#i have a lot of feelings about the arch scene. but i have to recognize that they are mostly personal..

[bookishjules]

i think the show is playing a smart game of chess here, getting each of our characters in the positions they need to be in. in the arch museum, percy almost tells annabeth that he'd choose her side over his dad's. we know in the books, that this is the sentiment annabeth gives percy in the zoo transport van.. but at the point that percy says this in the show, i don't think annabeth would be prepared to respond in kind. she's too loyal to her mom, to the systems she's learned to abide within. in order to get her to that point, she needs a reason to put percy first.

by making the echidna attack at the arch occur because athena got embarassed and upset about her daughter standing by while another kid made a decision.. and then having percy be the one to stand up and defend annabeth against the monsters that had basically come from athena at this point.. the show is giving annabeth that reason. athena will fight her. percy will fight for her. and now suddenly her character is perfectly positioned to choose percy.

[lixie-phoria]

[7.0 oops] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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an : i wrote this scene 4 times and im still not happy w how it's turned out so please bare w me :')

everything is a blur. the flashing lights are blinding. your head pounds as the walls vibrate with the bass. redness pools in your eyes as your surroundings blink at you.

you can't remember a time when you've been this drunk. you don't think you've ever been this drunk before. but you've never needed it this much either.

yeonjun is across the room from you. even in your inebriated state you can recognize the lush black of his hair, the lean of his figure and his laughter that cuts through the noise of everything else around you.

and your blood boils. he looks so fucking happy you have half a mind to stride across the room and plant your fist on his infuriatingly gorgeous face.

but jeongin has a firm grip around your waist, holding you in place.

"patience, yn, please."

his breath is warm against your skin as he leans down to whisper into your ear, and you shiver as his fingers accidentally brush against your skin that peeks out from the hem of your top. his long fingers.

"we spoke about this. you have a plan and we're going to follow that." he reminds you, gently tugging you away from the entrance of the living room and deeper into the crowd. it's almost like you're in a club, the music vibrating through the air and lights flashing. jackson wang sure did know how to throw a party.

you hum, stopping close to where yeonjun was but far away enough that it doesn't seem too obvious.

"are you ready?"

technically, jeongin should be asking you that because if anything, this would end badly for you. not him. but he nods nonetheless, gently turning you away from him and pulling you flush into his figure, back facing him.

you've been to a fair share of parties. yeonjun always loved them. and slowly, you grew to love them too. you could get lost in the frequency of the bass and those few hours where anybody could be anyone. no judgement. and that's exactly what you do now.

you try to ignore the fact that you're grinding on another boy while yeonjun is in the same room as you. you lean into jeongin, relishing in the way his face dips into the crook of your neck and his fingers grip tighter at your waist.

his body heat lights your skin on fire, and you arch your neck slightly, your hair grazing his shoulder. you're so glad you had all those drinks because if you had been sober you would have fled out right about now.

"tell me if you're uncomfortable." he whispers, his breath tickling your skin and chest vibrating against your back. combined with the muddled haze of your mind, it's so overwhelming. you love it.

"Okay," you agree, turning around, hands immediately wrapping around his neck and sliding down to his shoulders.

oh wow. he was broad. you can feel hard muscles rippling under the thin fabric as he leans back slightly to look at you better.

his skin is smooth, and you can just see the small dip of his dimple. for the first time you notice the specks of light brown in his eyes and the way his tongue darts out to wet the plush pink of his lips.

he's so pretty it hurts. what you wouldn't do to have eye lashes like those.

now that you're facing him, the scent of his perfume has gotten a lot stronger, and it doesn't help your dizziness. it's a mix of vanilla and pepper, and you have to stop yourself from leaning into him.

it feels good. you've been cooped up in your room for way too long, sobbing into your pillow most of the time. sorrow has permanently resided itself in your heart, but right now, you can almost forget about it. you feel alright.

you see jeongin's mouth twitch, opening to say something to you, and you watch in a trance as it immediately shuts too.

"what's wrong?"

he doesn't get the chance to reply. one minute you're in jeongin's arms and the next minute someone is tearing you away from him, yanking you back by the shoulder.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

that voice. that goddamn voice jars you into reality as you stumble behind the familiar figure that is now pulling your date to the party closer by the collar.

fuck. yeonjun had found you. and he was livid.

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©lixie-phoria, 2023

[shadowqueenjude]

Many people have a headcanon that the stranger who appeared at the Archerons’ door asking Papa Archeron to invest was Lucien, so I decided to write the scene! This is the first coherent thing I’ve written in ages so don’t judge me too hard😭 Also I have no idea what currency is used in acotarland so I’m using pounds because it’s based on Britain.

Lucien had not even seen a human house yet and he already felt like an outsider. He was no stranger to the feeling; it was how he’d felt when he’d first shown up in Spring, covered in his brothers’ blood, steam curling off his body from the fire in his veins, his ember smell and red hair both clear signs that he didn’t belong. However, at least, while his magic had felt weaker outside of his home territory, it had still felt potent. Even with Amarantha’s stupid curse. But here… By the Cauldron, this place was so dreary. So ordinary. If this was where Feyre had grown up, no wonder she was such an ignorant mortal fool. Her human life was so mundane compared to his. Lucien couldn’t imagine living here his whole life like this. 

Tamlin had offered to send an entire entourage to protect him, but Lucien had insisted that just a horse would do. He needed to look wealthy, not like a prince. He wasn’t going to be slain by two girls and their absentee father. Andras had only been killed because he had willed it. Lucien shut down that thought, not wanting to think about the pain he’d felt when Andras had died. His closest friend in Spring, most likely. Tamlin was his friend too, but he was also his High Lord; the relationship was inherently unequal, unlike with Andras.

At last, Lucien exited the forest. The clearing was even more boring than the trees. The ground was a yellowish-green reminiscent of dying grass, and every step was a loud crunch under the horse’s hooves. Pahhh. No wonder Feyre was half-dead when she’d first arrived. Then Lucien felt guilty for thinking that way. It wasn’t her fault the humans were left like this. Prythian before Amarantha had ample resources to help out the humans, but they hadn’t. They’d freed them from slavery to the Fae, only to make them slaves to their basest instincts. 

They were even worse off than the lesser faeries. Lucien’s eyes stung as he remembered Jesminda’s dream of an equal Prythian, the dream Tamlin was working hard towards. She would’ve loved Tamlin and the Spring Court. 

Calm down Lucien, he chastised himself as he urged the horse onward. Holy shit, Tamlin hadn’t exaggerated; these homes and buildings were tiny. He moved through bustling streets with little humans pushing carts full of wares of some kind. Several stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Excellent; he set himself apart plenty simply being astride this mare. 

As Tamlin had said, the Archeron home wasn’t hard to find. Mostly because of the lingering faerie scents that he followed all the way to their house. He didn’t remember human etiquette as it had been ages since he’d met one, but it couldn’t be that different from Faerie etiquette, right? Right?? Cauldron boil him, he should’ve done more research, but he didn’t think it would be that big a deal. Tamlin’s glamour magic that he’d cast as he kidnapped Feyre should hold, plus Lucien’s own glamour magic. 

He didn’t have anything to tie his horse to, so he gently descended the horse and led her near the side of the house, praying that she wouldn’t run. Then he knocked on the door, internally cussing at this infernal hat he was wearing. Some gentlemanly human fashion that he despised.

The door opened a minute later. Lucien looked down at a small woman who looked a lot like Feyre- only, her features were sharper, stronger. Her dirty blonde hair was up in a braided crown, her angled brows were arched as her silvery-blue eyes assessed him with a courtier’s precision. Lucien instantly recognized this one as Nesta- the older sister. Cold, cunning, and more beautiful than Lucien had expected. He gave her a practiced courtier’s smile as he bowed to her. “Hello, Lady. I was wondering if your father was home?” Nesta stared at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly want with him?” Another feminine voice in the background gasped, but Lucien maintained his smile, only replying, “He is a merchant, is he not, Lady? I have a proposition for him.”

