#the summary is giving me 'The Manifest' vibes and I mean this in the absolute BEST way possible

[ma-lark-ey]

~ Glenn dissection ~

this is genuinely not a post to start some kind of discourse, I just wanted to dissect gGenn close a little bit because i think the choices in today’s episodes are very interesting and i wanna dissect how I think they were the right ones. 

in summary; Lark is having a little special interest moment and wants to info dump sorry not sorry. 

My opinion on Glenn is fairly neutral, much like Henry. I don’t think he’s a terrible parent, but he’s also by no means a good parent. I do see some child neglect in his narrative, but he’s by no means ‘abusing’ Nicolas. 

So, I’ve been thinking about these two a lot over the past few days. Like, a lot a lot. They.... They’re a complex pair to digest

As Freddie and Anthony said in the latest episode of Talking Dads, people don’t like accepting characters who are good people and bad parents. Because if someone’s a good person, then they’re a good parent, or bad person equals a bad parent. Vice verse shit. 

Now, Glenn was ruled as a good person. And, I won’t say Glenn is a ‘bad person,’ but I also won’t say he’s a good person. Again, he’s a grey area. he’s a grey character. he’s a mediocre person. 

Glenn, at his core, is an immature person. A broken man who refuses to acknowledge he’s broken, and that gets increasingly clear with each time he talks about Morgan, or is asked about Morgan. There’s an unresolved grief there, and who knows if he’ll ever resolve it. He avoids those kinds of emotions (’harshing his vibe’) 

I think, narratively, the only option that would’ve made sense would have been to give up Nick. 

there are three core things we have to think about here. 

- Player; how would this decision affect Freddie? How do his personal desires for Glenn play into this? 

- Narrative; what decision makes the most compelling narrative? What furthers the story in the most dramatic way? 

- Character; What decision would the character make in this sitation? Why would they choose this? 

These are all things that are constantly needed ot be brought into topic when it comes to these kinds of major plot points. The only other instance I can think of for this in DnDads was the chimera and Grant. 

I’ll start at the top. 

1. PLAYER; The most intense part of a narrative is the player’s decisions in said narrative. As a dungeon master, I’ve watched my players choose some baffling things for their characters (such as, a typically laid back background player taking the lead in a mystery to try and assist our younger player) and these players own wants and desires in the storyline play a major role in these things. In this case; Freddie didn’t want to kill off Glenn. And that is absolutely valid and understandable and by no means wrong of him. He’s played this character for two years (or coming up on it) and that’s huge. That’s a lot of time for him to become attached and fall in love with this character he’s made. It’s completely normal, acceptable, and welcome for players to fall absolutely in love with the character they play. These players, over the course of their campaigns, become a way the players bond with each other. It’s no secret that Freddie feels very attached to Glenn, to the point there’s jokes there’s little to no line between them during episodes. He didn’t want to end a character he held so near and dear, and if anyone faults him for that; a personal fuck you to you, good tiz. 

A content creator is going to love the characters in the content they produce, and shaming them for wanting to hold onto those characters as long as possible is absolutely absurd. If Scott Cawthon can keep making FNaF games six years later, and no one insults him about it, Freddie Wong can choose the timeline where Glenn stays alive. 

2. NARRATIVE; in crafting a narrative, you want to choose the option that will cause the most conflict and interesting plots to follow. While, killing off Glenn would have provided us with a very interesting arc where they go to hell to rescue Glenn and go into this weird Entourage-style campaign; it’d be repetive. We just had an episode or two where the gang had to go save Glenn, and while we currently do have to save Glenn again, it’s very different this time. It’s not ‘Glenn got sent to a hell dimension’ it’s ‘let’s pull a jailbreak’ and yeah, I’m not to excited about another ‘go save glenn’ arc right after Deck Picks, I AM excited for Jimmy Wong and this new character of his, I’m vibrating with excitement. 

Choosing to give Nick up makes narrative sense, whether it was a ‘good dad’ decision or not. It made sense. It provided more conflict for the party, because now there’s a new guy in the party and Nick doesn’t remmebr who Glenn even is, it provides a very interesting new character arc (i.e, Glenn building a cool uncle type relationship with Glenn, and befriending Nick’s new dad.) No, Glenn giving up Nick was not some big heoric deed as some people are portraying it, but it’s more selfless than dying just so your kid can become an orphan and mourn your memory. That would’ve been the shitty option, I’m sorry, but it would’ve been. Especially given Freddie, nor Glenn, thought they owuld be able to bring Glenn back this itme. 

3. CHARACTER; I feel that this is a very telling decision for Glenn and wanting to better himself. I’m gonna focus on the topic of Glenn seeing Nick as his last tie to Morgan. 

We know Glenn is very stuck on Morgan, to the point of being stuck at the same maturity he was when Moran was born. He’s stuck there, trying to keep her memory alive. Because, Morgan was all he had and he lost her. And that sucks. When your partner dies, it feels like everything in the world is absolutely gone and there’s nothing you can do to get them back and that everything you ever were is gone. So, of course he would latch everything he had of Morgan onto Nick. It makes such logical sense. His wife has died, y’all. Unexpectedly. Suddenly. In a horrific way. But, here he has this little kid who is a physical manifestation of their love and commitment to each other. Obviously, he’s gonna latch onto that child and hold them close, see them as their last tie to Morgan. Because Nick is his last tie to Morgan. A child inherits parts of both their parents, and I’m sure there are things Nick does that Glenn sees nothing but Morgan in. 

Glenn wanted to keep Nick. He loves that kid so much. (Freddie’s first reaction upon meeting Nick in episode one is “Guys, I love my kid!” and that transfers into Glenn’s love language, encouraging Nick even if it’s in a very bad way.) But, I feel., and this is strictly me looking into his character, he realizes he needs to let go. He realizes he needs to let himself grow, and that him and Nick aren’t healthy and that he’s becoming Bill. And he let’s go. 

