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#note: his kindness is real i just think his willingness and joy in being a lil mean sometimes is fun and interesting
larrythefloridaman · 2 years
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maybe J0hn for the character bingo? owo
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love this man ive been attached to him since he first showed up <3 dont have too much new i can think of to say about him though
#the 'literally me' one is only filled in because the discord kin-assigned me j0hn#and because i look at his issues with empathy and how he likes the company of unhinged people and go Same Hat#that said i still think its so funny that people in-universe seem to think he's nicer/more normal than larry#we warned him abt prism and what does he do? immediately seek her out. let her vent to him. and then left to talk shit abt her with us asap#hell outside the nccts he didnt even apologize for the sephiroth incident. he asked the guy he almost got killed to call his girlfriend#to sub in for the guy that tried to kill him. and then larry apologized on behalf of both of them the next episode.#larry's mean but hes nice and j0hn is nice but he's mean. you go to an appointment with them and larry's playfully antagonizing you#but then you leave and larry's like 'love that guy.' bc he was trying to make you laugh#and j0hn's like 'most annoying motherfucker.' because he was being professional and fast bc he was trying to get you to leave faster.#but i do think if we got to know whats going on in his head more directly#there'd be a bit of the phoenix wright effect. he's so nice. but if you heard his inner monologue#you'd hear every bitchy little comment he thinks about everyone every day that he just doesnt verbalize because he Chooses To Be Nice#until someone gives him good reason to be mean at which point the snippiness comes out see: orange intros#where crimson makes one (1) snide comment about his relationship and j0hn totally changes his tone with him#j0hn voice 'if anyone is mean about/to my clown the cyberbullying begins i dont care if you're god'#also larry has more of a self-preservation instinct than j0hn. larry gets a gun pointed at him and says 'hey HEY lets be reasonable here'#and j0hn says 'do it pussy you won't' and completely bluffs his way around it while making you feel like an idiot in the process#because he noticed you like. loaded the bullets wrong or some shit so the gun wont fucking work anyway#note: his kindness is real i just think his willingness and joy in being a lil mean sometimes is fun and interesting#larry abt peppermint: 'eh she not the most girl ive ever met'#j0hn: pitbull snarling sfx blasted through body speakers
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pseudowho · 3 months
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Hellooo, I'm writing as a follow-up to an original message I sent where I tearfully thanked you for your work and the emotional turmoil that Hiromi piece caused. I find it so strange that the ending generated a discussion about the reader needing an alternative outcome because, even though I was a teary-eyed little bitch throughout the whole thing, I don't think a "happy" ending was even remotely possible. All of this got me thinking about the differences between Kento and Hiromi. I think Kento is an odd combination of tenderness and strength so I don't see him being able to react the way Hiromi did in Jus in Bello, like he'll acknowledge the shortcomings of the reader but he's just so smitten and willing to make things work :(( Now, on this note...Any thoughts about a tamer Hiromi who's able to enjoy the joys of a normal married life ? Do you see him being a father or is he already struggling enough just being a husband ?
Helloooo ❤️
Ultimately I'm pleased by the emotional impact the ending has had on people, it tells me I've done a good job conveying the raw emotion of the story; I'm glad you agree that a happy ending wasn't on the cards, because it didn't feel faithful to Hiromi to make that ending.
I think Kento deals less in absolutes than Hiromi, and is likely more forgiving of the emotional nuances of a relationship. I feel Higuruma would take a promise of "in sickness and health" extremely seriously-- not that Kento wouldn't, but I do think Higuruma would see being thrown out of his home at the peak of his struggling a real betrayal of that promise.
Add that to the context of the story itself; this poor man had a total emotional collapse combined with rapidly developing new powers in a matter of days. In Jus in Bello, he is fundamentally a man going through a mental health crisis, worsening his vulnerability. I think he's the kind of man who would be able to forgive the reader for her choice, but not forget; this beautiful untouchable trust they had would be forever tainted and sullied now he knows she would reject him.
I've been exploring his character a lot this past few weeks and really enjoyed it. A big part of me feels Higuruma would be a childless by choice guy; he is haunted by the ugliness of the world, and shows no willingness to reduce the huge amount of effort he throws into his work. This strikes me as the kind of guy who wouldn't be a bad father by choice, but would struggle to balance the weight of his responsibilities. Saying this, we haven't exactly seen a healthy Hiromi yet, right?
Personally, I think Kento needs to make a secret holiday request for Hiromi, drag him to Malaysia, and force him onto a sun lounger with a Mai Tai for a fortnight.
-- Haitch xxx
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siren1song · 4 years
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Stay With Me
Summary: Deceit and Virgil are having dinner and goofing off, and Deceit decides he has... a lot to say.
Warnings: None I can think of.
Pairing: Anxceit
Word Count: 1,237
Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @rose-gold-roman, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps
Notes: This was a third part to A Deal commissioned by @yalltookmyurlideas. Thank you sweetpea for this!! I had a lot of fun writing it!
Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!
Years. They’d been together years now. Virgil still didn’t know Deceit’s name, or why he hated talking about “work” or anything relating to who he was before he’d summoned him.
Not that he minded. Sure, he’d like to one day say Deceit’s name, his real actual name, but he understood knowing the name of an otherworld being is… a lot of power to have and nobody wanted to give someone else that type of control over themselves.
And besides, he trusted Deceit with his life, he trusted that his boyfriend wouldn’t fuck him over, especially not after actual years of knowing each other.
Hell, sometimes Virgil even daydreamed of a domestic life— well. As domestic as one can get, being a witch dating a Circle King.
Does it count as domestic if it’s obtaining ritual materials and learning how to not let his anxiety overtake his magic and get him a result he hadn’t wanted in the first place? He was going to count that as domestic.
“Love are you over thinking on our third year anniversary when I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past twenty minutes?”
Virgil blinked back to the present, watching Deceit as he raised an eyebrow at him, wearing a small smirk that always made Virgil want to kiss him.
“I’m not over thinking,” he denied, because that part was true.
Over thinking was not the reason he had zoned out.
“Right, and I’m not a Circle King capable of terrorizing this entire section of the world.”
Narrowing his eyes, Virgil scooped up mashed potatoes with his plastic spork (they’d gotten take out, fried chicken and mashed potatoes and macaroni) and flung it in his boyfriend’s direction.
A loud snort escaped him when it thwapped against his face, in the area between his nose and the left side of his lips.
“You truly are my prince charming,” Deceit muttered, feigning resignation as he grabbed a napkin and wiped the glob from his face.
A facade that broke when Virgil broke into giggles, covering the lower half of his face with his arm while he slumped over the table.
The love on his face was so clear, Virgil had no doubts that he was cared for.
“Listen,” he started once his laughter calmed down, “I’m not the one who claimed to be prince charming, that’s Roman. You signed up for a bastard with anxiety, more magic than he knows what to do with, and a sense of humor that consists entirely of sarcasm and wit.”
Deceit gave a dramatic sigh, sticking his own spork in his bowl of macaroni. Virgil had been expecting him to take a bite, but instead he got a noodle stuck to his nose, held there by the cheese it was coated in.
“You noodled my nose?” Virgil asked, mocking offense and resisting the strong urge to cackle when Deceit let out an undignified snort at his phrasing.
“Yes of course dear, is it not what you signed up for?”
“No! I signed up for a refined Circle King who would protect me when I’m a damsel.”
Deceit snorted again, taking a second to recover before he spoke.
“Then you clearly signed the wrong contract, love. That is not me at all.”
“Apparently!” Virgil responded, keeping up his fake offense even as he wiped the cheesy pasta off his nose.
There was more snickering, Virgil trying not to grin as he stuck the macaroni in his mouth and watched Deceit try not to lose it again.
“You really need to work on reading the fine print, Virgil,” Deceit said, giving him an affectionate look that had heat rising up Virgil’s neck and face.
“Yeah well you’re distracting enough tiny words aren’t going to hold my attention, important or not.”
It was Deceit’s turn to blush, one hand slipping off the table while the other covered the bottom half of his face while he worked on not being flustered.
Virgil just grinned, finally taking a proper bite of his potatoes as he watched his boyfriend recover.
“Love you are insufferable,” Deceit started, continuing before Virgil had the chance to say something in response, “and irritating, and a total bastard who teases me about the most trivial things, despite me figuring out how this century works when I haven’t been a part of it before we met.”
“Where’s this going?” Virgil asked, smile still firm in place but his eyebrows were furrowing as his confusion grew.
Deceit didn’t answer, his own smile as soft as his gaze, and continued with what he was saying.
“You have caused me inordinate amounts of stress simply by being your own reckless self— I mean honestly how can someone with anxiety be so absolutely careless about their own wellbeing? And were it not for the fact that I’m a Circle King I know I would have an ulcer from the time you managed to draw three different pixies to you because you didn’t put the right intent into your magic alone.”
“Uh… Deceit if this is just gonna be you complaining—”
“Shush love, I’m not done,” Deceit interrupted, reaching across the table with one hand to cover Virgil’s hand, Virgil instinctively dropping his spork to return the hold.
He took a deep a breath, one hand still hidden by the table but clearly holding onto something, judging by the way Deceit took a moment to glance at it.
“As much aggravation as you’ve caused, you’ve also given me nothing but happiness for three years. No matter how upset I may be at you, you always make me smile with some asinine joke that really shouldn’t make me laugh as hard as it does. You are a source of joy for me, and I would not trade my relationship with you for anything else the universe may offer.”
“Deceit—”
“Janus.”
The air gets sucked out of Virgil’s lungs, and his eyes widen as he looks at his boyfriend in the purest form of shock he’s ever been in.
Janus.
“Virgil. I love you. I trust you with my everything, name included. And…” Janus pulled the hand he had hidden above the table, a glass box in his hand.
He took his other hand from Virgil’s to open it, exposing a head piece made of black metal and yellow gemstones that Virgil was too overwhelmed to place just now.
“I know it’s not the traditional ring human’s are used to for this type of proposal,” Janus started, looking back to Virgil after looking at the— is that considered a crown or tiara? Fuck who cares, he’s pretty sure his boyfriend is fucking proposing.
“But it’s what I’m used to and what I have. Virgil, would you offer me the purest joy of being by my side forever and always?”
Holy fuck his boyfriend shared his name and proposed.
Virgil took a deep breath, taking his eyes from the head piece to look at Janus— his name is Janus— with a smile to answer his nervous frown.
“The fuck do I look like, some kind of flake? Did you really think I would ditch you any time soon after three years? God, yes.”
Janus’ answering grin set Virgil’s heart on fire, and what else could he do, other than kiss him?
Well… he could also smear mashed potatoes in his shirt for daring to doubt Virgil’s willingness to stay with him, but what did that matter?
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staggeringsmite · 3 years
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ooh, top 5 moments you've had/witnessed as a DM? (please use this an excuse to hype yourself up if you want!!)
my players make dm’ing beyond worth it, so i really have to give credit to them for the joy of what they bring to a lot of these scenes <3 (also this is all wandering isles bc it’s been my most narratively satisfying and invested dm experience) Buckle Up it’s a long one!!!
bonus: i’m very proud of my individual character moments! throughout the campaign we’ve had about four of these (the intro session scenes, two dream sequences for every pc, and a set of individual trial scenes). we’re a pretty big party so it’s hard to narrow it down, but i just love writing and running those longer narrative moments bc i think it’s a v interesting insight into each character and gives them each a separate moment to shine <3
5. “promise you’ll come back to her” / burning of contingency letters
i put these moments together perhaps to cheat a little bit, but also because they deserve it. xarus, the party’s barbarian whose family was abandoned by his mother at a young age pulls theresa, a forge knitting cleric about to board the airship he is a quartermaster of in order to find a cure for her sick wife. he asks theresa to promise him one thing, that no matter what she will come back to her wife. along the way they write contingency letters to their loved ones in and outside of the party as their adventures grow more and more dangerous, and eventually, exhausted and worn, theresa and xarus find each other in the den of a safehouse to talk. recognizing each other’s willingness to self-sacrifice, their conversation ends with them burning the contingency letters they’ve written, committing to life. these scenes come together because it shows how far they have come together, and the theresa and xarus relationship will always be a highlight of the wandering isles to witness. sometimes the players do all the best work for you, and it’s so wonderful to sit back and watch <3
4. miles is missing
damien returns to the university he works at after an unprecedented amount time away to check on his office before he heads back out on another adventure with the party. while there he moves to put a sticky note (canonically a magical item in the wandering isles universe) on his rival colleague’s (and gay lover/roommate of 20 years) door only to find it entirely emptied without a trace. despite their bickering, miles and damien are very close, and miles would never pack up his things and go without telling damien.
this was a more subtle cliff-hanger for the session, but it was made so much fun as a dm because the players were excited and joking the whole session about miles’ second appearance (and only since the very first session) so his sudden disappearance was made much more severe based on everyone’s anticipation of meeting and having a light-hearted interaction with him.
3. the infamous sex rave
sometimes things go very right as a dm and sometimes things spiral out of control when a pc mislabels a situation which becomes a running joke of the campaign. either way i love being stubborn in my defense of “it isn’t a sex rave!!” whenever they bring it up (and immediately playing an npc who also calls it a sex rave). basically the players had a heist encounter in which they were hired to break a group of pirate prisoner’s out of a secret underground information center (where magical artifacts were also being held and studied, and there was pertinent information stored for the party to take a swipe at). the group split and one subset of party members were forced to hide from guards on the outskirts of a large, gladiatorial style ring within the compound, in which prisoners were competitively battling in order to test the abilities of certain unknown artifacts for the entertainment of anonymous nobles in masquerade getup. based on the magical lighting effects, the strangely dressed noble onlookers, and the,,,, Fighting Noises being some of the only things the pc’s perceived from the level of the auditorium they hid at, it was unfortunately misnomer’ed the “weird sex rave” and has only been referred to it as that ever since.
2. mother abel’s goodbye
hmmm am i making players cry again? yeah maybe. mother abel was an elder cleric of nosa crossing, the starting city of the campaign. she’d lived through its settlement, destruction, rebuilding, and given her all not only to the city but also to the jilted creed (a secret society dedicated to disrupting geline, a large and dangerously powerful island-state which is one of the campaign’s greatest evils). in the last use of her strength she took on a role as a conduit for a powerful plane shift ritual to transport the residents of the city to safety in the feywild as nosa crossing began to be overrun by potent wild magics in the prime material plane. as a low-level cleric, the spell took its toll on her, and as the party arrived in the feywild via a similar ritual to find the inhabitants, they were led to her side. theresa, a native of nosa crossing now reunited with her wife yodean, went to abel’s side with yodean. as yodean sat on the foot of the bed, theresa kneeled as though praying to hold abel’s hand cleric to cleric, confessing her gratitude but admitting that she cannot give as freely as mother abel did, that she and yodean deserve to live for themselves as much as they choose everyday to live for other people. with her final words in a soft, weak message, mother abel comforted theresa in her decision. the scene as a whole was so wonderfully sad, and the best dm moment of something so raw as telling aj, theresa’s player, that while there was no way to confirm it in any real capacity, something in theresa felt that perhaps mother abel held out a little while longer to make sure she was safe one last time and make sure she’d truly gotten everyone home.
1. rosa’s betrayal / lian’s resurrection
enough of that sad shit let’s get mean babey!! aslkjglfk i will be riding the high of this session for an eternity, but it’s quite a lot to break down. rosa rucksaw is the captain of the crew the party rescues in the heist sequence, who eventually reveals herself to in fact be xarus’ mom who fully left to assume a new identity and is Pretty Horrible as a person. at the safehouse, the party is asked by the people they were hired if they would be willing to take the crew to a longer term safehouse island, and the decision is left to xarus. not wanting to be like his mom, xarus agrees to endure a little more time with them in order to them this service out of convenience and kindness. a few hours from their destination, rosa finds xarus on the deck and honestly? kinda begins to admit some amount of guilt for all the shit she did,,,, literally seconds before she reveals that when her and her crew were caught by geline, she struck a deal in order to keep them alive, saying to her biological son “out on the cloudsea your crew is your family, and son, believe me, i’d do anything for my family” before her crew on the deck anchored the ship to an invisible gelinish war vessel and we snapped to roll20 for combat. the look of horror and betrayal on everyone’s face as her monologue hit those final lines, ugh and the fact that no one was super suspicious made it even better!! sometimes it Really Works, and this was one of those times!
flash forward in the battle, and an npc (it’s miles, the gay lover from a few numbers ago) being held hostage by the gelinish vessel is killed, as he is resurrected by two party members (damien and theresa) damien reaches for his soul, as theresa, who multi-classed into divination wizard after a pc named lian died (with failed attempts from theresa and xarus to hold her back) feels another presence in the grey, misty beyond. lian died in session four, and when i said her name to reference jack’s character everyone lost it mostly out of confusion before i began to narrate lian feeling restless in the afterlife, eventually reaching out and forming a celestial warlock pact with miles through his connection to damien and being called upon by her goddess sune as theresa reached out, offering lian the chance to go back. theresa returning to that moment with both her clerical and divinatory abilities, with the blessing of sune, lian emerging on the battlefield, now a vengeance paladin instead of life cleric, with a flaming sword and celestial wings at her back was such an incredible highlight to set up and run,, i just, <333 very proud of myself (and very thankful jack was on board for her coming back) for this moment
thank you so so much!! this was a long ramble, but i hope it was somewhat interesting to people not in the wandering isles <33
send a top 5 or 10?
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Self-interview (but not really) Part 2
Thanks again @sherlollyappreciationweek
Comp1mom
Q: What made you decide to create a “Christian” version of Sherlock?  According to the BBC version, he is a self-avowed atheist.
A: When I look at Sherlock’s true nature, I see such potential for him as a Christian.  He exhibits so many characteristics that we, as Christians, try to show - forgiveness of wrongs done to him (note how he doesn’t fight back when John assaults him); sacrificial love (his willingness to die for others, as in TRF); the desire for true justice, the way Moriarty says he’s  “on the side of the angels”.  At least for me, I was intrigued by the idea of converting him to Christianity, to give him a true purpose for his life that has eternal consequences.  
Q: Do you think that portraying Sherlock as a Christian is important? Why or why not?
A: I am always hopeful that people will read and see the validity in my reasoning for him becoming a Christian, given how often he has escaped death.  Quite often, in stories, Molly puts the question to him - Why are you still here?  Why have you escaped death so many times?  That should be enough to make anyone reevaluate their life’s purpose.
Q: Molly Hooper is the one who proselytizes him, right? Why do you use Molly? Why not John, who must be a believer in Christ in some way or he would have had a problem with christening Rosie?
A: For me, it HAD to be Molly.  Her character and the way she behaves in the show is consistent with the behaviour of a Christian.  She loves Sherlock unconditionally; she sees beyond the detective persona to the real man beneath.  She needs to be the catalyst for Sherlock to be open to the idea of Christianity, because he loves and trusts her.  John, although he certainly believes in God and has some Christian (or Catholic in my story canon) background, does not live a life that is consistent with Christianity and its ideals.  He has multiple sexual partners.  Although I think he is an ethical man, I don’t believe he has the kind of sexual morality that is typical of committed Christians. Identifying yourself as a Christian because you were raised in a Christian home and went to church, does not make you one if you display behaviour that is contrary to what the Bible teaches.  Either you’re committed to what you believe and try to follow what the Bible teaches, or you are not really committed to your faith, (not that Christians are perfect - far from it, but we do try to follow what the Bible teaches, and we feel guilt when we fail).  There’s a difference between being a Jesus fan and a Jesus follower.
Q: What evidence does Molly use to convince Sherlock of a Higher Power?
A:  In various stories, Molly points out the beauty and balance of creation, that it does not make sense for that balance to have occurred spontaneously.  She also points out the complexity of the human body and how it is built with all its systems designed to work in harmony.  Personally, I believe these two facts are huge considerations, and that it takes far less of a leap in logic to believe something created this beauty, rather than it happening spontaneously.  Molly also points out the fact that Sherlock has been spared from death so many times and asks him to question why that is so, whether there is a higher purpose to his life because of that.  
Q: How do you maintain Sherlock’s acerbic wit and still have him believe that Jesus Christ is more than a swear, is a deity, the Deity?
A:  I try to show that Sherlock is not the “perfect” Christian.  He has many years of conditioning in one type of behaviour, and that is something that is going to come out from time to time. I don’t find it as difficult to write him as someone who does not use the name of Jesus Christ in a profane way, because he doesn't talk that way in the show (unlike John). Personally, I am also not comfortable in writing (or reading) stories that use the name of Jesus Christ as an expletive.
Q: What does belief in Jesus Christ do for his detective work? Or does it influence his detective work?
A: Oh, I definitely think his faith adds an element of compassion to Sherlock’s detective work.  He is no longer answerable only to himself, but he is trying to behave in a way that displays his faith and pleases God.  That means thinking before he speaks, caring about the people involved in the case, rather than just the case itself. His motives, to glorify God in his work, are his priority.
Q: Is there any evidence in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s writing that Sherlock Holmes believes in Something Higher than himself?
