s wisdom and patience with him. Admittedly so, he’s a bit of a himbo. Don’t get him wrong. He’s a smart guy, but there are moments where he questions how he even graduated college. But he loves that Bret doesn’t get annoyed with him or make fun of him. Just guides him or explains the situation to Shawn again with more clarity, such as:
“No, Shawn. You should not pour hot water on the windshield just because you don’t want to wait for it to defrost”
“Yes, Shawn. The car battery will keep dying if you keep leaving the lights on”
Or Bret’s favorite silly moment: “Bret, I can’t find my glasses!” “Shawn, it’s on top of your head” “….oh….well, how’d they get there?!”
💍Aside from Shawn’s beauty, Bret loves Shawn’s humor. Shawn’s pretty goofy, more so when he’s purposefully trying to make Bret laugh after a particularly bad day. Bret thinks he’s one of the funniest people he knows, aside from Owen of course.
What do they like the least about each other?
💍This was kind of hinted at in my last post, but Bret strongly dislikes Shawn’s drinking habits. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t like being gone too long from home. He sometimes asks his parents or one of his siblings to swing by the house to make sure Shawn’s not indulging too heavily without him there.
💍Shawn doesn’t think it’s a big deal. He knows his limits, but Bret’s seen him inebriated more times than he’d like. It’s one of many reason why Bret dislikes Shawn’s friends. He thinks they are enablers and a bad influence on Shawn
💍Bret also hate’s when Shawn turns down their plans so he can go hang out with Hunter, which is ironic given the amount of times Shawn’s chosen Bret over Hunter, but I digress
💍Shawn hates how stubborn Bret could be sometimes. He knew he could be bratty and stubborn himself, but Bret had him beat by a longshot, oftentimes not budging or not willing to compromise on something he feels strongly about
Who’s the better cook?
💍Shawn, hands down. He wasn’t much of a home cook when he lived in Texas. However, since marrying Bret and having more free time on his hands, he tests out a lot of different recipes with Bret in mind, hoping he can impress the older man with his mad cooking skills. He’s gotten so good over the years that he was sure he could give Julia Child a run for her money.
💍Bret would love to cook more, but he’s on the road too often to hone in on that skill. And Shawn usually kicks him out the kitchen anyway, so he doesn’t have many opportunities to learn.
💍To Bret’s credit, he knows how to make a mean turkey sandwich, and he’s really good at grilling meat (mainly because the grill is doing much of the cooking for him). Anything beyond that and scrambled eggs is beyond him
Common interests?
💍Gardening. It’s one of many random hobbies Shawn picked up while being home alone
💍After being on the road for a couple of months, Bret was surprised to come home and find bundles of daisies and tulips growing in the backyard.
💍During his short vacation from being on the road, he became Shawn’s little helper, carrying the fertilizer, handing Shawn gardening tools, helping Shawn pull up dead weeds. Anything Shawn needed
💍Then it just became something they did together all the time, sometimes Bret seeming more excited about the progress of their flower garden than Shawn
Bonding activities?
💍Aside from gardening, their favorite bonding activity consists of Bret testing out ring moves on Shawn
💍Although Shawn hadn’t wrestled in a while, last time being years ago with Hunter, he still was comfortable getting thrown around, though Bret tried his best not to be too rough because he didn’t want to hurt him
💍That was the least of Shawn’s concern, the blond man often finding himself getting turned on in the midst of the action
💍His favorite move was being in a headlock. He doesn’t know why, but it was something about being trapped between Bret’s chest and biceps that really did it for him 🥵
💍And yes, Bret thought he was weird for that, but Bret still loved him nonetheless
Random Character Quirks
💍Shawn is an avid gum chewer. It’s a nervous habit he picked up from college to help calm his nerves and it just kind of stuck. Bret noticed it a couple weeks into dating, but he doesn’t mind because it makes kissing Shawn all the better
💍Surprising to most, Shawn is actually a neat freak. He always notices if something is out of place. He’s constantly sprucing up the house – sweeping, mopping, dusting, rearranging furniture – especially when Bret’s away. Bret’s learned the hard way that its better to ask Shawn before he decides to move anything in the house
💍Shawn loves booping Bret’s nose because he thinks it’s cute. He does it randomly and Bret never sees it coming, but it never fails to put a smile on his face
💍Bret’s an avid note taker. More often than not, he carries a mini notepad or sticky note and pen, jotting down any ideas that come to mind. It’s more of a stream of consciousness type thing. Whether he’s at the grocery store and gets an idea for a wrestling angle or he’s traveling on the road and sees something he thinks Shawn may like, he’ll quickly make a note of it, afraid he’ll forget something important.