This also plays into how the Close family is known to live hard and long, (YOLO mentality) and so, clearly he won’t take the death option. Not happening. 

TL;DR Glenn choosing to give Nick up shows a major character growth in unhealthy attachment and admitting fault, and Freddie also is totally justified in choosing option to give up an NPC his player character is attached to instead of just killing off the character he’s clearly very attached to. 

[jaehyunhour]

love in my pocket | dong sicheng

summary: winwin is just your neighbor who you secretly pine over after he so gracefully saves you from a spider in your shower, until he lets you borrow a sweater and in the pocket you find an ipod, and a playlist with your name on it.

playlist found here! // request found here!

warnings: none really, just a lot of fluff! but there is a brief mention of vomit (you’ll see).

words: 3,020.

you knock rapidly on your next door neighbor’s door, jumping in place and sweat dripping down your forehead. you look around to make sure no one can see you standing outside of your neighbor’s apartment door with only a towel wrapped around your body. “c’monnnn,” you silently beg to whatever god is listening. “please be home, please.” just as you’re about to accept defeat and walk back to your apartment, the door swings open and there stands your surprisingly cute neighbor.

“oh! oh, when my landlord told me a cute boy moved in next door i didn’t think she was all that serious,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to say that.”

“can i help you?” he says, cocking an eyebrow as he eyes you up and down.

“yeah! yeah, uh,” you pause for a moment to think about why you came here so suddenly. that’s right! “sorry to bother you, neighbor, but there is a huge spider in my bathroom and i don’t have the heart to kill it but i am absolutely terrified to try and get it, and i’m hoping you could come get it for me?” you bat your eyelashes quickly at him and he sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, sure,” he says, following you into your apartment. you hand him a glass and a sheet of paper while holding your towel tight against your body. you watch as he carefully catches the spider in the glass, examining it for a split second and showing it to you before taking it outside and releasing it. he returns your glass and just as he’s about to leave, you stop him.

“i didn’t even get your name,” you say.

“it’s sicheng, but you can call me winwin. most people do anyway.”

“thank you for saving my life, winwin. i owe you one,” you respond with a wink.

he lets out a chuckle. “i wouldn’t quite say i saved your life. don’t worry about it! it’s what neighbors do. have a good shower.”

winwin invades your thoughts as you shower, thinking about how quick he was to help you, and how gentle he was capturing the spider. he didn’t even try to sneak a glance at your ass when you bent over to show him where the spider was. he was cute. almost too cute.

that very same night, you call your friend to tell him about your unusual first encounter with your neighbor.

“yangyang, he was so CUTE, i still can’t believe it! and he didn’t even try to stare at my ass when i was bent over and i was just in a towel, he’s so nice,” you coo, looking outside of your window in the hopes of catching a glance of winwin. you never noticed how your window looked right into his window.

“what’s his name again?” yangyang asks.

“winwin! well, sicheng, but he said i can call him winwin because everyone does.”

“hmm, it sounds familiar. i think he’s friends with that guy in my creative writing class, hendery. hendery is throwing a party this weekend, if you want to comeeeee, i bet your new lover will be there.”

“i’ll think about it,” you say, taking one last peek outside your window and seeing winwin shuffling into his room and flopping onto his bed.

and think about it you did, for too long, but you ultimately decided on going to the party. even if winwin didn’t show up, you would be an absolute fool to pass up the opportunity for free alcohol. upon your arrival, you took a quick tour of the party to see winwin was nowhere to be seen. and, not knowing anyone else at the party besides yangyang, who was currently immersed in conversation with a couple of guys from one of his classes, you headed to the alcohol table to begin drinking.

one shot turned into two, then three, then four, then… nine? ten? eleven? you look down at your hand where you were keeping track of the amount of alcohol you’d had, one tally mark for every shot, but your vision was blurred and you had stopped keeping track after six. you sigh in frustration, upset that you were already so drunk and winwin was nowhere to be seen. right in that moment, as if you’d manifested him in thin air, winwin walks through the front door. he takes a look around the room, locking eyes with you and giving you a smile. you flash a smile back, taking a final shot before quickly running over to greet him at the door.

“winwinnnnnn,” you hiccup. “you made it! i’ve been waiting all night for you, g-god i’m so drunk already, why didn’t you come earlier?”

“i was studying… how much did you have to drink?” he asks, concern on his face. you giggle before shrugging your shoulders and extending your hand out to him. he looks at the tally marks and then back up at your face.

“i stopped keeping track, but i know i’ve had that many. come! i have someone i want you to meet,” you grab his hand before pulling him into the kitchen, and quickly coming up to yangyang.

“yangyang! this is my super cute neighbor the one i was telling you about, who killed my spider, remember? my room looks into his room,” you overshare. winwin blushes at your words, and his palms begin to sweat at the realization that you’re still holding his hand.

“nice to meet you,” yangyang says, extending his hand to shake winwin’s. “i’m sorry about her, she doesn’t normally get this drunk. just say the word and i’ll take her off your hands.”

“nice to meet you too… hey do you know where hendery is?” winwin asks.

“he went upstairs like 20 minutes ago,” yangyang responds.

winwin lets out a sigh. “he’s definitely not coming back down then. i can take care of y/n, don’t worry about it. enjoy the party.” winwin pulls on your hand, leading you to the fridge. you hop onto the counter next to it, as winwin opens it and pulls a water bottle out. he opens and hands it to you.

“y/n be careful when you’re drinking because your stomach—“ winwin begins, but you don’t give him the chance to finish as you begin gulping down the water. “you’re going to throw up if you drink it that fast!”

“i’ll be fineeeee,” you say, finishing the water bottle. but just a few seconds later, you’re clutching your stomach and holding in the vomit that’s slowly climbing up your throat. winwin senses the oncoming danger, pulling you off the counter and quickly getting you into the bathroom. once inside, you immediately open the toilet and begin vomiting. winwin holds onto your hair as you’re bent over the toilet bowl, making sure none of it gets into your hair. a tiny bit gets onto your shirt, and once you’ve emptied the contents of your stomach you pull back and rest on the bathroom wall.