A:  I absolutely believe ACD’s Sherlock believed in God, which is one of the reasons I felt it believable to change BBC Sherlock’s atheistic stance.  ACD’s Sherlock mentions Providence, as evidenced in this quote from The Naval Treaty.
“Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.”
Also, in The Boscombe Valley Mystery, when Sherlock lets a dying killer go, he says, “You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes.” This implies God will judge the man after he dies.
Penelope Chestnut
Q: How long have you written  Sherlolly stories? What made you start writing?
A: A dear friend of mine recommended watching Sherlock, and my husband and I binge watched it in the summer of 2017.  After the final episode, I was so sad that the Sherlock and Molly dynamic was not resolved, I was moved to write a happy ending for them.  My daughters have been involved in fanfiction for years, so I knew people did this kind of thing.  My intention was to write a one-shot happy ending for them, just for my own satisfaction.  After I wrote it, though, I found I didn't want to let the characters go.   I had fallen in love with their story, and I wanted to keep writing for them.  60 chapters later, I decided to start publishing my story, A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage.  This was just over 3 years ago, on November 7th 2017,  when I joined fanfiction.net.  I later joined ao3 as well and was publishing on both sites for quite some time.  I've had a better response though on fanfiction.net, so have pretty much limited myself to that site over the past year and a half.  I continue to make revisions and correct errors on my fanfiction.net stories, while I don’t really do anything on ao3. I have been likened to a writing machine on a couple occasions.  To date, on fanfiction.net, I have published over 1.9m words.  Putting that in perspective, in three years I've published the equivalent of more than 7 volumes of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the longest book in her series), or close to two and a half volumes of the Holy Bible.
Q: Do you have a certain routine you follow when you write?
A: I don’t have a set daily routine, but I do set myself a goal to complete a certain amount of work per week.  This has changed over time.  Currently, I set myself the goal to write at least one chapter of a story each week, to keep myself in line with my publishing schedule of one chapter per week.  If I am writing an installment for my COVID-19 series that is published in addition to my regular publishing schedule, I still try to write that in addition to my usual chapter writing for the week.  So, at times I write more in a week than other times. I am also working on revising one of my AU’s into a Christian historical romance I hope to publish professionally next year.  
Q: What is it like being a Christian author?
A: It brings me joy to spread a Christian message through my work, but, like anyone else, at times I do suffer self-doubt.  I've questioned in the past whether my limited audience makes worthwhile the enormous effort I put into writing these stories.  It can definitely be discouraging to get very little return on your work, and I have a bad habit of comparing myself to more “popular” writers in the fandom.  I am, however, getting better at recognizing my own self-worth, having confidence that the lack of readers is not a reflection on my ability and talent as a writer, but more a reflection on the general lack of interest from the majority of Sherlolly fans in reading stories with Christian themes and the values that go along with it (particularly sexual purity outside marriage). Just as I don’t care to read stories of characters with a colourful sexual history because I don’t agree with that kind of behaviour due to my Christian beliefs, I imagine those without similar beliefs are probably not interested in reading about sexual purity or abstinence before marriage, as it is not something they can relate to. Thankfully, I am blessed to have a small but vocal support group who really give me the impetus to keep writing these Christian stories.
Q: Are there any devices you use in your writing as a legally blind author?
A:  As I mentioned earlier, I absolutely would be lost without my iPad.  Actually, it is the larger sized iPad Pro.  I would also be lost without programs that give me the ability to resize the font so I can read it!  Thank God for technology!
If you made it to the end of this two-part interview, I hope you enjoyed getting to know my writing journey better.  God bless!
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a-third-attempt · 3 years
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Dear Gutter,
Greetings from the frozen north, @guttertongue​!
It’s been a wild year, hasn’t it? Can’t say it was good, exactly, but I’m writing to you today from a place of joy. A year ago, I adopted a tiefling from you (barely!), and I wanted to write to say thank you because that ended up being the big journey of this year for me...
He goes by Dharys now, and as a character he’s just been kind of simmering on low heat all year. I did write about him explicitly in one of my prompt fills, where I formally came to terms with him as a self-insert; just a funky little horse boy nervously making his way in a world that isn’t quite sure what to do with him. There’s a bit more backstory in scattered private messages and discarded drafts, and I think 2021 will be a real character development year for the boy ^.^
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(The horse is named Vincenzo and your boy loves him very much~)
More than that, though, he’s been a wonderful persona for me to inhabit on this side of the internet. It seems so obvious now, but it was more or less a coincidence; I adopted him on a whim. (I mean, there was a reason, but it’s convoluted and doesn’t make a lot of sense.) At that time, I had already decided that I was going to try to get back into writing for fun, but I was still undecided about how exactly I would do that. Well, one thing led to another and I decided to start this blog, and since he was already around, I decided to make him my icon.
I’m not sure when exactly I started associating the name Dharys, which I was using for this side of my internet self, with the tiefling. But it was definitely sometime before April, when I ended up taking the dive into the exophilia community. That has been a truly rewarding experience, and if that had been all I’d gotten from this whole thing, it alone would have been more than enough.
But Dharys as persona has also lent me a lot of confidence. This takes a bit of explaining. Dharys was many firsts for me: the first time I had purchased from an artist online, certainly my first character adopt, my first *ahem*SFW*ahem* monster-related purchase. He was an early step in my ongoing process of learning to spend money on myself. As Dharys I purchased my first commissions, and made my first donations to the arts. As Dharys I’ve been able to recognize “spending money on myself” as a way that I can support artists I love. (And I’d like to think those were stepping stones in my willingness to evaluate my priorities and loosen my purse strings epsecially re: COVID and BLM— Shoutout to the Black COVID Relief Fund.)
In the back half of the year I’ve been less active on this side of the internet for work reasons. During that time, Dharys morphed into a muse and a sort of fictional second mod for this blog.
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He’s a little bit immature in that role— mod!Dharys spends most of his time running around to my favorite artists for glamor shots. But he’s not totally absent; he does help me brainstorm, and even comments sometimes, mostly in the tags.
I could go on, but the point is— I feel so blessed that I’ve gotten to know your little tiefling boy, and our time together has truly been a highlight of my year ^.^
I hope that this note finds you well, and here’s to better days ahead!
— | Dharys
 * * *
A/N: Both images are the brilliant work of @dragonfoxstardesigns; I’ll be posting about them separately.
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mantrabay · 3 years
Text
Hitchiker From Another World.
Saturday an overarching day that's both conduit and shelter for souls in transition.
Thoughts of the more disturbing kind may intrude.
Little did I know what lay ahead.
All these scenarios flashed across my mind as the wheels of my car screeched to a halt.
Shafts of radiant sunlight revealed a light green leaf entwined placard.
An obscure but apocryphal question -
Going somewhere?
A hitchhiker appeared with the most expressive eyes.
Like shining windows admitting the rush of a golden dawn.
Her rippling nuanced voice spoke.
“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is a series of stops
and strange encounters.
A journey of some kind.”
Thought-provoking stuff!
She extended her supple silken right hand.
“Hop in.
I'm Joshua King. Going anywhere in particular?"
I enquired archly after the ritual handshake.
"Besides going somewhere or nowhere!”
I continued.
"In one sense I'm not sure.
But there is this place we should all go to.
You'll know what I mean later.”
Lelia mysteriously.
"Not to worry.
Travel is therapy for me."
What made me, Joshua King, say that?
The mind can be overpopulated with figments.
Frustrated figments waiting for that frenzied freedom dash.
This svelte lady wearing an azure padded jacket and sea blue denims glided gracefully into my car.
Hatha yoga asana entry.
My pinstripe attire seemed conventional
on a philosophical journey man.
"Love the aroma ....air freshener.
Orchard in a vehicle.
Symbol of attempted purge."
The hitchhiker's dulcet voice drooping.
Redolent of metaphysics classes I had to abandon.
I was naive enough to believe that attending these courses would fix my “issues.”
More than just momentary bugs.
They couldn't be spray canned away.
I was, however, adept at avoiding their resolution.
My “issues” were other "selves.”
I called them timid, anxious, fidgety ,scrupulous withdrawn.
“What’s more I chat to them.
These chats I call the "whispers.”
Will Lelia notice?”
My twin brother, Jonah, a twin in “every sense” could point to my tendency to flee.
We spotted each other’s flaws with aplomb.
Banter between mirror images of real selves!
Tortured twin psyches.
Jonah was an integral part of these "whispers" too!
All these thoughts were doing hula hoops in my head.
In the process peculiarities surfaced with Lelia..
"I'm Lelia again. Don't forget. You probably won't.
This place I alluded to is but a distance from here.
Distance is a gulf whose magnitude is shaped by its smoothness of passage.
Or the fate that awaits one.
My destination is another world altogether."
Lelia’s cryptic crossword setter.remark.
Tapping my shoulder she extended her hand again.
Her fingers and thumb spatially arranged with tutored
stillness.
Was that repetition a neurotic oddity or a symptom of a deeper malaise?
I nodded to the said hand gesture.
We both brushed this bizarre incident off.
The spot on asides and the strict avoidance of that verbal litter referred to as small talk suggested we should.
Pauses. They did surface periodically.
The silence was then punctuated by a sudden remark.
"All those conifers. Look at how they reach out to the sky.”
One of Lelia’s poetic observations.
“They seem so close yet isolated.
There is something almost within their grasp.
Almost.”
Lelia nonplussed.
“See the adjoining fields. The green is but a cover. They are as neighbours in a high rise flat.
One could say they are both connected and disconnected at the same time.”
Lelia resting her case.
“I'm a bit of a writer and maths researcher.”
I proffered.
"Recluses some say.
Oh, I didn't mean you
Necessarily.”
Ouch, said my shattered Id.
Lelia, archer of the scar inflicting jibe.
Bow and arrow baroness of stinging broadsides.
This offshoot to our conversation was infused with a wry allusion.
Insight on a whim.
We both laughed at the incongruity of a conversation that had become elliptical in form.
Tangents cropped up as impetus to the other person's willingness to reveal themselves.
Lelia didn't exactly volunteer her vocation but left clues.
“You didn't say what you did?
Student ...essayist ...author."
Me sounding Lelia out.
“Oh no children….dashing right across the road in front of us.
Squealing with delight. Whoops of innocent joy? They are sticking out their tongues now!”
Hair-raising moment I hadn't anticipated.
I spied Lelia sticking her tongue out at those reckless varmints.
She stopped the minute I noticed.
“Children …….sometimes you have to act like a kid when dealing with kids."
Straight and to the point from this hitchhiker.
She now resumed the thread of an earlier topic.
“Work ….you asked about work.
I sort of work and play with the mind.
Play act too.”
A retort of sudoku like complexity.
As I digested lelia’s response it dawned on me how much like people my "selves”were.
Even when driving I "dialogued” those various aspects.
“You've an interesting face. The face is like a map, I say.
Heard you mutter about your "selves."
Leslie being cheeky.
Silence as challenge started to creep in.
Russian roulette without rules.
“Watch your driving, there." Lelia being brash.
Her different voices now somersaulting.
“Very quite aren't we, Josh?"
Josh mark you!
Grilling me like an interrogator trying to crack a stubborn suspect.
Without a word of warning Lelia raised her voice and got into a tantrum.
“What's the matter ….lost something?”
Joshua said anxiously.
A curious search resembling a scrum ensued.
Then more silence.
I craned my neck and spotted an uncanny regression.
Lelia talking to herself in a child-like manner and then changing tack.
“Don't worry. Found what I was looking for.”
Another void.
A tense lull. A little lockjaw appears when the juice runs out of discourse.
I squinted in the mirror once more.
This time Lelia was talking to her palm.
Staring vacantly at it she kept repeating the name Linda.
Lelia continued oblivious to what I saw or might be thinking.
She hummed this strange lullaby.
Suddenly my "selves" surfaced in an uncontrollable flurry.
I tried to suppress them but failed abysmally.
The "whispers and selves" started to have a life of their own.
This car is getting a bit crowded.
It's being converted into a train with fantasy passengers on board.
The sort one hears late at night hurtling through the countryside as dim lights flicker.
Both inside and outside this vehicle a tumult of events was took place.
Out of the blue the rain poured heavily.
“The gods or the elements must be cross or something.” Lelia opined.
“Let’s get introduced to my playmate in a palm.
Linda, these are Joshua’s true other selves.”
Lelia chuckling.
A comic situation arose where I changed my voice for each of my "selves" by way of introduction.
My great powers of concentration helped while driving.
"Pleased to meet you, Linda.”
Lelia altered her voice when teasing all my "selves."
She had some experience as a ventriloquist.
But Lelia was having this hypnotic effect too.
I was being manipulated.
One by one my highly personalised complexes were being extracted and subject to a rigorous interrogation.
This was some hitchhiker.
Was this car journey now becoming a high rent farce or a mock therapy session from an amateur shrink?
The rain continued to lash and my other "selves" felt like the last sting of a dying wasp.
A certain lightness ensued.
Almost as if my “aspects” were floating away.
For the first time my "other selves“ didn't seem to have this grip on me.
But deep down I knew I wanted to keep a little of them.
Although they were a burden they did have their positive aspects.
“Jonah … he still bugs doesn't he.
He’s almost like one of those "other selves!"
The "whispers" I heard earlier … I've a very delicate ear.
Those under the breath "whispers" gave the game away.
The names and complex relations between them."
Lelia now probing very deeply.
The wind howled and seafront rain waves splashed across my bonnet
There was a warped synchronicity.
As my complexes receded so did the thunderous weather.
They were working in tandem.
“Wash it all away. Come on, come on
See me waving my wand.”
Lelia chanted.
The Exorcist film had nothing on this.
Before his very eyes Joshua's "reticence" and the other "selves" were disappearing virtually.
Against the backdrop of all this inner and outer cacophony Lelia kept looking out the window.
Was that this home she mentioned earlier getting closer as Joshua was
"going home” to himself?
“Windows are amazing.
They show us the world but sometimes screen us from it.”
Lelia notes.
fog from the car window.
“Trees and branches swaying. Clouds darkening.
Thickening ominously.
Exodus of pedestrians seeking answers.”
Her voice penetrating Joshua.
“Am I being cleansed of what they call inner demons?"
Joshua panic stricken.
"This other worldly person has me spellbound.
There's a chessboard in this moving vehicle.
A total stranger has me in her palm.” .
Lelia assumed various postures.
As Joshua was the driver she didn't want to send him to sleep.
Lelia's voice was either hypnotist's drone or excited sports commentator.
Joshua could never forget this encounter.
“Don't forget Jonah too. Joshua wherever he might be.”
Her sinister tone rising.
“The name on your credit card.
I found it earlier when searching for my script.
Joshua Jonah king.”
Joshua confessed he was an only child.
“Am I a prisoner?.
Must button my lip.
I'm being freed and incarcerated by this person, the likes of whom I've never met before.”
Joshua felt a final therapeutic process coursing through him.
Very little was left of his "selves,” whispers.”
Joshua drove through a stoically preserved area whose haunting nature was blurred by this encounter.
“Terrible to have all these half-worlds revealed with such clinical accuracy.”
Joshua to himself.
Lelia's voice gradually lost its domineering tone.
At this point by accident or design the tense atmosphere eased.
“You are probably wondering where this is all going to end.
Maybe I have whispers, Jonah's and selves to face too.”
A casual Lelia random comment.
On this occasion a composite of adult confidence and infantile charm.
“Oh here we are, this place.”
She stated.
Joshua had undergone some sea change catharsis.
“Should I thank Lelia or what?
Jonah my make-believe twin. Don't really need him do I?”
Joshua pondered.
“Back to earth my dear.
This is where we part.”
Lelia again.
“Better change the name on that credit card.
It could bug your company!”
Lelia cackles..
“See that building..
It's called “Another World School of Acting.”
Acting is therapy..
Therapy in every sense!
They are auditioning for a play
“Inside The Split Mind." She said.
"Wonder will I get the part?”
Lelia looked away sadly.
“Off I go. Enjoy yourself or yourselves or whatever is left of them.”
Lelia laughing through her tears.
“Better get out of here fast, Josh.” Joshua to himself.
“I'm beginning to sound like her.” Joshua now driving at top speed.
“It will be awhile before I offer someone a lift again.
I suppose I should be grateful to her.” Joshua’s face now a deep red.
"Well, Jonah, I guess I'm going to miss you and all those "issues" in a way.
But at least I can be myself …. sort of.”
Short story by mantrabay copyright protected.
Completion of earlier submission
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edelgoth · 4 years
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Can I get a house matchup with a romantic pairing with a female. I'm a bit anxious so struggle with talking to others. I like studying and reading and am always willing to help anyone but I would prefer not too ask others for help. I like baking and cooking and especially like making desserts. I have trouble making decisions and procrastinate a lot. I'm a kind person who finds it difficult to express themselves.
you sound so cute oh my goodness,,,
i would place you in… 
the blue lions!!
okay, but you, annette and mercedes?? sweetest trio in the world. it immediately popped into my mind while reading your description and i’m overwhelmed by how wholesome it is. the main reason i’ve put you in the blue lions is that i think you’d get along wonderfully with most of them; which is probably the most compelling reason. i do think you have this softness and kindness to you that blends in well with the blue lions and the themes of azure moon, and i really can’t visualize you anywhere else!!
dimitri: i think you two would have a very sweet relationship!! first of all, dimitri is a very patient, accommodating person, so i think he’d be easier to talk to than others. he’s very understanding, too, so he would be patient with the fact that you struggle to express yourself. he may also try to motivate you whenever you were procrastinating, to varying levels of success. i can see him taking on a “brotherly” role, regardless of your actual ages, with a hint of the protective and the pedantic (he just wants you to be okay and do well, you know?). but, there’s a lot about you that dimitri would admire; your kindness and willingness to help others being of particular note. he’d have nothing but a kind word to say about you, and would find himself quite fond of you. overall, i think you’d have a similar vibe to the dimitri-ashe support chain – too wholesome to handle. 
dedue: you and dedue would be very wholesome together. i can see you two spending a lot of your down-time together, mostly by accident. dedue doesn’t mind that you find it difficult to express yourself; he’s stoic himself, and he’s not going to expect too much from you. it’d be a friendship where you both learn to joy of sharing silence with someone who cares deeply for you. he’s also thankful to have an extra hand in the kitchen; you’d spend several evenings cooking up a storm with ashe and dedue, creating dishes long past bed-time. bless this friendship; my heart honestly can’t handle it. 
felix: he wouldn’t quite know what to do with you, to be quite honest. your personalities are quite different, but i also think you have some similarities to a young felix (at least, in terms of what i can glean from the scant references we get). i think felix would tend to err on the side of civil with you; he might struggle a bit with your anxiety, since he’s just so,,, gruff. he may also be a bit affronted by your indecisiveness, as he’s the type to stick to his guns. also, don’t expect to get away with procrastinating when felix is around; you’re going to train, or else. but, at the end of the day, i think there’s just something about you that he can’t help but fond of; even if he can’t quite admit it. 
sylvain: he’s cleverer than he lets on, and he can read people quite well. the reason i mention that is mainly your admission that you find it difficult to express yourself. sylvain has a whole,,, complex about being misunderstood, so i feel like he’d make a real effort to understand you. that being said, it’d be done in a very sylvain way (you know,,, a lot of teasing, a bit of flirting thrown in, the occasional moment of raw sincerity quickly covered up by a joke about women. the usual). i think he’d be a little protective, and would actively act like your older brother (with dimitri it’s more implied, but sylvain’s shameless – and once again, it doesn’t matter what your actual ages are). he tends to enable your procrastination, though, much to felix’s chagrin. sometimes you find yourself stuck between a battle of wills; but only sometimes. 
ingrid: i get the feeling she would be a bit gruff with you, at first; ingrid just doesn’t deal with anxiety in the most constructive way (see: her supports with bernadetta). but once you got to know each other better, i think ingrid would really admire you. once she understood your struggles, she’d always feel a little proud whenever she saw you talking to someone, or expressing yourself to her. she may not be the best person to go to for advice, but she’s rooting for you from behind. she especially admires your dedication to your study (which i’ve assumed simply on the basis that you like doing it i’m very jealous), and your willingness to help others. she probably calls you out every now often, telling you to ask her for help more often, but i’m sure she’ll adapt and get quite proficient at being able to tell that you need her aid without you having to say a word.  
annette: i think you’d have a delightful friendship!! i see you studying together a lot; just like you, annette just loves to learn, and i’m sure you two would have endlessly interesting conversations (also, annette’s just going to keep bring you things that she’s working on, seeking a second opinion – thus meaning that you’re never really procrastinating, in a way). annette is very sociable and easy to get along with, which makes me think that you’d have an easier time befriending her. you may struggle talking to other people, but annette just has such a bright, friendly way about her that’s hard to dislike. and once she’s befriended someone, she’s staunchly loyal; annette’s going to look out for and take care of you. and, like i said earlier:; sweetest trio in the world!! i think you’d have the best time with her and mercedes, and you know know that those girls would treat you with the care and attention you deserve!! 
