#like i was expecting the NC scenes to GO OFF but not THIS HARD

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea Episode 2 was fucking wild. A third of this episode was just Tongrak and Mut being horny as hell.

Just to name a few of said things that destroyed my brain.

MUTUAL BITING

MUT'S FINGER IN TONGRAK'S MOUTH

TONGRAK'S FINGER IN MUT'S MOUTH

OUTDOOR BLOWJOB

SHOWER MASTURBATION

FULL VIEW OF FORT'S MUT'S ASS CRACK

HAIR PULLING

LIP BITING

SO. MUCH. TONGUE.

TONGRAK WANTONLY AUDIBLY MOANING

RAK RIDING MUT REVERSE COWGIRL

It's been hours since I watched it and I'm still in a state of utter shock that we got so much in ONE EPISODE. LIKE---?!!

Oh and just to really hit it home, we also got mention of TONGRAK ADMITTING HE HAS A SORE ASS from all the aggressive love-making.

CHRIST. What on earth is happening????

[anpanman95]

now that I got he appreciation post out of the way I’ll yap about what I loved the most about this whole scene because was a fucking masterpiece.

1. He looks fucked out and I’m going insane. His heavy breathing was blasting through my headphones and, although that is something that usually annoys me during these scenes, it was done carefully and tastefully. It felt natural and real, not overplayed, not overkilled, but raw and perfectly genuine.

2. Anyone else devastated by the absolute adorableness of this moment? Just me? This was such a cute short thing that casts light into their relationship. They’re both actually very carefree people, always have been, even if Jack had a hard time coming back to his true self. This moment felt so intimate and relaxed. From trying to make the other submit, playfully and sensually, they both pause here and quickly take a breather to gauge each other and decide how is this going to happen before Jack takes the lead again. These are truly Jack and Joke.

3. Wall slamming. It’s one of the cliches I absolutely devour. Ever since episode 1 I knew they would be the kind to do this. I knew their NC would be like this. They want each other too much, they’re gonna take and take and take.

4. No awkward stripping. Just desperate. The moment characters strip have always felt so unnatural for me. This was done hastily and they stumble and it doesn’t look pretty because it shouldn’t. They have wanted each other for too long for them to wait another second in getting themselves naked. Joke is so desperate he struggles with taking Jack’s shirt off and he doesn’t care nor slows down. It adds on the realness of it all.

5. More wall slamming. Dear god I’m unwell. No further words.

6. He was stupid hot for this. They are possessed. As they should be. There’s tenderness and roughness at the same time in their movements and touches, casting light on the fact they love each other but are desperately hungry for each other’s body. They never let you forget that, not once.

7. Did you hear my screams? I was not expecting that. What I’ve seen happen many times on BL NC scenes, is that there is a high contrast done in between the couple when it comes to portraying desire. Usually it’s only one of them that is more vocal or physical about it, while the other takes it and follows. Yin and War have mentioned they don’t want their characters to stick to one dynamic, and it shows a lot in this whole scene. They both are perfectly capable of taking the lead, they both want to take the lead, they both want to submit. They are equals. And that’s always gonna be that way.

The power play, the switching, the rolling in the sheets, the CONSENT, the loving looks, the gentle touches, the rough touches, the pauses, the desperation, the desire.

they did it all. not one single thing missing.

they deserve nothing less than a standing ovation.

yinwar, you did it again

[siriusleee]

i. hidden caches

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.2K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on. nc-17. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the lovely anon who asked for a scene from an apocalypse au, and this idea was born. If you'd like to donate to my Ko-Fi (my bed frame broke this week and a new one was $200 I didn't have), I would appreciate it. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

The ending had come quicker than anyone expected. The epidemics and endemics and pandemics of the years past had given false confidence to everyone. We survived the last thing, the news reporters had said, gray building beneath their eyes, and we can survive this. Behind them images of towns being devoured played. 