💍Shawn hates coffee with a passion. He doesn’t understand the appeal Bret sees in it. He’s ranted to Bret plenty of times that it tastes like poison, to which Bret brings up a good point that maybe it’s because Shawn didn’t use enough sugar. “Then it’ll taste like sweet poison!” was Shawn’s reply.
💍Shawn loves debating Bret on his “controversial” food takes: 
 Poutine’s not that great? Shawn thought it was a national treasure  and was jealous it wasn’t popular in the States. Bret should get his citizenship revoked for thinking otherwise.
Turkey bacon’s better than pork? Blasphemy. 
Oatmeal raisin cookies are better than chocolate chip? Get out.
Pouring milk before cereal? Are you ok?!
💍Shawn’s not that great of a driver. He’s not awful, but his road rage blinds his ability to make wise decisions. Bret’s had to clutch the armrest for dear life more than a few times due to Shawn’s speeding. Owen downright refuses to carpool if Shawn’s driving. The final straw was when Shawn nearly went on a high-speed chase after some guy who cut them off, threatening to track the man down, jump out the car, and I quote “give him a real country ass whoopin’.” For everyone’s sanity, and the safety of his fellow Canadians, Bret usually drives whenever he’s home or if Shawn’s traveling with him between house shows on the road
💍They both truly changed each other for the better. Shawn helped Bret come out of his shell, often encouraging the older man to engage in his goofy antics, Bret doing so willingly knowing he wouldn’t be judged for Shawn. If anything, the blond would judge Bret for not engaging in his crazy antics. Shawn attributes much of his growth and maturity as a person to Bret. Throughout his time of dating and being married to Bret, Shawn’s become more level headed, patient, less reckless, and thinks things through before he acts (except when it comes to his driving of course lol)
Bonus!
💍Bret refuses to attend another kliq Christmas party after seeing Hunter in a g-string. He didn’t mind seeing Shawn in the same getup of course. In fact, Bret and Shawn had to leave the party early that night 😏.
💍Bret also had the dishonor of taking a picture of both Shawn and Hunter in said g-string, which Shawn thought was hilarious
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paldogangsaan · 1 year
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I'm agree with your meta about gods ready to take choice away from the family who worksips Father. And how it's bad and kinda comfirm what father accuses Heaven to do.
But does Father really care for this family, does he really see them as egal? He sees people as tools (Yato, Nora, Yukine, ect..), he abused his own child (Yato, Nora) and manipules them into thinking that that's love, as soon that someone isn't agree with him anymore, he resort to manipulation, abuse and violence and sometime murder. He helped to plot Bishamon murder/forced reincarnation (failed) and planned Ebisu forced reincarnation to take the koto (sucess). He doesn't care how much people, shinkis or gods suffer or die as long he has what he want.
Ebisu and Take face a choice right. But do they have really a choice in the matter? Father can't be stopped otherwhise. He's dangerous. He says that he wanted to strike gods but doesn't care how much humans will suffer in the way. What he did with Yukine and the net was not good (for me it was a kind of brainwashing).
Yes they were ready to took the choice away and that's bad, tht's what Father accuse the gods of. but i think that they didn't see any other choice they weren't happy about it. They come with the idea to destroy a grave only.