mercedes: okay, first things first: baking duo!! i would say baking trio, because of annette, but let’s be honest – it’d be you and mercedes doing the actual baking, while annette stands by and acts as the greatest cheer team of the century. anyway, i think you and mercedes would get along wonderfully!! mercedes is so kind, patient and attentive, and she really listens to people. it doesn’t matter if you find it difficult to express yourself; mercedes just has a way of knowing exactly what you’re feeling or thinking. it’s a similar deal with the anxiety; mercedes understands, and she does her best to make herself as approachable and easy to talk to as possible. at the same time, mercedes really needs to be around someone who’s as willing to help her as she is everyone else. i think the two of you would just look out for each other, and would be able to rely on each other in times of hardship. i love this friendship very much (evidenced by the fact that this paragraph is growing longer and longer by the sentence), and please look after my girl!!  
mercedes is your romantic match!! i think your friendship would already be a bit deeper than the usual, which lends itself quite naturally to romance later in life. you two just get each other, you know?? there’s just a beautiful understanding to your relationship that makes it so rare and precious, and mercie’s the sort who’d constantly affirm you and tell you how thankful she is for your presence in her life. i’m getting emotional at the thought of the two of you two baking sweets for each other as a show of affection. oh, and annette is your daughter now. sorry, i don’t make the rules. 
ashe: you and ashe would be the best of friends. similarly to mercedes, he’s very patient and attentive, and he does his best to accommodate people. he’s not quite as good at it as mercedes is, but he genuinely does take his time to understand you and the ways in which you do express yourself. and, like dimitri, i think there’s a lot about you that he admires (and they’re more or less the same things). ashe loves that you’re always willing to help people, and he goes the extra mile to do little things for you every now and then. he also loves to lend you his favourite books, and introducing you to his well-loved recipes. you’re honestly quite similar in a lot of ways, and i think that’d make a friendship between you feel quite easy and natural. 
other notable connections
hilda: she might seem like a left-field choice, but i’m sticking with it. you two would start becoming friends because, in typical hilda style, she’d exploit you. it was bound to happen; you’re always willing to help, and hilda’s always willing to pawn off her work to others. but, over time, she’d find herself growing quite fond of you. she just thinks you’re so cute!! hilda’s also very talkative, so that wouldn’t be a problem at all (she herself says “i love listening to myself talk!!”). furthermore, once hilda’s fond of someone, she genuinely does go all out for them. it’s a bit of a surprisingly, but genuinely lovely friendship!! 
bernadetta: you seem like a more toned-down version of bernie, tbh!! and for that reason, i think she’d find you a surprisingly easy person to be around. you can actually connect with her over her anxiety, and won’t pressure her or make her uncomfortable. she appreciates your kindness and your willingness to help, and does her best to be a good friend in return. bernie would genuinely adore you, and you’d be one of the rare few that she actively seeks out to spend time with. please make her a lot of baked treats, because she deserves it. 
petra: she’d decide she was your friend one day and that’s it. petra’s your best friend now. nothing to be done about it. but, i do think you two would have a lovely contrast. petra’s so confident, and such a go-getter, while you’re much more of a grounded, peaceful force. i think petra would find your mind very interesting; she loves to ask you questions about your studies or the books you’ve read, and is always asking for recommendations. petra’s also the sort to try and motivate you whenever you’re procrastinating, and it’s always surprisingly earnest. and, since she herself struggles with expressing herself in an unfamiliar language, she’s another person who’d be patient and understanding with you. just like with hilda, it’s a surprising, and yet very wholesome friendship!!
i actually had a bit of trouble picking three people for this bc there were so many i wanted to include,,, special mentions are linhardt, claude & ignatz
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ft-stories-lgbt · 5 years
Text
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For the wonderful @watcher-ofthe-sky 🌺
Also I am not going to take credit for this work. This is entirely from @grayserigala, so all the nice words, likes and reblogs is for her. I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I did.
*
Prompt: "You've always felt like home".
Natsu can’t help but smile as he watches Sting goofing around in front of, and with their friends. The pure joy and freedom in his face reflects through their hearts, and draws the smile onto the pinkette’s face, as well. Which is a good thing, since the last few days have been kind of hard on his lover. It is so alleviating to watch the thoughts that had Sting snapping left and right or too disheartened to move, now a world away from his precious boyfriend. Natsu wishes he could hold this moment of happiness in place for eternity.
A small chuckle escapes his throat as he watches his boyfriend taking Rogue by the arm and drag him into the foolery, to keep him close. From where he is standing, Natsu can't hear what's being said but if he trusts the exasperated look that is on Rogue’s face, he is positive that Sting is up to mischief again.
Shaking his head a little Natsu leans against the wall and brings his beer to his lips. The music around becomes something soft and the boy closes his eyes for a moment, to enjoy the warm feelings that build inside him.
He feels someone coming up to stand beside him, and Natsu jolts as a familiar voice sighs next to him, with a degree of fondness to the tone. His eyes slide open to gaze at the newcomer, and his gaze fall on Gray who is looking at him with an amused smile on his lips.
“It’s not like you to be all alone,” Gray comments, taking a sip from his own beer.
“I guess,” Natsu shrugs. “Just chilling.”
“That’s not like you either.” Gray hides a quiet snicker behind a sigh of content.
"What about you? How come you’re here and not saving your boyfriend?" Natsu follows up, cheekily.
Gray laughs at that, and his gaze falls to his boyfriend as it always does eventually, who is hiding his own fondness for the blonde behind a silent prayer for help. Sting’s enthusiasm is apparently wearing away that warmth, leaving draining tiredness.
"I'll save him later,” Gray comments with another swig and an indignant glare at Rogue. “For now, he can suffer for making me go to that stupid show to keep your lonely ass company.”
"Hey!” Natsu gasps, dramatically. “It wasn’t stupid and I know you enjoyed it!" Natsu argues.
“No I didn’t!” Gray argues back, their voices raising to a volume reflective of their lifelong rivalry. “How on Earth does anyone enjoy marionette shows, they’re creepy as hell!” Natsu snickers when Gray shivers at the memory, with a willingness to take it further and fight for nostalgia’s sake.
“This is why I wanted to go with Sting, he would’ve loved it and Rogue wouldn’t have to suffer now.” Natsu chuckles, sarcastically.
"Sting loves everything you do, so really he is not a reliable source here." Gray huffs.
Natsu is grinning at that, though he can’t tell if it’s the comment on Sting or the twinge of familiarity that comes with Gray’s frustrated tone. Gray looks over, with a flash of annoyance lighting up his usually dull, indecipherable eyes, one that dies down a little as Gray lets himself properly study his friend.
“You know this is all your doing, right?” Gray asks in an oddly quiet voice, and when Natsu looks over again, the raven is casually gazing at Sting.
“What are you talking about, Droopy Eyes?” Natsu retorts, trying to bring the playfulness back and reject the seriousness. Tonight isn’t about that, tonight is about the warmth of Sting’s smile and Natsu isn’t going to let anything bring that down.
Gray shoots him a flat look, that is directed at the nickname, and Natsu only just manages to keep from bursting into laughter with a sip of his drink. The raven sighs and and the irritation drains away, leaving Gray’s eyes more open than Natsu has ever seen, as he secretly rolls his eyes at the floor.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Gray starts off. “And before you decided to ruin the mood, I was going to tell you that Sting is happy because of you tonight.”
Natsu pauses at that, and with a couple blinks and seconds to register what Gray was saying, his eyes switch back over to Sting, who is still having fun teasing Rogue.
“You’re the idiot,” Natsu manages to choke out around his tightening chest.
“And you’re the idiot that he’s in love with,” Gray groans at Natsu’s difficult nature. “He’s smiling because of you tonight, because you gave him a home and didn’t give up on him.”
Natsu is left blabbing awkwardly, as he struggles to find the balance between the embarrassed butterflies that come from anything serious involving Gray, and the utter dedication that he feels towards Sting. His love for Sting wins. He has never once doubted Sting's love, in almost a decade of being together, he has always been confident that they shared a deep bond. And it’s not as if Sting has never said that to him, before, but hearing it from someone else, was firstly humiliating, but beneath the mortifying embarrassment, a weight grounds his heart and makes the decade-long dream seem real.
“...An-and Rogue’s told me that too, when he was trying to get us to be better ‘friends’.” Gray coughs, that same awkwardness rising up in him, too. “I don’t think anyone can deny that you two are made for each other, that you’re his home and he’s yours, but…” Gray trails off, a clear and obvious red painting his cheeks.
“...But what?” Natsu encourages, quietly, a note of worry in his voice.
“But Sting’s not the only one…” Gray continues quietly.
“I don’t understand…” Natsu breathes, searching Gray’s face. Gray slowly meets the pinkette’s gaze, as he swallows the embarrassment.
“I-” The words die in Gray’s throat, as he coughs out a laugh. “You do this for everyone, you worry and you care… f-for me, and Rogue, as well as Sting. Y-... he-... don’t take this the wrong way, I love Rogue to death, but isn’t it weird to think that we’ve known each other for almost twenty years, now?”
“I guess…?” Natsu replies slowly. “I still don’t understand.” Gray groans and mutters something about Natsu being difficult, but despite everything else, he slides a couple inches closer to Natsu, so their arms are almost touching.
“That’s nearly two decades, it’s basically a lifetime of knowing you.” Gray mumbles.
“Eww,” Natsu snickers, still not entirely sure what to make of the awkward atmosphere.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Gray glares. “But… it’s… Rogue, Erza, so many people have tried to make us better friends, but what… but what none of them seem to get is that you’re already my best friend. Twenty years... wow…” Gray shakes his head, hiding his eyes behind his hair. “You’ve seen me through everything, my worst, my best and my most stupid. Though, that last one is definitely your fault.”
“H-” Natsu cuts himself short, remembering Gray’s retort half a heartbeat late. Closing his mouth, he lets Gray continue and swallows his tease.
“There are very, very few people that I could say know me, or… know the real me.” Gray breathes deeply. “But goodness knows where I’d be if you weren’t one of them.” Gray turns his head and finally shows Natsu his face and the unshed tears in them. And those are enough to make Natsu worry, as his heart clenches and he tries to read Gray’s emotions. “Y-you’re Sting’s home, but… but you’ve always been home for me, too…”
Natsu feels his heart flip, dip and stutter to a halt all at once, as the words click and bring tears to his eyes in a chain reaction. Squeezing his mouth shut, Natsu fights against the tears, but it isn’t long before Gray is hidden behind a blurry film.
“W-woah, hey!” Gray’s panicky tone gasps. “Wh-what… I-... uhh… sh-should I call Sting? Why… I didn’t mean to make you cry!”
Natsu groans under his breath and hides his face in his hands, still trying to fight the drops of water running down his cheeks. Dammit, he didn’t plan on being an emotional wreck this evening, much less because of Gray.
“I… I-uh…” Gray stutters uselessly, and all Natsu can do is let out a choked laugh at his stupid best friend, and tug the raven into a hug. Gray freezes.
Natsu’s laugh continues to drown out his sobs. He could count on one hand how many times they had hugged, this was so far from their thing, but that doesn’t matter, not tonight.
“...’nd you’re the idiot that caused this.” Natsu parrots. Gray deflates in relief as he sees Natsu smiling, long arms wrap around him and hold him secure. “Th-th…-ank you…” Natsu whispers.
“You’re welcome, Natsu…” Gray replies, softly. “Happy birthday, dumbass.”
Eventually, Natsu breaks the hug, leaving with the knowledge that Gray’s friendship is one that he will never be able to leave behind completely. And Natsu isn’t surprised to realise, that Gray’s friendship is his home, too.
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disasterhumans · 5 years
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I had a surprisingly strong reaction to Marisha's inclusion of "I Am Here," on her Beau playlist, so naturally I felt compelled to write a thousand words about it.
I open up my heart You can love me or not There's no such thing as sin Let it all come right in
Marisha chose this song as Beau's tribute and remembrance of Molly, and these opening lines certainly reflect something of Molly's general philosophy. As Taliesin has said, "There's a way of both not giving a fuck about what people think, but giving a fuck about people." Molly was always open with his affection, and generous with it. Beau, in contrast, closed herself off from the world as a coping mechanism. She realized just a little too late how much she actually appreciated Molly's openness. We tend to focus on Beau's resolve to "leave places better than she found them," after Molly's death, but I think her increased vulnerability, and willingness to be emotionally supportive (even when she hides it behind bravado) in recent episodes has also been a result of a shift in perspective prompted by Molly's death.
I wanna make some mistakes, I wanna sleep in the mud
We know from things both Marisha and Beau have said that Beau has internalized the idea that she's a "fuck up." The desire to "make some mistakes," is probably fraught for Beau. It's one way you could characterize her criminal past and her general rebelling against her father. But there's also a part of her that's always just a little bit terrified that she's going to prove everyone's worst suspicions about her correct. I think she wants the freedom to be able to fuck up sometimes without it meaning that she is a fuck up. That's something that's come up a few times in smaller moments (Twiggy: I don't really make the best decisions, Beau: I can relate; "Oh no! My actions affect other people!" from episode 45). Beau has been working hard to "leave every place better than she found it," but she's also been better at cutting herself some slack, and leaving herself room to make mistakes and learn in the process ("Having one transformative experience doesn't mean you're going to be better overnight. Being better is something you have to work at, I guess," from ep 36). She doesn't generally excoriate herself when she makes a mistake, but she'll acknowledge it and try to move forward from there. This has actually been true since before episode 26/7. Her whole "learning to be polite" thing with Fjord carried across several episodes, and included her 1) willingly deciding she needed to apologize to Caleb (even though Fjord didn't really think she needed to), and 2) knowing she would need help in the execution, and then asking for it. And while Beau's general demeanor hasn't changed, it's so apparent how much those "lessons," did really help with Beau's ability to interact with people. (I'm still not over the fact that Beau apologized roughly five times in episode 45, and all of them were genuine.)
I wanna swim in the flood, I wanna fuck til I'm done I like whiskey on ice, I like sun in my eyes 
These lines reflect something of both Molly's and Beau's approaches to life. Beau once told Jester and Caleb that all she wants to do is "make a ton of money and drink a lot of booze, “ (ep 11). But where Molly's hedonism was in some part due to a "life is short," mentality, Beau's pursuit of happiness and simple pleasures has something of a desperate edge to it. (As Marisha puts it: "She has never had an extended moment of happiness her whole life, and she's still searching for it.")
It's also worth noting here that one of the ways Beau chose to honor Molly's memory was to have a lot of sex. Learning how to “open up [her] heart,” in order to truly appreciating the joy of living in the world is just as important a thing for Beau to be striving for as her dedication to leaving places better than she found them. While it’s true that the two times Beau has (canonically) had sex didn’t really involve emotional connection (debatable in regards to Keg, though), I think they still represented her trying to break down some of her walls. Would Beau have felt compelled enough to proposition Keg if Molly hadn’t passed? I don’t think there’s a way to know the answer to that question, but it certainly seemed to factor into her decision in the moment.
I wanna burn it all down, so let's start a fire I wanna be lost, so lost that I'm found Naked and laughing with my blood on the ground
Much as Beau claims to have no real goals or motivations, she's clearly ready to fuck shit up and tear shit down when presented the opportunity. She has an almost knee-jerk opposition to authority in any and all forms (except maybe Fjord's captaining). It's one of the things that draws her to Dairon and the Expositors. I think it's part of what motivated her to help the Knights of Requital (even if she was also significantly motivated by money), and it's what made her such a terrifying (if somewhat unexpected) adversary to Avantika. Just because Beau is trying to commit herself to putting good into the world doesn't mean it's not going to come with a fair amount of chaos and destruction (e.g. freeing the Marid).
I am here, I am here I've already seen the bottom, so there's nothing to fear I know that I'll be ready when the devil is near I am here, I am here All of this wrong, but I'm still right here
I love that the song Marisha chose for Beau's memory of Molly is so much about being present in the face of tragedy. "I am here," can mean so many things. It can be a declaration of presence, or of defiance and resolve ("all of the this wrong, but I'm still right here"). For Beau, there may even be some survivor's guilt mixed in. She's still "here" when Molly isn't, because he was trying to protect her. What are the chances even a small part of her believes she doesn't deserve to be here?
Regardless, one thing remains: the worst has happened, but Beauregard is made of tenacity. Murder and kidnap her friends and she'll all but kill you with her bare hands. Beau may not be caring or soft in traditional ways, but she's fiercely protective of her friends and committed to keeping them safe.
I don't have the answers but the question is clear Let me ask you Where does everybody go when they go? 
In Marisha's write-up for this song, she writes, "[this was Beau's] first real lesson that in this world and in this life that they're living, if you hold onto something that you want to say to someone, you might lose the opportunity forever, at any moment." This leads me to believe that this is the first time Beau has really had to grapple with the death of someone close to her. Even if Beau intellectually understands what death "is," actually wrestling with the knowledge that someone is just gone is a lot to process. I'm honestly not sure whether this would be easier or harder to grapple with in a world where there's proof of gods and an afterlife. I would imagine that people still wonder "where do you go when you die," and I don't think those answers would feel any clearer even if they factually exist.
May the light be upon me May I feel in my bones that I am enough I can make anywhere home
"My I feel in my bones that I am enough," is one of the lines that prompted me to write this post to begin with. I kept wanting to pick a favorite bit of the song before realizing how well all of it fits Beau. But this line, specifically, breaks my heart precisely because we know that Beau doesn't think she's enough. In fact, she often seems to be afraid of the very prospect--she feels compelled to couch her good intentions and kind gestures in self-effacing bravado and deprecation. She so desperately wants to be "enough," but is so used to being too much, or too abrasive for others that she has a tendency to put up walls to mask how much she seeks validation. The Mighty Nein--and Fjord and Jester in particular--were the first people to see past that and accept it. Fjord and Jester are also particularly good at seeing past her tough exterior in her more genuine moments (e.g. Fjord recognizing when Beau's actually being nice, even when it comes across as sarcastic; or Jester understanding what Beau is offering when she tries to downplay her ability to be a 'best friend,' in episode 46). Of the Mighty Nein, Beau has the fewest emotional ties to a given "home," (with the possible exception of Fjord), and has clearly decided that the Mighty Nein--wherever they are, and wherever they might go--are her home.
I can think of one thousand places much worse than this
And who wants to bet that even in their scariest moments, everything she's encountered with the Mighty Nein is still vastly better than where she started out?
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dmydfilmreviews · 5 years
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MARVEL MOMENTS
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 So what they really did, as well as making a good load of films, was actually make a vast tapestry of genius interwoven moments like flicking through a big comic book! Ten years! Twenty something movies! A load of rubbish images at the end of the list because the last three films weren’t officially out on Blu Ray! Avengers assssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
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Tony Builds the First Suit
 Really it was a stroke of brilliance to start the whole shebang with Iron Man the self-made superhero. The backbone of the whole universe is that of Tony making himself and that all kicks off here, in a sequence that’s hugely thematically satisfying given what comes later. There’s also the fact that back in the day all this construction stuff was just fucking cool, a Nolan-lite bedrock for a blend of realism and fantasy that comic-book cinema had never quite nailed before. Seeing Tony improve his tech step-by-step is a quiet pleasure of these movies, the suits getting more and more outlandish but staying absolutely believable, just like the films, and that all kicks off here with one guy and a non-magical hammer.
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Pepper Pulls Out Tony’s Heart
 I noted these all down before Endgame, honestly. Sob. It was always his story really. The best example of the foundational relationship of the MCU: They finish each other’s sentences!
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‘Truth is… I am Iron Man.’
 They knew what they’d got from the very first. This ballsy coda sets the tone for the whole MCU, one of backed-up swagger, a willingness to fuck with the source material in the name of story and the general feeling that Robert Downey Jr. was God. All in like two hours. That they flipped the egotistically iconic line into an era-defining declaration of responsibility, growth and heroism a decade later is nothing short of remarkable.
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Hulk and Betty in the Rain
 It’s uh… it’s a nice comic-book visual of a classic comic book romance, I guess? Look, Hulk came a long way later, but his forgotten love for Betty was the closest they ever came to the source material outside of the Hulk generally smashing and being awesome. It was sweet!
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The Bit Where Hulk Suplexes a Giant Zombie Wolf on the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard
 wait was this in the Incredible Hulk
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I’ve Successfully Privatised World Peace!’ ‘Fuck you, Mr Stark.’
 They got Garry Shandling in these movies!
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The Suitcase Suit
 Now that is a cool-ass adaptation.
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Black Widow Kicks Asses
 Yeah, after a whole movie of being reductive eye-candy she was still reductive eye-candy here. But the scene as a whole’s basically a perfect realisation of her moves in the comics, and showed Marvel were capable of doing someone who wasn’t Iron Man. Then they did EVERYYYYOONNNNNNEEE bonus points for Happy taking out that one guy and yelling ‘I got him!’
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Tony and Rhodey in the Japanese Gardens
 Look, they just look cool, OK? No one said this was going to be deep.
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Tony and Pepper as the Stark Expo Explodes
 They haven’t managed a lot of great romance, but this one hella works: Tony’s overblown mess of a movie expo exploding behind the true love of his life is a visual so great that Shane Black nicked it wholesale for the climax of Iron Man Three: Christmas in Croydon.
