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#Heavy Pettin'
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Heavy Pettin'
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metalsongoftheday · 5 months
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Wednesday, November 8: Heavy Pettin', "Roll the Dice"
Shortly before they became arguably the first semi-noteworthy band to imitate Def Leppard’s blend of crunching guitars and glam rock hooks, Scotland’s Heavy Pettin’ was another New Wave of British Heavy Metal act putting out singles on Neat Records.  And that single was a corker: “Roll the Dice” was much more fast-paced and energetic than the High n’ Dry and Pyromania ripoffs they would soon roll out, though Steve “Hamie” Hayman’s yelping and yowling were always a goofy blend of Joe Elliott and David Lee Roth.  The music had similar traces of very early Leppard, but it was more like the hard rock wing of the NWOBHM done right, radiating the same simple joy in rocking out that defined the era.  These guys didn’t totally know what they wanted to be, and that ultimately did them in, but “Roll the Dice” was a really fun track.
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rockrevoltmagazine · 1 year
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HEAVY PETTIN Dominates Leyendas del Rock 2022!
HEAVY PETTIN Dominates Leyendas del Rock 2022!
Scottish, Heavy Rock legends HEAVY PETTIN have released the live video from their electrifying performance at Leyendas del Rock! Signed with MUSIC GALLERY INTERNATIONAL, Heavy Pettin is managed by Shawn Barusch and Lee Langton. “Hey guys it’s Hamie coming attacha Live !!!! Hope u like our new Video … Taken from the Heavy Pettin European tour 22…. This show was in Spain August 5th at the…
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elexaria · 2 months
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religious!johnny mactavish x afab! reader smut bc i said so
ONE LAST POST I SWEAR and then i will sleep except not rlly bc its 8am and i have to get ready for a virtual meeting RRR
ANYWAYS.
cw — afab! reader, nothing too spicy, foreplay, pnv, religious corruption ig?? idk, johnny is just too damn horny for his own good and hes a good christian boy n all but…. pussy go brr
johnny had always been devoted to his faith, going to church with his wee grandma ever since he could walk n talk. swears to himself and the big man in the sky when he came of age that he’d wait for the one, he’d save himself for marriage as god intended him to do.
you were agnostic at best, but that was fine to him. you respected his faith, you even attended church with him when he occasionally goes! a loving, supportive partner — that’s all he could ever ask for.
well, not really.
see, you’re so damn pretty. such a pretty thing, all snuggled up in the crook of his arm as you two lay in bed, watching a movie before you’ll eventually go to sleep. he told you from day one that he wants to wait until marriage, it’s important to him. and you respect that! you do occasionally find yourself pouting whenever your friends gloat about their sex lives, and you just kinda have to go “ahahaha yep, still haven’t gotten fucked by johnny yet. still ain’t married—“ awkwardly, and they playfully tease you about it but they don’t care. you’re in the most healthiest relationship you’d ever been in, they love him!
but i digress. his fingers gently stroke along the length of your arm, as they always do. he’s a bit of a fidgety fella, it’s the ol’ adhd, he tells you. so his fingers dance around the fabric of your tshirt, the texture is satisfying to the pads of his fingertips. the movie continues on, and you giggle at a snarky quip someone makes. it makes his lips twitch up into a small grin, the sound of your giggle. his fingers are still absentmindedly touching around, and that’s when he accidentally grazes your boob.
and oh my god.
wait, what? it’s nothing like he’d ever felt before— he slyly looks down at you, to see if you’ve caught on. and with another sneaky swipe, that confirms it. his blood is running hot, and my god he can no longer concentrate. two fingers run across the swell of your breast from underneath your tshirt, you shiver as you look up at him. and god, you had never seen him look like that before. flared nostrils as his breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenched. “johnny—“ you mutter as he now begins to slowly paw at your soft breast, and it makes you whine at how good it feels to be touched like this.
"it's no like we're daein' anything serious here, aye? just some light pettin'." johnny justifies to himself as he mumbles into the crook of your neck as his hand darts under your shirt, groaning at the soft mounds of fat that jiggle with each grope. how much you whine and gasp as he pinches a peaked bud between his fingers. his cock is rock hard, screaming for attention. but he stops, borderline panting as he looks down at you. he looks guilty, but he has to restrain himself. he’s saving himself for marriage, remember?
you shyly scuttle off to the bathroom to finish yourself off, the tap running to hide the obscene squeals you make as you sit on the bathroom floor, one hand pressed over your mouth while the other rubs intricately tight circles around your throbbing clit. meanwhile, johnny’s stroking his cock just from the thought of what had just happened, groaning as he spills himself into a tissue.
he swore he would keep his virginity in tact for when you two finally got married.
"i'm savin' masel' for marriage, ye ken." he mutters as his fingers stroke the glistening folds of your puffy cunt, sucking the air through his teeth as his fingers coax every last tantalising moan from you as he fingers you, your hands wrapped around his cock as you mutually pleasure one another.
“it’s no sex,” he justifies to himself as you suck his cock, eyes half-lidded as one hand cups the base of his shaft, the other cupping his swollen, full balls with a wanton gaze in your eyes. “fuck, ye have no idea whit yer daein’ tae me.” he growls, fucking into your mouth slowly as his cross pendant thumps against his hairy chest with each buck of his hips.
“it’s just the tip, yeah?” as his heart races, his swollen tip rubbing into your clit, and you swear you’re fit to burst when just the tip, like he promises, slowly sinks into your pussy. he grips onto the pillows besides your head, his eyes glossed over as he tries so hard not to cum right then and there. his breathing is rugged, his pupils narrow as he slowly sinks himself deeper inside you. you both moan together, sweat glossed foreheads pressed against one another as you two join in a debauched union.