It's not like if Father was benevolent, sadly because then this choice woudn't happen. Even if the godness of sun herself treated him a a child doing a tantrum, he's very dangerous.
Yeah all is a matter of choice. A horrible and unfair choice. Yato would have cut the bounds against their will, but Take can't do that.
The gods had the choice to kill the familly and cut the way to come back to life of Father, or leave them and having a dangerous guy causing havoc and destruction, and not only to gods but to humanity too (i mean with what happen in the last chapters, the gods face a even worst choice to protect humanity from Father's plan). What they could have done? It's not like if they had more time to think about it.
And this choice is horrible. And Take and Ebisu weren't happy to have this choice to do. And i'm happy that they didn't need to kill them. Take himself said that he felt bad to have manipuled the old man into make him believe that they would do the soul ritual after his death (they can't since they're gods) but they needed to cut father's way to come back again and again, because nothing else can stop him.
what do you think?
It's not a critic of your meta, i just wanted to share my thougths with you about the whole situation =)
(in reference to this post)
i agree with some of your points, but i don’t think whether father cared specifically for that family or not is pertinent to the situation. he cares (and i use that term lightly) about humanity in general, not specific people, similarly to how gods do (tenjin saying “gods are incapable of loving humans” lives in my brain bc it applies to all gods, but also to father and that could tie into ‘becoming what you hate’ but i digress!). he uses yato, mizuchi and yukine as tools, though i believe he does love them (or at least, he believes he loves them) in his own semi-fucked up way. he holds anger towards gods and their associates for holding up and reinforcing heaven’s system, which father perceives as fundamentally unfair and wrong, so i don’t think him planning the murder/reincarnation of gods really speaks to whether or not he cares about humanity. to father, gods and humans are completely separate entities, and what he does to one isn’t necessarily what he’d do to the other. every ‘wrong’ or ‘morally reprehensible’ or ‘shitty’ thing we’ve seen him do has been to gods, shinki, or associates of gods like hiyori, which likely makes him lump them into a single category. even if hiyori’s human, he still can’t see her as anything more than someone associated with heaven (+ him not caring about specific humans, just humanity in general)
ebisu and takemikazuchi just having and considering the choice of whether or not to kill/sever the ties of that family proves them to be what father believes all gods are, regardless of intentions. and really, i think intent is the least important part of this discussion! it’s the fact that gods are above humans in pretty much every possible way, and they can use that power as they see fit, because “a god’s decision is always the right one”. it’s about the fact that ebisu and takemikazuchi (and any god, for that matter) can takes lives, sever ties, and completely alter the life of humans with zero consequences. it’s about the fact that the humans have no input on a decision that can permanently alter their lives, and how they most likely won’t even realize what was taken away, or will forget, due to the separation of the near and far shore (think hiyori completely forgetting about yato and yukine when yato goes back to father despite the fact that they changed her and her life).
it’s a morally gray situation, and arguments can be made for either side. if gods are so above humanity, why are they incapable of stopping a human like father? if heaven isn’t unjust, why should kind people like that family have to suffer? does heaven not fully take father seriously specifically because he is, or was, human and isn’t on their level? should takemikazuchi and ebisu even be able to consider that choice, and not have to tell the people affected? does them feeling guilty absolve them of the fact that they manipulated a human, a being who is supposed to be beneath them, yet they’re supposed to serve? are the humans in the wrong for calling father again and again? should they even be judged by heaven’s standards if they don’t know the whole situation? does the situation absolve takemikazuchi and ebisu of the cycle, or are they perpetuating it anyway? should ebisu and takemikazuchi be judged for perpetuating the cycle when it’s all they’ve ever known and they’re products of a system? do the ends justify the means? like i wrote in the tags of that post, the immediate dilemma of the situation was the question of whether their needs (killing father) were worth taking a choice (without consent) from someone else, and if it was an okay to do it if the affected party wouldn’t even realize that a choice was taken away. and this, of course, can lead to bigger discussions like this one jaja
it’s a super complicated situation and an argument can be made for either side, and that’s at the core of the manga itself, which i love! thanks for sharing your thoughts! i love discussing noragami <33
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i-am-minty-fresh · 2 years
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Topic Essay:
Fandom: One Piece
Topic: Luffy
Sub-Topic: The Moron
!Spoiler Warning!