“fuck, i’m sorry, winnie. i’m normally not this messy,” you say. you look down to see the slight vomit on your shirt and let out a frustrated whine. “aw man, i got some on my shirt! fuck.” and without thinking, you pull your shirt off, leaving you in just a bra in front of winwin as you throw the shirt into the trash.

“are you sure about that? we could’ve just cleaned it,” winwin says.

“i didn’t like that shirt all that much anyway.”

“here,” winwin says, pulling his sweater off swiftly before handing it to you. his eyes are looking everywhere but your chest as you sit there, cleavage out for him to see.

“you know, it’s okay to look, winwin.”

“you’re drunk, i’m not going to look. just put the sweater on and i’ll take you home.” and with that, you slip winwin’s sweater on and he drives you home, but not before telling yangyang that you’re leaving. once at your apartment, he makes you shower as he shuffles through your kitchen for something to make you, ultimately settling for spicy ramen and minute rice. when you step out of the shower thirty minutes later, feeling like a real human being again, you’re surprised to still see winwin in your apartment on your couch.

“hi!” he says excitedly, seeing you step into the living room in your pajamas with a towel drying your hair. “i made you some ramen and some rice, it’s on the table and there’s some pain relievers too. eat, then take the pain relievers so when you wake up your head won’t hurt.” winwin quickly heads to the door, but he’s stopped by you again.

“wait! aren’t you forgetting something?” you say, cocking an eyebrow at him.

winwin thinks for a second, before walking up to you and pressing a quick kiss on your lips. it’s so quick you can’t even react or kiss back. your face turns red before you start laughing nervously. “i meant your sweater, but thanks for that, i guess?”

now it’s his turn to blush, and his entire face flushes red. “o-oh, yeah, uh, do you mind washing it first? before you give it back, since… y’know?”

“yeah of course.” you pause for a moment. “thank you for taking care of me tonight, winwin. i appreciate it.”

“it’s what neighbors do,” he says, swiftly exiting your apartment.

the next day you wake up, surprisingly not hungover and glad winwin made you take those pain relievers before sleeping. you quickly grab winwin’s sweater off your desk chair, determined to wash it with your laundry to return it to him in the same day. as you reach into the inside pockets, clearing it before stuffing it with your clothes, you find an iPod.

“an ipod? really? dude, who still uses these things,” you say, sitting on your bed as you look through his music. “well, at least it’s an ipod touch, i guess… his music taste isn’t all that bad.” in that moment, you click on the playlists section of his ipod and scroll, looking through the different playlists he has — shower, exercise, vibe, oldies, until you reach one entitled “the girl next door.” you click on it, curiosity taking over you, and you practically scream when you read the description.

to the girl next door — y/n, this one’s about you.

“no fucking way,” you say, scrolling through the songs and blindly reaching for your phone on your bedside table. you copy all of the songs onto your phone, making your own playlist, and playing the songs out loud through your speakers. you open the window, playing the music loud to make sure winwin can hear as you do your laundry.

after throwing everything into the laundry,  you lay in your bed and listen to the music and let winwin flood your thoughts. you think about him laying in his bed, listening to these songs, and imagining what it would be like to be with you. you think about how it would feel to hold his hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, palm sticking to yours with sweat. how it would feel to have him wrap his arms around your waist, as you wrap yours around his neck, press your lips to his and keep them there until your faces turn purple. the songs play one after the other, and you feel your cheeks heat up the longer you think about him.

right across your bedroom, right in his room, winwin sits at his desk working on an assignment for his biology class. his glasses sit perched on the bridge of nose, being pushed up by his thin fingers every few moments as they consistently slip as he’s bent over his desk and textbook. usually, winwin likes to study in absolute silence, as it’s how he works best, but right now the music coming from your room is too loud to concentrate. he huffs in annoyance, taking his glasses off and setting them on the desk, ready to go over to your apartment and give you a piece of his mind until he hears the music that’s playing. it’s the music that reminds him of you. he relaxes a bit as a smile creeps up on his face, and he sighs. he can study tomorrow.

“winwin, you sneaky bastard, you really know how to get a girl to fall for you, huh?” you say. “i guess i’ll try to do the same for you.” and so you pull your laptop out, connecting winwin’s ipod and making a playlist for him.

to the boy next door — winwin, this one’s about you.

you place his ipod back into the pocket of his sweater, before walking over to his apartment and knocking on his door. he answers quickly, having seen you left your room with his sweater in hand and gives you a big smile upon opening the door. you hand the neatly folded sweater to him, and smile right back.

“thank you again for taking care of me. i promise you i am not that messy, i just had a moment,” you say.

“just a moment, huh?” he lets out a laugh.

“of course it was just a moment!” you lightly hit him on the shoulder. “you were taking forever to get there and yangyang was busy, so i had to keep myself occupied.”

“so you got shitfaced while you waited?”

you nod.

“my apologies, ma’am, next time i promise i will be there early so you won’t have to get drunk by yourself,” he reaches out to pat your head and give your nose a playful pinch.

“or next time we can just go together,” you suggest.

“like a date?”

“exactly.”

winwin feels butterflies erupt in his stomach at the thought of your first date being at some stupid house party, but he can’t help but be excited at the same time. “sounds good, y/n.”

you stare up at winwin, memorizing every tiny detail of his face — the curve of his nose, the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks, the pink in his cheeks as you stare at him.

“what? do i have something on my face?”

you shake your head and let out a laugh. “nothing, you’re just cute. i’ll see you later, winwin.” you turn around to leave, but winwin’s hand shoots out to grab your wrist. he pulls you around and says, “aren’t you forgetting something?”

you let out another laugh, before quickly pressing a quick kiss on his lips. “see you later.”

you head back to your apartment, fingertips touching your lips in disbelief. back in his apartment, winwin is frantically dialing hendery’s number and throwing his sweater onto his bed. his ipod slips out of the pocket, and he picks it up and begins looking through it. hendery answers with a groan as winwin discovers the playlist you’ve made for him. he barely processes hendery speaking to him, as he scrolls through the songs with a stupid smile on his face.