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The Frost Giant Throwdown
 Wait, what’s happening? I thought these were the movies where Jeff Bridges rode a Segway? Are we in SPAAAAACCCCCEEEE?
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Thor Can’t Pull It Off
 Out of the big three Thor’s arc of mythology to humanity might be the deepest and most satisfying of all. That starts here with his tearful inability to be worthy of his father, his world and, crucially, himself, leading directly into the first great Thor/Loki exchange, then a whole host of movies that eventually put him through the emotional wringer to self-acceptance. Hopefully?
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Thor and Loki Battle on the Rainbow Bridge
 Yeah, it looks kind of goofy, but this is pure sixties Kirby, shorn of the irony the series would develop later. Beautiful.
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Erskine Points To Cap’s Heart
 That’s it. That’s the character.
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The Star Spangled Man!
 Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berliiiin?
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That Whole War Montage That Ends With Bucky Falling From The Train
 Just smash after smash after smash of wartime Cap goodness that we’d never see again, ending with the ‘death’ that’d define the rest of his story. Steve lost as much as Thanos in his quest for peace but, y’know, he wasn’t a total fucking intergalactic dick about it.
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‘I gotta put her in the water!’
 Man alive he waited for that date... whether you think the ending of Endgame ruins the moment somewhat (it doesn’t. sort of), this was still the biggest heart-tugger in the MCU at that point, and defined the characters of Cap and Peggy for years to come. Watch Agent Carter! Just bloody watch it!
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'Lemme Put You On Hold’
 The stand out moment of The Avengers is basically all of it, but let’s start with the moment Black Widow finally becomes a character, a sequence of broad-strokes skill from Scarlett Johansson and Joss Whedon that begged for a movie she finally got way too long later. Bonus points for possibly the greatest Coulson reaction shot in a history of great reaction shots.
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The Helicarrier Ascends
 OK, shit – this is series is big now.
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The Whole of Stuttgart
 Whedon’s love of classical posh entertainment is seen in Angel’s superior ballet episode and his fondness for Sondheim, and he even gets a bit of the ol’ jewellery rattling in here in a perfectly pitched Loki-loving sequence that culminates in some fantastic bits for Cap before Iron Man AC/DC’s all over the place. This is where the comic book stuff really kicks off.
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‘YOU COME HOME!’
 This Hemsworth’s fella’s really got something...
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Forest Bro Down
 Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. The first real Avengers mash-up is just wonderful. This is where the wish-fulfilment really begins, in a quiet clearing, where three superheroes nearly beat the shit out of each other in classic comic-book style. The Avengers assembled.
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The Whole Fuckin’ Helicarrier Sequence
 An absolute masterpiece of blockbuster juggling that had never been done before, this could be the third act of any other film. Over what plays out weirdly like a piece of theatre we get terrifying Hulks, mewling quims and awesome heroics, all expertly laced with wonderful character mash-ups and action we’d never seen before. Then Coulson dies. This is what Joss Whedon does.
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‘There was an idea…’
 Fuck shit yeah there was, and it made for a hell of an Infinity War trailer six years later.
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ALL OF NEW YORK
 Yep, all of it, but if we’re being picky it’s Hulk v Loki for the comedy side, the tracking shot for the action. As a sequence it’s never been bettered in the MCU, even in the open-mouthed joy-gush of Infinity War and Endgame. FIGHT ME
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Go Fish
 Iron Man Three is a wonderful movie that works best as the sum of its parts, but there’s one bit that’s up there with the pantheon: the sky-diving rescue above the bay is such a joyous subversion of the usual third-act super-fisticuffs that it’s like something out of a 70’s Superman movie, only with a hilarious capper at the end where Iron Man explodes under a truck. Beep beep!
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Running the Lemurian Star
 The Russo Brother’s action calling-card for their incredible MCU run, this sets up their vision of Cap’s super-subtle-super-serum-super-moves. From the off it’s a game changer in the way action’s shot across the MCU, clean-cut raid-alikes becoming the order of the day. AND THEN HE FIGHTS BATROC ZE LEAPER
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Elevator Throwdown
 Yeah, yeah, we all know the actual bit in the elevator that’s spoofed to tremendous effect come Endgame, but remember this sequence ends with Cap TAKING DOWN A FUCKING QUINJET SINGLE-HANDED. The look on his face at the end says it all.
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The Winter Soldier Street Fight
HE FLICKS A KNIFE MID PUNCH
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Come and Get Your Love
 We’d seen a lot of cool shit from the MCU by this point, but this was something else again. It’s funny! It’s funny as fuck! What the fuck is this movie? And again, they know their own best bits: the return to this in Endgame is top drawer. What a moron.
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The Kyln Sequence
 This whole breakout is the Guardians at their very best; squabbling in space, reluctant teamwork, loads of cool shit and leg theft. The bit where it all goes anti-grav is a treat.
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WE ARE GROOT
 That’s it. That’s the movie.
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…Stark…
 It’s a shame they didn’t delve deeper into Scarlet Witch’s hatred for the man who murdered her parents, but her barely contained rage is the keystone for Age of Ultron: deeper, nastier, more questioning of it’s heroes and their heroism. This one they brought on all by themselves.
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Sun’s Gettin’ Real Low
 Yeah, maybe it’s for the best the slightly bumbled Hulktasha relationship was forgotten about, but this moment was pivotal in the character development of both. Beautifully shot, and leads to a primo Ragnarok gag.
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Lift That Hammer
 You genuinely could have made a whole movie of these characters hanging out at an open bar. The Stan cameo’s great, the War Machine story bit gets an Endgame alien planet boost much later, but it’s the drunken worthiness competition that’s the real highlight, a seemingly fun throwaway that actually almost single-handedly sets up the whole character of Vision and the most fist-pumping moment of Endgame, a movie nearly entirely composed of fist-pumping moments.
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Hulk vs Hulkbuster
 Pure comic-book wish fulfilment again, and how. From Hulk spitting out a tooth to Tony desperately pleading ‘go to sleep go to sleep go to sleep’, this mad clash of science pals knocks every Transformers movie straight through a freshly-bought-building. Veronica!
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Well Done.
 Alright, Vision’s no one’s favourite Avenger, but he’s one who’s the satisfying product of several movie plots, one beloved supporting AI and the combined brains, magic and cool red capes of his team. Whedon performs his own mad-skillz level script trick to make us accept this fucking weirdo, first by giving him Jarvis’ voice, then having him stare out at a world and see his reflection in it, then having him lift an unliftable character-establishment hammer. None of this could be done by any other film series.
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The Geometry of Belief
 Ultron’s climactic church-a-maggedon is short but perfect, a swirling mass of splash-page insanity that culminates in a glorious trinity of Vision, Iron Man and Thor blasting the shit out of their mad son like a magic triangle. The Avengers at their peak.
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Vision and Ultron Have a Chat
 Whedon pops out these gems of detached humanism from time to time, and his sundown final exchange between The Avenger’s success and failure is a doozy. The most poetic little scene in the whole MCU, voiced by two creatures who look like nightmarish dildos. ‘A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts’ is an all-timer.
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Big Bathtub
 Ant Man’s bedrock might be its family values, but it’s the shrinking that makes it stand out. The first time Scott drops into tiny-town is a Pixar-esque fun-burst akin to Stephen Strange’s nutso jump into infinity later, with deadly bath taps, thunderclap vacuum cleaners and mid-day apartment raves (?) all bringing a new level of threat and adventure to a series already teeming with variety. They should carry these ones on foreverrrrr
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Cassie’s Room
 There’s something about this scene that sums up Scott’s whole character and hopefully sets up his daughter for future ant shenanigans: he is (was) unique as a hero with a family, and no matter how many Pym Particles he stuffs into his suit he’s always looked like a giant to his daughter. Plus, y’know, Thomas the Tank Engine.
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Some Guy Crashes a Car at Night
 The catalyst for the great middle schism. Civil War is a masterclass of twisting, gut-churning reveals, and this is the quiet moment that starts it all.
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QUEENS
 The perfect Marvel character, introduced into the perfect realisation of the Marvel Universe, perfectly.
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Running Into Each Other At The Airport
LITTLE MAN IS BIG NOW I’M CLINT WE HAVEN’T MET YET I DON’T CARE WHERE YOU FROM KID QUEENS BROOKLYN I’M YOUR CONSCIENCE WE HAVEN’T SPOKEN IN A WHILE YOU GUYS KNOW THAT OLD MOVIE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK HOW OLD IS THIS KID ETC ETC OH MY GOD MY BRAIN HAS EXPLODED
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Cap vs Iron Man
 ‘I don’t care. He killed my mom.’  
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The Big Brain Burst
 They keep doing bits to expand themselves, and this is one of the best, with the most potential for the future. Fleeting, but dazzling.
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New York Mirror Fest
 If the next Strange movies delve into this deranged nonsense then they could end up the greatest of all of them. This is the tip of the iceberg, and it’s still unlike anything else being done in mainstream cinema.
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Mr Blue Sky
 In a movie that frequently reaches big and misses, at least it hits the spot at the beginning. This glorious celebration of family, space-craziness and genre subversion is everything Guardians does best. The Gamora / Groot bit is adorable.
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Peter’s Civil War Adventure
 The perfect tone-setter for the story’s most-average joe, this ground-level view of the universe’s biggest clash acts as a whippet quick intro to Peter Parker’s world in the big bad MCU. It’s always a thrill to see him where he belongs.
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The Homage to Getting Buried Under a Tonne of Crap
 Homecoming’s riffs on classic Spidey-lore are generally pretty subtle, but when it comes time to show what Peter’s really made of Watts rips directly from the best, first with the iconic Parker/Spidey face split and then with him holding up a whole fucking building like he’s nerd Hulk or something. The added ‘come on Spider-Mans’ are the adorable icing on the homage-o-cake.
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Anytime That Immigrant Song Plays
Another!
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Thor vs Hulk
 Yeah, it’s not perfect and it’s a little CGIey. But it’s Thor fighting the Hulk in a fucking galactic gladiator arena place run by Jeff Goldblum and it smashes and it’s full of fun callbacks to previous movies. Yes! That’s what it feels like!
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Thor and Loki Do Get Help
 The perfect encapsulation of Waititi’s irreverent-but-with-tonnes-of-heart freshgasm on the story of Thor, this bit of hilarious dumb shit acts as amusing action beat and neat character resolution all in one. They’re friends again! They’re brothers! Thor throws him around like a rolled up carpet!
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What Are You The God of Again?
 Oh right, so he’s the best Avenger now.
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Killmonger in the Afterlife
 The bloody heart of the most emotional Marvel movie, when Erik Killmonger enters the Wakandan afterlife he finds himself in his own tiny Compton apartment, exiled with his father forever with the plains of eternity just out of reach beyond the window. Heartbreaking, and brilliant.
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Thanos Arrives
 The opening of Infinity War is another example of their absolute mastery of tone; after the megaton funblast of Ragnarok we’re thrown into the end of that movie being ripped apart, before Thanos appears, dragging a battered Thor into frame, beats seven shades of green shit out the Hulk and murders two beloved supporting characters, all without breaking a sweat. If you weren’t excited before you were now.
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New York Tussle
 The opening New York section of Infinity War is all very clever, acting as the only grounding Earthy moment in what’s a pretty out-there narrative in terms of existential stakes. You get Tony and Wong helping people off the sidewalk and Strange winking after halting the space-death-machine, but from there on out it’s full-bore comic-book smackdown fun, clashing characters who’ve never met and providing top-drawer banter about wizards and children’s parties. This is the page, up there on screen.
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BRING ME THANOS!
 BRING ME THANOS!
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The Thanos Fight
 Jesus fucking Christ. Up there with the end of Avengers and the Civil War airport battle, this is a perfect realisation of superhero action, with a bigger dose of high-level insanity courtesy of the Infinity Stones and Doctor Strange. Sublimely realised, incredibly satisfying, with real weight and thought put into the spectacle, it’s also fantastic in the narrative of the film, the culmination of its themes of desperation and inevitability. The first time you saw them try to rip off the gauntlet was unbearable.
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The Snap
 Well, yeah. You’ll never get back the first time you saw this. And imagine seeing it as a fucking kid.#
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Just a Girl
 Sure the big level-up CGI fest at the end is good, but it’s the comedy smackdown on the Kree ship that’s the most satisfying part of Captain Marvel, the shit-eating joy on Carol’s face as she discovers she’s way more powerful than the assholes who’ve been holding her back. It’s corny sure, but it’s hella fun.
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Thor Goes For The Head
 Endgame is a shocking, disorientating blur to begin with, all the characters you loved acting in strange, desperate ways in a super-hero version of post-traumatic stress disorder. Tony’s meltdown is bad enough, but it’s when Thor just straight up fucking murders Thanos that you know this is going to get dark and serious. It doesn’t, it remembers it’s a Marvel movie, but the shot of him walking out into the blurred alien sun, cape aflutter, is a fitting goodbye to a more innocent time of heroics.
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Ant Man and Cassie
 A moment that could be worthy of a whole movie itself, a desperate Scott Lang meeting his five-years-older daughter gives a joke character a serious moment in the same way Infinity War did for Guardians. It’s very odd, very sweet and very Marvel.
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Love You 3000
 Morgan H. Stark is almost a little too on the nose as a wrap-up for Tony, but hell, she’s still sweet as all hell and a perfect capper to his story of fatherhood and responsibility. It’s a mark of the work they’ve put in that we’ll almost immediately accept the tired trope of kid-taking-over-mantle when she inevitably puts on the armour in a few years.
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Steve and Peggy / Tony and Howard
 This is the bit in Endgame where I finally started tearing up: a lot of it is too-neat fan-service, but fuck it, they’ve put in so much effort that it works. This is the scene where you realise both of these long arcs are coming to an end, the resolution of Steve quietly making his decision to go back to Peggy and Tony getting the closer of discussing parenthood with his unknowing father. It’s corny sure, but so are comic books, and setting the whole bit at the height of seventies Marvel Comics mania is a loving nod to the imaginations that made all these crazy possibilities possible.
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Widow and Hawkeye
 There’s a theme here. All of these moments are kind of cheesy and rely heavily on callbacks to previous bits… but at the moment it doesn’t matter because ENDGAME WOW. Maybe we’ll look back at it as a corny misstep, but for the moment, Clint and Tasha having one last, ludicrously overblown tussle for who gets to live is a sweet capper that never goes as deep as the others because they’re supporting characters. It still stings, and it’s a neat mirror to Gamora and Thanos in Infinity War. The red’s gone from her ledger! It’s on the rocks! Urrrgh
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Nebula Kills Herself
 Again, they’re so good that they can spend a big chunk of time in what’s ostensibly the last big movie for their most beloved characters on making a lesser character beloved. Endgame spotlights Nebula even more than Infinity War did Gamora, using her self-hatred and fear of her father for compelling, wibbly-wobbly plot and character beats. The resolution of her story and her newfound place with her team should make for a whole different Guardians before we even get to Fortnite-Thor joining up.
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Cap Wields The Hammer
 ‘I KNEW IT!’
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Thanos’ Army
 One last escalation of scale. When Thanos’ army finally arrives it’s like something out of those apocalyptic Turner paintings, where the hordes of a ship-wrecked hell confront eternity under skies ripped from heaven. Only this time they’re facing one guy called Steve, and they’re fucked. Incredible.
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Avengers… Assemble
 It almost lives up to what you always had in your head. The Marvel Universe, somehow done right.
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Tony Hugs Peter Back
Awwww!
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New Avengers Run the Gauntlet
 A surprising amount of Endgame’s grand finale is given over to the future hopes; while Strange gets stuck in with holding back a Biblical flood it’s up to Black Panther to grab the Infinity Gauntlet from Clint in a delightful callback to Civil War, before embarking on an intense relay race across the entire battlefield that begins with Scarlet Witch crushing the shit out of Thanos’ testicles and ends with Captain Marvel engaging the Mad Titan in a bone-crushing show of super-strength. And along the way if finds time to have Peter Parker dragged through the air by Thor’s hammer which was thrown by Captain America before landing on a Pegasus flown by Valkryie across an exploding sky of alien whales. Maybe the most satisfying run of action since the first Avengers.
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I am Iron Man
 It was always going to be him really. Bonus points for Downey Jr. originally telling Thanos to ‘Fuck off’. Did anyone else keep thinking he was going to wake up and quip and everything would be OK? That’s how you make movies.
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The Funeral
 It looks a little weird actually, like they weren’t all on set. But they were! The Marvel Universe again, holy smokes.
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The Kiss
 Now that’s how you end ten years and twenty one movies. They’re movies! It was romantic! It was exciting! It was fun!
For TEN FUCKING YEARS.
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Swing a Ding Ding Sir
 After five movies of fresh shit they've finally starting dumping some classic Spider-Man on us; the Euro stuff's fun and all, but it's Far From Home delirious climax that sees Spidey and MJ thwipping through the canyons of New York before bumping into ugly ol' J. Jonah JJ Jay Jay likes it's a freakin' comic book or something. Delightful, and also serves as a wonderful image of hope and joy post-Endgame.
What a fuckin’ ride. Here’s to the next... seventy six? Seventy seven?
wait did I leave any out
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fallenangelofdoom · 5 years
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Be prepared...
I finally was able to write down some thoughts about what was definitely one of the best shows I’ve had the honour to experience. Sounds dramatic? Get used to it.
First concert I ever visited where I was sticky even before the show started at all. I mean, more than 30°C do…things to you. Gooey things.
Sending thanks to the girl sticking (literally) beside me who was animatedly talking to me from time to time. I didn’t understand more than some fragments of what you said, but I appreciated it so much that I didn’t have the heart to tell you that.
Somehow I regret not getting a tour-shirt, but on the other hand…Front row. Between both Walst brothers (I only realised yesterday that I somehow always stand right in the middle or on the right when attending a concert. Although you’ll never find me complaining about this). How could you expect me to give this up for a shirt???
Guys, I’m a reasonably devoted fan. I’m not devoted enough to be spat at (Granted, it wasn’t on purpose, but…eek).
Last show of this tour, so we were in for some surprises – and dear, what kind of surprises.
I don’t know which kind of deity was peeking into my mind. I don’t know who might have taken a look at my huge ass rants (Kidding, I know nobody does at all), but please let me express my endless gratefulness. I’ve always said – and I’ll never grow tired of doing so – how awesome they do in an acoustic set. At this show they played three, and yeah, catch me still being absolutely floored by it, because, hey, “Love Me Or Leave Me”, “Fallen Angel” and “Infra-Red” in the most beautiful version possible, confirming my incessant assertion how good they are completely stripped down? Thank you, guys. Really, a big, fat thank you for this remarkable experience. The acoustic sets always were mesmerising to watch online and it was such a special thing to finally see it live.
Matt really is completely unable to sit still for even two minutes, isn’t he?
If I remember correctly, I was somewhat worried he strained his voice too much at Rock am Ring, Rock im Park and Nova Rock (You still can’t convince me that he wasn’t at least tipsy, if not drunk in Austria. The search for the mic? That’s how I rip my rooms apart when I look for my keys which are already in my pocket – but hey, totally alright when it’s entertaining like that). Rock am Ring was almost brutal and maybe a little bit too much of growls and screams (Nevertheless pretty impressive – kudos!), but it seems more like a festival and not a regular thing, I guess? Whatever, no sign of obvious damages or straining during the tiny acoustic set, but a beautifully clear, colourful (Love the little note changes he’s always adding), vibrant performance. And never tell me again he sounds flat and/or emotionless. Don’t you fucking dare telling me that crap ever again or I’ll go ballistic.
Oh, and the vibrato. Find me as an ugly puddle of goo on the floor because of that vibrato (No, I didn’t forget an “r”. What are your dirty minds doing?!).
Neil testing the keyboard with an courageous two-handed “plonkplonkplonk”, then a satisfied smile followed like “It works!” Well, I…whatever. Don’t mind me.
Brotherly love on stage. Much, much brotherly love on stage. Sometimes even between non-brothers. Such a joy to see them having so much fun up there, being so incredibly relaxed and comfortable that there was no lack of banter between them, especially when Brad became aggressively cuddly and glued himself full-bodied at Matt’s side. And I’m still trying to figure out what he was so extensively looking for in Barry’s elbow??? But seriously, that was only the second time I saw them live, but I’ve watched tons of videos and I’ve never seen them more at ease, maybe even playful (That doesn’t have to say much, since, as I said, it was only my second time), and it was just so good to see – it is simply a pleasure to watch bands who have fun because of the crowds that let them know how much they enjoy the shows.
A whistle to start “Break”? For real, Brad? Love you dorks.
By the way, “Break”… I don’t want this to be misunderstood as hate (Heaven forbid, not me) or unnecessary criticism, but they should kick this song off the setlist. Gosh! Yeah, I hear you, but let me explain. I love this song, but it seems as if this is one of the old songs that gives Matt the most trouble. I’m still completely unable to exactly pinpoint the problem itself (Pushing too much in a range that isn’t exactly the one he’s most comfortable with? Yeah, might be – coming from a total non-expert who only has their ears to rely on and no expertise at all), but it never alters, and even if I’m one of these who firmly say he’s perfectly capable of singing the old songs – in his own way, of course, and doing it his way doesn’t mean he can’t sing them, it simply means he sings them differently, but that’s another never-ending story –, I always get that nagging feeling that it would be better to replace “Break” with another song which is more in his comfort zone. What about “Strange Days”? I mean stop teasing us only with a small fragment of it and give us the full thing – I love this song and the lyrics in particular.
