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jwowwsboobs · 11 months

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Gimme Yer Love, Angel in the Night

The thing about LA is, it's fucking weird. I mean, Los Angeles, city of angels, full of people lookin' to rip you off, rob you dead, take yer boots. And the sun is always fuckin' shining. It never fucking rains. It's like heaven for people with big dreams, but they all come and die. It's the home of the rich, the famous, the megastars. And there are broke people, homeless people, hookers and their pimps, winos and wash-outs fuckin' everywhere.

And me. I guess I'm broke people. I work at a shit job, washing plates, trying not to fuck up my hands or hair, so when I get off, I can kick out the jams in half empty clubs with guys I don't really like or party with people I know well enough to know they don't lace their shit, and then come back home, chick or two on my arm, crash on the couch and get woken up by my roommate, Tripp, AKA the nicest guy on earth, so I get to work on time. Rinse and repeat.

I was headed to the club that night, paycheck in cash in my pocket and brand new leather pants on my ass. Maybe to meet a chick. More likely to have a few and pick one up. I shoved my way through the crowd of people to a guy I knew on door duty, who let me in for free, much to the annoyance of the lame-ass and his girlfriend I'd cut in-front of. Sucks to suck! The club was dark, the air was thick and hot with smoke, sweat, spilled beer, shrieking guitars and thudding drums and bass. The stage was like a setting sun, people crowded around it, almost blocking out the band. You could still see them, but barely. I shoved my way to the bar, squeezing in next to two beautiful blondes, perfect butts, tall as trees, hair as big as the sun, two feet from the smokers corner and the bathroom doors. They side eyed me and rolled their twelve pounds of eyelashes and eyeliner at each other, pouting their big red lips and twirling their hair around their perfectly manicured fingers. Tough crowd, but I always like a challenge. I flagged down the bartender, asked for a beer. As the bartender went to grab a glass and fill it up, I turned to the girls.

"Y'all want anything?" I shouted at them.

The one next to me looked at me like I was a new species of sidewalk slime that she'd just found on the bottom of her brand fuckin' new 500 dollar heels, but her friend smiled and pointed at their glasses.

"Refill for these ladies," I gestured to the girls, and the bartender took their glasses away to make whatever overpriced, fruity shit they'd been drinking. I turned to the stage, drank my beer, waited for the right moment to grease them up. Turns out they had me beat.

When their drinks came, they split before I could say "You're welcome."

Tough break.

I knocked the rest of the beer back, and was about to flag for a refill, when I felt cold breath on my neck.

"Some people have no fuckin' manners, huh, sunshine?"

I looked over my shoulder into cold, dark eyes peering over mirrored sunglasses, almost covered by shaggy black hair. He slipped into the open space next to me. Stage lights dimmed.

"Uh-"

He held up his hand, sliver and black rings sparkling in the club's flashing lights. "Another beer?"

"Shit, sure man," I said, digging in my pockets for some cash. He snorted.

"On me."

"Hey, thanks man! I'm Lani."

"Ryan." We shook hands, his hands like ice against my sweaty and damp palm.

"You new to town?" I asked, as we waited.

"Hardly." He blew his bangs out of his face. "Are you?"

"Not really. Been here a coupla months. Where are ya from?"

"Far away. Why'd you come here, farm boy?"

I blinked. "How'dja know I grew up on a farm?"

Ryan glanced up and down at me. "You've still got a farmers tan. And you just told me."

I rubbed my bare shoulders, suddenly cold in my cut off. "I coulda gotten that here, man, that doesn't mean anything!"

Ryan laughed at me. I couldn't tell if it was a mean laugh or not. It sounded mean. But it really didn't matter. He was hot. I could take a little denigration from a guy like that. "But you didn't."

I huffed. "Yeah alright, whatever, man. At least I look like I've seen the sun. Haven't you seen any movies recently, man? Pasty is out, tanned is in. Gotta look like yer livin'!"

He rolled his eyes. "So you wanna be a movie star."

"Hardly." I shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind! Can't act for shit though. I'm gonna be a rockstar. Bigger than Morrison and twice as hot."

Ryan looked intrigued. "Morrison, huh?"

"Fuck yeah man, great fuckin' poet, rock STAR to a T, heartthrob...all that shit."

His eyes flicked up and down my outfit. "Where's the concho belt?"

I laughed. "I don't needa be carbon copy, that'd be boring and lame as fuck. Anyway, what are you here for?"

He shrugged, playing with his rings. "Just lookin' to have a good time for the rest of time. Figured what better place than LA."