“hello? earth to sicheng?” hendery says loudly, tearing winwin away from his daydream.

“huh? oh-what- OH, HENDERY,” winwin yells into the phone. “I NEED YOU TO THROW ANOTHER PARTY, LIKE, SOON.”

hendery lets out another groan, “please stop yelling. how do you want me to throw another party when i’m still hungover from the last one?”

“look, you remember my really cute neighbor? she threw up in your bathroom last night, right? and she got some on her shirt so she threw it away and i gave her my sweater, and she brought my sweater back to me right now and said that we should go with each other next time, as a date. so i need you to throw another party so i can finally shoot my shot,” winwin explains.

“well, my dear friend, it sounds like you already have this in the bag, so why should i have to throw another party? look, just put your big boy pants on, and go ask her out,” hendery responds.

“you’re right, you’re right! i’ll go do that,” winwin says, slipping his shoes on and running back over to your apartment.

he knocks rapidly on the door, and within seconds you’re staring back at him.

“you look crazy right now,” you say, upon seeing his dazed look.

“do you want to go out with me?”

“right now?”

“no. wait, yes, if you’re free, but if not, then no. then we can just go out another time, it’s up to you really, but i kinda have a huge crush on you and was jus thinking tha—“

“winwin, honey, please stop talking,” you say with a laugh, reaching your hand out to push his lips together. “i’m free right now, i would love to go out with you. just let me get dressed, yeah?” winwin nods and you pull your hand back. “wait here.”

winwin waits on your doorstep, tapping his foot and staring at the plants in front of your apartment to pass the time. that is, until he hears hendery’s low voice calling out “winwin? winwin?” he snaps back into reality, realizing he still has his phone in his hand and never hung up on hendery.

“oh shit, my bad,” winwin says, pushing the phone back up against his ear.

“dude, who asks a girl out like that? i can’t believe that she said yes after you came at her like a madman,” hendery responds.

“sorry you had to hear all of that, i’ll let you go.”

“have fun, dude.”

as winwin hangs up, you come back outside in a different outfit, and he eyes you up and down before letting out a whistle.

“wow, look at you, you look…” he starts. you give him a little twirl and he lets out another whistle. “damn, i’m a lucky guy.”

“you ready to go?” you ask, holding your hand out for him to take.

he nods, intertwining your fingers, and gives you a smile. “more than ready.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic - “A Dalton Boy Hotter than Hot” (Rated NC17)

Summary:

While in the steam room at his father’s country club, Sebastian encounters an intriguing man who’s not shy about taking what he wants. (3655 words)

Read on AO3.

“Hey, Sebastian!”

“Hey, Ms. Melanie!”

“Haven’t seen you here in a while!”

“Sorry. Been busy.” Sebastian reaches out a hand for a locker key. “School, lacrosse, getting ready for graduation, you know how it is.”

“Absolutely!” Her smile grows as she hands him a towel from the warming cabinet beside her desk. “My Mark’s going through the same. I barely see him poke his head out of his room on the weekends with all the homework school gives the seniors.”

“Yeah. You think they’d let up a bit considering we’re leaving.”

“Not a chance! For the money we spend to send you kids to Dalton, they’d better stuff you full of knowledge right up to the very end!”

“Trust me, they’ve been doing that all year. It would be nice if they let us relax.”

“You can relax when you’re dead!” Melanie laughs at her own joke, and Sebastian laughs with her. Usually he wouldn’t. He’d roll his eyes and walk away. He wouldn’t be polite about it either, so he’s sure Melanie has noticed over the years. And yet, here she is, as sweet and kind as ever, teasing him as if he were an old friend.

What an ass he’s been, treating her like she’s beneath him because she worked at his father’s country club handing out towels and her son went to Dalton on scholarship! He didn’t do it intentionally. It was always more of a subconscious reaction than a consciously decided action – the unforeseen side-effect of quote/unquote good breeding and constant exposure to the right people.

But he still did it.

He has no problem standing up for himself when sacks of shit like Hunter think they’re his betters, but when is the last time he stood up for someone else? Someone who couldn’t give him anything in return?

Maybe this is what growing up is – realizing your shit stinks more than you think it does and doing your best to keep it downwind. He’d like to say he came to that realization on his own, but it’s more than likely a symptom of the company he’s been keeping.

Company that’s humbled him both figuratively and literally.

He waves goodbye to Melanie and heads for the locker room, making a mental note to find Mark the next time he’s on campus and invite him to the commons for coffee.

He peels off his uniform and tosses it in his locker, rolling his shoulder after every article he removes. He took a few hard hits on the field today. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Hunter seemed to have it out for him. Probably because Sebastian was named MVP of yesterday’s game.

Plus, he got some ass last night to boot. That had to irk Hunter, who hasn’t gotten his dick wet in God knows when.

Sebastian wraps the towel around his waist before he slips out of his underwear. He’s not self-conscious about his body by any means. At Dalton, he has no qualms about tossing off all his clothes in the locker room after practice and strutting to the shower naked.

But this place isn’t like the locker room at school.

The boys at Dalton keep their eyes to themselves. They respect one another’s boundaries. Even if that’s simply a consequence of Dalton’s zero tolerance bullying policy, it makes for a safe and pleasant environment.

Not here.

Coming here alone after school has opened Sebastian’s eyes to a lot of things about the so-called real world - realizations that are cartoonish in their absurdity.

One of them being that married men think about sex … a lot.

Not necessarily with their partners.

And even though straight adult men around his father’s age might turn up their noses at sex with another adult male, that doesn’t mean teenaged boys are off the table. Maybe it’s because they’re attracted to youth and youth can be considered androgynous. Smooth skin and a tight ass doesn’t need to belong to a specific gender to make it appealing.