Bodies can decompose in as little as nine days. The first to go is the soft tissue: the eyes, the tongue, the soft flesh of the cheeks. When bacteria and insects are introduced, the flesh breaks down faster. Bones take longer - sometimes years to fully wear away into the dust that collects underfoot. But these things - whatever turned them kept them covered in a thin layer of adipocere to protect them from the elements. They kept shuffling along long past the time when they should have reverted back to a primordial soup where they lay.

But they still decomposed. The trick was to stay ahead of them, away from the gnashing teeth that transmitted the virus, away from the hands and feet that never seemed to tire. So few people could. Whole towns and cities were decimated, felled beneath the hordes of horror that ambled slowly past, swallowed up by the feet that didn’t stop moving until they wore themselves down to stubs, which were them pulled forward by hands and knees that never tired. 

But yours did. The familiar path towards the north was more overgrown this year than in the past. For a few years, there had been wary companions, eyes that lingered until the snow and frost rolled in to freeze the Biters where they stood. But as the years wanned on the crowd grew smaller and smaller until you only caught hints of others moving north: horse prints, trash left behind, the occasional Biter left decomposing in the bushes. 

This year there was nothing. Either you had moved too early or there was no one left. The latter is too terrifying, so you push it away and think about whatever groups may wander through here after you.

The woods loom tall above you, the snow that fell earlier in the morning just barely dusting the branches above your head. None of it had reached the leaves that are too waterlogged from recent rains to crunch beneath your feet. A blister is rubbing itself raw at your ankle; you know that if you don’t stop to treat it, it will be unbearable tomorrow, but you brush the thought off. You need to reach the marker before nightfall.

The markers had appeared between one trip north and your trip back down. 

West Village - 20km

The first year it had appeared left the group you were with in a tizzy. The group had fractured down the middle. If all of you found each other, how hard was it to think that a larger group had finally banned together? Civilization needed to rebuild eventually.

You didn’t trust the shaky scrawl that printed the words, so you had been with the group that refused to go. The next year there was another marker tacked to the first.

Body snatchers. Beware.

It was amazing to you: how well rumors could start and spread without phones or the internet. For months, every person you and your group came across would give the same warning, and ask you all the same questions. Have you seen the body snatchers? Are you the body snatchers?

Humans turned cannabolids. Farms where people were forced to reproduce. Spits with babies roasting above the fire. You wanted to think that it was the stuff of fiction.

In the third year, there was another argument. The group cleaved in half again when the promise of civilization reared its head. Your group had divided again at the markers, disappearing into the thick woods. 

Almost no one survived the winter that year. You’d held the hands of all the dying and covered them under a thick blanket of snow before dividing their possessions up between the remainder of the group. In the end, there were just three of you. And when the winter rolled away you all broke apart, whatever ties that held you all together broken by the cold. 

The next year you were the only one in your camp. 

The markers had become a sort of prayer to you, that one day you’d meet someone else on the road - some scream and shout that there were others out there even if you were too wary to speak to them.

But it’s been two years - the crude paint of the West Village sign fading, the body snatchers warning falling to the earth unceremoniously. The wood started to rot. 

And you were utterly alone. Around you, the sound of nature getting ready for the winter fills in the ever-present silence that usually surrounds you. It’s been weeks since you’d last seen a person: a lone traveler moving in the opposite direction as you. And you’d hid from them, worried that they were the sort of feral people turned into when they were alone for too long - a body snatcher. Worried that you were that kind of feral. 

You know the markers when you approach them like your body’s memorized the number of steps it takes to reach them. Your chest thumps as you approach the spot where they should be nailed to a tree, growing taller into the air each year. Your boots falter against the wet leaves as you approach the place. 

The markers have been repainted. Or at least the West Village one has. This time it’s nailed to a post in the ground; you bend down to inspect the dirt around the post. It’s packed underneath a thick layer of loam - whoever put it up must have put it up much earlier in the year. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wonder if any members of your former group are still there. 