“fuck me— ye feel fuckin’ divine.” he growls as he pulls out, slamming his hips right into you with a snarl. “gonnae cum so fuckin’ fast, baby girl. fuck, look at ye.” he says between rugged breaths, eyes bearing right down at you as you tighten and pulse around his cock, eyes fluttering as you cum right then and there. fuck, the wait— or lack there of it — was worth it. with a couple of lazy, sporadic thrusts, johnny spills himself inside you with a primal roar, his knuckles white as he grips the sheets while your velvety vice of a pussy milks him of every last drop of the thick ropes of cum churned from his now drained balls.
in the haze of it all, johnny groans as he pulls out, his eyes fixated on the sight of his cum dripping out of your puffy cunt. his fingers crook up into you, gently pumping his essence right back inside of you. “better have a wee chat with the big man upstairs about this. fuck, no that i could resist this. christ, look at the sight of ye.” he chuckles, his thumb grazing against your swollen clit with an affectionate smile.
“i mean, fuck me, am gonnae marry ye so fast if it means i get tae do this all the time.”
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j-onedrabbles · 10 months
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𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒉 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏: 𝑰'𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 cw: insecurities, overthinking wc: 0.3k
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Y/n waited anxiously for her professor to end the class. He had gone over in his time on a rant about something she couldn’t bother to pay attention to. She wanted to get out of this class but also didn’t want to be rude and walk out. She already packed up her things and was ready to just go.
“Alright, see you next class.” Y/n was up and out the door in seconds. She saw Minho waiting for her across the hall and walked over quickly to him.
“Hey,” He offered a smile but got a bit concerned when she just wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his chest, “What’s wrong?”
“Can we go back to your place?” Y/n asked
“Come on,” Minho wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked her out to the parking lot. Y/n got in his car first and sighed heavy as Minho walked around to the drivers side. She was letting what Yeona said sit in the rest of her class and even talking with minho and the rest of her friends only helped so much. She was mad at thinking it could be put in the past and that she let her pettines get to her. Overthinking to the point of almost crying.
“Hey,” Minho called as he started the car and looked over at her.
“Sorry,” Y/n sighed as she wiped under her eyes
“Don’t apologize, how can I help? What’s wrong?”
“I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about what she said, but what if she’s right? You might be better off with—”
Minho grabbed her chin and turned her to him and kissed her. Effectively stopping her ramble and her thoughts before he pulled away, “I am not better off without you, okay? I’m yours and you’re mine.”
“Is that you’re way of asking me to be you’re girlfriend?”
“What if it is?”
“Then I say yes. I’m yours,” Y/n smiled
Minho smiled back and gave her a quick peck on the lips before he pulled out of the parking spot and headed back to his apartment.
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←PREV|NEXT→ MASTERLIST| MAIN MASTERLIST
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a/n: 🤭
taglist: @xxoche3erryxxo @iadorethemskz @maeleelee @morningstardada @sungookie @mistlitmoonlight @junebug032 @m111nho @slay-and-gay @hyunjinshairband01 @beautifulixr @i-dont-know-me-either @blinkjunhui
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zillabean · 2 years
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Commission for the irrepressible Babs, who wanted poor Will doing his damnest to keep Hannicat from savaging Castiel, who must've grabbed his tiger tail or something XD
Maybe he didn't follow the rules at the Heavy Pettin' Cafe XD
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sweetfirebird · 3 months
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A Star for Trenne's Own
This is for Djaz/Seren on Patreon, who wanted some Taji and Trenne, something happy and maybe spicy if possible.
Content tags: post and pre-sexytimes. Taji mid-longing at the height of his shehzha-ness. Spoilers for Taji from Beyond the Rings. Alien genitalia (though really described much here.)
A Star for Trenne's Own
Taji flung his arms and legs outward on the soft sheets of his big bed and stretched, trying and failing to remember that though he currently felt no pain, his prosthetic issues were still there. The bedding was freshly changed. Taji had no real thoughts to spare for whoever had been collecting their laundry except to wish them well and maybe thank them some day whenever he left this room again.
He frowned fleetingly at the idea of moving from this room, from this bed, and rolled over to press his shoulders against sweet-smelling pillows and spread his legs in sensual delight. His skin was scrubbed and clean, oil massaged in by Trenne himself, gently urging Taji this way and that, finally allowing Taji to lick at his pussy and suck his cock in exchange for Taji’s stillness while he made sure all of Taji’s skin was moisturized and soft.
Then he’d placed Taji on the bed to rest so he could quickly clean himself before returning to the bedroom. He put a protein bar in Taji’s hand. Taji meant to glare at him for it, but he looked up and was immediately distracted by Trenne’s lovely, delicate eyes. So big and so deadly when he needed to be, but so delicate.
“Eat, peha.” Trenne said that because he was clever and wonderful and knew it would make Taji eat, at least a little.
“Trenne,” Taji sighed back at him, but took a horrible, dry, crunchy bite of something that wasn’t his eshe. The crunchy ones were his favorite, Trenne would say if Taji complained. His ears would dip down. He would worry. Taji took another bite and even chewed and swallowed it, but only to please him. “Why are you so pretty?” he complained, disliking the sensation of crumbs on their bed and turning to sweep them away.
He turned back in time to catch Trenne’s ears twitching the way they always did when Taji paid him compliments. “So strong,” Taji went on breathlessly, not teasing although he’d meant to. “With markings I want to kiss. Will you let me kiss them next, eshe? Ah twitch twitch go your ears now. You’re lovely. Trenne,” Taji caught himself whining and at least cut that much off. He dutifully crunched away at the awful food Trenne wanted him to eat and hummed when Trenne’s eyes would meet his.
Trenne stood at the end of the bed, too far away, checking his DD for news and updates from the others. That was important. Taji tried to remember that.
“So smart,” he sighed this as well. “Clever and brave. They’re counting on you even now. You must be tired. Are you tired, Trenne? Come here and rest with me.”
“Water now,” Trenne said, not asking and also not climbing on the bed with Taji to rest or anything. He took the wrapper of the protein bar away and replaced it with a cup, and stood there, ears forward and attentive, while Taji frowned but drank the water.
Trenne stepped away seconds later, dealing with the wrapper and cup.
“I’m such a bother,” Taji realized, vaguely certain he’d realized this before and suddenly, impossibly tired. His bones were heavy. He could barely follow Trenne’s path around the room. “So much work for you when you’re already tired. I’m sorry.”