“Our father hasn’t been a merchant in many years,” Nesta said coldly. Oh, she was a viper, alright. She’d fit right in at the Autumn Court. Unfortunately for her, Lucien had far too much experience with people worse than her. “Perhaps what I suggest will convince him to get back into it.”

Nesta looked him up and down again. Somehow, Lucien got the feeling that she could see through the glamour. Impressive. Lucien’s smile morphed into a smirk as Nesta continued to stare her displeasure. “See something you like, my lady?” Nesta’s eyes instantly snapped back to his. “How dare- oh just come in; let’s get this over with quickly.” 

Lucien bowed again, and unable to help himself, he sent a wink and grin Nesta’s way before he turned towards the man sitting on the chair. Lucien repressed his wince of sympathy at the ruined leg. That must have hurt a lot when he got it. He didn’t know the story, but it made Lucien’s face twinge in memory of his own eye getting carved out. “Does that hurt?” Lucien asked the man, nodding at the leg. The man blinked, as though surprised to be addressed. “Often,” he admitted. “Particularly when I try to stand up.” Unable to help himself, Lucien blurted, “I could give you supplies to help you with that, you know, Lord.”

The man cringed. “Please just call me Tristan. And I couldn’t possibly accept-“

“Please, Tristan. I insist. It’s just in my satchel here. Give me one moment.” He bowed to him and turned around, the scent of jasmine wafting into his nose. That’s when he saw her.

The younger sister: Elain. She had the same burnished gold hair of her sisters, but her eyes were wholly different; she had lovely doe eyes that you could drown in. She had a slight blush on her face, and she had an inviting smile on her face as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Won’t you tell us your name, my lord?” Lucien had fully intended on giving them an alias, but he fumbled on his words, instead saying, “I-my name is Lucien.”

“Lucien.” His name on her tongue-

“Pretty name for a pretty lord,” Elain teased, and Lucien felt his face heat up. His shirt sleeve sparked with fire, and Lucien hastily patted it down. Why was he so nervous? Elain wasn’t the first beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Why, um, thank you, Lady Elain.”

“How do you know her name?” Nesta cut in, and Lucien sighed. She was even worse than Feyre. He turned to her, letting that practiced smile return. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about the family of the man who I’m trusting with my money, did you?” Lucien tried not to laugh at the expression on Nesta’s face as he sauntered out of the cabin to get the faerie pain killer and tonic. He made a mental note to get new ones once he went back home. This man needed it more than him, and he could just get more when he went home.

 Thankfully, his horse was obediently standing near the side of the house, and Lucien rustled through his satchel, getting the two bottles he always kept on him. Then he strolled back towards the front door, knocking politely again. This time, the door was opened by Elain, who gave him that adorable smile again. “Lord Lucien.” Lucien gave her a real grin, replying, “Lady Elain.” “Please don’t worry about my sister. She can be a little…overprotective, but she means well, I promise.” Lucien lifted a hand to place on Elain’s shoulder assuredly before he remembered that humans were really weird about physical contact. 

“Rest assured, I understand your sister’s misgivings. I’m a strange man entering your home, and I know of the struggles ladies must go through in this world. I do not resent her for her attitude.” Elain beamed. “Does that mean you’ll visit us again?” While Lucien had been careful to avoid physical contact, it seemed Elain had no such qualms; she grabbed his forearm with her small, surprisingly strong hands. Lucien stiffened slightly in surprise. He was going to say no when he caught a glimpse of her expression and scented her mood. Her excitement was so contagious. “You seem a worldly man. Have you traveled much?” Lucien blinked. “Yes, I have.” He opened his mouth to say more, but his mind was blank. Cauldron boil him-

“Excellent! Then it’s settled then; you’re coming back so you can tell me all about your travels,” Elain said firmly. Lucien blushed again. Think of something intelligent to say! “As you say, my lady,” Lucien finally managed. Then the two of them walked back to her father, Elain’s hand still on his arm. Lucien felt Nesta’s glaring at it, but he didn’t care; he was glowing at her hand on him, and he was too giddy to wonder why. “Here it is, Tristan. When you feel pain, take two sips of this red liquid and your pain shall go away. Rub this purple liquid into your leg every day to help relieve the bones in that area. I shall leave them on this table.” Lucien placed them on the wooden table where he noticed Tamlin’s claw marks punched into the table. By the Cauldron, Tam. You went all the way with the theatrics, didn’t you?

“Now, for my request: I know of your reputation, so I am asking you to invest some of my money for me.”

Tristan inquired, “And how much do you wish me to invest, Lord Lucien?” “Twenty thousand pounds.” Elain gasped and Nesta moved to cover her younger sister’s mouth. Tristan stared at him in disbelief. “Twenty thousand? Really?” 

“Of course. Will that be a problem?”

“Well…it’s just so much money…”

Lucien resisted the urge to snarl at him. His patience was waning. “No, it’s nothing to me. Just a small sum to see what you can do. I’ll think of investing more if I am interested.” Tristan stared at him some more. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Elain exclaimed, walking forward as her sister tried to shush her again. “My father would be delighted to accept your investment, my lord.” Lucien sighed slightly in relief as Elain met his eyes. “Thank you,” he mouthed at her. She merely winked at him, and Lucien blushed again. Something was wrong with him; must be the human weather. 

“Erm, yes, of course I would,” Tristan said with slight confusion. “Father-“ Nesta began, but Lucien spoke over her. “Splendid! I could not be more grateful.” Lucien reached his hand into midair, searching for that small bag of gold Tamlin had given him and stored in the ether. At last, he found it, handing it to Tristan. “Here’s another token of my gratitude.” Tristan blinked, as if he could not possibly believe his luck, and Lucien handed him another back, this one with the twenty thousand pounds. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Tristan, and meeting your wonderful daughters.” He bowed to each of them in turn before exiting the room. 

“Wait!” Elain cried, just as Lucien mounted his horse. Lucien turned to Feyre’s sister. He tried not to get distracted by her big brown eyes as she said breathlessly, “You will come back, won’t you, my lord?” He hadn’t planned on it, no. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that to her. “I swear it, my lady Elain.” She grinned then, her fully smile so brilliant it took Lucien’s breath away. “Until then, my Lord Lucien.” 

That expression remained imprinted on Lucien’s mind all the way back to the Spring Court.

[palfriendpatine66]

Making of Monday - Nursing home au edition

Posting what was the first scene of my big bang fic, Say Anything, after I made the call to edit it out. I feel this scene is mostly background info that I had to get set in my mind before I could jump into the story, but we don’t necessarily need while reading. I have a hard time bidding goodbye to these kinds of details, but I think it will be a stronger opening for it.

Cw: aging angst

Heavy. 

Impossibly heavy.

Slowly rising from the murky waters of a medicated sleep, Obi-Wan isn’t quite able to break through the surface and into the clear air of consciousness. His eyelids twitch but remain closed, his body weighted down and dragging him back under. Just as he decides not to fight it, to surrender and spend the day adrift in the peace of the liminal space in which he finds himself floating, it lets up. 

The first rays of light are blinding, too intense, and he squeezes his eyes shut and furrows his brow against the unwelcome intrusion. He reaches full consciousness and becomes aware of his body just in time to wish he hadn’t. He feels terrible, more than the average my bones feel every day of my age sort of terrible that he's come to expect. At some point the body just decides it has had enough, and he’d crossed that point years before. 

“Nuh-uh: I saw that,” a familiar voice teases from somewhere nearby. “You won’t be fooling anyone today. After we change your bandage you can eat in the dining room just like everyone else.” 

Obi-Wan finally makes some progress in his fight against the cursed brightness. The room comes into focus once his hand instinctively feels along a bedside table until his fingers wrap around a pair of thick rimmed glasses and slides them into place. 

“Perhaps I’ll starve to death," he suggests dryly. "Save you the trouble.”

The nurse by his side is one of his favorites, Ahsoka, and this fact alone considerably improves his outlook for the day. He had recognized her voice but seeing her kind eyes, and the not altogether surprising addition of nearly fluorescent streaks of blue in the hair that frames her easy smile, is a welcome comfort. 