For half a second, you think about following the arrow, but before the thought can fully form in your head, you let your feet carry you forward on the path. Just ahead is the rest area you’ve always used. Your tree, one with branches high enough that the only things who can see you are the birds whose nests you disturb, erupts from the ground ahead of you.

You climb up like you were taught; throwing your rope onto the first branch you can physically reach and lash it to yourself. It’s more difficult to climb the tree with your pack and bow, but you don’t want to risk leaving it behind for anyone who may come through after you. When you reach the point where the rope reaches the tree, you pull yourself onto the branch. The blister on your ankle is screaming, but you don’t pause until your hammock is secure and your harness is wrapped around you. The cool wind cuts through the thin fabric of the hammock, but it’s not too cold as you peel back your socks to reveal an angry raw spot crawling across your ankle.

Too tired to do much more, you slide your other boot off, tying them together and then to your pack. The gentle sway of the trees makes your eyelids heavy, and you let yourself drift off into the first good night's sleep you’ve had in a while. 

The bitter cold wakes you up, the wind moving your hammock back and forth gently. The darkness spins above you, clouds backlit by the moon. Not for the first time you think about how easy it used to be, curled up with another warm body beneath the thick blankets - how easy it was to switch on the percolator in the morning and wrap your hands around a warm cup of coffee, how easy -

You press the heel of your hands into your eyes and try to press away the thoughts that are racing through your brain. Remembering the before drives people crazy; you’ve seen how it can eat people up and you refuse to let it eat at you. So you pull your thermal blanket closer around yourself and try to get some sleep.

But the sun rises earlier than you expected and extra sleep never comes. 

It doesn’t take long for you to pack what little you have back in your pack and descend back down. At the bottom you dig out the little bit of jerky you still have saved from the summer months; it’s disgusting, but it’s enough to push you forward to the next place. 

You walk the entire time with your bow in your hand, waiting for some animal to run out in front of you and meet its mark, but the forest is silent today as you push towards the next stop in your journey north, a small nameless village secluded away from the rest of civilization - just good enough to sleep in for the night. 

The sun has just started to sink below the treeline when the village finally springs into view. The blister on your ankle has popped, and you think you can feel blood rushing into your sock, but you don’t dare stop and check; you don’t want the scent of fresh blood to attract any Biters that may be hidden away for now. Your fingers cramp around the bow and your stomach growls. You’d picked a smooth rock up from the ground hours earlier and popped it into your mouth to try and trick yourself into thinking you were eating something, but it hadn’t worked. If anything it made your hunger worse.

There was salvation coming - on your second year coming through here you’d snuck off from the group and buried a cache. Each year you did your best not to touch it unless it was to refill something inside of it, but this year you knew you’d have to empty it. 

You crunch over tire tracks that crisscross over each other on the main road into the village; they’re dry enough that you know whoever managed to scrape up enough gas to drive in and out was gone, but the thought of someone driving up on you made you nervous, and make your steps quicken. If people were driving through here then you needed to be gone before sunlight tomorrow. 

Weary, you push yourself towards the back half of the village to a little two-story you know well. It had been the same house your group, and then yourself, slept in each year on your way to the north camp; in the back, beneath an overturned chair that was slowly rotting with time, your little cache was stored. 

You shoulder your way through the half-rotted back gate and freeze. The chair is tossed to the side, rusted parts puzzle pieced across the ground. And directly where your cache had been buried is a hole, smoothed over from time and rain. 

You could cry if you had any water left in you to cry. So instead you walk numbly into the house - habit making you click the lock on the door even though it’s long since stopped working. The same thick dust that was here last year is still across the floor, so thick your steps don’t even disturb it. You pass through the living area and up the steps. On the landing, you don’t pause - to the left of you is the nursery that’s always been empty. The first few times you’d stopped here the sight of the broken-down white crib and sage walls made something ache inside of you, and you’d learned not to look. It’s better to just let things alone and try to stifle your imagination.