Trenne’s ears went to the side and then flattened. He looked at Taji directly, then came closer to the bed to cup Taji’s jaw. “It is my honor.” He brushed a tingling, sensitive space beneath Taji’s ear and then did the same to Taji’s mouth. “And it is pleasant work.”
Taji was basking in warmth and lighter than air. He smiled.
Trenne’s ears came back up. “Rest, peha. I will not leave.”
Rest did not sound fun with him close enough, naked from his shower and still damp while touching Taji. But he picked up the DD and began to skim the information again, petting Taji as he did. Taji pressed into his roughly, textured palm and let his eyes close. He had to be patient. The information was important. Trenne was eshe but they did not have soldiers to spare. He still had to be sharp.
Trenne could be patient. Remarkably so. He was Sha and not human and could come many times without ejaculating. He did that for Taji when the longing was too much, and in the meantime, answered Taji’s begging by letting Taji use him like a toy, stimulating him on his cock until Taji was a pitiful, shivering wreck and only then giving him a taste.
Sometimes, in odd moments when Taji was suddenly aware again, he worried over Trenne putting in all this work to please him while also still working to protect everyone else. He thought of that now and didn’t whine or plead or beckon Trenne to the bed. But he opened his eyes to watch him and the tiny movements of his ears as he absorbed whatever the others had to tell him.
It was good that he wasn’t distracted like Taji was. If Taji had been Shavian too, Trenne would have to fight the longing. But he had probably wanted that, when he’d dreamed of this in his youth. Now he’d never know it because Taji couldn’t give him that.
He exhaled mournfully.
“So soon?” Trenne looked down to ask, a question that didn’t quite make sense.
Taji gazed up to his still face and concerned ears. “You’re so good. My eshe.” He shivered a little and pressed his face hard into Trenne’s palm until Trenne began to lightly touch him again. “I’m more work. I can’t give you the longing. Not much of a…”
“Taji.” Trenne stopped him with a voice so firm that a hot pang went through Taji’s chest. Trenne stared down at him with the Sha version of wonder. “I believe myself fortunate that you cannot. They would judge me and they would be harsh if I gave in, even in the smallest ways. You as you are, Taji shehzha. A star for my own.”
Taji slid forward to put his face against Trenne’s thigh. “All of that and I…. I worried. In Laviias. If something happened to you and the longing would be as painful as they insisted it was. I didn’t know it then, so I believed…. I told—I told them I could live without you if I had to. That’s not very…”
“My wise shehzha.” Trenne stopped him again, one hand curved to Taji’s nape. “Clever Taji Ameyo. I would have you survive. Is that… not the answer I should give?”
His uncertainty cut through some of the warmth in Taji’s mind. He tipped his head back.
Trenne studied him with the quiet that spoke of worry. “Is it not what you want your eshe to want? I would have you survive.”
“Even if it meant another touching me?” Taji shook his head as he asked it. “I wouldn’t want it. If that had happened,” he kissed Trenne’s skin and curled his hand behind one knee, “I would imagine you,” he promised. He licked his lips and had to kiss Trenne again, shivering as he made his way up Trenne’s thigh.  He shifted to get closer, pulling Trenne toward his greedy, hungry, shehzha mouth. “I’d want this.” He used his fingers to part flesh and then his tongue to taste it before shifting to rise up higher. “Want you.” He found Trenne’s cock and sucked hard on one of the bumps that felt so good inside him. Trenne’s cock was just for him. He didn’t want some phantom eshe. “Only you.” He found a new spot to suck, but it still didn’t give him what he wanted. What he needed, hot and nutty-sweet in his mouth. “Please. Please Trenne.”
“Take what you please, peha,” he was told softly, Trenne’s palm sweeping over his shoulders and then down to help draw Taji up onto his knees. The DD was in his other hand. He needed to work and Taji should care about that and not only filling his mouth and getting Trenne to spill so much it fell to his cheek and then his chest and Taji would have to lick it from his fingers to be satisfied that he’d gotten it all.
“Trenne.” He dipped his head to find other secretions and slid his knees apart. No pain, just an open body meant to receive.
He glanced up.
Trenne took a deep breath, the one that meant he was fighting to focus. Taji kept his eyes open while lapping up what he could for now and then returned to Trenne’s cock.
“My shehzha, not yet,” Trenne told him, firm and strong and clever, the DD falling to the bed before his hands were on Taji to position him how they wanted. Taji was slick from before and open enough it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Trenne pushing him down, pushing inside him slowly to give him so much that he whined and bit his lip and swallowed what little taste he’d had so far.
No one else would compare. Taji shifted back and dropped his head to moan open-mouthed for more. “Only Trenne,” he managed, a thrum in his blood, “only you.”
 “A star for my own,” Trenne answered, and began to move Taji how he pleased.
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for your consideration (seems like smth you would like)
This shit kills
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antiquatedsimmer · 9 months
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Eddy and Silas made their way towards the barns, the morning mist still clinging to the air.
"Now, listen close, son," Eddy began, his voice steady. "I don't want no whinin' or backtalk. We're gonna do the work that needs to be done. But don't you worry, I'll make it a learnin' experience for ya." Silas stayed quiet, matching his father's pace.
( Long post today! just warning ya!}
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Eddy led Silas to Millie, their beloved cow, and stepped back, observing closely as his son approached the large animal.
"Now, Silas, when it comes to brushin' Millie, ya gotta be careful," Eddy advised, his voice low and measured. "Use the soft brush, like this one here, so ya don't irritate her skin. Just gentle strokes, boy, like you're pettin' her." Silas nodded attentively, taking the brush in his hand and following his father's guidance.
Eddy then moved to Millie's side and showed Silas the proper technique for milking. Silas watched intently as Eddy demonstrated, his young hands mimicking the movements carefully.
Millie stood there calmly, seemingly content with Silas' efforts. She didn't make a sound or show any signs of distress, which reassured both father and son.