No offence.
The Walst brothers ran that show. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules and especially Neil is always a little bit lost in the back (In other situations he’s easily the most entertaining of them – he’s a pleasure to listen to), but these two were the main reason why it wasn’t just a good concert but a damn great show. I mean don’t even try to tell me otherwise – Matt is by far one of the hardest working frontmen I’ve ever seen live on stage (And I’ve seen Harry Styles, in my humble opinion the goddamn best solo musician/entertainer on stage at the moment – no, don’t come screeching at me, the genre doesn’t matter – three times as of yet), he’s literally doing miles on end to cover all and anyone and to make sure to give the crowd everything and then a little bit more – and be sure, he had us wrapped around his finger from the start and we were dying to feed straight from the palm of his hand. And I think this is not appreciated enough – generally spoken. For real, I was at concerts where it was hard to see anything even in the third row, because no one on stage actually moved. No worries here, Matt worked his ass off – maybe the reason why he couldn’t sit still on it even for a few minutes. The same applies to Brad – since bass players usually are the guys who are somehow necessary for the music and always there, but no one could in fact remember them in any way or form, he’s a rather memorable exemplar of this species with a remarkable stage presence and an action scope I rarely see from bass players.
Love the vocals between Matt and Neil, especially during the – guess what? – short acoustic set. They really sound good together.
Oh, and if you need even more confirmation from me: I’m here for an acoustic album, I’m here for an acoustic tour. I genuinely am. They sound fantastic when they do this, and particularly vocally, these sets are a real treasure.
Got a guitar pick from Matt and Brad each and I’m sooooo happy about it! Most people are far more ambitious than I am to get some memorabilia or simply more egocentric (Like the girl on my right who had no qualms to scream at the security person to get literally everything without caring for others). Barry in particular was very determined to throw pick upon pick in our direction to supply everyone (With how many of these things does he shower the crowd during a single gig???), and Brad also was endeavoured to ensure he provided everyone, but I’m not ruthless enough to put up a fight with highly resolute fangirls (I’m a weak worm, I rather give away what I got when confronted with someone who thinks they deserve it more). I prefer to spot the little plastic sooner than others and then to inconspicuously step on them. Anyway, thanks for that. I didn’t expect to get anything at all (And of course I’ll put them into a glass frame – what do you take me for?).
Matt was pretty chatty, wasn’t he? And abruptly interrupting “Pain”, because he wasn’t satisfied with the volume we were singing? Bold.
Someone had heard my whining about “I Am Machine” (Still my absolute favourite of them and still bitter they don’t play it any longer). Someone had heard when I said maybe Matt’s biggest strength are acoustic songs and his willingness to play around with their melodies (I have to add that by now I’m more and more impressed by his growls and screams, too). Someone had heard when I said I’d love to see him playing the guitar more often, because they definitely sound heavier with a second guitar. I know all of this is just crappy delusion, but damn, it really was as if someone had heard me when Matt suddenly stepped back on stage, alone, armed with a guitar and then gave us a version of “I Am Machine” I’ve never imagined could have been possible. I mean it was exactly how I once described the lyrics – to quote myself at this point: “The lyrics of “I Am Machine” are such a deeply sad and vulnerable lament […]” – but now transferred to the music itself, and this, this version, I don’t even know how to describe it, but it was it. It simply was it. It wasn’t that unstoppable, steamrollering machine (Pun totally intended) that crushes everything standing in its way, slowly but relentlessly, but instead a bittersweet, surprisingly vulnerable and painful, almost tender and surely melancholic kind of…elegy (Please don’t mistake this for a ballad, because it certainly was not) – and just so, so beautiful (Who cares for a little fuckup at the guitar when you are given such a wonderful, unexpected version of that song?). There was no need to destroy me that thoroughly, but it did destroy me. Congrats. You did absolutely amazing, sweetie.
Did I actually mention how much I love seeing that brotherly interaction and bantering? I did, I know, but I mention it again, because I love it and because I can (And yes, this makes sense).
Tipping my non-existent hat for going full-on romantic by waving a mobile and a lighter alike. Could have been over the top, but well, when I started to go on concerts, mobiles with a torch simply didn’t exist (Yes, I’m ancient), so it felt somehow…nostalgic?
And now, to dutifully provide a little bit of controversy… No, scratch that. No controversy, not here, not about this topic. I stand by what I repeatedly said that I firmly believe that Matt is a more capable, steadier singer live than Adam. Boo hoo, all the minions can crawl back into their caves, you’ll never succeed in convincing me otherwise. I don’t know about both their potential and I sure as hell won’t start a discussion about it here, but I genuinely think that Matt is doing more with this potential (As I already stated a couple of months ago and nothing has changed since then) – he’s actively working, sometimes playing with it while still being able to deliver these straight-into-your-guts shouts. As I said a few times before, he’s using his voice as an instrument, not only as a weapon (He’s pretty capable to use it as a rather nasty weapon, too, more than I originally gave him credit for), and it shows in the small and not so small details. By the way, his long and high notes don’t get the appreciation they deserve. Just as a side-note.
For someone who’s otherwise definitely more on the diffident side (If I’m allowed to say so), Matt visibly thrives on crowd reactions – and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t deserve every cheer, every scream coming from them. He’s got an amazing intuition for what these crowds want and gives them even more than that, and I think that this, despite the myriads of – even good and experienced – musicians out there, is still a talent not everyone can call their own. People like him are the main reason I go to concerts and will go until they decide to stop touring. And yes, let’s not forget the other three who were giving their all, it’s just…I can only focus so much. He lives for that shit and you could see it every single second. Sometimes he went full drama, but this is exactly why I pay money and drive (perhaps) hundreds of kilometres: because I want to see a goddamn show, not only technically gifted musicians reciting the stuff they already published on a record. And this evening I got a show. We all got one hell of a show. Tell me again why people hate him? Oh, wait, don’t. I don’t want to hear it. There aren’t any other arguments than a butthurt “He’s the new one, we generally don’t like changes and he isn’t Adam”, which isn’t an argument at all and not even a bad joke by now. Especially “He isn’t Adam” never ceases to amuse me, albeit verging on the edge of being highly annoying, because – what a surprise! – no, he isn’t, is he?
Guys, it was such a pleasure to see you having all the fun in the world!
Best concert ever so far, along with Harry Styles, and laugh all you want, but this is a serious force on a level anyone has to accomplish first. I have to admit I was a tiny bit reserved with my praise last year, but maybe it was because I was just coming back into business after a long break and definitely spoiled rotten by Harry, but this? Damnit, that was fire. Congratulation to such an awesome show and a big thank you. Just because I think it sometimes really is necessary to show not only enthusiasm, but gratefulness as well.
I probably still forgot things, but I guess I stop here before I never find a way to finish this...
Oh, and here the setlist:
Break
Painkiller
Right Left Wrong
Just Like You
Pain
Home
Fallen Angel (acoustic)
Love Me or Leave Me (acoustic)
Infra-Red (acoustic)
The Mountain
The Good Life
Animal I Have Become
Time of Dying
Never Too Late
I Hate Everything About You
I Am Machine (Matt only)
Get Out Alive
Riot
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wowerehouse · 5 years
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Levaden flopped down against a rock with her usual grace.
“I swear that kid’s gonna break her hand,” she grumbled, ears twitching with agitation.
“That kid’s not much younger than me,” Velshada pointed out, not looking up from where she was carefully brushing out her griffon’s fur. Lightning obligingly raised a wing so that Vel could get at the mussed fur at her joint, and Levaden ducked half a second too late. “If she’s not older. Watch your head, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah, very funny...you know what I mean. It hurts watching her.”
Privately, Vel agreed, but there were enough people doubting Lin Tenderpaw right now. “Just because we’re all too soft to build up callouses through hard work that way,” she said, pitching her voice just loud enough for the young pandaren to hear, “doesn’t mean we should try to stop her.”
Levaden’s ears perked infinitesimally. It was a kind of smile, Vel thought, an approving one; but then they twitched back again. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Vel matched her tone. “But it has to be her choice. We all know that.”
“I wish this asshole could get it through his thick--”
Velshada threw a curry brush at her head and hoped neither of the pandaren had noticed.
“Sorry,” whispered Levaden. Taking a breath, she shook her head rapidly and sat up and gestured at the griffon. “You know, I was never introduced to her properly. You know I never pass on the chance to meet a pretty girl. You don’t see many like this lioness in Alliance requisition.”
“You’re awful, this is Lightning, and she’s mine.”
Levaden paused halfway through reaching out to scratch at Lightning’s mane.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how much he meant to you.”
Velshada ducked out from under Lightning’s wing to smile at her. “Thunder’s fine,” she promised. “Talet wanted me to have a flying mount after we got back from--Northrend. Too many places where we had to leave the horses and either go on foot or borrow griffons, and that gets dangerous. She got me Lightning as a late birthday present, officially. I sold Thunder to a friend of ours. Well--a clerk who works for Talet’s fiancee, actually.” To punctuate the statement, she reached out and touched her stirrups, tilting them into the light.
Levaden’s ears spasmed wildly. “No kidding! Good for her. I mean, I’m assuming?”
Vel tucked her hair back in place and decided not to mention calm, graphic threats of death delivered high above Blade’s Edge. Talet was curled up in a sunny spot a few yards away, after all. “It’s good,” she said softly. “Rinda’s wonderful. They deserve each other.”
“Well, I’m surprised you think anyone’s good enough for Talet. Now I’ve got to meet her sometime.” Levaden said casually, though the tilt of her ears and a softness around her eyes said her happiness was genuine. Curious, she leaned forward to examine the stirrup cup Vel had pointed out. For a moment she just glanced at it; then her ears shot up in shock and she gave a low whistle. “So she’s a dwarf, I’m assuming.”
Vel dipped her head to confirm it. Levaden’s surprise was warranted; at first glance the stirrups were just a slightly shiny part of Lightning’s tack, slung over a low fence. A custom piece, to be certain; covered, with a wider base than was common, much better suited for draenei hooves and impossible to result in the rider being dragged, or a broken ankle from a hoof slipping through and being caught.
Any closer inspection, however, revealed nothing short of a work of art.
It wasn’t too much; Rinda was mother to five children under the age of thirteen, and even paladins weren’t that well-subsidized, even in Ironforge. But it was an engagement gift that met all traditional standards. No precious metals or gemstones; Rinda and Talet were practical people, and this was a tool. But it was well-tooled steel, etched in strong lines with symbols that had brought a lump to Velshada’s throat when she’d first seen them.
Draenei carvings--the kind of deeply sacred and traditional markings that she now knew adorned the walls of Shattrath, nothing a dwarf smith could have used so correctly on their own; either Rinda had consulted with a priestess of the Naaru, or her smith had. An intricate web that created the symbols for home, family, and freedom respectively; embossed at the apex of the roller was the symbol for mourning, faced on the flip side by one Velshada had actually needed to find a Vindicator to translate for her--”joy”.
Woven in and around these were glyphs of protection and haste; under the cup was a shaman’s sigil for fair winds. The glyphs themselves incorporated strains of sub-precious metals for the most part, to enhance the enchantments. There was one issue, which Velshada had noted immediately--properly, the fair-wind sigil linking to a Draenei “freedom” glyph should be laced with truesilver.
Whatever smith Rinda had used was a genius. The alloy they’d created matched the magical resonance almost exactly--and could never be used to harm a worgen.
Levaden couldn’t know the meaning behind half the symbols; but she clearly picked up enough, as she looked the stirrups over.
“Remind me,” she said finally. “Who’s she marrying again?”
Vel had to laugh at the sudden break in tension. “Long story,” she said. “It’s...where Rinda’s from, at least, you’re not actually engaged unless you’ve exchanged something, it’s not binding. Not...real. But for Talet the whole idea of an engagement gift is...bad luck, I guess.”
“Is that a Gilnean thing, or...?”
Vel lowered her voice, as if that would keep the half-asleep worgen from overhearing. “I think it’s mostly...a Talet thing.” When Levaden just nodded and waited for her to continue, she tried to contain a wince. “Things you own are...tools. Placing that much emphasis on a thing, anything...it symbolizes too much. It becomes a representation of your bond, and giving that much importance to something that could get lost, or broken, or stolen...”
She hoped Levaden wouldn’t make her spell out what a decade spent living feral in the woods, hounded every moment of every day by the ever-present threat of hunters in horseback, might do to a person’s willingness to grow attached to any single possession.
“So, they compromised,” she finished. “Rinda needed to give her something and Talet needed to not receive anything, so. She made weatherproof cloaks for all the kids, since she got...really good at that, in Gilneas. And I quote...since there’s no point telling me to keep my feet on the ground and she wouldn’t ask it of me even if I’d listen, Rinda wants me to carry some of Ironforge with me, so I’ll always be grounded somewhere.”
Something happened in Levaden’s eyes. It made Vel curl up against Lightning’s side to keep her stomach in one place.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Levaden said softly. “There’s some serious symbolism there, huh?"
“Yeah.” Nothing about Levaden’s voice was making Vel feel any less lightheaded. “Engagement gifts are meant to represent your commitment to each other, right? So. They’re taking care of each other’s...” She fluttered a hand self-consciously. “Dependents, I guess. That way the exchange is what’s important, not the gift itself.”
“You can say each other’s kids if you want,” Levaden pointed out, glancing at Talet. “Trust me. She wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s not that.” Vel could feel her skin burning and hoped Talet really was asleep. “I really don’t...she’s not my mother. I don’t really think of her that way. She’s my...mentor. That’s just the truth. I guess--” She cut herself off with a wince, but she’d already gotten this far. “Would it sound stupid to say that I don’t think of her as my mom but I think of myself as her daughter?”
Without so much as blinking, Levaden said bluntly, “You met Shandris Feathermoon, right?”
“Yes--what? What does General Feathermoon have to do with anything?”
“Ever see her in the same room as Tyrande?”
Smiling in spite of herself as they returned to solid ground, Velshada rolled her eyes. “Levaden,” she said. “When would I ever have been in the same room as Tyrande Whisperwind?”
Levaden threw her hands in the air, eyes wild. “She sneaks up on you!”
Vel couldn’t help it; she laughed so sharply she had to stuff a wad of robe in her mouth to not shriek.
“I’m serious, Velshada! The woman moves like a damn nightsaber! Look, I’m not joking this time--”
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brynblogss · 5 years
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How To Get More A’s On Your Spiritual Report Card
If you are anything like me, you probably have moments of what I call “spiritual ambition” followed by a hectic work week and busy daily responsibilities. You probably have the desire to grow in the gospel, and to be better each day, but you haven’t found a good way to be consistent. 
Every year, you probably make a new years resolution to read your scriptures more, or be more active in the temple, or to do more in your calling. And when February 1st hits, you realize you have made no progress and forget about it entirely until the first weekend in April when General Conference gently reminds you that you’re falling a bit short. Of course though once May hits, you do the same thing until October. Well what if I told you that whatever it is you desire to improve, you can do it? You can see REAL progress, fast! 
Now of course you are wondering, “what will this entail?” “what would it cost me?” And I am here to tell you the only requirement is your willingness to try, and it will only cost you your pride. Humility is key!
So heres how it works! 
1. Make a list of goals
Personally I do better with examples, so heres a few goals I had listed when I started this. 
> Say my morning and nightly prayers every day
> Read my scriptures daily
> Avoid temptations more often
> Repent daily
> Keep a regular journal
2. Develop an action plan to remember your goals
I decided that in order to reach these goals, I needed to set reminders to do them. When I first started this, I had classes at 7:30am and knew I needed to wake up by 6:30 in order to make those classes. So I set an alarm for 6:20 and labeled it “read my scriptures.” And as a safety net, I set another one 10 minutes before I know I usually go to bed, just to make sure I did it that day. 
On my mirror I had sticky notes posted around it that said things like “did you think to pray?” And this helped me remember to say my morning prayers if I had forgotten. Sticky notes and visual reminders can be great help if you put them in good locations. The best places I have found are places of habit. If you know you get dressed everyday and look in the mirror, then the mirror is a good place to start. If you know you always grab cereal from the pantry, you can put it on the pantry door where you can’t miss it. 
If you are struggling in a specific area with temptations or similar things, identify what your weakest points are, and set an action plan to avoid getting to those points. It’s easier to say no to the situation than it is to say no in the situation.
Something I found helpful in my goal of avoiding temptation was to buy myself a little CTR ring. So that every time I would look down, I’d be reminded of the goal I had set. I also changed my lock screen on my phone to a picture of the temple, which helped me remember my goals every time I looked at my phone. 
Consistence is key. You can’t expect to see progress if you only think about the goals you set one time. 
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3. Decide which ones are most important and DON’T GET DISCOURAGED 
In this life, perfection is still pending. We cannot expect to be perfect in one day. It simply cannot be. I had a list of many more goals than the ones I listed above. But I had to narrow it down and decide which goals were the most important ones to me at the time. I chose to work on the 5 that I listed. 
The cool thing about spiritual goals, is that achieving one tends to help you achieve the others. So with that in mind, I want you to go back and look at the order of my list. 
At first glance, it may seem out of order. It may seem like avoiding temptations might be more important than remembering to pray twice daily. It may seem like sinning is worse than forgetting to read my scriptures for a day or forgetting a prayer. But that’s exactly the kind of thinking that leads people to become discouraged and forget or quit their goals. How can one expect to go out into the world and combat evils of all kinds without first arming themselves? Trying to avoid satan’s traps without prayer and scripture study is like entering World War II with a nerf gun. You can sure fire darts, but the enemies will always be stronger. You will get shot. So when assessing your spiritual goals, make sure you are putting first things first. 
Good prayer and scripture study habits create even better habits, help you in all of your other goals (spiritual or not), and create motivation and joy unlike any other. If you are not currently happy with your personal prayer and scripture study habits, place those things at the top of your list. 
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4. Create an accountability graphic of some sort
While identifying goals and developing an action plan are both good starts, you cannot stop there. Because days get busy, goals get pushed aside, and progress gets put on hold.
 It can be super helpful to make a visual chart or graphic to track progress. 
5. Review your progress daily
Each day, you should review your progress, decide how to improve for the following day, and if necessary, revise your goals or add ones to help you achieve the current ones. 
Personally, I have found that daily accountability is key in achieving your desired outcome.  In a world full of smart phones and intuition at your fingertips, it is time to take advantage. Use it to benefit you! Satan sure does a good job at that, so why don’t we? I have found it easiest for me to use an app, but everyone is different and has unique needs. Council with the Lord to see what kind of ways you can be accountable daily effectively.  
I’m going to tell you about an app that I think works really well. It’s called Habit Share. In this app, you have the ability to create goals and list them in order. Underneath the title of these goals, 7 little circles appear labeled S, M, T, W, TH, F, S. each day you click on the bubble and mark it either green or red. (Green for yes i did this today, red for no i did not).
It calculates your overall percentage of green marks in each category, so you know how much of the time you are meeting your goals. There’s also an option where you can share the habit with a friend, and they can see your marks. So they can help keep you accountable if you feel comfortable sharing your goal with them.
The other neat thing about this app is that you can see your “streaks” (how many consecutive days you have made progress in your goal.) 
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6. Get adequate sleep
Satan does his best work when we are tired and burnt out. Part of putting on good spiritual armor is getting enough rest. The only thing worse than showing up to World War II with a nerf gun, is showing up with a nerf gun and being un-alert. 
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7. Inquire of the Lord
No matter how well you know yourself, the Lord knows you better. He knows how to help you, and He wants to! Pray daily for help reaching your goals. Use Fast Sunday as an opportunity to receive additional strength and guidance from the Lord. 
I promise that as you do these things, and prayerfully consider what to improve  in your life, you will see blessings and miracles in your life. I know because I did, and have since seen many friends experience the same! I have a testimony that when we are putting fourth our best efforts, Heavenly Father blesses us abundantly, and we see the hand of God more often in our lives. 
If you try these things, and experience the miracles I testified of, please let me know. And don’t stop there! Let others know too!
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jenowinkle · 6 years
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l o v e d .
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boyfriend au! haechan ❀
genre; angst × fluff
pairing; haechan × reader
word count; 2.7k
warning; mentions of bullying and a singular bad word
requested by anon; Haechan From Nct 127 imagine where you want to break up with him cuz he has been treating you very meanly and in the end you make up????? Please and thank you! I’m thirsty for some drama in my life with cute endings I’m so sorry I’m a mess! I love you 💕💕💕💕💕😂
to note;
haechan pov
this is haechan of 127, not dream; so he isn’t soft × fluffy oof
i’m just kidding, he still is,,, at some points
i hope this isn’t too cliché ><
author’s note; thank you for the request anon!!! ٩(^ᴗ^)۶ ah i’m so excited to write this and i hope this isn’t too disappointing,,, i love you vvvvv much (❁´‿`❁) i’m really sorry this took so long;;; (,,•́ . •̀,,) there may be grammer errors here and there so please excuse that ahh but enjoy~
let’s go:
12 a.m.  