The attic ladder swings down with ease and you test your weight on the rungs before climbing up - any broken bones and you may as well just shoot yourself where you lay. It creaks ominously beneath you but keeps as you clamber through the hole. You let yourself collapse on the floor beside the ladder after pulling it up, and wrapping a rope around the ladder to keep anyone from pulling it down in the night. All at once, hunger and exhaustion pull you down towards the floor. 

You’ll have to shoot something tomorrow and check the well for fresh water. There are still to many miles before you make it north enough to be safe for the winter, and you won’t make it without water and food. 

You try to distract yourself from the cramping of hunger and how little water is left in your jug by peeling your boots off. As you’d thought, the blister had split and bled, but thankfully your sock had caught most of it. 

You clean up the best you can in the dusty light filtering in from the little window that looks out the back garden and wonder who could have known the cache was there. An old group member who spotted you checking it in the past? Or was it a lucky guess, someone who came through after you and spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and came to the right inference?

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter as you pull your thermal blanket from your pack and lay down, but you can’t quite convince yourself of that lie. 

[radioladioxfm]

Album Review: Rat Saw God by Wednesday

Release date: April 7, 2023 Genre: Indie rock, Shoegaze, Alternative country, Grunge Runtime: 37:03 'Rat Saw God' rotates through upbeat, sentimental, nostalgic, and furious moods and doesn't let up. If you like Midwest emo, guitar that's one part 90s grunge and one part 70s country, and tales of ODing in parking lots and getting high on Benedryl, go listen now! Rat Saw God is my favorite album of 2023.

About the band

I am glad that Wednesday, a band that hails from the mountains of Asheville, NC, chose to tour mainly in the South. They even kicked off their tour in my home town. Growing up in the South it can be hard to find cool, new bands playing live near you. But recently, I got the fuck out of the South and the only Wednesday show I could attend was in New York City. It sold out long before I knew about it. Bummer.

I got into Wednesday for their single, Feast of Snakes (2022) and later Handsome Man, a song off of their album, Twin Plagues (2021). I was instantly drawn to the angst in lead singer, Karly Hartzman's voice. The way it rises and falls on sustained notes. I've always been a sucker for a unique singing voice. The twangy banjo, grunge distortion, and vivid imagery of their lyrics were irresistible to me.

I've borrowed this review format from Tiktok user, DailyAlbumGuy. He's cool, you should follow him. Without further ado, here's the review.

Standout ⭐ Bull Believer

When I sat down for a first listen, Bull Believer grabbed me by the horns--pun intended. I didn't expect the meandering pace of this 8-minute song to give way to one of the rawest female vocal performances with a reference to Mortal Kombat. This song has earned its place on every "GIRLS SCREAMING" playlist. The buildup to that 6th minute breakdown is *chef's kiss* What a surreal choice to make it the second song on the album. I would've put it later, but hey it got my attention so maybe that means I'm wrong.

After that amazing concert-finale-type song, it picks back up not giving you not a second to recover. The best type of Wednesday song is one where the lyrics sound like a personal story remembered, written down in a journal, and still sitting at the back of your mind. Waiting there for an intimate gathering between friends for a chance to be retold. Rat Saw God is full of those songs.

Catchiest 🦗 Chosen to Deserve

I particularly love the country sound of Chosen to Deserve. To be clear, I don't mean country country. I mean the romantic version of country I have in my head where it's a little raccoon and possum in cowboy outfits sitting around a campfire. Folk country. It's so sweet and dreamy. It's a vulnerable love song. Have you ever felt that you have so many skeletons in your closet that any lover who will have you needs to read your warning label first? "I'm the girl that you have chosen to deserve"

Standout 🔈 Quarry

Quarry makes me picture the faces of folks in my dad's neighborhood in western Massachusetts. The friendships I fostered with kids there every summer break growing up. Running around, overhearing neighborhood gossip. The stories Wednesday songs tells are very rural suburban-core. Setting the scene in towns like Sevierville AKA home of Miss Dolly Parton herself. I really empathize with their desire to talk about the places they grew up with frankness and fondness, even when it's not so glamorous.