I’m gonna (try to) make a much more broad topic essay about Luffy as a member of the strawhats later, but I was watching a video by LonerBox titled “Joe Rogan and the Hard Men” (which is really good, sidenote) and I started to think about the type of ‘Main Character’ that Luffy is and…I decided to write about it!
Clarification: This post isn’t supposed to be attacking the characterization of other main characters from various shows, even the ones I will bring up in this essay. For every character mentioned in this essay, keep in mind that I have either watched all the shows and/or I am an active fan of the show. I’m not here to say that Luffy is the best main character ever, I’m really just trying to break down why I specifically am as attached to him compared to other main characters I’ve seen before. 
Stupid and Straightforward: For anime specifically there tends to be two types of main male characters in like shogun anime: 
The Genius  
The Moron
The best example of this trope is with Chainsaw Man. To avoid spoiling as much as I can, Denji is your trademark stupid guy. He has a one track mind and little to no patience or sense of decorum. He’s more than a little selfish, cocky, and has zero sense of self-preservation. He also enjoys eating out, making friends, and hanging out with Power, you know…the simple things. He’s your Moron. Aki on the other hand is your stuck-up twat. He’s cold, and serious. He’s got a tragic backstory that fuels his passion. He hates how dependable Denji is for how fucking stupid he acts, while also being pretty destructive when he wants. He’s your Genius. 
This is a very common trope because it creates a bit of light-hearted tension between characters without it having to mean anything more than they have completely different personality traits. Natsu vs Gray (or Natsu vs Erza) from Fairy Tail, Tamaki vs Kyoya from Ouran Highschool Host club, Kirito vs Asuna from Sword Art Online, etc. (I know, I have a pretty shit taste in Anime but my point still stands). Even in traditional media it’s not uncommon to see the laid-back, do nothing, extraverted character becoming sort-of-frenemies with the quiet, up-tight, introverted character in an opposites attract kind of way. 
Of course not all main characters fall into this grouping (Tanjiro from Demon Slayer, Yumeko from Kakegurui, Light and L from Death Note, etc.) but the more simple the anime is the more likely, in my experience, that these kinds of characters are used. 
As I mentioned before, this is not a critique of this trope, if anything it's my analysis of why I like the trope as much as I do, but I digress.
When we first meet Luffy, it’s obvious that he’s supposed to be the moron. From falling asleep in a barrel when he can easily drown, to not noticing the bad situation he’s in, to not taking the easy way out of said situation (i.e. just complementing Alveria), to announcing he will be King of the Pirates, this is our lovable moron. The more we watch the show/read the manga, the more he checks the boxes: Selfish? Check. Zero self-preservation? Check. Enjoying the simple things? Check? No Patience? Double Check. 
Alright we have our moron, now we need our genius. I’m putting emphasis on need here because without a genius the moron can be a little…hard to be around. The reason the duality works is because it lets the viewer enjoy the best parts of both personalities without having to deal with all the negatives. Without the genius, the moron can hit a break wall and try to brute force their way through it without figuring out a logical way out, while without the moron, the genius can waste time by wanting to plan out every possible step. With that said, now we need the genius…well that’s when One Piece I think, really starts to show what makes it different.
Not a Braincell in Sight: One Piece has its fair share of smart characters. From characters held as geniuses like Law and Robin, to geniuses in their field like all the strawhats, to kings and princesses there has never really been a shortage of smart people in the show that could be used as the genius to Luffy’s moron but…it doesn’t. It’s kind of implied that everyone on the ship is smarter than Luffy, by occasionally a comically wide margin. Even characters that the strawhats meet later, even the fucking kids they meet later, are smarter than Luffy by comparison, but it doesn’t matter. 
