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Viewing Single Post From: Five Finger Death Punch
dmboogie
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A Delicate Machine
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"Nothing wrong with generic. It means that a lot of people have that same dream, right? Wanting something that amazing isn't anything to be ashamed of."

Cass had never been one for most sports, but there was something about combat sports that instinctively drew their eye. Whether it was with a fencing blade or a boxing glove, it was easy to romanticise the thought of fighting with everything you got against a single opponent. They circle each other and the entire world becomes just them and their foe, each carefully, carefully watching for any sign of weakness, analyzing their style, learning their personal ticks and tells, eventually knowing them even better than they know themselves so that when the climactic moment comes and you strike the final blow victory comes so, so sweet, and if you snapped a picture of that exact moment it would probably be one of the most beautiful and human things in existence, bodies weary and damp with sweat but filled with determination that fuels them until the moment of release until it's finally over and they can collapse, secure in their victory.

Cass read a lot of fanfic, and that scenario typically ended in makeouts. They felt it rather missed the point of the whole endeavor.

"Art's all I'm good for, so going to school for that's the obvious thing to do. It'll help me build connections and a profile..." Cass trailed off. That was a plan, not a dream. "I guess what I really want out of life is to paint pretty shit and have people look at it. Maybe even like it. Make something that the world might remember, y'know?" Left unspoken was their wish to be fully accepted for who they were, the ability to live freely as themself. Trav seemed like a sweet guy, but even with all their soul-baring Cass was not willing to chance playing the Tolerance Roulette with a stranger.
a tribute for the dead and dying

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Five Finger Death Punch · The Rooftop