"With any writing, I just think I’m impressed with people that are able to describe their own life in a way that captures how original everyone’s life is. It’s harder than you would think to find the things that make you and your life what it is." - Karly Hartzman (source)

My favorite 💜 Bath County

This song is the real reason why I want to talk about this album. It topped my Spotify Wrapped. I listened to this song every time I had a bad day in 2023... which was a lot. This song carried me through it.  I would blast this song in my car to sing along, emphasizing the words bad luck in "Every daughter of god, has a little bad luck sometimes." It's so Midwest emo. I could quote so many lyrics that I love. From the "Sippin' piss colored, bright yellow Fanta" to the "Be my baby 'til my body's in the ground". Guitarist Jake Lenderman (same guy from MJ Lenderman), absolutely shreds too. I adore this song. Bonus points for the not-so-subtle Christian imagery at the start of the song. As a former Catholic, I love a little blasphemy.

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

The Man in the Mask

Pairing: Ray Merrimen x Reader

Summary: You have an intimate evening planned for you and Ray, but things don’t go according to plan.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings/notes: 18+, smut; language; car sex; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool and all that); choking; I’ve never written sex scenes for anyone but me, and I don’t write them often, be kind. I feel like I could have made him...rougher...whatever, here’s a thing, take it.

Candles lit your bedroom and music played softly as you stood in front of your full-length mirror, looking yourself up and down. You were wearing a black babydoll slip, open in the back and cut low in the front, with a lace trim. It was simple and sexy, but more importantly, it should have been off by now. You sighed and plopped down on the bed, checking the time again. The worst part of all was that it was becoming a pattern.

At that moment, the sharp, piercing sounds of the fire alarm made you jump. They were going off throughout the whole building. You grabbed your robe and quickly blew out the candles in your room. You could never think very clearly when alarms of any kind were going off, you’re just grateful you had the presence of mind to grab your keys and slip on a pair of shoes. Never mind that it was a lot colder out than you expected. Outside, you looked around warily at the other tenants, pulling your robe tighter around yourself. It didn’t make you feel much better though, considering it was only a little longer than the slip. You tried making yourself smaller, tucking your head into your chest, and you stared down at the ground, hoping the fire department would get there soon.

That’s when you felt a hard body press into your back and watched as arms circled you, sending a chill up your spine.

“You look cold,” a familiar voice said, calming the momentary panic that had struck you. You leaned into Ray, snuggling into the warmth of him. 

“Well, I was waiting for my boyfriend to show up when the fire alarm went off. He was late again. I got all dressed up for him and everything, now I’m stuck out in the cold with hardly anything on.” You watched his hand disappear between the folds of your robe as you spoke and felt him massage your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, and your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was grinning. The kind of grin you were sure your mother had warned you about at some point.

“He sounds like a real jerk.” You felt the heat of Ray’s breath on the skin of your ear as he spoke. The sound of his voice--low and sultry--was enough to make you melt, and he knew it. “It doesn’t seem fair for that outfit to go to waste though.” You rested your head against his chest and felt the softness of his lips on your neck, making you moan. The two of you looked up when the fire department arrived, all lights and sirens.

“Go get in the truck,” Ray ordered, handing you the keys and giving your jaw one last bite. You headed for the black suburban, your legs already feeling shaky. You fought the urge to look over your shoulder, afraid if you did it would ruin the game. You climbed in the backseat of the truck, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest as you took off your robe. You could just see the flash of lights from the fire truck, but the rest of the world was quiet and dark around you. The door to the car opened and your heart started pounding again.