Young and determined, Ahsoka is still filled with the desire to make a difference. Not yet burnt out by years of burdens that come with the job or else the bitterness of being bound by uncaring constraints of budgets and bureaucracy, she is a breath of fresh air in what can be, at times, a stale atmosphere. Fierce and kindhearted and terribly clever, she reminds Obi-Wan of the daughter he had once imagined he might have. It had been a daydream fated to remain just that, but he thinks she would have turned out a lot like Nurse Tano, attitude and all. 

"Don’t go getting any ideas; do you have any idea how much paperwork that would leave me with?” She arches an eyebrow as she bustles about, preparing her supplies. “Besides, it was just a slip and fall; you didn’t even break a hip. There’s life in you yet, old man.” 

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan can’t help but scoff at her irreverence. “Just look at me. Practically a spring chicken.” 

It had been a slip and fall that had brought him into assisted living to begin with, and continues to serve as an unwanted reminder that he is the frail remainder of the man he used to be, his adventurous spirit now a relic of a bygone age. He doesn’t need to push a motorcycle to its limit or free climb towering cliffs when he craves a taste of danger to get the adrenaline pumping these days; hazards like slick surfaces and uneven flooring are as plentiful as they are potentially fatal.   

The beginning of the end had arrived while exiting an otherwise unremarkable shower that wouldn’t have stood out from any of the rest he’d taken over the course of his life had he not lost his balance and fallen. When he had eventually come to, awkwardly splayed across the cold tile, he’d been unable to move beyond the effort it took to reach the corner of his towel with his outstretched fingertips and drape it over himself to preserve the one lingering shred of dignity he had left. 

There was no telling how long he would have stayed there if fate hadn’t been on his side - in the form of a leaky sink, which never did get fixed. The plumber had arrived as scheduled first thing the next morning to find his client laid out on the bathroom floor, weak and clearly in a great deal of pain. He didn’t quite get to the job he’d been hired for. Obi-Wan called out, “would you be a good chap and call me an ambulance? The phone is in the kitchen, thank you,” as if the plumber hadn’t already pulled out his iPhone and dialed 911. 

After a surgery to repair the hip that hadn’t managed to heal quite right and broken ribs that had slowly and painfully stitched themselves together, an ornery Obi-Wan had turned even more oppositional when he’d been visited by the hospital social workers. With shrugs that said this is for the best they’d insisted he was unable to return home without someone there to look after him. He’d angrily defended his right to live alone and do whatever the damn hell he pleased with his days, even if that included an amount of whisky that was slowly pickling his liver (not that he added that particular detail or any other that might provide further fuel to their arguments). But eventually he’d changed his tune when he was told - threatened, really, if you asked him - that if he refused his case would be brought to the courts and a judge would determine whether his aging mind was fit to make his own decisions at all. 

He had known he was backed into a corner and had reluctantly raised a white flag of surrender. He’d been convinced it would be better for him to go willingly, to permanently move into an assisted living facility after the short period required to rehab his hip, and maintain his autonomy to make other decisions for himself. 

His house remained as it was, leaky sink and all, a monument paying homage to his past life. His in name but not in practice, it was a problem to be dealt with by someone else at another time. 

When he’d recovered enough strength to walk with a cane he’d returned one last time to collect his effects. His home was filled with artwork and trinkets and more books than most would read in a lifetime; all the things he had gathered throughout the years that, taken together, told the story of his life. But he couldn’t take it all with him and when he considered what he needed the answer wasn’t much. The necessities all fit into one suitcase but once he’d thought on it he’d filled a second with what might be nice to have as well. 

Those things and the memories they carried were what made his bland apartment, a level one-bedroom with things like handrails and non-slip mats and emergency pull cords, bearable. But having an echo of himself and the life he’d lived along its neutral walls didn’t automatically make the place to live a home. He’d begrudgingly seen the wisdom of the move shortly after his first heart attack, and made more of an effort to lay down some roots, to connect with the other residents and staff. It still wasn’t what he would have chosen for himself, but it helped. 

“Oh, don’t put yourself down," Ahsoka chides as she effeciently tends to whatever injuries lay beneath his bandages — Obi-Wan can't see and decides he doesn't feel the need to exert the effort to look. "I’ve seen the way the knitting circle all giggle like school girls when you enter a room.” 

“Yes, well, slim pickings and all that,” he rolls his eyes and decides he must be pulling through. Surely sarcasm will be one of the first faculties to go? “It’s hard not to outshine the meager competition.” 

“Yeah, you still have your hair,” Ahsoka nods in agreement as she gently unwinds the bandages holding him back together after his nearly fatal run in with his dangerous arch nemesis: the shower. 

“And teeth.” 

They both laugh at that, although there isn’t all that much humor in the simple fact that vegetables served in the dining room are frequently steamed to the point of liquidation. Some might call Obi-Wan vain, and maybe he is, but it’s a point of pride that after having lost so many things over the course of his life that his smile isn’t one of them. 

“What if I told you I have insider intel? Would corn on the cob be enough for you to show your face in the dining room and let everyone see for themselves you made it? Come on,” she needles, leaning into his side, sensing victory, “dispelling the death rumors, sinking your teeth into a fresh, firm vegetable, and getting ahead of the oncoming shame induced solitude? This sounds like a win/win/win to me.”

And to think he’d been inwardly praising her. Ahsoka’s bedside banter is probably, according to both nursing school textbooks and official policies, terribly unprofessional. And yet, seeing as how she’s one of the few who makes him feel like an autonomous adult rather than an errant toddler, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, it’s the very best.

[linskywords]

An alternate kind of view on Mack’s dad ruthlessly programming him is less “repress! repress!” and more “I Will Use My Expertise To Create The Most Undeniably Successful Sub The NHL Will Ever See.” Saddling our guy with a differently insane kind of pressure!

There’s a ton of reporting out there about Rick Celebrini, and one thing the Warriors players all repeatedly say is that he regards the emotional support as a super-critical part of his work and part of what makes him so good is that he gets them on a personal level. I think interpreting that as him being less likely to repress than he is to force his children to leverage their dynamic is fun.

One big piece of The Hill Story is Rick expecting Mack to blow up at him and pick another fight once they were back at the house and him being like, “well I deserve that actually BUT I’M STILL RIGHT.” To me that’s a fun thread to pull where the dynamic is a different kind of unforgiving about being both dad and trainer, recognizing the emotional part and thinking it’s relevant only in that it’s something to fold into the process of work.

Mack knowing himself, knowing his needs, but not treating them as a real part of himself because he’s been conditioned to think of being a sub like having flat arches: it’s not personal, you don’t love your feet, you just make sure you have insoles to support them. Who cares. He’s a sub, so obviously he needs to scene. Just find the nearest reasonably appealing dom and get it over with.

Tussling with Will is fun because it’s always fun to hang out with other subs, and because roughhousing is also always fun! Better to do it with subs than doms, Mack prefers to keep that line of separation there. Except Will getting the upper hand suddenly feels…different. Different than every time he’s let a dom hold him down and waited for the relief to hit him like you wait for ibuprofen to kick in when you have a headache. He doesn’t know what it is, but…oh. This feels like wanting more, and not just wanting what comes at the end.

Ooooh I like this a lot. (Also, thank you for all your excellent scholarly work!!) What's fun about this is that it positions him embracing his sub identity not as learning to oppose his dad or reject what his dad taught him, more just him growing into something that wasn't really under the purview of his dad's training. Don't get me wrong, stories about rejecting bigoted parents are fun, but this feels refreshing. It's a subtler take I haven't seen as often. Like, maybe his dad doesn't want him to come out, maybe he doesn't have a strong opinion on it, but either way I think Mack would come at it from the same practical perspective--how can I position myself in the world to have the life I want--and if it turns out that he can't do that while staying closeted, that would be a new piece of information that might change the picture for his dad, too.

But yeah, he would come into the NHL with such a brutally utilitarian attitude towards subbing. Working with a professional, maybe, or like you said, subbing for basically anyone who seems like a safe option, on a predetermined schedule designed for health. The first time he actually subs for someone he's attracted to, he'd be so overwhelmed he wouldn't even know what was going on.