"Good job, Silas," Eddy commended with a proud smile. "You're takin' to this like a natural. "
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While Eddy and Silas ventured out to tend to the chores on the farm. Helena, on the other hand, rose from her slumber and swiftly prepared herself for the tasks that awaited her inside the house. With a tune humming softly on her lips, she adorned her working attire, ready to tackle the daily household responsibilities.
With broom in hand, Helena began sweeping the floors diligently, sweeping away the remnants of dirt and dust that had settled overnight. The rhythmic swish of the broom filled the air, creating a comforting cadence in the otherwise quiet house. As she moved from room to room, ensuring every nook and cranny was free from debris, Lucile, their young daughter, joyfully played and explored in the corners of their cozy home.
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Silas, his eyes heavy with sleep, struggled to find his footing on his first day of farm work. But he pushed through the fatigue to complete the responsibilities his father laid out before him. He collected eggs from the coop, a delicate and essential chore, and learned how much grain to feed the chickens each day.
Eddy, taking on the role of mentor, stood beside Silas, guiding him through the process. He demonstrated the proper technique, emphasizing the importance of handling each delicate egg with care.
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As Silas reluctantly followed his father's instructions, his mind wandered to thoughts of sleeping in or engaging in playful adventures. Despite his initial silent protest, Silas found himself adapting to the farm tasks with surprising ease, akin to a natural-born farmer.
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Inside the Harrington household, a troubling discovery unfolded as Helena witnessed the aggressive behaviors that had taken root in their daughter, Lucile. The influence of Silas's bullying had taken its toll, manifesting in Lucile's tendency to bite and resort to kicking instead of using words.
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Recognizing the urgency of the situation, Helena fervently hoped that Eddy's plan to instill responsibility in Silas would yield positive results. She knew that curbing Silas's negative influence on Lucile was crucial to prevent her from adopting further ill-mannered habits. The thought of both her children becoming difficult to raise weighed heavily on Helena's heart, instilling a sense of fear and concern.
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In the midst of this apprehension, Eddy entered the room, catching a glimpse of Lucile's actions. With a determined expression, he swiftly took charge to address the behavior, refusing to let their daughter fall prey to the same destructive path as Silas. They had already witnessed the challenges of raising one child who strayed from the right path, and the last thing they needed was a second child following suit.
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After the rest of the work was done, Eddy and Silas found respite in the comforting embrace of the kitchen, where Helena had prepared a hearty lunch for them. Silas, wearied by the day's labor, silently consumed his meal, while Eddy observed him intently.
"You've done well today, son," Eddy commended, his voice carrying a paternal warmth. "With time and practice, the work will become easier for you." Silas nodded in acknowledgment, his fork idly pushing around the eggs on his plate.
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Eddy's tone softened as he imparted words of wisdom. "I want you to understand, Silas, that this is not a punishment," he emphasized. Silas's eyes met his father's gaze, curious and attentive. "Someday, your mother and I won't be here. It will be your responsibility to care for this land, to ensure its prosperity. You're reaching an age where you must learn the ways of the farm, to carry on the legacy. I want your future children to experience the same happiness we have here."
Silas replied with a mixture of reluctance and determination, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I understand, Father. I will do my best."
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As they continued to savor their meal, Silas felt a whirlwind of emotions stirring within him. The weight of his impending responsibilities bore down on him, raising doubts about the path he was expected to follow. "Do I want to be a farmer?" he pondered silently, his thoughts muddled with the prospect of marriage and the future that awaited him.
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If The Gods Were Kind — pizza
Second hurt/comfort story! I loved writing this one. I’m a bit scared I wrote the bad day like, too stereotypical. I’ve had bad mental health days, but just health wise? Not really. So, hopefully, I didn’t mess up too badly. But like I said, I really liked writing this scene, it’s filled with hurt but soooo much domestic fluff, like, just them <333
Master Post
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Content warnings: Panic attack, meltdown, internalized ableism, ableist language. The beginning is rough, pls stay safe <3
Scar bolted out of bed, hyperventilating. He clutched the blankets, closed his eyes and tried to hold back tears. He wondered if that ever worked for anyone, holding back tears that were about to spill any second now. He swallowed a sob and gasped a breath. His eyes glanced to the bed on the other side of the room. Wings ruffled against the sheets and a small noise came out from them, but they stopped after a couple of milliseconds. 
His hand trembled as he pulled the covers away from his boiling body, trying desperately to put the dream in the back of his mind. Pizza wasn’t dead, Etho confirmed it, Tango even pointed out the sign on the little shack Scar built for her. He ignored the amount of strength he used to get rid of the blankets, and tossed his legs at the edge of the bed, taking deeper breaths, just to calm himself, to remind himself everything was fine, it was just a dream, get a grip on yourself . 
His mind didn’t register the ache and the heaviness in his hips and calves when his feet met the ground. He was too busy trying to stay silent, trying to make the horrible nightmare go away, to really register his body was trembling and was struggling to even hold him up tight. He carded a hand through his messy hair (was it getting longer?) and took one deep breath before getting up. His body immediately slumped back onto the bed. He groaned, rubbing his hands against his face and pulling his hair. Was now really a good time?
His eyes searched for his crutches, his cane, anything to distract him from his dream and from his stubborn body, as even moving his neck took too much energy. He rolled his shoulders back, but it only aggravated the ache. When he realized that not only hadn't he fallen asleep in the bedroom but in the kitchen, his cane was probably also there. It’s not a far walk, but he couldn’t remember where he last put his crutches. Why weren’t they in this room?
He wiggled his toes, hoping his legs could support his weight until he reached the kitchen. His mind started to look for places he could hold himself to, while wondering how he wound up in his bed if he fell asleep in the kitchen. Was it Grian? Grian was by no means an early bird, and Scar would much rather he slept the most out of the two of them, but was he strong enough to carry Scar all the way to their bedroom? He had to remind himself, as he used the last energy in his arms to clench the bedpost, that the kitchen wasn’t really that far. It gave him hope he could make it without waking Grian up. 
The house was boiling when he finally arrived in the kitchen and sat on a chair. He didn’t have anything in his inventory, he doubted he could make his body move once more to get the food in their storage system, and he was so glad he had foregone the armor yesterday. He was overheating, he might need some water, but he just let himself feel the cold furniture coarse with sand. 