“Fuck,” you whispered. Ray stood there in a black hood that covered everything but his eyes, a white skull design across the lower half. You watched as he took off his jacket, tossing it on the front passenger seat, underneath, a skintight, long-sleeved black shirt. He climbed into the truck, closing the door behind him, and the two of you were alone in the dark. Despite what his outward demeanor suggested, Ray was gentle with you. You wondered how he would be behind the mask. If it weren’t for Ray’s eyes and his unmistakable build, you could almost convince yourself he was a stranger. You squirmed in your seat, desperate to find some kind of friction for the need building in you. His hands squeezed your thighs as he reached up under your slip and removed your thong, and you spread your legs for him. Ray leaned forward, taking your chin in his hand, rubbing a circle on your jaw with his thumb. His unblinking eyes held yours and he pushed his fingers into you, burying them up to the knuckle, making you gasp. Your eyes fluttered closed, wanting more than anything for him to move. 

“Look at me,” Ray ordered, tightening his grip on your chin. You did as he said and he pulled his fingers from you, taking your air with them, and placed them in your mouth for you to suck dry, eyes still locked on yours. “Good girl.” His hand shifted down to your neck and he pushed you back onto the seat, positioning himself between your legs. Your hand gripped his wrist as you watched him undo his pants, and he leaned in close to you.

“I’m not gonna fuck you like he does,” Ray said, his mouth at your ear again. His gruff voice gave you chills and you clutched at the fabric of his shirt, wishing for his skin. Ray buried himself in you in one swift motion that made you cry out, and you felt his hand clamp tighter around your throat.

“You have to be quiet.” You knew he was right, but you hated it. How could you be quiet when he was pumping in and out of you like that? Ray was all business, watching you unravel beneath him. There were no whispered words of encouragement or adoration from him, in fact, barely a sound escaped him and it infuriated you. You didn’t even have the feel of his lips on your skin. You reached up to remove the hood, wanting it off, wanting his lips. You were on fire and you weren’t sure if they would add to the heat or be a soothing balm, but you needed to find out, but Ray caught your wrist and pinned it against the window, shaking his head. He backed away from you, out of your reach, and hooked his arms under your legs, bringing them up closer to your chest so he could drive down into you. You clutched at his arms, biting down on your bottom lip, each stroke hitting right where you needed, making you moan. You could feel yourself about to slip over the edge.

“Kiss me, baby,” you whimpered. “Please.” You gripped the fabric of Ray’s shirt, pulling him closer to you and he gave in to you, pulling the hood off and tossing it up front. You took his face in your hands as he pressed his lips to yours and you moaned into his mouth as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him there, and Ray came with a final, deep thrust, groaning against your cheek. 

You wanted to stay there, holding him like that, but the two of you had been there too long already. You let Ray pull away from you, and you found your robe and thong, putting them back on. As you put yourself back together, you could feel Ray’s eyes on you and you looked up to see him sitting there, the right corner of his mouth turned up in a soft grin. He reached out and rubbed his thumb along the skin underneath your bottom lip. 

“I messed up your lipstick,” Ray explained. You took his hand in yours and kissed his palm, before getting to your knees and straddling him. Slowly, you ran your hands over his broad shoulders and down his chest, and leaned in for a languid kiss, biting his bottom lip. 

“Ya know” you started, your voice quiet, musing, “I wouldn’t mind the man in the mask showing up again, when there’s more time and less of a chance of getting caught.” The grin returned to Ray’s face and you nuzzled your face against his neck.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered.  

Outside, the parking lot was desolate and quiet, the tenants and fire department having left a while ago. The air nipped at your flushed cheeks and Ray put his jacket around your shoulders and his arm around your waist, keeping you close as the two of you walked back to the building. 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you being late again,” you said as the two of you got to your apartment. You went to open the door, but Ray stopped you. You looked up at him and the look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

“Will you forget about it if I eat you out?” he asked. 

“Jesus,” you whispered, ducking under his arm and heading into the apartment. You could hear Ray laughing as he followed you in. 