I grinned and slapped him on the back. "Hell yeah man! Party never fuckin' stops here, it's like heaven."

Ryan half smiled and raised his glass. I hadn't noticed the beers had come. "Cheers."

We clinked glasses, and I drank.

I woke up with a roaring, pounding headache and a mouth drier than a 40-something in a loveless marriage looking at her fat, ugly husband. Which wasn't that weird, until I realized I was in my bed, and it was late afternoon, almost evening. I fumbled around, looking for some shades, trying to block out the too-bright sunlight, and fell out of my bed onto a pile of clothes and shoes. I groaned, and Tripp's footsteps came down the hallway and into my room.

"Jesus, dude, are you okay?"

I tried to say something that would have been, "Yeah man, I'm cool! Just need sunglasses and an Advil and possibly the greasiest cheeseburger known to man," but what came out sounded more like "Urugggggghhhhurnr."

"Man, you look like friggin' hell, lemme call yer boss 'n' tell him yer sicker than a dog and would probably die if you went in." He started out of the room.

"Sunglasses." I finally managed to croak out.

He didn't hear me. I groaned, and crawled back into my bed, pulling the blanket over my head and sending me into mostly darkness. It musta been a hell of a night, since I could barely fuckin' remember it. Except for that guy. Long, dark, messy hair. Dark eyes, perfect lips set in a slight sneer. Tarnished silver rings and piles of necklaces. White open button shirt and black jeans. Black and blue cowboy boots. Heaven's fallen angel, all in black. Ryan. I hadn't gotten his FUCKING number. I buried my face in my pillow. Maybe I'd smother to death and never have to worry about not ever seeing the world's hottest guy ever again.

"Good news man!" Tripp said loudly, walking back into my room. "Yer boss says you don't gotta go in t'day!"

I groaned.

"Bad news is, he says ya can't go in ever again."

Figures.

"It's all cool though man! I can get'cha another job, don't even worry about it. I'm goin' to work 'n' then to Michelle's birthday party. Left some money on the counter if you wanna order yerself something hot like pizza or Chinese food. Noodles are probably yer best bet. I'll be back like, tomorrow morning. Feel better man!"

Tripp left, and I stayed wrapped up in my blanket. Ryan's dark eyes swum in my head. His mean little laugh. I wanted to know that guy. Needed to love him. I was already in love, and it'd only been like 12ish hours.

I dragged myself out of bed as the sun finally sank behind the buildings, the streetlights and corner stores' neon lights flickering on. I shuffled into the bathroom, no shirt, still wearing my pants from the night before. I stared into the mirror. My hair was matted and tangled from the teasing and hairspray and sleeping in it. My skin looked much paler than the day before, but I didn't think much of it, cuz of how fucking SHITTY I felt. Hickies covered my neck, but there were none on my chest. Which struck me as weird, cuz usually when I'm with someone who's gonna give me hickies, they give 'em all over. Not stingy with the lovin'. I turned to look at my back. Covered in scratches.

"Guess we had fuckin' fun." I said to myself.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, pulling out all my money from yesterday (All of it? Hadn't I spent some of it?) and a crumpled up piece of paper. My hands shook as I unfolded it.

268-7886‬. R ☆

Of course he'd have fancy handwriting, perfectly formed cursive letters. I carefully folded it back up and stuck it back in my pocket, along with my cash, and stripped to shower.

The whole time, Ryan's face floated infront of me, his laugh echoing through my head.

I dried my hair, and wrapped the towel around my waist. I didn't feel hungover, but I felt this deep, gnawing hunger itching at my insides. Like when you've had sex for the first time and you want it again. I snatched my pants off the ground and went back to my room, pulling on clean (probably) boxers and grabbing the phone number. I took a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch in the living room, staring down the phone. I cracked it, chugged it, and before I could psych myself out of it, I picked up the phone and dialed.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ryan, it's Lani, you gave me this number yesterday night."

"Oh yeah," Ryan laughed breathily into the phone. "You wanna meet tonight?"

"Sure, where? The club?"

"No." Ryan paused. "Evergreen."

"Evergreen? The cemetery?"

"Mhm. Listen, ah...Lani. I've got to go. I'll see you there tonight. Midnight?"

"I-"

He hung up. I groaned, bashing the receiver into my damp hair.

"FUUUUUCK." I dropped the receiver back on the hook and buried my head in my hands. I had no choice.