It could also be ego – the alpha inside them eager to dominate a perceived up-and-coming alpha to prove they’ve still got it. They may never act on it, not in a million years. They may even deny it.

But their eyes tell a different story.

Sebastian enters the thick cloud of steam and walks to the far end of the room, finds an empty space and sits. Finding an unoccupied bench isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s seven in the evening and fairly crowded for a weeknight.

It always is.

Sebastian judges heavily the men gathered here who should be at home having dinner with their families. It grosses him out how many of these old farts stare at him while he sits on his bench, trying to ignore their slimy existences. He knows a handful of them – not well, not by name. But he’s seen them around the club, old money and new money alike, in the main dining hall, out on the links when he golfs with his dad, over by the pool, a lot of them with their wives and kids.

That makes it worse.

Away from their significant others, they look him over like he’s a meal, licking their lips behind the veil of steam, some with their eyes glued to his brand as if they know what it represents. And that makes him wonder …

Do they want to own him, or be him?

The question makes his skin crawl but he doesn’t leave. Sebastian came here because he needed to get away from school, from people who barge into his room uninvited and talk his ear off endlessly without taking a breath, as if they don’t see him eight hours out of the God dammed day.

But from Hunter especially.

Sebastian had a feeling Hunter would stop by his room after his shower, and he wasn’t in the mood for his crap. It filled him head to toe with tension that he didn’t need, felt it accumulate in his sore shoulder – the same shoulder as his brand.

The brand Hunter hated with a passion.

So Sebastian chose getting ogled over by pathetic old men in exchange for peace and quiet.

Seems like a reasonable exchange.

He rolls his head back on his neck and closes his eyes, and the second he does, he becomes the center of attention. He doesn’t need to see the men looking at him. He knows. He feels eyes on him, eyes that shamelessly stare, and out of pure, morbid curiosity, he opens his again to check.

To silently call them out, shame those of them who have some shame left.

A handful of men do look away. Most of the others can’t be bothered, going so far as to rub their erections through their towels as if in invitation.

Make Sebastian reconsider his seat.

But amidst the sea of flabby bellies and greying hair, Sebastian spots a man he swears he’s never seen before. He doesn’t fit in with the other fogies, which is a mark in his favor. He’s not flabby in the slightest, not a grey hair to be seen. He’s an older man, but not a dad.

More like a Daddy if Sebastian ever saw one.

From his toned arms and chest to his striking blue eyes, he cuts quite the picture. Sebastian wonders if the pudgy masses haven’t been sizing him up, too. Maybe once or twice, but not the way they do with Sebastian. They wouldn’t dare. This man gives off some serious apex predator vibes.

And right now, he has his sights set on Sebastian.

This man is gorgeous, which is not a word Sebastian tosses around lightly. He can only recall using it one other time - to describe his Porsche.

Fitting since this man is another thing he’s dying to ride.

That thought must manifest on his face because the man smirks and raises a questioning brow. Sebastian nods. He swallows hard. He inclines his head slightly toward the door, attempting to extend a subtle invitation. Sebastian knows nothing of ‘steam room etiquette’ except what he’s seen in a few cheesy ass pornos. He doesn’t even know if anything like that goes on here. He’d only started coming here on his own recently and it’s definitely not a place he’d choose to look for sex.

But there are exceptions to every rule, and this man is one fine exception.

Is Sebastian actually going to do this? Here? After having judged everyone else around him so harshly for thinking the same thing this man’s probably thinking?

Yes. Yes, he is.

He doesn’t know this man from Adam, but he’s different from the rest if for no other reason than, if he is married, he has the decency not to wear his ring.

So if he’s down to fuck, why not?

With eyes locked on those intoxicating steely blues, Sebastian rises from his bench and makes his way out of the steam room, heading for one of the more private rooms down the hall.

Ones with locks on the doors.

A skeevy guy Sebastian swears once asked his dad for stock advice a while back reaches for his towel as he passes, and Sebastian responds the same way his father had: “Not fucking likely.”

Sebastian doesn’t turn his head to see if he’s being followed – unwise considering the wrong man may have picked up on his invitation and Mr. Sexy AF may have stayed behind. But the mere chance that that man is behind him, following him down this hall, has Sebastian aroused eight ways till Sunday, the extreme tenting of his towel leading him like some obscene beacon. He goes to the farthest room and peeks in.

It’s empty.

Perfect.

If the man follows him in, it will prove they’re on the same page.

That he wants him.

Sebastian walks inside.

He leaves the door open.

It’s not a large room – roughly the size of his Dalton dorm room, maybe a few feet bigger, with benches along the wall to seat about five people. There’s another bench near the center, mounted in front of a square pedestal that comes up to Sebastian’s stomach. The top of the pedestal is recessed to hold rocks and heated underneath. Pouring water on the rocks produces steam. The more water added, the more steam produced. It billows up and over the rocks, down the column of the pedestal, and fills the room from corner to corner.

In a room this size, it’s effective at keeping things hot.

Sebastian heads for the rocks and begins ladling water over them.

Behind him, he hears the door close … and lock.

Sebastian stops ladling.

He still doesn’t know if the person behind him is the man he wants, and even though it’s going to cause one hell of a headache if it’s not him, these last moments of uncertainty provide their own erotic thrill.

The man doesn’t insult Sebastian’s intelligence, doesn’t employ any pretense, doesn’t sit down on one of the benches to make it seem like he’s there for any other reason than to pursue his prize. He puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, palm pressing into his brand, and spins him around.

And there he is – sculpted cheekbones, toned chest, blue eyes and all. He stares pointedly into Sebastian’s face and says, “Tell me to leave.”

Sebastian grins. “Why would I do that? I led you here.”