His eyes caught his cane and his crutches side by side close to the ladder, and he let out a sigh of relief. Grian just placed them together, in an obvious spot. Scar wished he had put them to his bedside, but the last time his body gave him trouble, it was eighteen days ago.
After settling on Monopoly Mountain, Scar could barely walk, let alone do other tasks that were needed to do that day. Grian had simply forced him to sit on a chair and brought Pizza up the mountain, so Scar could do something with his hands. 
His throat clogged at the thought of Pizza, petting her fuzzy fur, already infested by sand and dirt, feeding her carrots they had stolen from the village, calling her a good girl, and adjusting her headband and her saddle. He missed Pizza. He missed her so much, she didn’t deserve all the hate and the teasing the others inflicted upon her. He just wanted his llama back. His mind wandered back to his nightmare, and he pulled his hair to stop thinking about it, it was only a dream, she didn’t die . 
A sob escaped his mouth and he let his head fall on the table. His shoulder blades and hips complained, a gnawing feeling between them and on his waist. He really didn’t know how he should sit. Should he slouch? Should he roll his shoulders back and sit up straight? Maybe he needed food and water. Should he yell at Grian to wake him up? No, his companion needed sleep, who knew at what time he went to bed. 
“Scar?” A rough voice called. 
Scar froze. Did he wake up Grian? He turned his head slightly to the entrance of the kitchen, not too much so that it required all of his lasting energy, but enough to see one macaw wing stretching out, looking fluffier than the last time he saw it. Grian sat down and inspected him, arms crossed against the table. Scar barely moved. 
“What are you doing sitting here, looking into nothingness?” Grian’s face lightened up a bit, slightly amused. 
Now that Scar thought about it, it was kind of silly sitting here, doing nothing. But he did not appreciate the lighthearted remark when he was hungry, frustrated, thirsty, boiling, and cursing at his body for making his life ten times more complicated. 
He simply sighed in reply, looking at the table instead of those lightning green irises. Grian hummed and stood up.
“You hungry?”
Scar hummed. He wasn’t sure if he simply didn’t have the energy to form words or if the morning dryness in his throat clogged the words in it. He did cry, it might’ve contributed. He heard Grian rummaging in their food barrel. 
“What do you want?”
Scar did not reply. He was simply hungry. He would eat anything at this point. He was mostly thinking how to relieve this ache, this soreness in his muscles. A piercing pain traveled through them, it hurt and he did not want to deal with that, did not want to think about it. 
“I’m making applesauce, the apples are getting bad.”
Grian showed him the apples, asking him if he was actually holding the fruit, and Scar nodded. Grian squinted his eyes as he concentrated on making them food. Scar focused on the noises Grian made around the kitchen. The pots and pans clanging together, the harsh chopping noise, the swish sound the knife made against the peel, the bubbles of the boiling water, anything to distract him from the muscles spasms and the weight on his shoulder, the tension around his neck. 
He didn’t know how long he sat there, listening, picking at his nails, while Grian cooked. His head perked up when the bowl clanked against the table. Grian sat down and started eating, eyeing Scar. Scar tried to pick up the spoon, he really did. His upper arm didn’t stop spasming, he couldn’t control his movement, so he kept his arm close to his side, letting it pass. He looked at the applesauce and just wished his body could fulfill its own needs without throwing a fit. 
Grian stood up, placed his chair next to Scar’s, and sat down with a big thunk , making Scar jump in surprise. Grian took his bowl and almost shoved the spoon in his mouth. He moved back, a grunt bubbling in his throat and his muscles whining at the sudden movement. Grian rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Scar, you need help and I am offering said help.”
Scar glared at the spoon in Grian’s hand, wishing all the deadly curses at it. Grian huffed, frustrated.
“Sometimes you just need a break and there’s nothing wrong with that. Look, nobody is gonna come bother us if you don’t want to see people. Heck, I’m sure if I explained the situation to everyone, they would totally understand.” Grian’s shoulders slumped, and Scar wondered if that’s how puppy eyes looked. “Please, Scar?”
Scar hesitated. He was hungry, but he really didn’t want Grian to actually be his servant. It was a fun concept, at first. He really hoped Grian was doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He cleared his throat.
“Not part of the debt,” he murmured, making sure to look deep into those electric green eyes, even if they intimidated him. 
Grian blinked at him owlishly. “Of course not!” His accent was more pronounced than usual. “You’re not well, let me help.”
Scar shifted his gaze to the bowl and nodded. Grian fed him, making sure he wouldn’t choke on the applesauce. It was quite good for smashed boiled apples. He could taste some of the sugarcane they started cultivating close to the edge of the roof of the mountain. It sweetened the aftertaste of the acidic flavor the apples left. Scar was quite impressed, and it did fill a hole in his stomach, even giving him a bit more energy. 
After being satiated, Grian moved behind Scar, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater and dug his thumbs on Scar’s lower neck. Scar winced and inhaled through his teeth, making Grian stutter in his movements.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
The movement became gentler, rolling his thumbs against the tense part of Scar’s neck. It was quite relaxing, but a lingering pain made the gesture quite uncomfortable, as if someone was applying pressure to a newly formed wound. Scar didn’t complain though, he appreciated the physical touch and was glad to know Grian became comfortable with him enough to touch him like this. He hummed in pleasure when Grian’s thumbs massaged his shoulders and traveled against his biceps, feeling the tension loosen up. Grian let out a chuckle.
“Jeez, Scar, are you stressed or something?”
Scar tensed, immediately thinking of his nightmare. The thumbs stopped circling his deltoid, and Grian’s long nose appeared in his peripheral vision. 
“What are you worried about?”
Scar sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Grian’s right hand left his shoulder while his left hand rounded the other before squeezing it reassuringly. His gaze landed on wide bright emerald eyes, on a slightly freckled nose that almost looked like a beak without looking crooked, on rosy cheeks, on dirty blond curls that frame a concerned face. Scar never realized how majestic Grian looked.