It was eleven by the time I finally got the balls to get dressed and go out. I'd left my hair to air dry. Well, mostly air-dry. I blow-dried and hairsprayed my roots for a little of whatever the girls called volume when they did my hair. Found a loose, colorful button up that I half buttoned and didn't tuck in, tight jeans, cowboy boots. Smudged eyeliner that a girl had left behind in the bathroom across my lower lash line. And drank.

The taxi driver dropped me off half a block from the cemetery, like I asked him to. He watched me in the rearview, clearly trying to figure out why I wanted to go to a fuckin' cemetery this time of night, dressed like that. I tipped him extra for keeping his mouth shut. He took off, fast.

I waited til the street was empty and jumped the fence. And prayed it wouldn't take too long to find him.

As heaven would have it, it didn't.

Ryan sat on the steps of the mausoleum overlooking the chapel, wrapped in a tiger-striped fur jacket, cigarette hanging from his long, ringed fingers. He watched me approach like a hunting dog watching a bird. I could have sworn his eyes were yellow.

"Hey," I called.

"Hi." He dragged on his cigarette. "Thought you wouldn't show."

I shrugged and sat next to him. "If I didn't, what would you have done?"

Ryan shrugged and put the cigarette out on the sole of his star-covered platform boots. I studied the stars, red and sliver on black leather. "Dunno. Wanna go in?"

"What, in the mausoleum?"

He smiled at me, teeth glittering like stars in the dark. "Why not? The dead are good at keeping secrets, sunshine."

He stood up and slipped in. I looked up at the starless, black sky, and followed him. It was dark, and the side walls were lined by barred doors, leading to crypts. He turned around, fast, and pushed me up against the marble wall, breath cold against my neck.

"You want this?"

"Yeah."

Ryan licked my neck, and I winced from the pressure on the still sore hickies. His fingers slipped up my half-buttoned shirt, hand pressing against my rapidly beating heart.

"Feel good?"

"Mmhm." I moaned as he kissed my neck, gently, softly. I reached to grab his hip, to pull him closer. He grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the wall above my head. I squirmed a little, not liking the gap he kept between him and me, the cold air on my slightly exposed chest.

"Don't like that, huh?" He teased, tightening his grip on my wrist. His other hand slipped down my shirt, pressing against my hip.

"Man," I whined. "C'mon-"

"Shhh." Ryan pressed his hand against my mouth, muffling my whines. I squirmed, wanting him up against me. He laughed, pulling his hand from my mouth, but letting his index and middle fingers brush against my lower lip. "Suck."

I tentatively licked the tips of his fingers. His teeth and eyes glittered in the dark and I felt my dick twitch. I grabbed his hand, and pushed his fingers into my mouth, licking, sucking, moaning, working them the way I would have worked his dick, lost in it.

With a pop, he pulled his hand out of my mouth, and grabbed my face, smearing my spit all over my cheek.

"You like that, huh? Little slut."

I groaned, and he laughed softly, and kissed up my neck to my mouth. He was barely touching me, and I felt like I was burning up. I could barely think. He kissed me, working his tongue into my mouth, dropping my wrist to grab my hips, pushing me against the wall, and him against me. I moaned into it, twisting one hand into his hair, one around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He pulled away, and I gasped as the cold mausoleum air hit my face and my chest. He watched me breathe heavily. I knew my face was flushed, but I couldn't tell if his was.

"Ditch the shirt."

I licked my lips, wanting to push his buttons. "If you want it gone so bad, you take it off."

"Yeah?" He said softly, with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah."

He moved close to me, hands barely brushing against me, unbuttoning the shirt. "Gonna regret that, sunshine."

"Make me."

He laughed softly, sliding the shirt off my shoulders. I pulled it off the rest of the way and he trailed his fingers down my chest. I breathed heavily.

"Take off my belt."

I knelt on the floor, fumbling with the cold metal and leather of his belt. I found the end of the tongue as his hand tangled in my hair. I looked up at him. His face was obscured by his dark hair and shadows. I pulled it out of his belt loops and felt the buckle open and smiled. He traced circles in my hair. I pulled his belt off, laying it on the ground.

"Keep going," he said.

I undid the top button, trying to keep my touch light. His grip on my hair tightened. I looked up at him.

"Keep going?"

He sucked his breath in quickly. "Yes."

I slowly unzipped his jeans, and he huffed impatiently. I grinned in the dark.

"Don't like that, huh?"

Ryan pulled his hands out of my hair roughly and pulled his dick out of his boxers. I could barely make out the shape in the dark.