Because He Runs The Ship.
Whether that be literally, in that he is the Captain or because he’s probably right and so everyone has to just follow his lead. He’s a selfish moron, but he’s also exactly what every person he meets needs. When he meets Vivi, she has overcomplicated her task. Not only does she have to save Alabasta, but she has to do it without anyone dying. She outlines how best to do it, planning, plotting, strategizing. Luffy breaks it down for her, he has to beat Crocodile and then everything will work out. Is he wrong? Not really. Without Crocodile, the Baroque Works has no reason to keep framing the king and with due time, peace will come. You can of course speed up this process if you fix your perception and build back trust before the end of the war, but it doesn’t make it wrong. The same thing happens at Dressrosa with Doflamingo. Luffy’s right to kick Doflamingo’s Ass, not just because he’s a douchebag, but because what brain cell was Law running on to think that if Luffy and him can’t beat Doflamingo, that beating Kaido is even possible. Luffy picks who to fight, Luffy picks how far into other people’s problems he’s going to go, Luffy saves whoever he wants whenever he wants. Everyone else in One Piece acts as the Genius, the people who are too into their own thoughts to get out of their own misery. Sanji and Franky refusing to join because of a debt they created for themselves, Chopper, Usopp, and Robin not believing that they have the right to join such a crew, Zoro and Nami not believing that they’re strong enough, and Brook’s total insanity. They are the one’s complicating their lives, and Luffy is here to simplify things. 
I’m Going to Become King of The Pirates! 
Luffy doesn’t know what the practical application of those words mean. He doesn’t know about Laugh Tale, or the Polyglyphs, or the Warlords and Emperors that he’ll need to fight to get there…because his job is to be the moron. The simple minded, self-sacrificing, impatient, child who gets his way no matter what. Every other character in the show acts as the genius, but not to dull his loud personality but rather to protect it.  His crew is tasked with knowing everything else, his only real job is to always win…and he always does!
Conclusion: As I have mentioned before I can write a million essays about Luffy as a character, but to me he’s a character that knows that he is the moron. He cannot use a sword, or cook, he cannot sail, or snipe, he cannot bandage wounds, or read the polyglyphs, or fix ships, or write songs. He knows his limitations and does his best. He can not be the Pirate King without his friends, and no one knows that more than him. 
I love the silly little stretchy boy with my whole heart!
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stuckasmain · 2 years
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Surprising direction
So this is more a ramble then a review but it’ll cover a lot of topics from Trick or Treat (1986). My main thing is that I’m actually surprised and really happy that the movie didn’t chose the “all metal is evil actually” route. I don’t know why I thought it would considering Ozzy and Gene signed on but- it was common at the time
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It’s surprisingly touching? At least in the beginning. Eddie has one friend in the world and the other is his God. This bullied metalhead kid who writes to his idol constantly and feels like the one person who gets him (He quite literally implies he would not be here if it wasn’t for Sammi’s music and that is dark right off the bat) and that person dies.
Now as the movie goes on and things get violent Eddie is suddenly no longer best pals with the rockstar once people start getting hurt (despite that being implied from the beginning but I digress). Naturally as things get darker and more chaotic I expected the stereotypical “im normal now” moment where he drops the music all together but he doesn’t! He attempts to, wearing colorful shirts and trying to listen to some easy listening but- he just doesn’t. Eddie sees the situation as it is- “hey this one guys a little fucked up but that doesn’t mean the whole genres evil” hell! At the very end he takes over for Nuke at the rock radio station!
This is what I wish more movies would’ve got at the time instead of doing a “normal transformation” where they un-Alternative or un-metal a certain character.