[angstics]

the foundations of decay (2022) x vampires will never hurt you (2002)

FIRST SINGLE

Gerard Way: ["Vampires Will Never Hurt You"] will always be my favorite recording of the band, because it was the first. Having little money, or for that matter the songs, to complete a full-length album, we hopped in a van and headed to Nada Studios.

(may death never stop you booklet, march 2014)

["Vampires Will Never Hurt You"]'s recording was so passionate that, despite being intended as a demo, My Chemical Romance decided that they should use it on the album. It would go on to become the central cog of the record they were about to make, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. It would be the album that launched their career.

(not the life it seems, sept 2014)

[Under the /audio tab on mychemicalromance.com, there is a table of titles and downloadablable mp3s. At this time, there is only one audio file listed for "Vampires Will Never Hurt You". Below the table, it reads: "From our forthcoming full length album on Eyeball Recordings, due out this summer. This is a rough mix of the song. The final mix will appear on a summer sampler and the full length. Recorded March 3rd, 2002 at Nada Studios in upstate NY."]

(mychemicalromance.com, arch. june 2002)

[Alex Saavedra] gives a lot of the credit to the influential local DJ and scene stalwart the late Mario Comesanas. He used his Under the Stars slot on the South Orange, New Jersey college-radio station WSOU to air "Vampires" for the first time. Comesanas, who was also first to play Thursday on the radio, remembered the response was overwhelming. ‘The reaction was ridiculous – I knew that there was something special here,’ he said. ‘When we counted the requests, there was so much more for them than there was for any other band at that time.’

(not the life it seems, sept 2014)

Frank Iero: I think the first time we really recognized the power of social media was right around the time Thursday was being signed, Midtown was signed. Basically, all our friends from Jersey and Long Island were getting record deals. And My Chem had really just started. We recorded one song because that’s all we had the money for at that point. And we put it up on Myspace immediately and were like, “Hey listen, we’re gonna do a record soon once we get the money. But this is like a sneak preview kind of thing,” and once we put that up, there were literally major label A&Rs calling the practice studio. How they got the number for the practice studio, I have no idea.

(stereogum.com, march 2020)

Frank Iero: This is just something we figured out like... last week when I was hanging out with everybody. The first song we ever wrote and put out on the internet, like, our first single was a song called "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" and it was a song we wrote at the practice studio and recorded and put it out. And we were like, "If people like it, then... they'll let us know through this song and we'll get enough money that we can record," right? So that's what we did. That song was six minutes long. And the last song we put out ["The Foundations of Decay"] is six minutes long. Kinda crazy.

(two minutes to late night, august 2022)

Frank Iero: No one has bigger balls than us right now… I pulled out songs that like… Can you rip a song like a song that we did in 2001 and never released? […] You feel like a badass when you can do that. You feel like a musician then. Like the musicianship and the artistry, that can’t be fucked with."

(one life, one chance, oct 2022)

"favorite" / "couldn't be happier"

(mikey way and frank iero on instagram, may 2022)

STORM

Gerard Way, about recording "Vampires": We started moving the drums out to the van and I was surprised to see what it looked like outside. The sky had become dark blue and jet black and the wind was so strong we thought Mikey was going to blow away. Trees were whipping around and a huge storm was rolling in, but it was strangely warm and felt very comforting. Then I knew my vocals were going to come out just the way I wanted, I could feel this weird excitement.

(mychemicalromance.com, arch. may 2002)

(foundations of decay, may 2022)

SWARM

What's all this nonsense about bats??? The band likes bats. Who doesn't? If you've seen the band live you might have heard Gerard mention something about turning into one or unleashing some sort of swarm of them. "Unleash the fucking bats" is something they say to each other seconds before starting the set to get themselves pumped up. This all started back in Jan '02 when the band finally came together and started playing together with an intensity none of them had ever known. That fateful night they rocked together so hard that a "rock portal" opened up and out flew a swarm of giant bats. No shit.

(mychemicalromance.com, arch. may 2002)

Some rumours I have heard is that you guys like Bats, what's the fascination with them, is it the Will Haven song BATS, or you just like the species? Gerard Way: Haha...the whole bat thing came about at an early practice when Mikey joined and we finally gelled. Our energy just came together and a giant heavy metal vortex opened up and out flew a swarm of bats. We all saw it. It was like an awakening. After that we accepted bats into our lives. It was also while we were playing "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" so it probably had alot to do with that.

(anemicmagazine.com, 2002)

So, the whole vampires, bats, bloody stuff. Where did that all come from? Gerard Way: I probably haven’t ever said this in an interview, but the whole “unleash the bats” thing came from a Birthday Party song called “Release The Bats.” [...] The whole vampire thing [came up when I thought], “Man, nobody writes songs about vampires. How cool would it be?” I thought it was kind of risky or ballsy to play a rock song or a hardcore song that was about vampires.

(starsandscars.com, april 2004)

(foundations of decay, may 2022)

[thestrangestthing89]

Inversion of Tropes - Part 2

The mercy kill trope/trauma porn trope This typically happens just as a character heals from trauma or when they aren't in a romantic relationship because they can't seem to figure out what to do with a character who is single. There will probably be more to say about this next season with regard to El's arc. I suspect she will be going on an independent journey and worrying more about reclaiming her childhood than any adult or teenager appropriate things. She missed a huge part of her life and her recovery from this is an important part of her story. So I don't expect them to suddenly kill her off just as she's getting to the point where she can have the life she wants. It's honestly so awful and frustrating when shows do this. I will probably write more about this post S5. This show has also never been unnecessarily violent. Any of the violence actually serves the plot and none of the characters have ignored any of the trauma they've gone through and pretended it didn't happen. Shows like Walking Dead and Game of Thrones like to do this. Everything is brutal and excessively violent in the name of "realism" but they never show the aftermath of what it does to the characters. It's trauma porn. It's for people who have become so desensitized to violence that they can't recognize that this isn't actually realistic or sophisticated storytelling. Stranger Things hasn't gone to an extreme with this and they have started to show ways that all of this trauma have impacted everyone - bad grades, attitude problems, etc. They don't unnecessarily torture their characters in the name of entertainment.

Unnecessary exploitative shots This isn't exactly a trope but it's so prevalent in tv and movies that I thought I'd add it here. Often, with male directors especially, there are so many creepy, lingering shots on the female characters in particular that end up being exploitative. We don't see that here. Even with Nancy in S1 who takes her shirt off. We don't get lingering shots of her in a bra that feel violating. The camera focuses on Steve most of the time and through most of the scene she is shot from the shoulders up. In the hands of a lot of male directors, there would have been more shots of El floating in her bath that could have easily been exploitative and many wouldn't have hesitated even though she's young. The scene that sticks out the most to me is the scene in S4 when she's in the freezer. She is fully covered and even though she's in white it's not see through or cringy in anyway. I am so relieved to see things like this because most directors wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of her here. It's not just with the female characters either. Steve takes his shirt off and the focus isn't on him or lingering. It's on Nancy, Max, Lucas, and Dustins reactions. And Steve is an adult so it wouldn't have felt as creepy but it still would have been unnecessary. Same with Billy. We mainly see the reactions of the moms at the pool and the camera doesn't stay on him.

1d villain/villian who gets a redemption arch trope Billy, Henry, and Brenner could fit this and none of them are one dimensional. I don't think we are going to see a redemption arc for Henry. We saw one for Billy in S3. He's an abusive, bully but he "redeemed" himself by sacrificing himself for everyone. However S4 flips this around. We see Max's side of things and she doesn't forgive him. That one good act doesn't erase what he did to her. This is where she starts to get closure and heal. Forgiving him isn't forced on her in the name of healing. It's done in a realistic way where she has complex feeling about her relationship with him. We see her re-write their relationship into a more sibling dynamic that wasn't true. But she acknowledges that it wasn't and that it was just the grief talking. El goes through a similar thing with Brenner. She doesn't give him her forgiveness but she gets closure. She is ready to move on from this part of her life. But what he did to her was unforgivable and even though he called it love and called himself her father she knows better now.