"Open." He said, grabbing my hair again.

I did, wrapping one hand over his as he pushed into my mouth. He sighed, tangled his hand deeper in my hair, moaning, pulling on it with every movement. I moved up and down slowly, and he pushed his hips forward into my mouth. My dick twitched in my jeans, but I couldn't think about anything but him.

He groaned, gripping my hair tighter, sliding in and out of my mouth. I moaned as he hit the back of my throat and his hips bucked.

"Oh god. Do that again," He said, breathless.

I moaned again as he hit the back of my throat. He groaned, pounding into my mouth harder and faster.

The tightness in my jeans, him fucking my face, his heavy breathing, the random pretty little moans, was driving me crazy. I gripped his thighs and looked up at him. His hair, shaggy and long, mostly covered his face.

I couldn't think. I closed my eyes again, relaxing my throat as he fucked me. My throat. Whatever. I felt my spit dripping down my chin, falling on my bare chest. He pulled on my hair. I felt him tensing up.

"Lani," He moaned breathlessly. "Lani, I'm close."

I groaned, my dick uncomfortably hard.

"Lani," he whined. "Oh god, Lani, I-"

He moaned, and his dick twitched as he came. I swallowed, and pulled away, wiping my mouth. My knees hurt. He panted above me, one hand on his dick and the other on my chin.

"You looks so good like that," he said. "C'mere."

I stood up slowly, knees hurting, and he pushed against me. He bit my bottom lip, slid his hand up my ribs, resting on my heart.

I moaned as he situated his thigh between my legs, rubbing it against my crotch. I pulled on the front of his jacket, wanting him closer. He smiled against my mouth, rocking his hips against me, and I closed my eyes, moaning into his mouth. I pulled on his hair, wrapped my arm around his neck, grabbed his bare hip.

He pulled away just before I came, and I whined in frustration.

"Shhh, baby," he whispered in my ear, fumbling with my jeans button and zipper. "I'm not gonna let you go that easy."

I panted, squirming as he trailed his fingers over my stomach. "Ryan, please, I need, I-,"

"What'dya need, sunshine?"

I moaned and he scoffed.

"C'mon, use yr words."

"Fuck me," I whined. "Fuck me!"

He kissed me. "Anything you want."

I squirmed as he pulled my jeans and boxers down, the cold air hitting my aching dick.

"Turn around, grab those bars right there and relax."

I did as told, breathing slowly and deeply. He rubbed some lube onto my ass and started to prep me. I moaned as he worked his finger in and out and in and out, adding another, stretching me out. He rubbed my back, telling me how good I was doing, how well I was taking it, how good it was gonna feel. I closed my eyes, letting him, his smell, his voice, his touch, wash over me. I was in heaven in that dark cemetery, about to get fucked by an angel of the night.

I heard a condom wrapper crinkle.

"I'm gonna take it slow, baby." He kissed my neck as he pushed in slowly.

I moaned.

He grabbed my hip with one hand and jacked me off with the other. While fucking me slowly. I couldn't think, much less comprehend exactly how good his touch felt. The minutes became one continuous moment, nothing existing except for him. His voice. His hips against my ass. His mouth on my neck. His hands on me. Him. Heaven-sent.

He kissed my neck, licked it, moaned into it. His thrusts got more and more rough and uneven, his moans increasing in frequency against my neck. I whined, feeling my orgasm close in on me, unable to keep my eyes open. He bit me as I came, and I screamed. He let go of my dick to grab my throat, keeping me from squirming, my cum warm on his hand, still pounding into my ass as he sucked blood from my neck. And darkness ate away at my vision.

I woke up to a cop shining his flashlight in my eye and a dog's head on my chest. A brindle pitbull. Like home. It was still dark out as the cop roughly escorted me out of the cemetery, grumbling something about the city's "fuckin' bum problem." The dog followed. I flagged a cab, half to prove that I was not a "fuckin' bum" despite missing my shirt, shoes, and my pants being half unbuttoned and half to get home fast. Ryan had disappeared completely, and I felt like hell. Worse than yesterday. Everything about me fuckin' hurt. The dog clambered in the taxi with me, and the cabby didn't bother trying to kick either of us out.

It took forever, but the dog and I got home before Tripp. The dog almost didn't follow me in, but I shoo'ed it inside. No need to get my fuckin' neighbors pissed, they already hated me and Tripp. I didn't bother turning any lights on. The clock said 2:39, and I abandoned my pants on my bedroom floor, practically clawing them off my legs, and curled up on my bed, sweating and shaking. I felt sicker than I ever had and the pain was nearly unbearable.