“Scar?” Grian inquired.
Scar put his hand on the one holding his shoulder, to touch where he was permitted to. 
“Pizza,” he let out. Grian quirked an eyebrow. “Had a nightmare about her dying,” he confessed, closing his eyes and rubbing his thumb against Grian’s knuckles. 
“Oh, Scar.” A warmed hand wormed itself close to the base of his hair. He shuddered.
“I miss her, G.”
“I know.” The hand nested itself in his hair, bringing his head to Grian’s shoulder. He stuttered a breath.
“Why did they take her away? She didn’t do anything, she didn’t deserve that.”
Scar let out a sob, his body slack from easing tension out with his crying. Grian shushed him, playing with his hair, scrubbing his scalp. It felt amazing, even if the tension in his neck was back. He grabbed the hand that was playing with his hair, stood straighter on his seat, and brought the hand closer to his chest, letting his other hand fall and grasp Grian’s thigh. Grian’s hand was now slowly rubbing circles, and Scar couldn’t be more relieved to receive physical touch.
Grian shushed him again, whispering “I know ” over and over, reassuring Scar that Pizza was alive, that she probably got lost. He took his hand out of Scar’s grasp and brought it to his cheek, wiping the tears away as they came and tracing his scar that jagged his cheekbone. He leaned in closer and Scar could smell the faint applesauce in his breath.
“You’re so strong, Scar,” Grian murmured, landing his forehead against Scar’s. “I’m so proud of you.” Scar did a whole body shiver at the praise, not realizing his cheeks got warmer with the already warm room. Jade eyes locked on his sunflower’s ones, barely an inch between their faces. “Can I kiss you?”
It was so quiet, but it echoed in Scar’s ears. He slowly nodded, not knowing what to expect. Grian wiped dry his cheeks and leaned his lips slowly against Scar’s. When their lips met, Scar wasn’t sure how to respond, what he was supposed to do. Grian’s lips were warm, chapped by the dryness of the desert, and were pressing harder. In order to not lose balance, Scar pushed back and wondered what was the purpose of this action.
Grian pulled back and surveyed Scar’s face. He smiled, placed his arms around Scar’s neck, and hugged him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Scar was taken by surprise and placed one hand on Grian’s waist, while the other rested on his shoulder blade, not sure how far or how close his hand should be to the wings. 
“We’ll find her, Scar. We’ll find her and prove to everyone to never mess with us, and that’s a promise.”
Scar sniffed and let out a choke sob, circling his arms around Grian’s waist and muffling his cries of joy in Grian’s sweater. Grian petted his hair once more and they stayed there in a long silence, sometimes interrupted by Scar’s sniffles and Grian’s reassurance and praise.
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wickeddsensation · 1 year
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Mango's Fanfic Rec List
AO3:
Love it Loud
KISS Short Story Collection 
Wild Card 
Outta This World 
Golden Eyes- Born Again 
Golden Eyes- The Beginning 
Under Leather 
When Lightning Strikes 
Paint It Blue 
Food Poisoning 
StarCat 
Alien Addiction
Secrets of a Kitchen 
Too Good To Be True
Every Inch of You
Two Cats 
Thunder 
Partners in Crime
My Spaceman 
I See It in Your Eyes
Heavy Pettin'
C'mon And Love Me 
Baby Boy Wants
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Heavy Pettin - Sole Survivor
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lonelyasawhisper · 2 years
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If Queen Won't, Brian May
Sylvie Simmons, Creem, 1st March 1984
SO HERE I am back in the giant Ajax can on Vine Street and waiting for Brian May. I look at my watch; the little hand and the big hand are sticking up like a peace sign; almost noon and it's hard to believe I'm up at this ungodly hour after last night's festivities, let alone the star. (Capitol threw a party to welcome Queen into the Ajax Can family — Elektra won't be getting The Works when it comes out early next year. There were hors d'oeuvres, aperitifs, and talking of a pair of teeths, Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, John Deacon and Brian May.) This is not the usual fluorescent-lit room where Duran Duran posters smirk cheekbonely from the walls. This is a cozy chamber tucked around the back somewhere, through convoluted corridors and up and down staircases — couldn't find it again even if you threatened me with a night at Plato's with Steve Perry — dark and small as a confession box...
I confess! I know I shouldn't; I know there's a reputation to consider; I know Mötley Crüe told me just the other day that they're "the opposite" of this band. But I LIKE QUEEN. There, I've said it. Not only do I have all their albums (except Hot Space; I'm not that daft) but I sing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' in its entirety at the slightest provocation. And the Brian May-penned 'Flash' is probably the best sci-fi theme tune in the Universe.
Though Brian may not agree. For one, the title track on the first album he's ever done outside of Queen just happens to be a sci-fi theme tune called 'Star Fleet'; for another he's so modest and understated you virtually have to beat the bloke with rubber truncheons to get him to admit that Queen are pretty big.
Anyway, the Star Fleet Project is a mini album — as May's own liner notes say, it's "not your normal kind of album; not an album which has been 'thoughtfully pieced together by a coordinated band as a balanced and polished listening experience.' Not a Queen album." Certainly isn't. All three songs — 'Star Fleet', the theme from a Japanese Saturday morning sci-fi program that shows on English TV that Brian got hooked on thanks to his young son Jimmy, 'Let Me Out', a song Brian wrote for Queen years ago that was never used, and 'Blues Breaker', dedicated to Eric Clapton, the man whose axe-work with Cream inspired a 15-year-old May to build his own electric guitar — were recorded over a two-day period back in April during a break from the year-around Queen boxing match. At loose ends, Brian called up some music friends in Los Angeles and jammed. Yes — jammed. What they used to do in the old days when musicians spent more time with each other than their accountants. Anyway, after much thought — and a bit of persuasion from Heavy Pettin', a British rock band he was producing on the side who heard the tapes and drooled — and more red tape, the jamming session got put out as pure and untouched as Michael Jackson, and credited to Brian May And Friends. His friends? Neighbor Alan Gratzer of REO Speedwagon, Phil Chen, ex-Rod Stewart bassist, Fred Mandel, the former Alice Cooper member who showed up on Queen's last tour, and on co-lead, Eddie Van Halen. (The two met when Brian caught Van Halen's set on a Black Sabbath tour and got friendlier when they met up again in Germany and confessed to being mutual fans.)