The ugly girl turned beauty queen trope Makeovers on this show have been done for character development, particularly with El. But she never gets turned into the "hot girl". The closest they come to this is in S1 when she is wearing the pink dress with the blonde wig. The boys pick this out for her so she can look "normal". She is referred to as "pretty" and this is clearly something she wants - to be like everyone else. But she finds throughout the season that this isn't her. Her dress gets dirty and she loses her wig but she is still reassured the she is "pretty" (I'm pretty sure they use this here to mean normal and not attractive). El also goes through other makeovers to find herself and never once does she get dressed up to be "hot". None of the other female characters do either.

The antagonistic siblings trope For whatever reason this trope is prevalent in a lot of 80s movies. But we see the opposite happening with Will and Jonathan. Jonathan loves Will and takes care of him and supports him. He's never resentful of the role he plays in his life. We do see this trope play out a bit with Mike and Nancy. They have a typical sibling dynamic. The younger brother is annoying and bugs the older sister. Which is why I think they are going to invert this next season. They gave us what's familiar and now they will twist it.

The manic pixie dream girl trope This person is quirky and not like other girls. She is usually one dimensional and there for male character development and doesn't get a story of her own. Robin seems like she will fit this when she's first introduced. But then we see she isn't there for Steve's development and wasn't introduced to be his girlfriend. Instead we see them develop a friendship and she has her own storyline that isn't dependent on Steve - with Vicky and Nancy - and she helps the group out with the supernatural stuff and the Russians. She is smart and useful to the group.

The girls hate each other and are enemies for no reason trope This is usually done because the (usually) male writers can't figure out that girls actually get along IRL. So when we were first presented with this trope in S2, it seems like El and Max will hate each other. But El's jealousy is related to her trauma and isn't random. It was a realistic way to show that this girl was isolated and clingy with Mike. But she gets to know Max and they are BFFs now. They have such a great relationship that is beneficial for both of them. I am so glad they inverted this.

The cool guy gets the girl and wins trope I'm obviously talking about Steve. He isn't getting the girl at the end of this. I think this makes people angry because they don't know what to do with his character. I see a lot of criticisms directed at the writers for sidelining him or treating him badly but they aren't. He just simply isn't the star of the show. And that's ok. It's not his story. But people are so used to the straight, white, conventionally attractive male being the center of the narrative that they often place him here when he doesn't belong. (I wrote about his here). His role is as a secondary character. He is there for support and this doesn't mean that he's being sidelined. The audience gets resentful about it because they've never seen someone like him not be the center of attention so they fixate on him and complain he's being mistreated when he isn't. It's not his role to play the hero here. But it's not surprising that the part of the audience that doesn't relate to the nerds ends up fixating on him. They are used to being the lead and they think that's where someone like him/them belongs. So they overinflated his relationships and role within the group (he is not a mentor or a goddamn babysitter). It's hard for people to see something different. So they lash out at the writing and make HC's "correcting" things. But the actual narrative isn't going to change here. He's not the hero of this story.

I honestly wasn't expecting this to be so long. My point is this - this show has always, always done the unexpected thing. They give you what you what's familiar and then flip it upside down. So when I see people saying things like "they'll never break up Mike and El" it's entirely based on those people being so used to that narrative they don't know what other story to expect. It's the one that we are "supposed" to get. But they won't give this trope for the same reason they haven't given any of the others. This isn't a superficial story. It's not meant as casual, escapist tv. They are calling out storytelling as we've seen it. They are flipping the script and giving us something new.

[nottherealmax]

so i had two hours to think about 73 yards and i have a lot thoughts tm.

- im not gonna ask what the woman was telling everyone, bc i feel like that wasn't the point but bear with me here:

- the paradox itself: ruby thought that what she was supposed to do was stop mad jack, but then she stops herself from doing it and the doctor talks about him the same way again so it will still happen in the future. nothing changed there.

- aaaand ruby still remembers, at leat subconsciously, something from that timeline? the fact that she stops the doctor from stepping on the circle and mentions being in wales three times proves it but then she tries to touch the things inside the circle so she already forgot about it at that point

- which brings me to my next point, why do the notes in the circle say "rest in peace mad jack" like he is dead but if my math is right then he is in his twenties at that point, that's when he's doing his jack of all trades thing and gets the name

- ruby sort of recognizing susan twist kinda reminds me of when you recognize an actor but doesn't remember where from. which brings it back to the tv show theory and the scene of her under the skylight kind of looks like a tv screen plus the weird camerawork during Kate's scenes

- i also went back and it really does say "coleman" on the back of the chair as people pointed out, but also a quick google search later and i could find that that's a brand of folding chair so maybe it means nothing

- BUT then i got thinking about the non human ruby theory which made me think about the chamaleon arch that can disguise time lords (maybe other alien races?) as human, but that would mean ruby's mom desguised her as a baby

- which reminds me to the first thing i thought when we saw ruby's mum in the church in ruby's road which is that the boots she's wearing remind me of thirteen's boots, but I don't think that she's rubys mom at all

- my theory is that 13 found an alien baby, disguised her as human with the chamaleon arch and then left the baby at the church to be found; she then erased the memory from her mind (like with clara) but not completely and thats how 15 can kind of be in that memory?

[acertainmoshke]

👻 and 🌧️ for the Halloween ask game. ^.-

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

Let's see, I talked about Falling Petals here, so let's talk about the future of Cold Iron. I'm still working on the first book, in which the only consistent characters are Shaka, Kris, Maggie, and later Jack and Cassie. But when I think of "now" in that universe, I think of 60 years later when they meet the rest of the original "main" cast: Lynn, Tatiana, Liliana, Harry, Doug, and Beth. So most of my daydreams are about that future, and I cannot WAIT to introduce everyone else to the found family-ness of it all, and the various romances, and the secrets and betrayal, and the sacrifices, and the dichotomy between their cozy home life and violent quests.

🌧️ rain: share a sad or emotional scene from your wip!

Ooh, fun!! I already have 2 good ones in Cold Iron, but I think I've shared them both already so it looks like I'm writing another one. I used to write random scenes unrelated to my current point in the story ALL the time and I've gotten out of the habit, so this is fun. Plus this scene has been stuck in my head. It would be from the third book.

I wasn't watching where the kid was leading us. I was staring down through the sheets of rain at where his feet should have been and the glistening hooves clopping down the street instead. The longer hair on my right was plastered against my ear and cheek and getting in my mouth. The left side of my head was just wet and I was fairly certain I could feel my scalp freezing, an impressive feat for me. My pants clung wetly to my skin and my oversize windbreaker did little to break the wind. I was all but waddling. Which is probably why it took me so long to realize that I recognized this street. I had always thought the city looked the same wherever you went, but no. I knew these tall molded buildings in particular, the arches above their windows, the way their peaks pointed at the heavy sky. The cars parked in front were larger and sleeker, and the people bustling past us were wearing jeans and coats more than suits and lace, but I knew this place. I knew the way that sign shone silver, and what it had been before becoming another convenience store. I swear I recognized the way the sidewalk cracked and peaked. Suddenly the rain seemed much farther away. It was a coincidence, it had to be, because that would be ridiculous. We were walking down a familiar street—had already been walking for over a mile—and we would keep walking right on past... The kid leading us turned off the sidewalk suddenly and slipped past a torn piece of caution tape flapping in the wind. Beside me, April stumbled on a crack and stopped. "Oh," her voice sounded very far away. "That's so weird, I didn't even notice it. Come on, let's get dry." I was powerless to resist her tug on my jacket, leading me under the doorway and down the stairs into the flickering gloom. The tiles felt almost warm on my feet compared to the damp chill outside. The air felt positively toasty just for lack of wind. You couldn't tell anymore what color the walls had once been, but I could have told you they were painted peach. I was vaguely aware of kids and teenagers everywhere: huddled by a trashcan fire, laughing and wrestling and throwing things, sleeping in a lump in the corner. There was one old man snoring heavily. No one else looked older than 17. There were a lot of piercings and very little hair. The entire place smelled like cigarettes and sweat. Maybe half of them were inhuman. But I was only distantly taking in these details, because much more immediate was the large square hole in the wall. No one could have fit in there now, stuffed as it was with bags and cans, but I would swear I knew the color of a worn piece of fabric poking out at the bottom. It occurred to me, very oddly, to wonder if Maggie's missing picture was under there somewhere. "I know, right." Kris' voice was extra deep and scratchy, the way it got when he was determined to seem cool despite it all. He was leaning against the wall, sucking on a cigarette like it was all that was keeping him alive. He had dug up more appropriate clothes, too: jeans that were somehow baggy even on him, a thick sweatshirt, and a hat floppy enough to tuck his horns under. I felt a ridiculous urge to do a cartwheel, for old time's sake. We had been safe here. We had been happy here. Once. I pressed my hand against Kris', hard, and with each little prick of his skin on mine I felt like I could breathe again. But we were here, and somehow these kids were here, and I thought I would never see it all again. Thought I never wanted to. The lights all flickered at once, for just an instant, just long enough to notice the eternal purple glow coming from beside the tracks before I pressed my face into Kris' chest.