The dog sat in my doorway, watching me.

"What'chu lookin' at," I groaned. An intense wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged. I stumbled to the bathroom, nearly tripping on the dog's tail on my way, and threw up in the toilet. Lucky shot. Sort of. It was all over my chest too. I groaned and gently banged my head against the wall.

I waited a couple of minutes to make sure nothing more was gonna make a cameo on the bathroom floor, and stripped to shower and rinse my mouth out in one shot. And maybe hurt less.

When I got out, my neck hurt real bad. I touched it. My hand came away red-ish. What the fuck? I patted it with my towel, and the towel came away red too. I stared at it, not comprehending what this meant. Somewhere in the apartment, someone was playing my guitar. I reached to the mirror, to wipe the condensation off, and the realization hit me.

I was home alone and someone was playing my guitar. Incredibly well, but someone was playing it.

I hastily wrapped my towel around my waist and found Ryan, sitting on my bed, playing guitar.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ryan did not look up, continuing to play. "I came home with you, stupid."

"No you didn't," I said. "You ditched me in the cemetery. I woke up with this dog on my chest 'n' it followed me home. You just showed up. Stupid."

"Where's the dog then?"

That was a good question. I stuck my head out of my room and looked around. Tripp's door was locked like it always was, the bathroom was empty, the living room-slash-dining room-slash-kitchen was empty. No dog.

"I don't know." I said, head pounding. "I just wanna go to bed. I feel sick."

Ryan stopped playing and looked at me, raising his eyebrows. "Wonder why."

"What?"

"Nothin'," Ryan rolled his perfect eyes and went back to playing. "Put clothes on 'n' c'mere."

"Weirdo." I grumbled, grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt from my dresser. "Barely fuckin' know you, 'n' you come into my house, play my fuckin' guitar-"

"You came to my house first, sunshine."

"What? When?" I said, dropping my towel and pulling my boxers on and the shirt over my head.

He rolled his eyes. I stood there, headache beating my brains, trying to piece it all together. Black clothes. Irresistible charm. Midnight. Cemetery. Dog that was there and then gone. Biting my neck.

"Vampires aren't real?" The room was swaying.

Ryan laughed at me. "You sound sure."

I groaned, crawling into my bed and curling up. The world was spinning. Everything hurt, my head most of all.

"It should be really kicking in right now, the venom." Ryan said, playing the most beautiful, melancholic, entrancing melody I'd ever heard. "Your body's trying to reject it, which is why everything hurts so bad right now. Eventually you'll die, probably within the next 4 hours. At around, I dunno, hour 5 of the venom being in your system, you become paralyzed. But you're still awake. You get to feel everything. Your lungs slowly stop working, your blood slowly stop moving, your heart slowly stop beating. It's incredible honestly. Very fascinating to watch."

"Make it stop," I groaned.

"Turn you into a vampire? I don't think so. I'd rather watch you die." He started playing a new song.

"Please, Ryan. Please."

Ryan sighed. "Why should I?"

"I love you," I groaned. "I barely know you but I love you. You're gonna be alone forever. Don't you want someone by your side?"

"You'll stop loving me."

"I won't." I said, struggling to pull myself up so I could sit against the wall. "I never stop loving someone. I love forever. I'll never leave you."

Ryan looked at me in the eye. For the first time, I could see the depth of the darkness in his dark brown eyes.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." I said. "Let me love you. Give me a chance."

He put the guitar down and crawled next to me.

"Why?"

I turned my head to look at him. It hurt. "I think you're holy."

"No you don't."

"I do. I see heaven in you. I feel it in you. You're an angel."

Ryan didn't say anything.

"Ryan. Please. Let me love you. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not angel."

"You are to me."

"That would change."

I closed my eyes. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. "No. It won't."

I heard him sign pointedly. "Wouldn't you rather go to heaven?"

"Heaven doesn't mean anything to me if you're not there."

He inhaled sharply.

"You don't know what you're saying."

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. "Ryan, look at me."

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Please, look at me." I was desperate, about to cry. "Please, Ryan. Look at me."

He wouldn't.

Hot tears fell onto my shirt. "Ryan, please. I love you."

It hung in the air like a suicide.

"Stop crying." He finally whispered, wiping my tears away. I closed my eyes and leaned against him. Melting into him. Trying to relax.

"Lani, look at me."

I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. I felt him press something warm and wet against my lips.