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Another part I really like is while totally batshit- Sammi is a little sympathetic? (I’ve yet to figure out if the fire circle thing was just a bad dream or what actually happened because it’s random and funny ass Shit. It’s like the dragon later on that just appears. It’s not addressed or explained the rest of the movie)
He’s made to be relatable. He’s a angry guy who’s been pushed around his whole life who just lets it out instead of pushing it in. He channels it into music and his wild ass publicity stunts and stirring controversy. Man found his calling I’ll say that. Honestly he’s “Dee Snider goes to congress: gone bad”. The guy finds out he has powers and pulls a Carrie- big time revenge etc. Sammi for the whole beginning of the film was mainly doing what Eddie wanted… maybe not violence but getting back at the fuckers who tried to kill him like six times (I’m not kidding. What they do is not bullying it’s a murder attempt). It’s also somewhat implied that he is not in complete control of his actions? Like there is several several references to owing one’s soul and being under someone’s control etc— honestly I think he just wants to play music forever but the violence is a bit out of control but that’s just me (this is also way broader of a topic then I can lay out here this post is already long)
Anyways, I just wanted to say that I love this movie because it doesn’t condemn metal and it has a enjoyable and purposefully relatable Antagonist (I’m assuming especially for metalheads and outcasts in the 80s) and it’s just- so good
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ca1e70 · 1 year
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daverose indie rock house show au chapter........ 1.5?
"so like i didn't write this song or anything, but i mean technically i should be on the credits because i DID come up with one of the drum fills and i totally deserve credit. don't let them tell you any differently" the first few words came out echoey through the shitty speakers stacked around the living room and kitchen. at least until the blond guy with the shades fiddles with with the microphone while still giving his little spiel. he also manages to kick the "pedalboard" by his feet and nearly sends the cracked skateboard housing questionable equipment clear into the kitchen. he doesn't, though, but the mic picks up his worried curses anyway. back to the situation at hand. "our regularly scheduled lead is on vocal rest because of... what was it?" 
hes turning back from the only slightly attentive crowd to look at the bassist. she has rubber bands youd expect to see on a set of extensive braces adorning her fingers while she mines a line and makes a face at him. she doesn't know. shes not even the regularly scheduled bassist. 
"actually fuck it who gives a shit but i'm not changing the lyrics so just bear with me while i butcher some sapphic undertones" and their fill-in for the fill-in drummer is coming in early. 
this is the second time rose lalonde has come across the man currently fumbling his way through a guitar riff like he'd never picked one up before. she would be none the wiser if it wasn't for the fact she knew the stand-in bassist, and she had heard plenty of talk about the stand-in drummer turned lead guitar and singer. this place did a lot of stand-ins. you'd think by now they would have created at least ONE set band, and maybe they did, but rose couldn't care less about the semantics of indie bands and their makeup of artists. she knows she heard one girl on her way to the bathroom talk about a different guitarist sending an unsolicited dick pic, and decided she didn't really want to be involved in the politics of 'local musicians'. 
she was here, once again, at the request of her dear friend blowing everyone away with her ability to jump around the small dining room area and still hit every note. every time it looked like her hair had obscured her vision enough to send her tumbling into the guy not only wearing shades inside, but at night, jade managed to keep her balance up right. it's the only reason she stayed firmly planted on the kitchen counter in the background. it's also the only reason rose came again, because jade promised to "make it up to her by actually showing up and performing". 
no one said anything about dave strider being front and center, though. she had half the mind to turn around and walk out the second she saw him tinkering with a power outlet. jade had already spotted her, though, and the escape plan went out the window. which is why she is once again stuck watching performances from what seems like a messier counter than last time, but i digress. 
dont get her wrong. dave isnt half bad! if he had some training, maybe a better grasp on guitar work in general he would be good. if he had some more practice with the song he is, as he said, butchering. it isnt until he picks up in on the lyrics that she takes a second to really pay attention. 
he isnt anything special. the southern accent he tries desperately to cover up makes its way out on certain words, he manages to keep in pitch and tone well enough she doesnt have to cover her ears, and theres a couple girls in the living room that yell when he starts singing. they scream, is more like it, and one of them is giggling at the other and theres a slight twinge in rose’s stomach that makes her want to run out of this house and never stop running until she makes it to antarctica. 