The man puts a bold hand on Sebastian’s ass and pulls him close. Sebastian feels every inch of the man against him – unforgiving planes and muscles, including his cock, resting against his own. “If we do this,” he whispers, “am I going to be your first?”

“Does that matter?”

“Not if it doesn’t matter to you. I just wanted to make sure you’re not the wine and roses type.”

“Actually, I think I’m the fast and hard in a steam room type.”

The man grins. “You jewel.” He grabs Sebastian by the back of the neck and kisses him, reaching for their towels and tugging them away, tossing them on the bench behind. Salty sweat on skin mix, dripping down Sebastian’s upper lip till he can taste it on his tongue. The man reaches for their cocks and strokes them together. Sebastian’s stomach spasms. He doesn’t know how to react, where to put his hands, how to participate. This is happening so fast, it makes Sebastian’s head spin. This man isn’t like the boys Sebastian has made out with, fondled, felt up, jerked off. This man knows what he’s doing, knows what he wants. He pushes Sebastian down onto the towel-covered bench with no hesitation, gets on his knees, and sucks Sebastian off, holding on to his hips a little too hard.

But Sebastian likes it.

“Jesus Christ!” he groans, hands locking onto the bench beneath him and holding tight. He’d always considered himself well-endowed, but this man has no trouble with him, taking him all the way down his throat without gagging an inch. The man goes at him hard. Sebastian tries to back up, to slow him down, but the man won’t have it, squeezing his hips harder, digging his thumbs into pressure points until Sebastian submits. And submit he does, lying back like a lion in surrender, arms and legs draped over the sides, his abs tense but his mind giving up control, allowing only for the uttering of one weak word: “Yes … yes … yes …” Muscles in his thighs and biceps twitch as he fights not to cum, but there’s little he can do to combat this man’s voracious mouth and his exceptionally talented tongue.

Sebastian cums.

The man’s mouth disappears, and the air around Sebastian’s cock cools even though the room is sweltering.

“Oh, God,” he moans, nearly rolling off the bench in his attempt to stand.

“Nu-uh.” The man puts a hand to his branded shoulder and pushes him down. “I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”

“Good,” Sebastian growls. He may be out of his league, but that doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying it. “But I’m not too sure I can get hard again right away after that.”

“Let me worry about that. Besides, I don’t need you hard. I need you open.”

“Then open me up.” Sebastian realizes that’s a dangerous thing to say to a stranger in a locked room, but it’s hot in here, and he’s still riding high off that orgasm. Between steam and lust, he’s feeling woozy.

“So, you like being used?” The man grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks and pulls them apart, spending a long time just looking without touching.

“As long as you’re doing the using.”

The man chuckles. “You don’t even know me.”

“Do I have to?”

“That depends …” The man spits onto his fingers and wipes them over Sebastian’s asshole in a crude attempt at lubrication “… you’re not going to get attached to me or anything, are you? I’m not sure I need you following me around like a puppy dog.”

“Hey, you followed me, remember?” Sebastian grits his teeth when he feels one finger, slick with spit and sweat, make its way inside his body. It doesn’t hurt. Sebastian’s too relaxed for it to hurt.

“But you led me in here. You said so yourself.”

Another finger joins the first, and despite Sebastian’s mellow exhaustion, he starts bucking back.

“A-ha. I led you in here so you could fuck me, not talk about it. So why don’t you get on with it?”

The flat of a hand smacks his ass as a third finger forces its way inside. It stings like all get out, but when Sebastian clenches, he and the man behind him moan.

“God!” the man growls, fingers disappearing. The head of his cock replaces them at Sebastian’s entrance, becoming his sole focus. “I’ve gotta be in you! Now!”

“What? No condom?” Sebastian teases. He doesn’t have enough blood left in his brain to recognize that this is one of those moments they warn you about in sex-ed. He’s so far gone for this man, so ready to be fucked, he couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“Nah. I need to feel you.” The man’s voice shakes as he eases inside Sebastian’s body, snapping his hips and fucking him before he’s even all the way inside. But the first long thrust that slams Sebastian’s prostate brings his face straight to the bench.

“Fuck!” Sebastian grips the bench with knuckles white to keep from sliding off on his sweaty knees.

“Your wish is my command,” the man jokes, going back to what he seems to do best – fucking and fucking hard, spreading Sebastian’s cheeks wider and driving into him so deep, Sebastian swears he can feel the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. He’s tempted to ask this man if fucking is his day job, but he doesn’t because what if it is? What if that’s the reason he’s here? What if he’s a professional, making a few extra bucks trolling a den of pitiful rich old fucks stepping out on their wives?

If that’s the case, this man has earned so much of Sebastian’s respect.

If Sebastian has to fork over a few thou after this encounter, it’ll be well worth it to support him doing God’s work.

“Here …” the man switches positions, sitting on the bench and pulling Sebastian down on him “… sit on my lap. Help me out. Arms up. Hands behind your head.”

The posing makes it difficult for Sebastian to move, but a moment later, he realizes the need. The man’s arms wrap around him, his hands roaming his body from clavicle to cock, massaging muscles and toying with his nipples before they settle between his legs. The man fondles him – balls with one hand, shaft with the other – and Sebastian’s flaccid cock springs back with a vengeance.

So much for not being able to get hard right after. He just needed to find a man who knew his was around his body.

“Fuck … fuck … fuck … fuck …” Sebastian grunts, doing his best to keep going when what he wants to do is sit on this man’s cock and let him stroke him to completion.

“My, my, my, what a mouth you have. We really need to find some way to shut you up. Maybe with my dick next time. Whaddya think?”

“Yes,” Sebastian moans.

“I want you full of me,” the man grumbles, pushing down on Sebastian’s thighs with his forearms to make him go faster. “I wanna tie you down and take turns fucking you and having you suck me off. Whaddya think about that?”

“Ye—” Sebastian mutters, finding it impossible to speak the closer he gets to cumming, bobbing on this man’s cock becoming sheer but exquisite torture.