Tag list: @pga-books

[littlestarlost]

Hello!!!

I know I’ve said this before but I’m saying it again: I LOVED your take on the bedroom scene. I don’t often read short fics anymore, but ones like yours are the reason I still occasionally do. The way you write captures ideas, characters, and settings so succinctly while still feeling fully fleshed out. That’s not at all easy to do, yet you do it wonderfully. 🤍

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Thank you so so much!! <3 That's such an incredible compliment. And thank you for the questions!

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

It's still quite early, but I'm hoping Practical Tarot (for Impractical Nuns) takes off a little more than it did!

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

When people react to little snippets or moments of writing they liked, I adore that. I work really hard on my writing and love when people recognize turns of phrase or metaphors that I'm proud of.

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

I can pick a theme (say, numbers) and spin a story or a scene or a character quirk based on it; the metaphors will adhere to the theme, reflecting the narrator's own mindset. It's not something I see a lot of other writers do and it's something I'm incredibly proud of.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I AM SO VERY GLAD YOU ASKED i am currently hard at work on an avatrice AU that involves pole dancing and I am absolutely frothing at the mouth to share it i'm SO EXCITED here's a snippet:

“Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary friends,” comes a feminine voice over the loudspeaker, “please give it up for the first lady of the garden, the wife Adam couldn’t bring home to the family, the primordial she-demon…Lilith!” 

 The lights swirl and climb across the walls and ceiling before focusing back on the stage, where Lilith is standing behind the central pole, moving to the beat and tossing her hair with expert precision. As the song speeds up she grabs high up on the pole and leans into a graceful spin, one leg wrapped around the metal as the other one stretches out to the side, and then she almost dives down into another inversion, arching her back and giving the crowd a look at her frankly incredible ass. 

[lacependragonwrites]

descent snippets; #4

From Chapter 4

cw for: panic attack and anxiety

I honestly just picked Liesel stuff. There's a scene after her in the chapter but screw that, have some Liesel.

(Please let me know what you think!)

#1:

Hand, door, turn, and Nat pulls open the door and stumbles into the brighter space of the apartment, proper. First, it is nothing but bright light and the smell of chicken and soy sauce and green onion. There is noise, the rise and fall of television voices, and Nat puts one hand to their head and wishes it would go away. The noise falls away, the lights dim, and Nat manages to squint and see. On a dark blue couch is a woman who looks mildly familiar. She holds a white carton and a pair of chopsticks. Her hair is a mane of black curls that make her round face seem rounder. She is tiny — slim and short and with her body all pulled together into one little place. All around them both, the mess of living, amplified. Several bins of sorted recycling next to a door that must lead to the hallway or outside. Dishes are stacked up, like with like, along the counter. There are no pots or pans among them, just plates, bowls, and mugs. And chopsticks. Maybe a dozen pairs, each different, each artistic. “You’re awake,” says the woman. Nat drags their gaze back toward the woman and stares at her. At her shirt, at her jeans, at her ankles and feet, exposed and bare— oh. The skin tone registers, deep rich brown that reminds Nat of summer, and a memory from earlier clicks into place. Her name is Liesel. They are roommates, now. What sort of city is this, that Nat can get a room in a place with a stranger when no one knows anything about them?

#2:

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” says Liesel. Yes, Nat has a few. Like what spices are in this fried rice, and what is fried rice, and also where can Nat get more. Rice was near impossible to get up north these days, so Nat never had reason to learn how to cook with it. The carton is half empty. Nat sips water and tries to remember what they wanted to ask about, before the food consumed them. It’s hard. The food’s warm and delicious, and the smell blocks out any of the awful smells Nat’s been dealing with over the last few days. Like the copper smell. The smell that started after the— The lights flicker. Nat’s fork clatters into the carton, which thumps onto the coffee table. Nat grips their head and closes their eyes. Don’t think about it. “Nat?” Liesel’s voice is steady. She doesn’t sound scared. “Are you okay? Can I help?” Can she? The copper wire smell is back. A whimper slips from Nat’s throat. Nat opens their eyes. They turn enough so that they can lift their head and stare at Liesel. Not at her eyes, but at everything else. Details. Use the details. Nat’s head pounds. The too-fast drumbeat of their heart booms in their skull and behind their ribs, threatening to burst at any moment. Nat takes a deep breath. Focus. Liesel’s chin is square, her jaw sharp and angular up to flat ears decorated with golden hoops. Her cheekbones arch strong beneath her eyes, and her expressive eyebrows are pulled tight over the bridge of her wide, sharp nose. Nat’s gaze slips to Liesel’s. Dark brown with flecks of reddish brown. Like river mud mixed with clay. A rich, earthy colour that speaks of summer. Nat breathes in. They smell campfire smoke and taste the sharp juice of a roasted apple slice. They break their staring contest with Liesel and stare, instead, at her hands. They’re small. The nails are painted a soft lilac. “Um… do you feel better?” asks Liesel. Nat nods, quick and jerky. They return to their food, less enthusiastic than before. Their heart is slowing, but it’s still too fast. It aches against their lungs. They can’t breathe shallowly enough to stop aggravating it, so they stop trying.

#3:

“Just give me a few minutes,” says Liesel. “I promise this won’t take long.” Nat frowns. Learning a whole alphabet? Maybe some of it, but there’s no way she can memorize and recognize the whole thing in just a few minutes. Nat sneezes. Campfire smoke tickles their nose. The smell of it, anyway. And that sharp apple scent is there, too, mixing into memories of some of Nat’s favourite summer nights. They watch Liesel watch the video, curious what she’s trying to do. Nat’s mouth twitches up on one side as Liesel mouths the letters and moves her hands in time with the person on screen. Then, Nat blinks. They watch her hands more closely. Those gestures aren’t clumsy or novice at all. Liesel forms each letter with the grace of a pro. Each twist of her fingers, each shift of her wrist, all with the practiced ease of someone who’s been signing for years. Nat stares at her hands. Then, they stare at her mouth. It still mouths. They drag their gaze higher and watch her eyes. With Liesel staring at the screen, it’s easier to look at her eyes than before. She watches the TV, scarcely blinking, her gaze darting around the screen. The video ends. In the sudden silence of the room, Nat finds they’ve leaned forward and their chin is too close to Liesel’s shoulder. They jerk back, ears burning hot and loud, and stare at their lap.