[living-with-pmd]

11 Women With PMDD Share What It's Really Like

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder is the evil cousin of PMS. They share the same types of symptoms—moodiness, increased hunger, cravings, fatigue, cramps, pain, brain fog, and depression, among others—but for PMDD sufferers, those symptoms get so bad they can cripple a woman's ability to lead a normal life.  

While up to 85 percent of women get PMS, according to the US Department of Health, only about 5 percent of women experience PMDD, according to the American Journal of Psychiatry.

We asked women with PMDD what it's really like living with the disorder. Here are their stories:

"I was diagnosed with PMDD last summer. Six months prior to my diagnosis, I started taking a certain birth control and soon every month I was experiencing severe PMS issues. I am a generally happy person, but during those few days I was someone entirely different. I was extremely depressed and anxious, having much more frequent panic attacks, and was super sensitive and lonely. I was even suicidal, which was terrifying. And the worst part was I was convinced that I had always been this miserable, and that I would always be this miserable, and it was never going to change. It felt as if someone had completely burned out the light in me and all happiness and joy and hope was gone. I didn't make the connection that it was related to my period but thankfully a close friend did. I have since switched birth control, which helped a lot, and increased the dosage of my anti-anxiety and anti-depressant meds. Most importantly, I am aware of the way I feel those few days so I know to expect it, and I can logically remind myself that I will stop feeling that way soon. Looking back, I realize that I've probably always had pretty bad PMS or PMDD. The birth control worsened it but it was also causing a lot of issues I wasn't aware of previously as well." —Katherine H., 22, Edmonds, WA

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"PMDD is out of control. I cry really easily for about a week. My biggest issue is that I am convinced that I am failing at everything—being a wife, a mom, work projects, fitness, my whole life! And even though it feels so real I constantly have to question if my feelings are valid or if they are amplified by my cycle. I just set an alert in my phone to remind me to consider my hormones the next time I feel that way." —Krysten B., 32, Toronto, CA

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"A week before my period, I become a complete psycho, completely unlike myself. I'm tearful, want to eat everything that's sweet or salty, have absolutely no tolerance for anything other than perfection, and prefer to be left completely alone. I already take an antidepressant but my PMDD was a complete nightmare so my doctor gave me Prozac to take for just 10 days a month. Basically, I start it when I start to get that irrational feeling and keeping taking it until my period starts. And that's just the emotional stuff. On the physical side, I have debilitating cramps, backaches, and headaches that last for days. Yep. I'm a peach." —Kristen L., 40, Knoxville, TN

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"In the past, PMDD almost made me suicidal and totally broke my spirit. Yes it wasthat bad. Every month. Eventually I got tired of being a 'crazy PMS woman' and decided I needed to fix this. Since I don't like to take pharmaceuticals, I branched out to homeopathic remedies and I discovered St. John's Wort and essential oils, especially clary sage and Doterra Calm-Its. It's a lot better now but I still have my hard days." —Amy S., 43, Zebulon, NC

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"My PMDD got so bad I had to go to a psychiatrist and be put on Prozac along with another antidepressant I was already taking. I was a mess—anxious, crying randomly over the smallest thing, and eating everything in sight. One example is someone made a YouTube mashup of the Age of Ultron trailers with Pinocchio footage and the 'I've got no strings on me' song and that wrecked me for weeks. Every time I thought about scenes from Pinocchio I would start panicking and crying at my work desk. It's been a few years and I'm better now. I'm off birth control and weening myself off the Prozac. I notice a week before my period I will sob during any sad part in a movie or book I'm reading, and a day or two before, I notice I'm more likely to be anxious." —Kate W., 36, Alaska