“get out… please,”            
haechan let out a self-depreciating chuckle, quirking the left corner of his lip as your broken voice resonated in his mind. the look of distraught and profound sadness never left your face as haechan heed your orders, stepping out of your once-homely, shared apartment. he walked along the sidewalk that led to the nearby park, nibbling at his lower lip. what went wrong? that was the question that bothered him so much. all he could do now was to walk, walk down his path of regrets. silently, the tears flowed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. he was too sad to cry out or wail, and eventually, he slumped down onto a bench while the magnitude of his loss swept over him. the loss of you, his beloved. was he at fault? no, it couldn’t have been. haechan buried his head into the palms of his warm hands, sobbing at maximum strength. unconsciously, his mind wondered to the forbidden realms of how he had first met you. it was not the appropriate time to think about such things but he just couldn’t help it.
“hey, i’m haechan. i find you real cute, so just call me hyukkie~”
yes, that was the first thing he had said to you five years prior. what a smooth talker, huh. but haechan was known for that, his specialty people might call it even. he had always been the happy virus of the class, the beloved jokester, a natural flirt and dare he say, the most outgoing one in the school. he was popular, as in, very well known and loved by the school. his outrageous antics, be it on friends or teachers, never failed to humor the class; even the teachers would find it amusing enough to let him off the hook, sometimes, encouraging it to lighten up the mood.
the thing is, he had everyone begging for his attention — romantically, that is. each and every day, he had a constant supply of food and love notes to the point where you’d wonder if he was secretly an idol or something. however, unfortunately for him, the one he had eyes for, never blinked an eye at him. you were always an exception  — you never seemed to laugh at his jokes, much less even flinched at his pranks. whatever haechan threw at you, you somehow managed to avoid it. and of course, this gave haechan’s ego a big hammering down. he didn’t know what to do, always dumbfound by your unaffected emotions. at that moment, he was at his wits’ end. to be very honest, he didn’t know what made him so attracted to you. did you cast some magic spell on him? because my, were you bewitching, or so it seemed like that to him. he adored you so much but didn’t know a single thing about you. it was a hilarious situation, really. maybe it was your immunity to react to his comedic statements, maybe it was your quiet, stand-offish personality, or maybe it was your laugh.
it was the most unexpected thing. the moment the flirtatious words left haechan’s mouth, you were flabbergasted at his introduction but let out such a charming laugh, he became the one tongue-tied and then poof, a wild crush on you appeared. so, you were the typical new kid of the class, having been transferred from your last school at the middle of the year for the terrible classmates you had. what you had not known was how lady luck wanted to torment you a little longer before giving you the happiness you deserved. haechan became highly aware of his affections for you and showered you with lots of love and attention. oh, what had been thought a blessing, turned out to be your worst nightmare. for everything he gave, it was always backed up with death threats from his admirers. this drove you to the edge. the constant bullying that was waiting for you at the end of every day, the occasional egg being thrown at you and the rare moments of you actually getting along with someone, eventually being your best and only friend. — you tolerated all of that, but haechan never knew. and that was when you started to really distant yourself from him. he was the cause of the toxic relationships you had with your fellow schoolmates. he was the cause for all the pain that you had to suffer. he was the cause of everything, yet he knew nothing.
it was finally senior year, the year everyone had been waiting for, the year all seniors would graduate, the year for prom. that was haechan’s chance, his last chance, to ask you out. he had been trying for the past two years, ever since you transferred. haechan came to know about his tyrant admirers from his best friend, mark. of course, he was vehement to say the least. upon seeing the two-faced girls in the corridor one day, he lashed out at their appalling behavior towards you, never stopping to take a breather from his scolding. you were there when that happened, and honestly, like everyone else, you had never seen him so infuriated before. it was a first, and you were astounded that it was because of you. fortunately for him, that was his redeeming ticket to something he had never directly caused. you truly appreciated his willingness to stand up for your sake, but well, haechan knew he was indirectly the cause for your mistreatment and he had to do you justice.
and that was the turning point of your relationship.
“be my sunflower?”
he asked you out to prom.
“be my sun?”
haechan held a stunning bouquet of crimson red roses in his clammy, trembling hands, shyly looking up at you as he asked you to be his significant other a year after prom. unexpectedly, haechan received a soft, tender kiss on the lips as he felt a smooth hand lay on his cheek, your thumb grazing over his supple cheeks. overjoyed were you, as you gently took the bouquet with your free hand. your smile was so genuinely sweet, with just the right amount of shyness, haechan couldn’t help but feel his heart burst with a sudden surge of warmth and joy.
1 a.m.
that was a memory he held so dear to his heart. one in many, that is.
you were his sun as much as he was to everyone else. you were his sunflower, so beautiful, warm, and positive; and ultimately, you were his source of happiness. he didn’t deserve you and he reminded himself of that every single day. it tormented him, it made him work harder to make up for whatever he thought he lacked, it made him love you unconditionally. but was that really enough? he was conflicted, fighting off as many tears as he could. pathetic, he despised himself. dragging himself off the bench, he lifted his right fist up and threw it to an unsuspecting tree. an unimaginable pain blossomed in his knuckles, as drops of blood started to ooze out from the rips in his skin. a sharp hiss escaped his lips as he clenched his jaw, regretting his impulsive and stupid move. that pain however, is incomparable to the one he felt in his heart.
college students. two-year love birds. the couple of the campus. that was you and haechan, alright. everything was the same, yet so different in college. he was still the prankster gangster that he was, topped with more mischief, that is. definitely still a hit with everyone, but thankfully in the friendly sense. on the other hand, you became the campus sweetheart. oh my, boys fell for you left and right, even with the knowledge that you were long taken. you became famed for your endearing and kind personality, cute to the core, as haechan described. nevertheless, this soon became a problem, a problem that would escalate to heights unimaginably high. haechan became overcome with dread the moment he saw a random boy from your psychology class trot on to you, hands gripping onto a box of chocolates. he witnessed the entire moment, from where the boy had confessed, he presumed, to when he got rejected, as he noticed the droop of the boy’s head as he slowly turned around to walk away. conjointly, he looked to see your perplexed expression as you passed the chocolates to a friend that happened to pass by. initially, all was good as haechan was always notified by you whenever you received a confession of love.
howbeit, after a few months later, things had seemingly changed. you had grown distant, yet again, with different circumstances this time however. you went out with guys haechan never even knew existed. you spent less time together. there were lesser kisses and hugs; lesser “i love you”s. he placed more effort into the relationship, buying you weekly flowers, cooking for you when you came back to the dorm late — haechan became desperate. his self-esteem hit rock bottom. insecurity about his looks, envy about the amount of attention you gave to others instead of him, fear that he would lose you. he became possessive. it drove him insane.
11 p.m.
“haechan, why have you been acting like this?”
those words floated out of your mouth so simply, like it meant nothing. why? it was lunatic, how you weren’t aware about how horribly you were treating him, how you didn’t understand his feelings, how you never asked about his day anymore, how you never ranted about your problems to him anymore, how you never told him you loved him anymore. haechan was so sick of it, he had to deal with the constant stress the professors put on him daily, them breathing up his neck and then deal with the constant reminder that you were probably out with friends, more specifically, male friends. so, his possessiveness caught up to him, causing him to come off as mean or more accurately, manipulative. wherever you went, he demanded for a report of everything you did. whoever you called, he accused you of cheating on him. whenever you laughed at something, he cursed at the source of your laughter. what he adored most had become something he dreaded most.
“you actually want to know why? finally? when did you start caring about me again, huh?”
rage. that was all haechan felt. the spur of anger stirred in his whole entire being. he spat on the ground separating the two of you.
“you’ve become someone i don’t recognize, haechan,”
a roar of laughter bubbled up to his lips. what a hypocrite, his lips curled into a snarl. haechan was seeing red, angered to the point of no return. his mouth opened, spewing out the toxins he had been storing in his body for months, via words. continuously without stop, he yelled at you, who started to cower in fear of the person haechan had become.
“you became a whore, (y/n)!”
that was the breaking point; for both haechan and you. he went too far. he knew he did. but he didn’t even try to stop the words from spilling out.
s m a c k .
skin against skin, palm against cheek. haechan felt the tingly burn on his cheek after your hand had connected with it, causing a loud smack to ripple apart the deafening silence that engulfed you two, moments prior. he looked up at you, holding his cheek, only to see pearl-like tears rolling down your cheeks from wide, luminous eyes. your eyes that once shined like the stars in the vast night sky, held so much pain and regret. haechan could see it so clearly but he refused to look away, he refused to back down, not after all the nights he had spent looking at the mirror, wondering why he was not good enough for your wandering eyes. his dark lashes started to brim heavy with tears, hands clenched into shaking fists, in a desperate battle of grief and hatred.
“let’s break up,”
1:30 a.m.
what happened that night was not something haechan was proud of. after beating up the innocent tree, bloodied hands were his payment for his offence. his anger slowly dissipated, turning into complete sadness. he loved you. no, he loves you. after everything, he knows that you didn’t know what you were doing, you were just suddenly showered by affection from other people that you didn’t realize how you were treating haechan, he knew you didn’t mean to break up with him, and he knew you were still in love with him, as much as he was with you. he was willing to forgive you, he wanted to. he wanted to hold you in his arms, and breathe in your scent again. he wanted to whisper sweet nothings. he just wanted you back.
closing his eyes, haechan went back to the bench and plopped himself on it. the cool, night wind tickled his neck, almost as if to comfort him. the gentle swishing of the leaves seemed to whisper to him that everything would work out. it had to, haechan thought, as another gush of tears came swimming to his eyelids. one by one, they slipped past his closed gates, sliding down his cheeks in big, fat droplets. the warmth they brought along comforted him, until eventually becoming cold too, like the world was to him now, as they drop of his chin. it’s going to be a long night, he sighed.
2:00 a.m.
“haechan, wake up! haechan, please… i-i still love you. please wake up, please be alright, oh my god, i’m so sorry. i don’t deserve you one bit,”
it can’t be.. it just can’t be. haechan knew he was asleep but that voice, it sounded so… real. he didn’t know if he could believe it, after all he had been delusional for a few months now. gathering all of his strength, he peeked through an eye as he felt the sudden drop of a tear on his hand, his palms receiving an intense amount of warmth, and a melancholy-sounding voice drifted up to his ears.
“h-hyukkie… i don’t even deserve to call you that anymore. i thought about what you said, and i realized how badly i’ve been treating you this past few months. i never meant that to happen, i was so caught up with everything that i,, no, that’s no excuse for my behavior. if you wake up, i hope you know that you were always the sun, and the only reason why i could be a sunflower was because of you. you gave me so much love that i could never repay you back, no matter how hard i try. never in my life have i received so much attention from a single person, i’m so lucky to have you but i never appreciated you enough. i was never good enough for you, i’m so sorry—“
haechan had heard enough, enough to understand that the feelings between both of you were mutual. you two still loved each other, and that was enough. you had grasped onto his blood-stained hands so tightly, he knew you were genuine. the look of utter distraught stirred his heart, he knew you were truly apologetic. the moment he removed his hand to touch your cheek, your head shot up at once, cutting off your ramble, taken aback by his actions but more importantly, the fact that he was alright. at once, haechan was engulfed by a humongous hug as he was squeezed by the love of his life. aghast was he, but responded by hugging you back, burying his head into the hollow of your neck, leaving fluttery little kisses all the way up. your giggles were music to haechan’s ears. god, he had missed you so much. after what seemed like eternity in each others’ comforting embrace, you two separated, smiling like the goofballs both of you were.
“so, we good here?”
haechan rolled his eyes at your a-bit-too-late-to-ask statement, chortling. gazing lovingly into your mystifying eyes, haechan let out a relief sigh, ecstatic to have you back.
“for everything that you’ve done, my favorite would always be you loving me,”
116 notes · View notes
mayorcocko · 6 years
Note
sung sees the booty perform for the first time and is just so blown away by the sheer volume of sexual energy up on that stage that he has to speak his mind. what happens next is up to you
a few things
is it 3:30 AM? yes
Is this over 10K? yes
would i consider doing a follow up for it? yes
am i proofreading it? hell no.
should i post this on ao3 and say to hell with it? you tell me.
anyways, it’s here for now under the cut.
Sung likes to think that he’s got this whole dramatic entrance thing down by now. It’s the theatrics of it, he’s learned, the willingness to simply throw yourself about with wild abandon and make a complete fool of yourself without a second thought.
And that was something that Doctor Sung excelled at more often than not.
So he can’t help but be surprised when he all but flies into the room where Havve and Meouch and Phobos have situated themselves and they don’t even react, barely even blink, at his sudden appearance. For a moment he just stands there and looks at them before clearing his throat in a not so subtle way.
Yes, Sung? Havve doesn’t even look up from the whetstone in his palm (which Sung supposes is a good thing given the fact that the other hand wields an already wickedly sharp knife.) Do you have something to say?
He bites back a sigh and glances around the room first, taking in Phobos’s curled form on the nearby loveseat with book propped in lap and Meouch sitting opposite to him, the Leoian tuning his bass in an almost casual manner. “Y-yes.” Sung stutters before he finds himself again. He throws out his arms, doing his best enticing finger waggles his digits can muster. “Who…………” He drags the word out, eye touching upon each of his friends meaningfully before he grins just so. “Wants to come to a concert with me tonight?!”
A strange note is plucked out by Meouch in response and then, in turn, Phobos flips a page and Havve runs his blade across the whetstone with a strange, sharp noise. Sung can only stand there, brow falling over his eye in confusion as the lack of response continues until it finally becomes unbearable.
“I said-!”
“We heard you, Sung.” Meouch finally looks up. “Goin’ to concerts with you is gods awful, so I’m going to have to pass.”
“Awful!” He blusters as he strides up to the Leoian. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you get worked up.” Phobos explains in a soft voice, antennae twitching with amusement. “Excited.”
“One would assume that’s a good thing.” Sung grits out before he’s narrowing his eye at Meouch. “You got something against having fun?”
“No Sung, but I can’t do the whole screaming twelve year old girl act that you somehow always manage to pull out of your ass every time we go see someone perform live. I have a migraine, okay? I want to work on my bass and then I want to sleep and that’s final.” The Leoian snaps before he’s settling back into the couch, tail thumping against the cushions in annoyance. Well, that answers that… He sighs under his breath before turning in the opposite direction.
“What’s your excuse?” He says in a quiet voice, already knowing the answer given how Phobos is nestled up in a blanket with Dangus purring at his side, the book in his hands just nearing the halfway mark.
“Just got to the good part.” Phobos says in an apologetic voice, not looking apologetic whatsoever. “Sorry Sung.”
He turns to Havve finally, eyeing the robot, still working the knife methodically over the whetstone without pause.
No. He says before Sung can even open his mouth, can even form a thought. The empath deflates and begins to slump his way out of the room, not even bothering with saying any kind of goodbye. Stop Charlie Brown-ing over there, Sung. Havve calls after him. He stops at the door before throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.
I should have never introduced you to pop culture, you bastard.
Another low note on the bass, a page flip, the sound of the knife scraping on the whetstone.
No one’s saying you can’t go by yourself Sung. Havve says with a barely perceptible tilt of his head.
Sung’s going stiff with it. Where’s the fun in that? He shoots back and Havve tilts his head back to it’s original position, holding the knife up for inspection while he does.
You’re you, Sung. I’m sure you can find someway, somehow, to have fun tonight on your own. Their eyes meet across the room and there’s something in Havve’s optics that fills him with resolve.
“Fine.” He says outloud. “I’ll go myself, and I’ll have the best time of my life, and you’ll all regret it.” He’s stomping off and Havve’s quiet laughter is the only thing to follow him, ringing through his head across their link.
-
It’s some hole in the wall bar where you can see the stage the moment you walk in the door. He’s as human as you can get, he supposes. Some scrounged up thrift shop band tee for Led Zeppelin with a flannel over it, jeans and beat up sneakers, the dark visor band that covers his eye the only real stand out thing in that moment, but that’s what you got for being, you know, not of this world.
He doesn’t even bother with the bar, instead just find a spot off to the side, watching as everyone else filters in. His core is covered but that doesn’t stop him from getting a read on the room and what everyone is feeling. There’s quite a few newcomers, people who don’t really know what they’re getting into like him, and then there’s the handful that do. Excitement, eagerness, a completely unexpected seuxal undercurrent that seems to run through quite a lot of them. Sung hadn’t even bothered to check what kind of music this band Planet Booty made, deciding instead to go in with virgin ears, but now he was very, very intrigued.
“Oh boy.” A voice says next to him. He looks over at the stranger, a young woman with short blonde hair and kohl rimmed eyes. “I know that look.”
His brow raises some from behind his visor and she’s giving an easy chuckle. “What look?” Sung says slowly and her lips pull up at the corners in response, a mischievous look coming about her.
“First Booty experience.” Not just me, he wants to say as he glances around the room again, but he lets the human girl continue- morbidly curious in the face of her growing glee. “Dylan’s gonna wreck your shit.” Her endearing tone is at complete odds at her dangerous words. Sung’s mouth opens but she’s already flouncing off to the stage, throwing a “good luck!” over her shoulder at him.
Alrighty then.
He’s considering the inevitable drink that he probably ought to just get when the lights dim, the crowd leaning forward with quiet anticipation. This is why he loved this kind of shit. The thrum of excitement shared between each other, the emotions that could be evoked by just the right note or tune. The rest of the guys didn’t get it, couldn’t get it the way he did.
Oh gods, Sung can’t help but think a moment later, what was he wearing?
The empath supposes it’s very pot calling the kettle black of him, but he can’t help but just stare as the lead singer comes out onto stage wearing a fitted black blazer decorated in fine silver and gold threading, black dress shorts, and a white button up underneath with a black tie on top of it all. His eye widens considerably as he (Dylan, he’s assuming) swaggers up to the mic, whipping his sunglasses off as he does. “Hello all you sexy, sexy people.” He murmurs into the microphone before his entire face lights up with a smile, the joy in him boundless.
There’s other people joining him now, a bored faced bassist wearing a simple white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and black pants, another male with a snapback and a weird combination of casual-athletic gear and dress clothes. He makes it work though, hell, the whole thing they’ve got going works for some reason. “I’m seeing some of my favorite people here.” He points right at the girl and she’s throwing her head back with a pleased laugh. “But a lot of you are new here, now don’t worry, we’re all gonna get to know each other real well by the end of the night. I’m gonna have to ask everyone to move in closer, cos we can’t have a real Planet Booty show without being up close and personal. That includes you, shorty.”
Dylan’s staring right at him from the stage and Sung flushes from head to toe at the unexpected attention, feeling more than just Dylan’s eyes on him in that moment. “None of that wallflower shit, you hear? We don’t operate that way here at Planet Booty. I better see you dancin’ later.” And then he has the gods damn audacity to wink right at him. “Alright, alright, enough of that! We’re here to have fun tonight, to love tonight, to sweat tonight.” A cheer goes up and the one in the hat is leaning over his keyboard and gods-
He really isn’t ready for whatever the hell this was.
It’s good. Better than good, it’s gods damned amazing. It’s hypnotically rhythmic and Sung can’t help but be drawn in by the pounding bass that begins to issue from the speakers. He draws up next to the blonde at the front of the stage and she smiles at him, nudging his side just so before mouthing a “just wait” at him.
And then Dylan looks right at him and starts singing…
…About ass.
“Your face!” She shrieks in delight as his mouth falls open. “Ugh, this is what I live for!!!” Without warning she wraps her arms around him and begins to gesture wildly at Dylan until he looks back over at them, eyes widening just so. Sung’s attempting to clamp his lips shut but by then it’s too late, he’s seen it all. Dylan’s entire face lights up and he’s barely suppressing a laugh between verses before he’s wheeling back over to his friend, their voices overlapping as the song goes on. “Let me give you the deets. See that’s Josh, and over there is Rob on the bass, and this song is called Junk in the Trunk.” She says it all so matter of factly over the speakers. “And you have seen nothing yet, my friend.”
What else can there be at this point? He really shouldn’t be questioning any of this given his penchant for high kicks and light up shoes and TWRP’s whole aesthetic, but Sung’s reeling, trying to make sense of whatever the hell it was that he was seeing, hearing, experiencing…
They’re halfway through the song when it happens. Dylan just hops off on stage left, mic in hand and blazer being thrown behind him with wild abandon, grabbing the closest person and just dragging them in until they’re hip to hip, chest to chest, body swaying with the beat as Josh starts to sing about having a good time.
“Is that normal?” He says over the music to his companion. She nods, looking absolutely Cheshire in that moment. Gods. He’s never felt so out of his element before. “Is this what you were telling me about?!”
“Not even close.” And Sung doesn’t even have time to react because he’s being pushed forward by her, right into Dylan’s personal space.