Brian May has just walked into the chamber, right on time. He's tall, got the same hairdo he's had for years, an intent expression on his face and a soft, very English voice.
"We had some time off from the group which we forced on ourselves," he's saying about why he's just done a record that sounds like it could have been made any time in the past 11 years Queen's been together. "We felt, Queen, that we'd got too close to each other and we needed a break. We all do different things — Roger's been making an album, Freddie's been doing stuff with Michael Jackson, John's been doing all kinds of stuff with computers and weird machines, and I thought, 'Why don't I do something?' Most of my favorite musicians were around L.A. where I was, and they all said 'yeah, great, let's go and do it.' Which really surprised me; I thought people would say yeah great, but we're busy.' So I booked the Record Plant and we went in and tried it, and it worked out better than I could ever have dreamed. One of the best times of my life, really."
He doesn't have too many friends in the business, he says. "They are pretty well my best friends, but also some of my favorite players." They're also veterans of some of the most commercially successful, richest mainstream rock bands around. By doing this project, did they reckon they'd show us they weren't in it for the money alone?
"I don't think anything like that was in our minds. There was never any talk of it coming out to begin with — it was just to be in there playing really, and I was quite prepared to leave it that way. Possibly to prove something to myself — that I could play with other musicians and enjoy it, and make something worthwhile."
If he's saying Queen hasn't been making anything worthwhile lately, there's a lot of people who couldn't agree more. Like Hot Space frinstance.
"There's a lot about Hot Space I didn't like. But at the same time," Brian covers himself, "it was probably, in retrospect, the right thing to do at the time, because we had to investigate all those different avenues and get all those bits of R&B influence out of our systems. No, part of the problem with us, the group, was we got so close to each other that familiarity breeds contempt, and we didn't like the way each other played anymore. That was one of the things that happened six months ago. And now, having got outside it and seen a lot of other people. I realize that the other three are pretty good. And I think they've had the same experience. We appreciate each other a bit more now. After this record I came back to the group much fresher. You get to understand how other people play, and you realize that everybody has their own style, and I found that I was a bit more patient with John and Roger and Freddie. Also what I got from stepping outside was realizing what other people think of us as individuals and as a group."
And did he kill himself? "Well, they thought we were pretty good — which surprised me!" He obviously didn't get to poll the people who dismiss Queen as a pretentious sort of band. Brian chuckles. And this Star Fleet Project has to be one of the most unpretentious records a superstar musician has ever made, casually put together and released without the usual sheen and polish a Queen album goes through before seeing the light of day.
"Well it is very different, and that's part of why it was a release for me. I wouldn't agree with you that Queen are pretentious, but I know what you mean. Queen are a group who've always been — everything has to be perfect before it gets out. It's worked on and worked on and argued about and talked about and torn to bits and put back together. We work to keep the spontaneity in there, but nevertheless it was nice in this case to do something which worked immediately, the adrenalin from the fact you'd never played with these people before, and everyone feeling good. I had no desire to interfere with it."
Has Queen lost its excitement? When you've got so many followers and so much success that you can even put out an album like Hot Space and it sells, when you can flash a credit card and get a record co. employee to go out and charge up anything your little heart desires, doesn't it all get a bit boring?
"It's funny you should say that because that never goes through my mind. I certainly don't feel we could do anything. For instance, last night at the party — I suppose everyone's very up about a new deal and a new album, but I was very depressed underneath it all really because what I think about is still the music. And we'd just had a play-back to the record company, and I was really desperately unhappy about the way it sounded. And I couldn't even think about we're a huge rock group, all the things you're saying. All I could think about was I'd hated what I'd heard and I was ashamed of it. I don't really think about what Queen looks like to the outside world very much. I think about what it feels like. It has had its good moments and I think we can play some good stuff; but it also has some really awful moments."
A lot of the Outside World who do think about Queen probably think it's Freddie's band. He thinks of a direction, everyone fights a bit, but generally follow meekly behind. True?
"It's a continual fight, because we all have very definite ideas of what direction we want to go in, and none of them are the same. It's a continual battle and it's very democratic and it's very painful. Most of the time when we're recording, it's hell. You have this constant dividing line between being up and positive about what you're doing, and the other side is that you may be trying to push what you want down someone else's throat, and maybe the other three will take it for a little while but in the end they'll say, 'No, this is rubbish, we hate it, stop pushing.' And that's what's happened a lot.
"I had a very clear idea in my head of what I wanted [the new Queen album] to be. It's an oversimplification, but I wanted it to be more of a rock album. But I obviously pushed too hard in the early days, and everyone got very angry with me and said 'Look, stop. Don't tell us what to play.' And then you take three steps back and try and work it out again. That's happened with all of us. We all feel that suddenly we can see a path ahead and the other three can't see it at all, and that makes it really hard.
"The plus of it is that after you've had your arguments and found an intermediate course at least you've already been through a vast political process, and the stuff which does come out has been through a gigantic sieve. So I think in the end you come out with stuff which is a real group product, and it's better than any of us could do as a solo artist. I honestly think that, and that's why I'm still in Queen. I think the group is still better than any of its component parts."
So is the next Queen album going to be a rock album? (Bumped into Roger Taylor at the party and he slurred that it was definitely "very heavy — one side of the album especially will definitely give you brain damage")
"So far," nods Brian, "I think, in spite of all the shouting, it is."
When a group member leaves the fold to do his first album, it's usually "OK, here I am. Me, the Star." But Star Fleet isn't a flashy guitar album or ego showcase. What gives?
"I don't think I am a flashy kind of person really. When I come to do a solo album — maybe one day I will — I've no idea what it will be like. This isn't it. This is just an event of some people having fun together, and that's the way it should be looked at. I don't know what is me, if that's what you're asking. That's one of the difficulties I've had in thinking about a solo album. Because on the one hand I would like to do all heavy stuff, because I don't feel I've got enough outlet for the heavy stuff in Queen; on the other hand I'd like to do some guitar arrangements and continue the guitar-orchestra direction, which again we've sort of left alone for a while in the group. Then again I like to sing songs that have a lot of personal feeling for me, which also sometimes doesn't fit into the group framework."