she wants the girl to leave. she wants the guy in the shades to shut the fuck up and stop singing in front of everyone here. she wants jade to leave her bassist post and come over here right this very second so she can slap rose and tell her shes going insane. instead of any of that happening, rose hops off the counter again and starts to fill up a red solo cup with sink water. the physical act helps her keep her mind off of dave and how she feels her heart rate picking up at the idea that another girl could think he was cute. or that his voice was nice. or want to do something like go on a date with him when rose has already done that, ruined that, and ghosted him. 
well, she didnt ghost him. itd only been a week and she just hadnt replied to his messages because she was busy with school. just because he and jade had school together and talked every day, and jade said that dave asked about her and was worried, and she never replied back, does not mean shes ghosting him. 
if she was ghosting him the nickels wouldnt be still sitting on her bedside table, like a memento of something that happened with a weird boy in a bathroom. 
rose manages to overfill the cup and continue overfilling it until the song is over. when silence hits the room (just before scattered applause) she turns the faucet off and stares at the ripple of the water in her cup. she would never drink something like this, but it had given her something to do, so she dumps it back into the sink and crushes the cup to let loose a little bit of self contained anger. 
she should have waited because theres a rather jazzy little guitar fill – not bass, guitar – and she has to walk around the wall in the kitchen just to make sure she isnt hallucinating. it must be a cover, one he’s worked on before, because the audience goes a little crazy and when he starts singing again they sing along. its one shes never heard, but it isnt as if shes all that up to date on the scene shes currently swathed in. dave had sent her a playlist of music to listen to, ones that would help her out if she ever came back, and she wondered if this one was on it. she wondered if she could have been singing along with him like the girls stationed right in front of his microphone. she wonders if she could have been cheering him on like he deserved. 
no, he didnt deserve it. hes just a boy. hes just a boy with a kind of good voice that can apparently play the guitar well enough and supposedly plays the drums like a god. something rose has only heard rumors of and yet to see, and theres the smallest part of her that hopes she does one day, but she shoves that down quickly in favor of staring into the back of those girls heads like shes going to make them explode.
this is jealousy and she doesnt like it. she didnt even know she was capable of jealousy. she wants to never feel jealous again, and jade is gearing up for a bass solo and sees rose in the actual ‘audience’. her name is yelled into the microphone and rose can feel her face turning red when dave’s face appears between the two witches he has as fans.  the witches turn around as well. the entire house turns around to look at rose right as jade starts playing and rose just… stands there. still as a caught mouse. a truly dead possum. caught in the fact dave smiled when he caught sight of her and went back to messing with the pedalboard. she wants to run away and disappear right then and there.
she does, to be fair, once jade has finished her solo and looks back at rose for approval shes back to trying to find an escape route for the time being. somewhere that she doesnt have to look at a stupid little blond boy or feel emotions she hasnt felt since her mother smiled wider at a wine shipment than the carefully crafted scarf she had made her for christmas one year as a kid. she wanted to break every bottle in that crate just like she wanted to break every bone in those girls bodies, so she takes her rage up the stairs and into a bedroom she can find unlocked. theres shockingly no one in there, but it doesnt take her long to realize why. 
above the bed is an entire shelf of preserved animals. there are cords across the floor like nobodys business, the entire room is a tripping hazard, and the sheets on the bed look rumpled and unchanged and the entire room smells of formalin and teenage boy. 
no one is going to come in here, though, so its safe. its safe enough she shuts the door behind her and carefully crosses the room to open a window for airflow. the fan in the corner doesnt really do the room much help, so this should make it less stuffy. her head is sticking out and her hands are on the ledge of the window and she can still hear dave singing underneath her but its muffled. far away. just like her house, and yet, last friday he walked her all the way there. it had to have been forty minutes. she took a cab here again, no idea how she would get home. she fully hoped jade would give her a ride back so she didnt have to walk or be walked by a man who probably went way out of his way for that. 
she doesn't even know where he lives, after all.
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