“See you finally decided to join.” Josh is still singing and Dylan’s got the mic away from his mouth, the first couple of buttons on his shirt undone, tie hanging about his neck loosely, taking in Sung’s sudden presence without breaking his stride. “You havin’ fun?”
Despite how lost he was, Sung supposes he is having fun in some sort of sense. And hadn’t that been the plan all along? He can’t help but manage a near breathless smile, his core taking to the excitement pouring off of Dylan, the pure electric energy that seems to thrum through him nonstop. “Attaboy.” Dylan murmurs in a fond voice, fingers grazing over his hip just so before he’s pulling away with a playful grin. For a moment Sung can only stand there in shock before his friend from before is pulling him back, propping her chin on his shoulder. “So…” She hums. “You know- the funny thing is that was like, the PG version of Dylan Germick.”
“PG?” He parrots back in a strangled voice.
“Just. You. Wait~”
It doesn’t take long either to see Dylan in his full glory either because it only takes three songs for the sweating frontman to strip down to just his dress shorts. He’s done everything from twerking on stage to sensually thrusting his trumpet at the crowd to grinding up against his mic stand and Sung swears his core is this close to melting out of his chest. Everyone’s a little drunk off the energy coursing through the room, their emotions smearing across his senses in a strange and unavoidable way. Poor Havve, he can’t help but think, the coherency of his own thoughts startling him. Hopefully he had already gone and put up a wall between them because the empath knows he’s not any good for it in his current state.
Somehow, at some point, Dylan’s finds his way to him once more in the crowd. He’s singing something but Sung could really care less because all he wants is to get closer to the other male, make it so there’s not even an inch of space between them. The human turns so his back is pressed up against Sung’s chest and it’s all too easy to put his hands on the other’s sweat slicked chest, knowing that’s exactly what Dylan wants in that moment without words. He rocks back and Sung’s hips cant forward until they’re both rolling against one another, Sung’s hands slipping down further and further until they’re working the human’s belt off, dragging it slowly one notch at a time.
There’s screeching and wolf whistles and all kinds of approval and amusement at the sight of it all but Sung’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about how badly he wants the other in that moment. Gods, this was all kinds of fucked up but if Sung didn’t absolutely love it either. He’s pulling the belt off then and Sung can’t help but notice the way that Dylan practically purrs with the action of it. It takes everything he has to not just shove his hands down the front of the other male’s pants- Instead, he reaches back up with is free hand and guides Dylan’s own hand down until his fingers are brushing the button and he’s making a show of it too.
“Attaboy.” Sung whispers, unable to help himself, and Dylan’s stilling for just a moment before a chuckle of disbelief slides out of him.
“You lil’ shit.” He hisses back before he’s untangling himself away from Sung, throwing a pointed look over his shoulder before he’s returning to the stage. There’s a pause in the song where it’s all just instrumental and the entire time Dylan doesn’t take his eyes off of Sung as he works the zipper down.
And for a moment all of the crazy lust and pent up sexual need is forgotten because Dylan Germick is wearing booty shorts.
Bedazzled booty shorts, mind you.
The smile on Dylan’s face isn’t so pointed anymore as it is just genuine and unceasing, a beautiful thing that lights up his entire face. Sung’s returning it and in that moment he can’t help but think that this was meant to be. The fact that he was here tonight alone, that he had even heard of this performance in the first place… The Fates had a funny way of working like that.
He turns then to the girl from before, smile more shit eating than anything. “How was that for a newbie?” Sung says breathlessly. Her eyes are wide with disbelief but he can feel the approval pouring off her and it feels like a rite of passage. “Was that too much?” He says after a beat and her expression changes as her eyes screw up and she doubles over with a whooping laugh.
“It’s never enough with Dylan Germick!” She finally manages out and when Sung looks back up at the stage at the other male’s cocked hip, the fire in his eyes as he leans out to thank the stage, their eyes meet and he’s nearly bowled over by the need and want the other male feels in that moment. For skin on skin.
For something tactile and real.
Oh gods.
He’s grinning like a wolf as he begins to saunter off stage, hips twitching with each step, the shorts catching in the stage lights after the encore. “C’mon.” The crowd is breaking up and his new found friend is twining their arms, smiling up at him. “I’m buying you a drink.”
“But…” The word isn’t even audible as it passes his lips. But what, Sung? Whoever Dylan Germick was, whatever he was, he had gone out into the crowd and fooled around with just about everyone, not just you. And even if there had been something there it’s not like Dylan was just going to straight up pursue it. People just didn’t do that.
Besides, you’ve got nothing else better to do, do you?
He relents then and she’s giving a squeal of excitement, pulling him through the people, past the merch table and to the bar. “I can’t believe you just- you actually did that.” She’s saying as they sit down next to one another. “Someone’s a brave boy.” She jabs him a few times in the arm with her index finger.
“It just felt right.” He says with a sheepish smile as he ducks his head, hair falling over his visor. There’s something being slid his way and he can only pull a face when he smells the rubbing alcohol scent of vodka, but a free drink is a free drink, right? She’s holding her own out and Sung’s cocking his head just so. “Cheers?”
“To Planet Booty, and to being your sexy sweaty self.” She gestures with her glass. Sung clinks the glassware together and they’re both throwing back the drinks like they’re shots. “Oh God, that’s terrible! Jesus. What did you put in this?”
“It’s rail, sweetheart.” The bartender deadpans and the woman next to him curls her lip and rolls her eyes in response.
“Yeah well it’s shitty rail.” She huffs under her breath, her annoyance spiking. “But hey, if it gets the job done, right?”
“Right.” This is a nice cool down, he thinks, after everything that happened earlier on. The searing stare Dylan had pinned him with is becoming a pleasant memory, something like his own personal secret of sorts. The fun he had sworn he would have had been managed and it looked like he was making a new friend, something he never objected to. Tonight had been successful, tonight he had been daring, tonight he was happy.
“Right.” A voice drawls as someone steps between them.
“Dylan!” She shrieks and Sung’s stomach drops with it, the cup still held up to his face, partially obscuring his vision. “You sweaty bastard! Do not hug me if you’re sweaty, I swear if you hug me and you’re sweaty-! Remember last time?” “How could I not?” And just like that Dylan Germick is turning to him, putting a hand over both his shoulder and hers. “Me and Tess go back, way back. Context- she comes to a show in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere…”
“You don’t get to call anywhere Bumfuck when you’re from Indiana, Dylan.” She’s already got another drink and holding it up to her mouth, her eyes narrowed in silent judgement at the singer.
“Okay, listen, Indiana’s not that bad. Have you ever been to Indiana?” Sung doesn’t even get the chance to answer before Dylan’s continuing on. “Anyways, I see her and I’m like oh Tess is getting it. She’s fucking getting it tonight.”
“I’m screaming at him that I have a flight the next day and I’m not going to have the chance to shower and of course the bastard doesn’t care.” She pinches his arm and Dylan’s yelping in response, bumping his hip up against her chair with a warning look. “Just puts my face against his gross chest and drags it doooown.” She points her finger until it’s basically between her legs.
“All the way down town. See you need to employ that reverse psychology Tess. If you tell me not to, I’m gonna.”
Sung’s eye is wide behind his visor as he watches the two of them banter with such practiced ease. There’s a warmth there between them, a kinship of sorts. He basks in it, eye closing as a pleased smile touches his lips.
“Alcohol already gettin’ you?” A low voice says next to his ear and he’s jumping with it. Dylan’s close. As close as he was during the show. There’s an echo of what he had felt during the show and Sung’s core is greedy for it, running hot and bright under his shirt.
Fuck.
“A little.” He rasps out and Dylan’s lips curl at the corners just so. “You were great out there, by the way.”
“Me!?” Dylan crows and throws Tess a look. “Shorty, you stole the show. And my belt.” That hand on his shoulder feels like a brand and the empath hates how much he likes the feeling of the other male’s hands on him. “Did Tess tell you to do that?”
“Fuck no, I let him go in blind. He managed that all by himself.” She snorts into her drink. “Even I couldn’t believe it.”
“Well shit. You’re a fucking natural.” That hand is sliding down his bicep now and Sung can feel Dylan’s surprise when he finds the muscle there, followed by a growing interest that’s burning through him like wildfire. Shit. Shit shit shit. Maybe he should get another drink. He’s just about to say something about it when Dylan leans forward.
“Get us some shots.” He says to the bartender before throwing a look over his shoulder at Sung, almost feral. “I’m feelin’ Fireball.”
-
He’s always been a gods damned light weight.
He’s far from drunk but he’s not sober either. He’s a pleasant level of tipsy that makes his body feel loose, the kind that sweeps his inhibitions to some dark and forgotten corner for the night. Tess is slumped up on the bar, cackling wildly at some insane story Dylan’s recalling about the time they apparently went to the zoo.
“Josh would not shut up about the rhino for like, five hours following. Rob was gonna fucking kill him.” He slaps his hand on the bar and Tess howls back. “You just had to show him the rhino, didn’t you?”
“I’m getting him a plush. Don’t tell him. You-you too. You keep your pretty mouth shut.” Tess is wasted by this point and reaching over Dylan to touch his face. “Why… why you gotta wear this thing? Whuz the point? Are you legally blind? DID I MAKE A BAD JOKE EARLIER!? I said… I said you were… you went in blind.” She pulls away and puts her face on the bar again, groaning loudly. “Fuck!”
“Ah, no it’s… it’s just a personal choice.” He looks at Dylan then and the other’s head is cocked just so. He was being studied, he realizes a moment later. Dylan had been staring at him. Sung’s blushing and ducking his head, carding his fingers through his hands. “You know me, Cool Guy over here.”
“Well, does Cool Guy wanna help me get Tess back to her hotel?” It’s nearly 2 AM and almost everyone’s cleared out by this point from the bar. He nods and Dylan’s smiling in quiet thanks, his gratitude all kinds of soft against his senses. “Tess, you got your keys on you?”
“Fuck yeah I do.” She shoves a hand into her purse and comes up with two hotel keys, still not even looking up. “I walked!” She announces to the wood grain joyously.
“That’s nice, Tess.” Dylan’s giving a good natured roll of his eyes as he goes to her other side. “You got the other side, shorty?” Tess is just a few inches shorter than him so it’s easy enough to loop his arm around the girl to steady her. “There we go. Okay Tess, you ready?”
“Born ready!” She throws her head back. His own core got weird when he drank but it was even weirder feeling what drunk people felt. Still, at least he could tell she was having a good time, just drunk enough to be gone from the world but nowhere near ready to puke (thankfully.) The streets themselves are still warm for the earlier summer heat and complete deserted, not another soul but the three of them skirting under bright lamp light.
“So- I didn’t catch your name.” Dylan’s voice breaks the silence some time later as their shoes catch the concrete, causing Sung to look up and over at him. He had went and changed out of his sweaty clothes before he had hopped into their little group and now he was just in a v-necked t-shirt and a pair of form fitting jeans. “Unless you really do go by shorty, to which I have to say man, my intuition is good.”
He hesitates before throwing all caution to the wind. He’ll probably never see this guy again, and Tess is so far gone from them at this point. “It’s Sung.”
“Sung?”
“Mm hmm.”
“Past tense of sing? You’re telling me that’s your name?”
“There’s much worse names out there.” Sung says dryly and Dylan’s relenting with an easy, amused laugh which Tess copies unknowingly and drunkenly, causing them both to snort.
“I like it. It’s unique, like you.” Oh? He feels his cheeks heat because while Dylan’s words are easy and unbothered the intent behind them, the emotion that causes them to be spoken, is anything but. “You’re all kinds of special, you know that Sung? Never just had someone get into it like that.” He’s grinning that knife sharp smile of his again and it’s doing things to him. Terrible, awful things.
“Ha!” The laugh barks out of him awkwardly and into the summer night sky. “Tess was right, she didn’t tell me what to do, but she was giving me shit for being a newbie and I was like ‘oh I’ll prove her wrong.’” He looks down at her then and back up at Dylan. Her feet are dragging and her lids are heavy and the poor thing is this close to just falling asleep standing up. “…Should I… should I carry her?”
“Can you?” Dylan’s brow is inching up towards his hairline in incredulity.
“Oh, easily.” He hefts her up and she’s like feathers in his arms. “See?”
“Jesus, alright. I got a good feel on your muscles but-” He wipes a hand across his mouth and eyes Sung, his interest reaching a gods damn fever pitch. Sung’s flushing and readjusting his hold on Tess, causing her to murmur softly in her nearing sleep. “Let’s get this one home, yeah?” He manages in a tight voice.
Dylan finally drags his eyes away, putting them forward once more. “Yeah.”
Sung’s not quite sure what’s happening in those first few steps because it’s quiet and it’s almost strained but then Dylan starts to ask questions and they’re the kind that he can answer. What brought him out to the concert, had he heard them before, did you have a good time? At the last one he can’t help it. He tips his head towards the other male and stares in silence until Dylan’s giving a snort of amusement.
“I like to make sure.” He says in a soft voice and then he’s dropping it, but Sung can still feel it- the other questions and comments that want to follow that statement. Dylan’s pushing them back though, not away but to somewhere where they be brought up again later, when Tess isn’t here.
He gulps at that.
They reach the hotel and have a grand time explaining Tess’s current status to the night auditor at the front desk and within minutes they have her in her room on the bed, her jacket removed and the blankets pulled up to her chin. “She’s like an angel.” Dylan muses, only half joking. He reaches down then and brushes the hair back from her face. “You think she’ll be okay?”
He’s a interesting one, this Dylan Germick. The stage persona is so much, so in your face, but even then underneath it you could see this Dylan, soft spoken with so much love and care inside of him. He had leaned over the crowd at one point, talking about being true to yourself, to loving yourself, to living in the moment. It wasn’t some schlock that had just sprung from his lips to please the crowd. He had felt it with every word, every syllable and Sung had felt it all.
“She’ll be just fine.” Sung finally says. They’re friends. You didn’t need to be an empath to see it, to know it. Whatever circumstances that had brought Tess and Dylan together, they had been for good. “You going back to your place now?”
“Implying I’d come back to yours?” Dylan means to tease it, he’s sure of it, but something in his voice goes low and his stare becomes that much more in that moment.
“Ah, ha… I dunno how the guy’s would feel about that.” His throat feels horribly dry and he can’t get enough air in his lungs. “Got myself three other roommates.” They were between legs of their own tour and sometimes it was just easier staying on Earth rather than going back and forth.
“Sounds like a party.” They can’t be doing this here, in this poor girl’s room. He holds a finger up to his lips and jerks his chin at Tess before he’s pointing at the doorway. Dylan brings his own finger up to his lip and nods and they’re out into the hallway just like that. “Sung, before-”
Dylan goes very quiet and Sung has to stare up at him. He’s terribly tall, and terribly handsome, and everything about this isn’t quite right and yet everything feels right in this moment. “Was really good.” He supplies and Dylan’s giving a choked noise. “Not good?” He says moments later, only able to joke about it because despite Dylan’s incredulity at his words, his sputtering disbelief, there’s something there.
The same thing that’s been between them the whole night.
A spark, ready to explode into flame.
“God, no.” Dylan’s shoving his hair back from his face. “Holy shit, don’t even start to think that kind of nonsense. It was perfect, like you knew exactly…” The older male trails off and gives a huff of a sigh. “Listen, whatever the fuck it was, it was good.”
And? The question is moments from springing from his lips but he keeps them firmly pressed together, letting his core take in the trepidation pouring off the other male. Dylan looks down at the floor, releasing a low groan, before he’s leaning in and there’s barely an inch of space in between them. “I think I like you, shorty. I think I like you an awful lot.”
No one knew he was an alien here, no one could ever know what any of them actually were. There were laws in place to ensure these things but stupid Dylan Germick and his sparkling booty shorts and ridiculous mustache had him all sorts of twisted up and not caring about the consequences/
Gods, Havve was going to kill him.
“That’s good because I like you too.” He tries for low and confident, because that’s sexy right? But his voice comes out all kinds of strangled and tight and nervous and he’s quickly giving a choked laugh. “Oh, wow… Can I- can I get a redo?”
Dylan stares at him before he’s cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together, face turning red as he begins to hold his laughter back, but gods if it isn’t beautiful. Pure, unfiltered elation and bliss, and underneath it all an endearment that Sung’s not quite sure how he managed to cause in the other but he relishes in all the same.
“You are too much.” Dylan kisses the side of his face, right under his visor, and laughs against his flushed and freckled skin. Sung turns his head into it then and there’s just a breath between their lips. “Jesus, Sung.” He hears Dylan say.
“Dylan.” He breathes back, just as softly.
And they’re kissing.
It’s soft and careful even as Sung feels his back press up against the door to Tess’s room, the cool of the wood pressing through every inch of his back as Dylan holds him there. His hands find the front of Dylan’s shirt and he’s balling the fabric up in his fists, dragging Dylan that much closer. He wants to be as close as they were during that show, closer if possible.
There’s fingers in his hair and he almost doesn’t notice when the other starts to pull his visor off. He throws his head back hard and doesn’t even register the pain as it connects with the door, the near panic of it all drawfing it. “Visor stays on.” And later, what about your shirt? And yours ear too, currently covered by your hair but how easily could that be pushed aside? Dylan’s staring at him with hurt confusion and Sung’s caught between guilt and a little thing called a legal obligation.
The guilt wins out.
“…But it doesn’t have to if you don’t freak out.”
Dylan’s scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Sung, PB’s kind of about body positivity and about loving yourself so anything that you think is weird or wrong isn’t going to-” And as the other male is speaking his heartfelt words Sung decides it’s one of those things that you have to treat like a bandaid.
You just have to rip it off.
He pulls his visor off without warning and Dylan’s freezing up at the sight of it. His eye. He draws in a breath and the empath almost doesn’t react fast enough, his fingers just catching the scream that threatens to leave the human and holding it back. “You said you wouldn’t freak out!” Sung hisses and Dylan’s looking at him with two very wide, very human eyes.
A hand on his wrist then and Sung’s careful and slow as he removes his hand. “That was under the assumption that you were human!” Dylan hisses back and the dread is immediate. This was stupid. This was such a stupid, awful mistake…
But then the surprise fades and all that’s left is awe. “You’re like, literally out of this world.” Dylan whispers in wonder, those same hands that had framed his face moments before finding their way back. “What else?”
He can’t help it. He smiles. Sung pushes his hair back then and Dylan’s marveling at his pointed ear tips, touching the oh so carefully. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he wants to say, but he keeps quiet, throwing a few quick looks down the hallway before he’s pulling his shirt up. The light of his core shows up even now, faintly through the bandages that cover it. “Is that an Arc Reactor? Are you fucking Tony Stark?” Dylan’s voice is raising once and Sung’s shoving his fingers at his face again, shushing him furiously.
“Unfortunately no, I’m an empathetic cyclops in a band called Tupper Ware Remix Party.”
“Band!” Dylan chokes out and Sung can’t believe that’s what he takes from everything he’s saying.
“Really, not even questioning the name?” That was, oddly enough, the usual question they got more often than not. He’s pulling down his shirt and glancing down the hallway again surreptitiously before bringing his eye back to the astounded human. “Listen, Dylan… this is not public knowledge, at all. This is actually kind of insane and super illegal that I’m telling you all this, much less showing you.”
“So why?”
Great question. His mouth works, an odd sound issuing from the back of his throat as he tries to mentally process it. What made Dylan Germick so special? What made him worth the risk, the chance? All of that and more?
“Because I think I like you.” It leaves him in a rush. “I think I like you an awful lot.”
Dylan’s brows jump just so before his head drops, a low and amused laugh leaving him. “That’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.” Dylan says in a measured voice after a moment’s hesitation, his right arm bracing above Sung on the door, his left hand finding the empath’s chin. “Gone and used my own words against me.”
“You like it though.” A pause and he’s cocking his head, a slight grin coming to his face as he touches his core through his shirt. “I know, I can tell.”
“You-” Dylan says with a breathless laugh and before Sung can counter once more the human’s lips are on his again.
It’s so much more than the few kisses they had shared before. Dylan’s mouth slots over his and Sung can’t help but arch up into it. He can feel the other’s hands on his hips before they’re working their way up over his sides underneath his shirt and he’s moaning with it. “Dylan, we can’t.” He manages between kisses roughly.
“Now why?” Sung’s words are a challenge rather than a deterrent, causing a stubbornness to rise up in the other. Dylan’s leaning down then, breath hot against his neck before he bites the skin there. “Give me one good reason, shorty.”
“H-Hallway.” The word gasps out of him as Dylan begins to suck on the skin with the intent of marking him up. “Gods…” Another hickey just a few inches away from the other and he can feel Dylan grinning against his skin, wild and pleased.
“You wanna get a room? Cos I think at this rate we’ll just be kicked out for a noise complaint.” Dylan’s fingers are pressing into his ribs, creeping that much closer to his core. He’s giving a desperate laugh, knowing full well if Dylan touches it when he’s all strung out like this, he’ll lose it.
“So where?” There’s no stopping this now. Not when his own fingers are hooking into Dylan’s belt loops, not when he can feel his cock straining in his pants and Dylan’s own hardness pressing up against his thigh.