#4:

A slow, wide smile stretches Nat’s face and they bounce slightly in place. Liesel’s a metahuman. Nat knows another metahuman. Nat can ask someone else about being a metahuman! The lights flare and the TV flickers channels before shutting off altogether. Nat squeaks and the lights dim again. Liesel is grinning. It’s clear in her voice even before Nat looks up. “You are amazing.” She stares at the ceiling, lights reflecting in her deep eyes. So are you, Nat wants to say but can’t. Instead, they wave until Liesel looks at them, then point to her and smile. She beams, dimples appearing on either cheek as her mouth stretches wide. Her front teeth are a little crooked. They bend toward each other, just slightly. Nat’s smile grows. What else can they ask? What else do they want to ask? Nat’s fingers flutter in the air. Static dances across their tongue and their teeth. There’s a lightness in their chest and Nat understands, in that second, what they’re feeling. Human. For the first time since… since before they’d left Heron, they feel human again. Like a person and not a shadow. “What’s your power, anyway?” asks Liesel. “I mean,” she gestures to the ceiling, “something with all this, but how wide is it?” Nat thinks. How to use one word to describe it all? E-L-E-C-T-R-I-C-I-T-Y. Liesel’s eyes widen. “You mean it’s not something within it? It’s just… all of electricity?” She gestures widely, painted and chipped nails flashing. Nat watches her hands move, swaying with her motions. Their ears swallow her words and Nat nods. “Wow. That’s amazing.” Nat’s face warms. No, they still think she’s cooler. To understand people, just by looking at them? Nat would give anything for that.

[dragonandtiger]

Dreaming To Reality: Oneiromancy Chapter Thirty - 09

A loud beep interrupted Zeed’s thoughts and he looked up sharply, his attention drawn to the DT2 that rested on the table beside Mimi, who jerked at the sound. He frowned when he recognized it as a message notification and watched as she hurried to check it.

After flipping open the DT2, Mimi had to take a moment to wipe furiously at her eyes so that she could make out the text on the screen. Though she didn’t clear her eyes completely of tears, she managed enough to read the message she received. “Huh?”

“What is it, dear?” Zeed asked.

“It’s from Taichi,” Mimi said. “He said, ‘Did you all see that shit?’ in all capital letters…?”

“How vulgar,” Zeed said as he arched an eyebrow. “And what ‘shit’ would that be, I wonder?”

Mimi clicked the link Taichi sent along with the outraged outburst and was immediately greeted by the sight of an anime trailer with a boy who looked eerily similar to Taichi and Agumon. She gave a start as music played, the commercial making its entire spiel known far and wide.

“It’s Digimon Tamer time!”

---

The word “chaos” could not even begin to describe the scene in the chatroom. While it had been bad when Miyako had first told them about her confrontation with Momoe, that reaction paled in comparison to the frenzy that the global commercial had sent the members into.

GODHACKER: WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF

CheerfulHeaven: It looks like the official website is fully functional now.

CheerfulHeaven: It has the whole commercial uploaded, so you can rewatch it directly from their site.

CheerfulHeaven: There’s also a lot of extra promotional stuff, too.

GODHACKER: WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF

SailorMoon96: It looks like it’s not just an anime. We’re talking video games, card games, the whole nine yards.

GODHACKER: WTF WTF WTF WTF

BunnyHop:  Kinda weird to announce an entire franchise in one go

GODHACKER: WTFWTFWTF

OnEwInGeDaNgLe: dUde, kinda weird for it to be a franchise IN THE IFRST PLACE

/~*~angeldancer~*~\ : NGL i signed up for the email list

GODHACKER: W T F W T F

@RainbowBuilder: Not helping.

GODHACKER: WTF IS THIS BSSSSSS!!!!

Miyako pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt her headache coming back with full force. It was bad enough having to try and explain herself to her parents and Momoe, but she was still reeling from the “Digimon World” announcement. It had come out of nowhere, like a swift punch to her trachea, and she knew the feeling was mutual for the rest of the Chosen Children.

To say nothing of the not-so-gentle reminder that the brainwashed Koshiro still had administrator access to the chatroom.

[fillingthescrapbook]

Let's Talk About: Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Season 1

I really wanted to like the Disney+ adaptation, and to some extent… I sort of do? The cast were amazing. They just… they didn't have the best material. And I'm not putting blame on anyone. It's just… I feel like a lot was lost in adaptation.

I fell in love with the world of Percy Jackson when I was in university. I was really into young adult books--thanks to the series from the creator who must not be named--and Rick Riordan's writing was right up my alley. Because they felt lived in. The characters, although they're facing fantastical challenges, belong in the world they're trying to protect. The universe Riordan created for his series was rich with relationships that mattered. And that's where the adaptation let me down.

It wasn't right off the bat though. I truly enjoyed the first two episodes of the television series. And the finale was really well crafted too. It's the episodes in between that was problematic for me. Like, yes, I get it: we have three main characters whose journey is what takes us from the start of the plot to the end of the plot. But did they need to feel so insulated?

The first two episodes had Sally, it had Gabe, it had Percy getting expelled for an incident at a field trip, it had Camp Half-Blood and Clarisse--it had a lot of things happening with and around our main characters. And then episode 3 takes all of that away. Our main heroes go on a cross-country trip and don't even get questioned why they had no adult companion.

Episode four has a monster trapped in a train, and in the St. Louis Arch, and outside of the threat of a police presence… the gang just kept chugging along with nary a non-magical world interference. Episode 5 was even more claustrophobic with an abandoned amusement park, and Episode 6 underlines the issue with neon lights:

There is no fear for the world ending because the world doesn't seem to be affected by the characters we're following.

I mean: Percy was able to drive the cab out of a hotel parking lot without a witness? What?

And I know this concern is pretty superficial when it comes down to it. There's budget to be thought about. There's plot points that need to be hit. But I'm not asking for extended scenes. I just needed non-plot related characters to react to what's happening. In the background.

There's a running bit in the background of Gabe making Percy out to be a terrorist of sorts in the televised interviews--but no one even recognizes Percy at the diner with Ares. What was the point of vilifying him if it wasn't going to add a hurdle to his journey?

And then episode 7 gives us a wonderful scene between Sally and Poseidon that was--in all honesty--so fucking unnecessary for the story being told right now. Like, sure, it humanizes both Sally and Poseidon. To us. The viewers. Who don't really need them humanized in this very specific moment.

What it does is it creates a fake tension where Sally was ready to send him away before, where we see Sally struggling to be the mother that she knew Percy deserved--and have it juxtaposed with Percy getting a chance to save his mom in the present, but being presented with a dilemma. I get the narrative purpose of the inclusion, plot-wise. Emotionally though? Percy didn't know about the Sally-Poseidon conversation. All he knows is that his mom was struggling before. That his mom loves him but is having a hard life caring for him. And that knowledge does not create tension when Percy has to make a choice between getting his mom or Grover out of hell.

But what really makes the adaptation a disappointment for me is the finale. It's a stellar finale. Well-crafted. The scenes included are the scenes needed for the characters to grow, to make the decisions they have to make, and for us to root for them. So it made me really angry that we couldn't have this same quality of plotting for the five episodes that preceded it.

Where were the Camp Half-Blood scenes that would make Luke more of a friend? He was barely in the second and third episodes, and his flashback scenes in the finale were not enough. Where were the scenes at camp where Percy questions why all unclaimed half-bloods end up at the Hermes cabin?

Why was Clarisse the red herring when all we've seen of her character is her irrational dislike of getting one-upped by a newcomer?

With Percy Jackson getting a second season, I really hope the writing team figures out a way to make us care about what's happening to our heroes. I hope the milieu is more integral to the stories that will come. And I hope there's a better balance of humor, fun, and seriousness that was missing from the first season.

Also, for the love of all viewers, light the scenes properly. I know darkness makes it easier to weave in budget-friendly special effects--but some of the hard-to-see scenes in the first season did not have any CGI for that excuse to work.

[wittybibliophile]

OCTOBER IS HERE!!! 🔞🔞🔞

Hello my lovelies!! 💞So my birthday month is here and with it, is my very not-so-PG first quote of the month. All my little devils 😈😈 i'll try to use less of conversations from this scene. It's a big one so sit back and I hope you guys enjoy it!!

"Sophie surprises me as she climbs over the center console and places her knees on either side of me. Her body presses right against my dick. I wrap my arms around her and tug her close, her body molding into mine, Our tongues fuse while we nip and play. The kiss is primal like we both can't satisfy this hunger between us no matter how hard we try. Kissing Sophie became one of my favorite things, right up there with having sex with her, making her come with my tongue, and getting blowjobs from her. Basically anything we do together, including our friendship outside of the bedroom.