“Here …” The man holds Sebastian steady in a crouch position inches above his lap “… stay like that. Don’t move.” He leans back, starts driving his hips up, and Sebastian’s legs begin to shake. “You’re an athletic young man. You should be able to stay like that till I’m through with you.”

Sebastian’s tongue slips. He says something he had no intention of saying, no intention of calling anyone. “Yes … Sir …”

“Sir …” The man purrs. “I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that … very … much …” The man pulls Sebastian down into his lap and holds him there, bucking inside him with small, deliberate thrusts until his entire body devolves into seizure-like shakes, his cock pulsing inside him as he cums, trapped in Sebastian’s incredible heat.

And there’s so much of it – heat enveloping his cock, heat clinging to his skin, heat pouring down his hand as he wrings Sebastian’s cock dry, heat drying out his mouth and throat, making it difficult to breathe. With Sebastian pressing on his stomach, he feels like he might suffocate.

But all in all, this wouldn’t be too bad a way to go.

“Scene … scene …” Kurt mutters, unable to get the word over out of his mouth as he pants for air, comfortably crushed beneath Sebastian’s body in the irrepressible heat.

Sebastian gasps, bending at the waist, fighting to find cool air beneath the oppressive blanket of hot “So … what … did you think … of that … Master?”

“I think you have one hell of a dirty mind on you, preppy. Shit!” Kurt laughs, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s midsection, laying kisses over his spine. “I’m so glad I made you pick this time! I didn’t know this was one of those steam rooms! Your folks are really getting their money’s worth!”

“I—it’s … it’s not, Master,” Sebastian says, reluctant to reveal the truth with his Dom up his ass, kissing his back.

The kisses stop, and despite the world around them being somewhere in the vista of 110 degrees, Sebastian’s entire body freezes solid.

“It’s not?”

“Uh, no.”

“So, what you’re saying is …”

“We may want to jet before they call my dad.”

Sebastian can’t see Kurt’s reaction to this new information, and the longer he has to wait, the sicker he begins to feel. He expects to get yelled at, feel nails rake down his sides, maybe even get shoved to the floor.

Kurt snickering into his skin relaxes him a hair.

His full out guffawing lets Sebastian know everything’s going to be okay – between them, at least.

“Holy shit!” Kurt snorts, pushing Sebastian off his lap, but gently. “You really have issues with symbols of societal standing, don’t you?”

“I … guess? Is that bad, Master?”

“Not at all.” Kurt throws Sebastian a towel and ties his own around his waist. “I think I’m beginning to see why the fuck it is you and I get along so well.”

*** Notes:I personally feel that in a sexual relationship like Kurt and Sebastian’s, roleplaying is a really good way for us as the audience to get into the minds of the characters. You see the things that they don’t necessarily express in dialogue, even in inner monologue, including how they see themselves interacting with the world around them - how they feel despite what they say.

[stayingconstant]

6/12/2017

The last few of my college lessons happened almost a full month after graduation occurred.

This weekend was a big a weekend. My birthday is June 6, and so this weekend was my “birthday weekend” if you will. And Pride so happened to also be going on in DC. 

So I got a hotel room with my friends (Eddie, Ryan, Yasmine, Crumley, and Lauren). The parade was on Saturday, the festival on Sunday, and we had night life events to go to both night. This weekend ended up not being what I expected. We didn’t make it to the parade until 6, and didn’t even hangout for very long before departing. We ended up skipping the festival all together. Friday night I cried over some guy that didn’t see how great I am, and Saturday night I ended up talking to a pedophile on accident (long story).

But at the end of it all I realized something. I fucking love my friends. I was stressed, disorganized, and a little bitter that my two other friends (Mike and Zyanya) didn’t bother telling me anything / bailed. We’ll get to that though.

But regardless of the weekend I had fun. I had people in my corner. We danced. We ate. We spent time with one another. But the funniest thing is I think I had more fun with Eddie and Yasmine when we got coffee and hung out after.

We talked about Yasmine’s friend problems, and Eddie’s family, and I realized something. #1 I had been so fixated on my own problems/sadness/loneliness I wasn’t invested in my friend’s lives. I used to be the person people came to. The person who would always be an empathetic listener. And throughout this year my insecurities and high expectations made it so that was less of an aspect of my personality.  

Secondly, the small moments and exchanges will most likely always matter more in the long run than the parties, the alcohol, and the big events. Never underestimate how a small, meaningful conversation can ultimately change the entire trajectory of your friendship. 

Now to get to Zyanya and Mike. I’ll hit Zyanya first. Z has a lot of shit going on in her life. And it’s been frustrating being her friend here lately because it seems as if every aspect of her life is consumed by emergencies that she has to address. It made it so I felt like I was losing her as a friend. Then my birthday rolled around. Eddie and I ventured to Charlottesvile and got lunch with Zyanya. It was so organic. We were back to where we had always been. So thirdly, don’t easily give up to the people you love. And you’ll think you love more people than you do. But you have a solid 3 or 4 that you know you just cannot let go. 

Mike. Mike is probably the biggest part of this story. Mike was supposed to meet up with me for pride for my birthday. He didn’t come to the parade. And he refused to buy tickets when we planned for that because it “wasn’t his thing”. I usually would put up a fight because I wanted him to be a part of the full experience, but I have learned throughout this year that you cannot force people to do things they don’t want to do. You can encourage them on the basis of hanging out with you / spending quality time with you and hoping that’s enough. But for some people it simply won’t be. 

Well the kicker is Mike went out Saturday anyway. He refused to come with us, but ultimately changed his mind. I was pretty frustrated on the basis of him already skipping the parade, and not meeting up with us. And the idea that he had kind of done this throughout the entire year. I got drunk. Sent a text message saying my frustrations, and telling him exactly what he sent me when he refused.

He ignored it.