“Nothin’ can be easy, can it?” Dylan turns thoughtful for a moment and Sung wishes he could help the other brainstorm, he really does, but the human is tracing his fingers against his skin and it’s the most gods damned distracting thing in the world. “Now don’t go judging me.” He starts.
“Implying I haven’t this entire time.” Dylan’s snorts but Sung’s continues to push, nearly drunk off their shared joy. “What with the bedazzled booty shorts and the blazer and not to mention this…” He skims a finger across the other’s mustache.
“You oughta try it, you’d look good…” Dylan’s own fingers find his face and they’re outlining his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, pausing when they reach his mouth. There’s a thumb then pressing down on his lower lip and Sung’s inhaling sharply at it. “But I think you look perfect just like this.”
“You were saying… earlier…?” He’s breathless with it, from the intensity of Dylan’s stare, from the heat pouring off of him, the desire there and the nearing desperation of wanting and needing Sung in that moment.
“I’ve got a car.” Dylan manages hoarsely. “Ain’t nothing special, but at the very least we don’t have to worry about anyone bothering us.”
Were you really going to do this? Fuck a near stranger in their car? He swallows thickly before he nods, pulling his visor back on. “Well, what’re we waiting for?” He grins, hoping to the gods that his voice doesn’t shake.
“The fuck if I know.” And Dylan’s pulling away to twine their fingers together and his excitement bolts through Sung’s spine and core, tingling down from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes. They can’t even wait, mouths finding one another as they fall into the elevator, Sung laughing uncontrollably as Dylan stumbles over himself, his own laugh bubbling out of him.
“What happened to all those sauve moves?” Sung says and Dylan’s giving him a dirty look with no menace behind it whatsoever. “Could it be, Dylan Germick is a big huge dork?”
“Could it be…” A pause, they go down a floor. “I…don’t know your last name, oh my God.”
“I don’t… I don’t have one.” It’s a bit jarring given that they’re this close to banging but he’s laughing it off, being light hearted about it. “But if you want a full name, you can call me Doctor Sung.” That’s his title, after all.
“Doctor!” Dylan’s eyes go wide. “You’re telling me you’re a bonafide PhD holding, medically trained porno stereotype?”
“Porno stereotype!?” Sung pushes at his chest and Dylan’s pulling him closer, peppering the side of his face with easy-light kisses. “Never mind, on second thought, I don’t think this is going to work.”
“I put that part at the end for a reason! You’re a talented man, Doctor Sung.” His voice dips dramatically and Sung’s being pulled close once more, their lips brushing each other’s just as the doors open up again. “After you.” Dylan’s releasing him, holding his arm out with a beautiful smile.
Gods.
Gods damn.
It takes a lot to nod a pleasant good bye to the night auditor, especially when Dylan sneaks up behind him and begins to push him out the door, tickling his sides as he does. “Bastard!” Sung yells when they’re back outside in the humid night air. It’s 3 AM and his face hurts from laughing and kissing and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He can tell it’s the same for Dylan too, his cheeks flushed red and his laugh lines undeniable as his eyes crinkle up with a loud laugh.
“Now c’mon, don’t be like that.” How easy it is to let the other grab him and manhandle him. Gods, he wants it, likes it. His own hands are sliding to Dylan’s back, down until they’re tucking into his back pockets and he’s able to squeeze the other’s ass through his jeans. “Oh, okay, now this is a good Sung.”
“Yeah?” Are they even going to get to the damn car at this rate? He doubts it, but they still ought to try…
“All up in my biz, getting handsy, looking so damn good.” Dylan leans in and Sung sighs into their next kiss. “Gettin’ me all worked up without even having to try.”
“Dylan…” His lips are numb at this point and his core feels like molten fire in his chest. “C’mon.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His fingers carding through his hair, grazing past his ears and down the column of his throat. How did humans do it? Feel so much? Experience so much? His eye is rolling back and the realization hits that this isn’t even anything. This isn’t even skin on skin. This is just them fooling around, not even foreplay.
Holy shit.
“The car, please.” He groans. “I’m gonna die…”
“Dramatic.” Dylan muses as he pulls away. “You think you can manage for another ten minutes, Doctor?”
Can he? He leans up to nip at Dylan’s bottom lip before he manages a tight nod. “Then let’s go.”
Sung’s nervous that ten minutes to the car means ten minutes to reconsider, to question what he was doing. It was like when he had been carrying Tess. It’s not though, not when he can feel the lust pouring off Dylan the entire time, the growing desperation.
Ten minutes passes by in an instant.
The car is parked behind the bar still and Dylan’s pressing his hands together in front of his face, eyes closing. “Thank you for not being towed.” He whispers to the sky. “God is a woman and she is good to me, Sung.”
“Not even a ticket.” He teases lightly as he comes up to the other’s side. “She’s really looking out for you.”
“She brought us together tonight, so yeah, I’d like to think so.” Dylan’s spinning the keys lazily around his finger, lips pulling at the corners as he smiles at Sung. He’s leaned up against the car and he looks so gods damned good. “Is that what you would say up in space?”
“We uh, we’d say it’s the Fates. One of those ‘everything happens for a reason’ things.” Dylan’s putting a hand on the nape of his neck and his eyes sliding closed at how good it feels, how right.
“You seem a lil’ too spontaneous for that kind of shit, shorty.” Dylan’s pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as the lock unclicks. The sound echoes out in the empty parking lot, deep inside Sung at what it implies. “…You still good?”
“Just a little nervous, I’ve never…” A pause. “Do we even have the right stuff?” Gods, he sounds so inexperienced when he says it like that. He gives an embarrassed noise and glances away, hugging himself self consciously.
“Yeah I’ve got stuff in the glovebox. You never know when the opportunity will arise.” Dylan’s turning him so they’re facing each other. “I do need you to tell me if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with though.”
Oh, he means so well. He gives a short laugh and covers his face. “I’m just nervous, I’ve never-” He’s pushing his visor up his head, hating how he can feel how flushed his cheeks are.
“Like, never never?” Dylan picks up on it right away, thankfully. He’s blushing harder now, nodding furiously. “Oh, oh wow. Okay. Fuck, that’s okay! Surprising but okay.”
“Surprising?” Sung manages out in a weak voice and Dylan’s nodding earnestly.
“You’re good looking and funny and very genuine. I’m surprised you haven’t been scooped up before this, shorty.” Dylan’s pulling his hands away, a comforting noise leaving him when Sung blanches. “Don’t start acting shy now.”
“It’s a lot.” Sung finally says and Dylan’s nodding, leaning in close.
“I know, and that’s why I’m gonna take good care of you. Shame it’s gotta be in a car. Would love to take my time with you…” Oh, oh that brings up a slew of emotions in Dylan, all of them tinged with a sensuous heat. “But I don’t think either of us can wait for that though, can we?”
No, no they can’t. The nerves are sliding away as he’s remembering how eagerly he had touched Dylan in front of who knows how many people, how easy it was to get along with the other, how good each kiss they had shared had felt. He’s circling his arms around Dylan’s neck and Dylan’s giving a pleased purr as he follows the action. “Please.” He whispers with a desperation he’s never felt in his life. It’s nothing and everything to him in that moment- in the large scheme of things it’s just two bodies becoming one, it’s something that happens every day, but this is Dylan and he really likes the other and despite virginity being held up on a stupidly high pedestal there really is something crazy about the fact that he’s finally going to lose his after twenty five years.
“How can I say no when you go and ask me like that?” Dylan says against his lips and Sung’s losing himself just like that.
He finds himself again when he hears the car door closing behind Dylan. Leather seats, Sung notes absently. He can’t really take inventory of anything else because the human’s got his hands under his shirt, pushing his shirt up without a moment’s hesitation. “Dylan.” The other’s name gasps out of him, back arching up with it.
“Am I allowed…?” A finger catching the underside of the wrappings on his core. Sung hates how desperately he’s nodding, a high laugh bubbling out of him as Dylan begins to work it all off. “Oh, wow… this is… can I touch it?”
“If you want this to end right now, f-feel free to.” Sung manages shakily and Dylan’s eyes go wide. “It’s just… it’s how the whole empath thing works. Takes it all in…? Processes it? Listen… p-point is, it’s overstimulated right now, sensitive…” He glances away.
“I fucking love this space shit.” Dylan breathes out and Sung manages a choked laugh. “D-do you have like, a weird space dick?”
“NO!” Sung yells loudly, jerking his knee up to catch Dylan’s side. “I’m not Phobos!”
“Who!?”
“MY FRIEND. THIS ISN’T THE POINT. I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT PHOBOS’S DICK RIGHT NOW.”
“Oh my God.” Dylan puts his face against his shoulder, his whole body shaking with loud and unapologetic laughter. Sung’s laughing then too and beating his fists down on Dylan’s back. “Great now I’m going to meet your friends and that’s gonna be the first thing I think about.”
“Oh gods, shut up!” Sung groans. “You’re killing the mood. You’re killing me!”
“Alright, alright. Let’s try this again.” He sits up and his head hits the roof of the car, causing Sung to give a snort of amusement. “Gonna just uh, grab the stuff.”
“Mmm hmm.” He’s getting a face full of Dylan’s ass and he’s shoving the other forward into the front of the car, laughing even harder now. “You’re doing this on purpose!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dylan backs up and Sung’s laughing even harder. “Listen, you were at the show, you know that this is just what happens when you’re around me.”
“We get it, you have a nice ass!” Sung brings his hand down on it and Dylan’s casting a look over his shoulder, brows arched and lips pulled into a smirk. “Stop! You’re awful! Dirty and awful and-”
“You love it.” Dylan’s back between his legs, looking all to pleased with himself with a line of condoms and lube in one hand. Sung’s eye rounds just so and for a moment Dylan softens, his cockiness dissipating. “Don’t look so worried now…”
“I’m not just- just nervous… But if anyone’s gonna make sure I get taken care of, it’s Planet Booty’s frontman Dylan Germick.”
Dylan gets adorably embarrassed at that but he plays it off with a scoff and a playful roll of his eyes. Still, Sung knows, and it causes a warm smile to come to his features. “Now what’s that look for?” Dylan squints at him.
“You’re cute.” He says simply.
“Handsome.” Dylan counters.
“Both?” Sung offers.
“I’ll take it.”
Dylan’s laughing against his throat and his shirt’s coming off just like that. His own hands are pulling at the bottom of the human’s, desperate to feel that skin once more. “God damn.” Dylan shudders when Sung’s hands accidentally brush across his stomach, right below his ribs. Without warning their crotches are pressed up against each other and it’s not even funny how fast he gets hard again. Dylan takes notice, a low chuckle sliding out of him. “Someone excited.”
“Shut up.” He’s throwing the shirt into the front seat and running his hands up and down the other’s chest, thrilling at the feel of Dylan’s pounding heart through his skin. “You’re one to talk.”
Dylan rolls his hips and Sung’s jerking violently at the sensation. “Yeah? That feel good?” Dylan’s voice pitches low as he repeats the action and the empath is whining with it. “Oh baby, that’s nothin’.”
He knows that but it feels so good. He’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, eye screwed up as a heavy flush spreads across his cheeks. “So sweet.” He hears Dylan murmur fondly. He can’t manage any kind of response, his hips rocking desperately in order to feel more friction between the two of them. “You really want it, don’t you?” Now there’s fingers touching upon the hickies at his throat and then sliding down, circling just outside where the rim of his core is and the light of it flickers, filling the car with a warm, bright light.
“Dylan.” He gasps out. His long digits are sliding down further and further until they’re reaching the button and zipper of his jeans. “Oh gods, don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on anytime soon.” Dylan dragging his zipper down oh so slowly and Sung’s arching his lower half into it, a weak laugh leaving him. Gods, this is insane, this is really happening… “You sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Just… just doing what feels right.” What felt natural. Dylan’s hands frame his hips and Sung can’t help the shuddering jump that he issues when the human’s thumbs press into his inner thighs. “Dylan.”
“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get tired of hearing you say my name. Just watching your pretty lil’ mouth say it does things to me.”
“When… When are you going to start doing things to… to me?” Sung finally chokes out. Dylan stares at him with wide eyes, his surprise causing the empath to manage a weak laugh. “It’s a legit question.”
“Yeah, yeah it is.” Suddenly Dylan’s hand is flush against his hard on and Sung can’t even believe the noise that issues from him in response. “…Remember how I talked about us getting a noise complaint, shorty?” Oh gods. Dylan’s jerking him off through his boxers, grinning in a pleased manner the entire time. “Here I’m thinking I’m going to be the problem…”
He’s panting now, trying to stifle those moans that Dylan’s calling him out on (while also being all too eager to wring them out of him.) Just like that the other male is pulling his boxers down and oh-
Oh he’s sucking him off.
It’s a fluid motion that should be impossible (but that may just be the inexperience and his lack of knowledge on these things.) Dylan makes it look so easy though. He’s on his knees between Sung’s legs and he’s got his cock halfway in his mouth, tongue working the underside just so.
Sung arches off the leather with a loud gasp, pushing his dick further into Dylan’s mouth, nearly sobbing at the perfect wet heat of it. Dylan’s huffing and it could very well be a laugh but his mind is too far gone at this point to make sense of anything. He doesn’t even hear Dylan snap open the cap of the lube, too distracted by how Dylan’s bobbing his head just so, tongue circling the head. The other male pulls off and smirks down at him and Sung hates the desperate noise that leaves him in response, a drawn out whine of need that has no right being something that he can even manage.
“You like that?” He says, his tongue passing over his bottom lip as he cocks his head towards Sung. He gives an exasperated sigh at that and Dylan’s snorting in response, making a show of how he pours the lube out into his other hand. “Kay, try to relax. Tell me if it feels bad, or even if it feels just weird.”
Sung’s not even sure how he’s going to manage words at this point but he nods. A slick finger prods his entrance and he’s tensing without meaning to before giving Dylan an apologetic look. “S’okay, just trust me. We’ll take it nice and slow.” He presses it in and gods, that feels weird, but not terrible. He closes his eye and lets out a deep breath, trying to follow Dylan’s earlier suggestion.
Relax.
He gives a startled noise when the second finger slips into him but Dylan’s soothing it away with kisses against his inner thigh. “Doin’ so good.” He feels the words more than he hears them, spoken against his skin. “So good Sung. Gonna take me so nice.” The fingers are moving and it’s starting to feel kind of good, especially when he starts to scissor and curl them. He gives a choked moan when he brushes up against something. Prostate, his mind supplies a moment later, playing catch up. That’s your prostate, Sung.
Dylan’s tongue is pressing up against the underside of his cock as he begins to work three fingers into him now and Sung can’t even try to stop the slew of choked noises that escape him with each angled thrust of the human’s fingers. “Dylan. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…” He chants. “Please.”
“Yeah?” Dylan says in a thick voice and Sung looks at him finally, eye widening when he sees how he’s gone and undone the front of his own jeans, one hand shoved down the front of his underwear. Gods, that’s hot. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” He manages a weak chuckle.
“Don’t apologize, just-” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and shifts his hips desperately without meaning to. Dylan’s eyes follow the entire motion, dragging down from his face all the way down to line of his erect cock. “I don’t know how many times I have to beg for it.”
“Not anymore.” He’s shimmying out of his jeans and tossing to the front with the rest of their clothes. “Just gotta be patient for one more moment.”
He doesn’t want to be but he gets it, especially when he hears the wrapper ripping in the silence that follows. Safe sex practices seem so mundane in the face of all this, the steamed up car windows and his own breathlessness, but thank the gods Dylan knows what he’s doing. “Alright, alright. Hey.” Dylan’s leaning over him then, brow knitted with concern. “We’re gonna take it real slow, even more than before.”
Do we have to? He barely bites back the question, nodding shakily instead. He misses the feeling of Dylan’s fingers inside of him and the moment he feels the other’s cock pressing up against his entrance he’s shifting his hips just so, desperate to have something more.
Dylan’s right though, going slow is what Sung needs in that moment. He’s thicker than his three fingers and he swears he can feel each inch push into him. “Got no right feelin this damn good.” He hears Dylan whisper above him. “God damn, Sung.”
For a moment it’s just the two of them covered in a fine sweat, Dylan leaned into him with his hand braced on the headrest awkwardly, Sung’s legs bunched up and around his sides. “You feel good too.” He sighs out as his hips move of their own accord, pushing further down, taking more of Dylan inside of him. There’s a subtle ache there but he’s not focusing on that, instead letting his core take in everything the human was feeling in that moment. So much. It was a barely checked anticipation, eagerness, lust and desire, and then past all of that until he finds the care and concern there.
Dylan moves his hips and Sung’s coming back to reality, gasping as Dylan pulls back onto to fuck back into him. Good, it felt so good. He’s giving a weak noise as his legs tighten around the other in a mindless attempt to drag him closer. Dylan swears in response and moves one hand to grab at his hip, helping guide the motion of his frantic thrusts. “Like that, s-slow, fuck.”
They find a rhythm that’s all kinds of right. It’s just like earlier, Sung reading the exact things that Dylan wants in that moment, their bodies taking to it so naturally. “You’re killing me.” Dylan says as Sung’s hands skim up his chest, palms on his throat and fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He slides up the leather some and Dylan’s really crowding over him, spreading his legs even further apart. “F-fuck…”
He’s babbling on about how Dylan can’t stop, how he doesn’t want him to, about how good it feels. It’s falls out of him in a desperate slew and pitches higher with each frantic thrust. The whole car smells like sweat and sex and it’s not even funny how the sound of skin hitting skin turns him on. “Ride… w-wanna… wanna ride you.” He gasps out, causing Dylan to pause for a moment.
“Wha…”
“Y-you heard me.” He gives a desperate little laugh. “Wanna ride you. Gotta just… c-change positions…”
And they manage. Dylan has to pull out and it gets a bit awkward for a handful of moments but sometime later he finds himself in the human’s lap, his cock teasing against his entrance once more. “What’s causin’ this?” Dylan muses. He looks a whole different kind of wrecked than what Sung had seen at the end of the performance earlier. It’s flushed cheeks and an unfocused stare, all accented by the way he rocks his hips just so, causing his dick to rub up against Sung’s backside.
“Dunno.” And really, he doesn’t have a reason except for the fact that it seemed like it would work better like this. And it does, he realizes the moment Dylan slides back in, work better. It’s more natural like this in the cramped car, his own smaller stature causing him to not bump up against the hood of the car, his legs braced on either side of Dylan allow for the other man to grab at his thighs with a crazed desperation as they find their pace once more. “B-but it feels, nnngh, it feels real fuckin’ good.”
“Oh I bet. I bet you feel all kinds of good right now. Are you close?” A hand on his dick, working the length eagerly. Oh gods. His mouth finds Dylan’s and he’s kissing the other, sloppy and desperate, knowing he’s awfully close. “Can I touch you?”
“Y-you… you are?” His head lolls back with the statement and he hears Dylan laugh. “Huh?”
“Here.” He circles just around the rim of his core and Sung jolts with it before he gives a high keening noise of need. “Poor thing, all strung out and desperate, yeah? You’re so fuckin’ good, Sung. Holy fuck.” He leans in, fingers posed over his sternum. “Tell me when I get to see you again.”
“Whu… what…?” He can’t make sense of the statement right now but he swears the other’s implying they’re going to meet again, someway, somehow. “I don’t…”
“I’m not letting you get away, shorty. Besides, I still gotta hear your music.” How can he be calm, managing a near breathless but still complete conversation like this. “So tell me…”
“I don’t… I don’t know…” Sung chokes out and Dylan gives a disappointed hum, fingers inching away. “Dylan, I-I can’t… oh my gods, I can’t…fuh-focus…”
“Next week. Say it’s a date.”
“You are not asking me out a date when you- Oh! W-when you fuck me!” Sung hits his shoulder but Dylan’s really grinning now, his thrusts going slow and measured, causing the empath to groan weakly. “Dylan.”
“Say it.”
“F-fine! Fine it’s a date!” Who cares what he has going on, who cares what everyone will say. Fuck it. Dylan’s smiling at him and he really does like the other and besides…
They still had to do this the right away, after all.
“Gods, please, Dylan.” He presses his head against the human’s and one hand braces on his hip, helping angle the thrusts deeper and harder, and the other hand…
The other hand is brushing up against his core.
He comes without warning, his entire body jumping with the action, bending dangerously but gods if it doesn’t feel good. There’s cum all over his stomach and Dylan’s chest and he can only stay in place as Dylan continues to fuck him through his own orgasm, his own groans becoming shorter and more frantic until finally he follows suit.
“I can’t believe…” Sung says breathlessly, his arms still thrown around the other male’s neck, his forehead coming forward again to rest upon Dylan’s. “You really did that.”
“Fucked you?” Dylan’s just as breathless, his chest heaving with exertion. “Or asked you out.”
“Both.” He’s laughing without warning and Dylan’s joining him moments later. “Both! Holy shit!”
“What can I say, I think I like you, Doctor Sung.” Dylan’s hand is on the back of his neck, drawing him in closer, his lips just brushing over his, causing his core to flicker happily. “I think I like you an awful lot.”
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