"Drink," he said. And I did.

And heaven could never compare.

#xoxo #333 #soooooooooooooooooo much i can say abt this. first of all thank u frank 4 being the inspiration thank u mel 4 offering tips n thank u both #4 assuring me it didnt suck when i thought it did. love u guys!#2ndly ryans phone number is the one from lanas honeymoon cover cuz i think im clever. 3rdly i am very scared 2 post this 4 reasons i cant f #fully understand or explain but im doing it anyway. hashtag girlboss or something. im gonna go cry into my girl dinner now. mop night!#love like heroin hate like heaven

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hoperays-song · 6 months

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Can you explain things you want to happen to Johnny in the next sing movie(or project or if they make a graphic novel) mine is that he makes his own song.

Ooooooo, thank you for the ask!!!! I'm so sorry in advance, I'm gonna ramble here lol. - <3 Gooseless

--------------------------------- So I actually want a few things to happen in the next project (the continuation fic is essentially all of it lol), but I would definitely agree on the original songs front! That's for sure on my list.

One of the main things though, the biggest one actually, is to continue with Johnny's storyline as a queer allegory. We've already faced familial acceptance in the first movie, community acceptance with the second movie (though I have so many issues with how the dance class was handled), and it would be nice to just wrap it up with personal acceptance. And that might seem out of order but it actually isn't in a lot of cases. I know, for me at least, I spent so much time right after coming out defending my place and my identity to the world around me that I never really took the moment to process I could just finally be myself, and that it was ok to exist. I feel like a storyline like that with Johnny would be amazing, as there are numerous ways to go that route, like romantic (please, I want to see Rynny more than anything, PLEASE) or personal (Johnny finally putting out boundaries with his workload).

This would be an awesome storyline to see through either of those lenses, with a romantic arc featuring Johnny and Ryan being able to use a much more obvious way of showing this, especially if Ryan has already reached personal acceptance. Why that is is because throughout his previous storylines, Johnny has a specific support system for each, with familial being the troupe and community being Nooshy, so it would make sense if the love interest in this scenario, Ryan, took on that role this time around. It works really well in this option as it leads to really cute moment possibilities of the characters, particularly Johnny, just letting himself exist and have something for himself. And I will admit that I feel this is the best option for this storyline, as it is pretty blunt and up-front with the coding then, just like Johnny's other storylines, but also allows Johnny to have something for himself (his identity and his relationship) instead of how we see all his developments in the past movies, aka being broadcasted to the world and not really giving the kid any privacy. He deserves something for himself. And I feel like a relationship with Ryan could be that thing.

But like I said, you could work it as personal as well, with Johnny finally putting forward boundaries with Buster due to the workload the man keeps assigning the poor kid. I feel like a good support system here could be Ryan (if they are in an already established relationship) or his dad and uncles as they would have life experience to advise him on the matter. Johnny is heavily overworked throughout both movies and it seems like the expectations for him are really high, so a moment of him just letting himself exist as the ordinary person he is would probably be very therapeutic for him.

I personally wish they would go in the series direction instead of another movie, allowing for more detail to be poured into the characters, and that is kinda the format in which the continuation fic is written, in a way easily translated to a series. However, I have posted an idea for a Sing 3 set after a time jump around Johnny's story that I'll link below. It kinda goes into the previously mentioned wants for a series but having those already happen and mainly talks about ways to get queer rep around hate groups.

So yeah, I really want to see a personal acceptance journey for Johnny, letting the kid see he doesn't have to fight for who he is or his place anymore, he can just be Johnny, however that looks like.

---------------------------------

Here's the Sing 3 idea thing!

#... I did not think I would type that much #I'm so sorry if this doesn't make sense!#im also sorry for rambling this much #being brief is not my strong suit lol #the rynny shipper in me just really wants them to get together #the cultural and media studies major in me really really wants this to finish out the allegory #and you can easily do both!!!!!#sing #sing 2 #sing 3 ideas #sing johnny #sing ryan #sing rynny #rynny #though i should say this now. i will be boycotting anything that has specific actors in it due to their statements about a literal genocide #i dont give a fuck they wont ever get a penny from me #so sing 3 (if/when it happens) is likely going to be ignored by me entirely :) just a heads up #im also a fanfic writer so ignoring canon is what i do most of the time anyway - someone who retconned the entire ending of sing 2 #i also changed so much dance stuff because it just hurt my brain #look i can excuse a lot of inaccuracies in stuff but i draw the line at sports i have done and medical inaccuracies

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