We didn’t hangout Sunday either. More frustrating. Here we are, someone I thought I was close to lying about the night activities and then ignoring me because he doesn’t want to address conflict. So here’s the text convo:

Shane: Uncool not texting me back and uncool not spending time with me on my birthday weekend / possible one of the few opportunities I have before Seattle. But whatever man just figured I would tell you.

Mike: Shane...My Dude...I went to town and had an incredible time. You would’ve hated it. I didn’t want to interrupt my bliss to respond to the negativity. I had planned to meet up with you Sunday but after that text I didn’t really want to so I did what was best for me and continued doing my own thing. I am sorry that I missed your birthday weekend. This was my first pride and I lived it for me, hope you did the same. 

I was infuriated. I felt like he had blatantly disregarded my feelings yet again on the basis of his own happiness. Not for one second thinking how I was feelinv

Shane: You are one of my most selfish friends, your word means absolutely nothing, and I shouldn’t have expected anything less. I hope you had fun.

12 hours passed.

Shane: Sorry that was really intense. I’m just hurt and really wanted to see you. But that was uncalled for and I do apologize.

Mike: This is something I wrote this morning and was going to send to you in a couple days:

Shane, Believe it or not I care about you very much, which is why I am writing this. Someone has to say it but none of your friends are willing because they fear the backlash. Also this is not about pride weekend, this is just life in general. There world owes you nothing. You are not the center of the universe. You expect everyone to drop everything for you and then get irrationally angry and upset when they dont’t. In that heat, you begin a confrontation. This is draining for you and for the other person involved. You take that one problem and make it a problem for all your other friends by complaining to them, over and over. This builds more negativity between you and the friends you originally had no problems with. This is magnified when you ask for their input on an issue in which they were not originally involved. They will take your side even if they don’t agree with you because they don’t want to be the one you talk about next. In the instances where they do attempt to openly disagree with you, it is often met with a close mind because you are looking for validation, not assistance. 

Thos friends, although they still care about you, then have less of a desire to hangout with you because the negative energy begins to feel inevitable. They try to help you reach a more positive place, but eventually come to understand that it is you that needs to help yourself, and there is very little they can do. I have watched this pattern over and over again this past year, but have never said anything because it always seems like you have finally learned. You are very self aware, nothing i’ve said above is something you haven’t already said to me. But I just wanted you to hear it from someone else in hopes that next time you begin complaining you are able to catch yourself and understand that you are only fueling the negative vibes that you claim to so desperately want to escape. 

This does not warrant a response, I’m not looking to open a discussion, this is just my observations from living with you this past year. I hope you find them beneficial in the long run even if they are slightly infuriating at the moment. Please know that this does not discredit the fun times we have had together. I truly wish you nothing but happiness. 

So that’s a lot right? Right. But he’s not wrong. He’s totally not wrong. My negative energy does manifest itself in a lot of different and uninspiring ways. However - I was pretty solid this weekend in terms of this conflict. I didn’t bring it up often - I was just incredibly frustrated. And honestly there were better instances when this could have been discussed. Not when you bailed on me for the 100th time and almost seem to need to scapegoat you out of the conflict.

Anyway -

Shane: None of the things are wrong in the slightest. I 100% agree. However if we are being honest you do this thing where you will never commit. Whatsoever. You won’t commit to anything or anyone because you are driven on this complex idea of happiness that you haven’t really found yet. This makes small moments of bliss, like you stated above, take control of how you treat other people. Other people you said you were close to. 

When you initially stated you were not interested in clubbing, I didn’t argue. We bboth know that in itself is a stepping stone. I realized the idea of going out isn’t for everyone. However after getting over the hump of not seeing one of my really close friends, he skips the parade and then proceeds to go out anyway. And then refuses to respond when I am rightfully frustrated. 

So yes I agree with what you’re saying. I get it, and believe it or not I am working on it. But for you to see that i am working on it you need to look deep into yourself and recognize that you do have to do things you aren’t necessarily interested in to maintain friendships. 

You have bailed on me throughout this entire year in regards to most things. And we both know if you ask me to do something I would do it with you not because I am interested in said thing but because I want to spend time with you.

So in summary I have a lot to learn, and I need to have less backlash to people’s complaints, frustrations, whatever have you, but I need people to be open. 

So thank you for that. But don’t disregard your own faults in having me come to some enlightened truth. Because what you said is soemthing that needs to change, but this weekend, this example in particular is less prominent of a good example than past events this semester because I have been working on it, again, believe it or not.

Prioritize people in your life or you might lose them.

This was an important weekend for me. For me to see people I truly do love. Regardless of how you have felt my toxic energy manifest itself you should have sent this text message before bailing on me and ignoring me. And deep down I think you get that. And luckily enough I didn’t complain about this at all until your message back to me basically disreagrded all my feelings and just told me how swell of a time you had so I still had a really great weekend with the people who did come.

Regardless of if you respond or not thank you for telling me. Eddie and I actually had a conversation very similarly to almost exactly what you just said because I brought it up because I can feel it. I can see it happen. But again, every conflict isn’t based off one person. I perpetuate the conflict to last, but usually I am not the catalyst for it to begin. 

Anyway - if this is it since your message dauntingly acted as if we are never speaking again I wish you the best of luck as well. 

A lot, right?  It’s not that I don’t agree. I still do. I don’t think I expect everyone to give me the world, but my expectations are pretty high because I feel as if I do a pretty good job of being there for people I care about. And in this same light people don’t meet my expectations. Because people love, feel, and act very differently. 

So fourthly, have open dialogue. If you need validation. Say that.  And fifthly, negative energy is contagious. Complaining and venting are healthy ways to decompress but as is anything only if it’s in moderation. I need to learn to moderate these aspects of myself. 

Mike didn’t address the conflict at hand in that he always puts his happiness way above anyone else - even if it means hurting their feelings. I hope that he was able to understand that I did understand big picture, but within this specific weekend he needed to be a better friend. This idea of happiness is going to continue to float around his head, but if he continues to choose his own self-righteous idea of what happiness is supposed to be he will never be happy.