Hasn't he ever had the temptation to leap out onstage, push Freddie into the wings and grab the limelight, just once?
"No, I'm very happy with how it is. I get my bit to do. As you say, I can be flash for a while and then blend into the group, and I'm very content with that."
That's the one thing Brian and Eddie Van Halen have in common. They're both pretty low profile guitarists in bands with the most outrageously flashy frontmen on earth. Do they feel any kinship there?
"Yes, a lot. There are parallels, obviously. The whole business of what roles people play in groups is something which interests me very much for its own sake, because you do find that the bass player is always a certain kind, the guitarist is usually a certain kind of person. I don't know whether it's the selection process or whether it's an environmental change process [I forgot to mention; he has a degree in physics!] — you can see those elements in the component parts of groups. Guitarists do tend to be like that, people who feel they have a lot to say but don't really want to be in the center of the stage doing it; they want to be at the side doing their bit and enjoying it and getting into it and not having the responsibility for what the singer does."
And if you're expecting any guitar duels on this album, forget it. Instead of playing superstars, trying to outdo the last lick, they're like a couple of polite gentlemen going "After you"; "No, after you."
"I think we're very alike, and there's no feeling of competition there because we both love what the other person is doing. Particularly in my case. My first reaction to seeing Edward was I didn't want to play with him because he's so great. And then my second reaction was I wanted to pick up the guitar and play with him. Because we're so different in playing, but we're very alike in the way we think. There's no duel there, and I'm glad you said that because I was frightened people would think Guitar Battle kind of rubbish. Just people enjoying each other's company really. And it's not just me and Edward — it's me and Alan and Philip and Fred. We were all in there, and it was a good interaction all round.
"I still think, sometimes, am I being foolish putting this out? But then every time I listen to it I get this great feeling about it. It's so real and live and personal that I hope that other people will get that feeling about it."
With all the members of Queen going their separate ways, there's always the risk that they might forget to get back together again. Does Queen still feel like a real band?
"It does again now. There have been a few crises in our history, and one of them was about six months ago, when we could have easily said, 'Look, we hate each other, let's forget it.' And it almost was that. But instead we said 'look, we're all getting very intense with each other because we haven't had a break for ages, and we've been in this endless make-an-album-tour-the-world-make-an-album cycle; so let's get out of it for a while and maybe we'll appreciate each other.' And it's worked pretty well. We got back together and we feel like a real band again."
Retrieved from The Creem Archive
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loganxcouture · 1 year
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13,14,16,25..
13: Biggest turn ons
taking control, confidence, having passions
14: Biggest turn offs
being pretentious, not having good hygiene, being rude to service workers
16: I’ll love you if
you bring me coffee and a blunt, i’m a simple girl
25: My idea of a perfect date
hike or walk somewhere pretty, smoke, some heavy pettin, good food and drinks, and a sunset at the beach
tysmmmmm 😊
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deputy-buck · 2 years
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Are you still taking asks for that OTP ask game? If so... 3, 13, 15, 45, 47. For Boyd/Raylan/Tim!
Any and all ask games that are on my blog are always open, just specify which one and I'll answer! Thank you, Anon!
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3. Who tops and who bottoms?
I couldn't really explain it so here's a visual.
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13. Would they hate-fuck if they were mad at one another? If they had a falling out?
Tim absolutely would not. He's not goin to touch anyone when he's upset or not emotionally present because he knows how it feels to be touched and it not mean as much as the other person is tellin him it means, he's been hurt like that before and he'll never be that type of man.
Boyd and Raylan would generally not if they were mad at each other, but there are those odd patches where they have to go back and make each other feel like it's their first time all over again. Somethin about fuckin on a scratchy blanket in a truck bed really centers them after feelin weird for so long.
15. Who initiates PDA the most in public?
Boyd, because he's not afraid of being seen as less masculine like Raylan. He likes interlockin his fingers with either of his partner's fingers! He likes pullin them close by their waists! He likes makin sure everyone knows these two are his!
Okay, Alright, let me explain; Raylan isn't scared of bein seen as less masculine, he just doesn't like the feelin of things lookin so permanent. He has some commitment issues and thinks that if everyone perceives his relationships as Good, things will start falling apart from the inside. He's scared of jinxin himself so he clams up in public.
And then Tim generally doesn't think of holdin hands or anthin. If he's out in public, he's thinkin about so many other things than bein affectionate, like how shady that alleyway looks, and how there's so many fuckin windows in this place. He likes when Boyd holds his bicep though, keeps his hands free and it's easy to get out of if he needs to.
45. Which one of them gets sick more often?
Sorta answered here. It still stands that it's Boyd, but with Tim there, he gets over it a lot quicker and (not mentioned in the other answer) there's minimal risk that Raylan catches whatever Boyd has because Tim is strict on the No Sharing Fluids rule.
47. Who is the one who usually makes the first move?
Raylan and Boyd are pretty tied when it comes to that, they've always just taken what they wanted from each other, knowin it wasn't an issue. Though Raylan is a little more dramatic about it. Whinin and shovin, tearin at clothes, intentionally placin their hands on his ass until they do what he wants. He'll do just about anythin to get what he wants.
Boyd gets caught up in the kissin and foreplay, content to keep it as just some heavy pettin and dirty talk most the time. That doesn't mean they don't finish, no he'd never leave either of his men high and dry, he certainly ain't like that.
Tim likes watchin them go at it and beg him to join. Sometimes he'll just give verbal instruction until they finish then make them both blow him, or he'll fuck Boyd's cum deeper into Raylan's hole, whichever he feels. Other times he wants to treat both of them like Pillow Princes, give and give and give til they can't take anymore.
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eyelinertestosterone · 11 months
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VINNIE VINCENT INVASION-HEAVY PETTIN’
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