Her lips travel to my neck, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. My teeth grind together to hold back a moan. My hands roam all over her body, grabbing her plump ass and giving it a squeeze. Her tongue darts out to taste my skin before her teeth graze the hollow of my neck. She breaks away and looks at me with heavy eyes and a lazy smile. I love that look on her, especially when i am the reason for it in the first place. Her lips crash against mine, our teasing nature gone as our tongues stroke one another. Teeth clash and lips swell. It's a whole fucking erotic display, with heavy breathing and groping.

Her fingers undo my pants. "i need you. Now." "Right now?" the words leave my lips in a wheeze. I haven't had sex in a car since i was a teen, let alone in a fucking Wrangler where anyone can pass by. I pull away from her and assess the situation, which i should have done the moment she planted herself on my lap like a goddamn present.

An empty lot greets me like a blessing sent from above. My fingers become greedy fuckers, tugging at her jean shorts and underwear, sliding them down her smooth legs. She follows my lead and pulls down my shorts with my help. "I act like a fucking teenager around you" i grumble into her hair, breathing in her intoxicating scent. She laughs, the hoarse sound sending a rush of pleasure straight to my dick. I line myself up, pre-cum dripping from my tip, edginess creeping up my spine at the idea of fucking her in a car where anyone can see.

She runs her hand down my shaft, my dick pulsing at her caress. Her fingers swipes away at the pearly drop at the tip, before she sucks on the pad. I barely function around her when she gets this way, acting like my hellion through and through. i recognize the brand as she rips the foil. "Are you trying to cut of my circulation?" She rolls her eyes "what do you mean?". "Don't insult my size, women". "If i wanted someone cocky, i would have dated noah" she taunts me with a mischievous smile. "I'll show you cocky. Right fucking now. You're on birth control right?. Care to ditch the condom that sure as anyway won't fit me?" She nods her head.

With one swift motion, i plunge myself inside of her. She takes in a sharp breath, her head dropping back, the tip of her blonde hair tickling my thighs. My eyes shut because, fuck, this feels amazing. Never in my life have i had sex without a condom, the feel of her a motherfucking nirvana. I don't move let alone think. Sophie slowly lifts, drawing my attention to my glistening dick. i am in a trance. Her warmth, her body, every-fucking-thing. My body sings as she lowers herself again. She fucks me up on the inside while she rides my cock, her body arching as her eyes close. My mind numbs, my spine tingles, and my toes curl. All sensations fire off inside as she fucks me into oblivion. I used to joke with her about breaking her, but at this moment i realize i am the one breaking little by little at her hand.My fingers grip her thighs, strong enough to leave marks, but i can't control myself. I find the curve of her neck and tease her. I growl, sucking at her skin, claiming her in ways i can. My instincts take over, one hand clutching her braids together, while the other grips her ass. She follows my lead, lifting herself up as i ram into her, no longer interested in soft caresses and slow pumps. I want her right fucking now, coming on my dick while moaning my name. Her breathing quickens as i push in and out of her, my movements becoming erratic. Wild like my thoughts, untamed because of the beauty before me. My thumb finds her clit, teasing her as my other hand tugs on her hair. She goans" why does it feel so freaking good with you?". Damn, if my ego doesn't swell from her words. Her body shakes i continue my torture, her fingers gripping onto my shoulders as she stares into my eyes. I get lost in the feel of her.

I fell her everywhere. In my body, in my mind, in my goddamn blood, pulsing with need and adrenaline at her coming undone. I hate it as much as i love it, because i can't control this thing between us and what it's morphing into. The thought scares me and i slam the brakes, not interested in pursuing that problem right now. Sophie's eyes glaze over, hooded and fucking gorgeous. My body tightens as she squeezes my dick, her lips crashing against mine as her tongue owns me. She devours me, banishing my worries with her addicting kisses. I grab onto her hips, controlling her movements as i lift off the seat, desperate for my release.

She stamps herself onto my heart like she fucking belongs there. with wild pumps i explode, a prickling sensation starting from my toes and ending at the base of my neck. I do not stop moving until i finish. Sophie collapses against my chest while her arms wrap around my neck. And for once, i don't know what i like more: having sex or having someone to hug me afterwards. We stay like that for a few minutes, regaining control of our breathing. Part of me would not mind staying here until sun sets. I wouldn't be opposed to another around or three, knowing one time with sophie is never enough."

- Collided (Lauren Asher)

Xoxo,

Ironically Witty!

[meltingpenguins]

There are scenes where it shines through, yes, but it's a curious thing: I don't know if you have the script-book as well, but comparing the book to the script and the show, something strange has happened:

Little tidbits that painted show crowley in a more book-like light have been cut or changed in a way that has him come across as much darker and more disdainful towards everyone else.

Like the scene at the arch doesn't call for a goat-bleating sound effect, meaning someone found it hilarious during filming and editing to add one to make it appear as if crowley's talking about baby goats and not human children, and aziraphale isn't catching on. Why?

There's also the scene in ancient rome where crowley in script seems definitely disturbed and disgusted at caligula. this part was cut, too.

The bookshop fire is an odd case: in the book it can be read as crowley being so dreadfully calm when he leaves because he knows exactly what agnes' book means. because he knows az. he suddenly has an explanation for why az was so distant last time they saw each other, something crowley interpreted, I'd say, as az needed a bit of distance to digest what's going on. but no, it was all of this damn/blessed book, and crowley is pissed.

Show crowley, in part because a lot of bits and bobs that were cut/changed, seems too uninterested in az to recognize the book, left alone deem it even remotely important. it's strange (also, as per the review linked, it's a bit sad the cinematography is the way it is here.)

There's also something that breaks my heart, looking back: The Tickety-Boo bit. It's another nod towards Sir Terry, something he used to use with his family iirc (as a farewell it'd be answered with 'watch how you go'). Looking at how the scene is in the book:

“We’ll be in touch then, shall we?” Crowley called after him. Aziraphale paused in the act of turning the key. “What?” he said. “Oh. Oh. Yes. Fine. Jolly good.” And he slammed the door. “Right,” mumbled Crowley, suddenly feeling very alone.

imagine how heart-wrenching it would have been to have show crowley actually 'try' to respond with 'watch how you go' and trail off because az isn't listening...

Instead showcrowley is baffled by how az, someone he suppossedly knows so well, speaks. It's a bizarre dissonance, in my opinion.

The 'not to destruction' line is there, but it's something with an oddity similar to the scene at the arch:

It's in the scene with all the flying pages in crowley's apartment. in the script it's a very sombre, quiet scene, with a very thoughtful crowley. Having Tennant ham it up like this certainly was a choice, one that feels like it's turning things into a mockery and whining again, as if someone wants to have crowley come across as just disdainful towards everything.

Which, quite disturbingly, would add up to studio meddling. Because as it was clear from the start that a focus would be on the relationship (it's not uncommon that how something's promoted is decided even before auditions, if not writing start) I would not be surprised to learn that there was some demands to turn crowley and az into the stereotypical and flat 'dark snarky asshole and sunshiny naive cheerleader' dynamic as we see it so often in fiction (especially in YA literature) it's a dynamic that sells with a certain demographic.

Which, i think I said before(?), is weird cause these two had that dynamic before, just more fleshed out and with less disdain.

In short, there's a lot of changes and decisions that leave me scratching my head, until i look at it from a corporate point of 'what appeals to the easiest target group'?

And then, on top of that, there's cutting out all the fuck-yous towards capitalism and televangelism and the like that were in the book. Strange that...

Also, hold on, Good Omens fandom:

The All-The-Hard-Work-Ruining spoiler came from a thing amzen made for pride month with their shows, right? So someone had to be told where to find stuff for the thing, right? Which means that someone greenlit using that bit. And someone had to approve the trailer.

And we are meant to believe it was 'accidental'?

Y'know, that frame from the last episode of The Owl House THAT was accidental because of youtube's autogeneration for thumbnails picking a spoiler-y frame.

But this?

There is really hardly a chance this was accidental.

[things-we-cant-say]

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.