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"This has impacted my ability to work effectively. My pet peeve is when people say 'it must be close to your time of the month' when they simply don't like what I'm saying. I have run into that problem a lot at previous jobs and it makes it really hard to be taken seriously. It's bullshit because my feelings are valid regardless and also PMDD is not a joke. I am so lucky now to have a male boss who understands but it wasn't always that way. I have also have found a lot of relief with naturopathic and herbal remedies." —Amalia F., 28, Vancouver, Canada

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"My PMS was tolerable until my second child was born and then everything went off the rails. I'd be looking forward to plans with others, happy, and then about 10 to 14 days before my flow would start, my mood would turn on a dime. I'd be horrible—crying, screaming that ~nobody understands~, just so much emotional pain. I'd basically lock myself up in the bedroom for a full day to cry, get angry, and feel sorry for myself. It took three doctors before I finally found one who would listen to me before I was finally diagnosed with PMDD. I took Prozac for three years for it but it made me feel numb, like a zombie and not like myself. So I quit and my family just deals with me now. As I've gotten closer to menopause the PMDD is not as bad, but can be very unpredictable due to hormonal swings from perimenopause. The worst part now is I feel like my friendships have suffered. I always seem to have episodes around major holidays and events and I end up bumming everyone out if I do show up so I end up staying home a lot." —Colleen T., 50, St. Paul, MN

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"I'm overly emotional for the week before my period. Saying that makes it sound like it's not that bad but I get so distraught that my fiance has actually scheduled it in his phone as 'blood sport' to remind himself what's coming. I'm thankful that he's patient because I also feel like everyone hates me that week, too." —Kenlie T., 36, New Orleans, LA

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"All month long I'm fine and feel even and calm and then suddenly, the week before my period, I can't handle even the tiniest little thing. My irritability goes through the roof (which is not great since I have a 5-year-old) and I feel like I have no friends. It really makes me sad." —Jessica S., 28, Broomfield, CO

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"I know my period is coming because all of a sudden all of my joints hurt, especially my knees and ankles. I also get crazy gnarly cramps and once I even had a cyst that ruptured while I was on a date and the guy had to take me to the hospital! It was so embarrassing. Thankfully my husband now is very understanding when this time rolls around each month. The worst part is people who just think I make this stuff up. Some months are better than others and sometimes the pain is completely debilitating! My emotions are also a rollercoaster. Anytime I see something cute or inspiring, I burst into tears." —Ivie C., 21, Rexburg, ID

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"My PMDD manifests in both mental and physical symptoms. From the time I got my period at age 12, I've had extreme cramps and heavy bleeding. I'd leak at school through a super maxi pad every class so I'd tie sweatshirts around my waist and have to scrub my clothes when I got home. It was super humiliating. I'd have to take six to eight ibuprofen at a time to deal with cramps, and if I didn't I'd end up on the floor sweating like I had the flu. Sometimes I'd even throw up. This meant I ended up spending a lot of time sick in bathrooms and knew where every restroom was at all times. Birth control helped manage the PMDD and other issues, but as soon as I was done having kids, I had a hysterectomy. That was the best thing I've ever done." —Mandy P., 39, Mendon, UT

https://www.womenshealthmag.com/health/a19972132/premenstrual-dysphoric-disorder/

[chaos0pikachu]

I was speculating a “second-first time” might be possible due to some of the general novel spoilers I read. BUT, it also seems pretty likely to me that since the content is, in general, rated 18+ they’re not gonna let folks under 18 in anyway with or without NC scenes lmao

Yeah, I don't think it's because there's going to be a sex scene, it's just that the content is 18+ so the audience must be 18+ as well, that isn't going to change just because they're at a cinema in person if that makes sense.

Personally, I think there's going to be too much plot (being in Vegas' house, and I don't think they'll be there for a couple of hours, it may be an entire day at least) and being on whatever mission they sent Porsche to do for there to be a chance for an NC scene.

Yeah I don't think a cinema viewing requiring ID proving your 18 for an 18+ show is any sort of signal or anything.

That said, who knows. Setting an entire hour long episode only in one location will drag. I saw people last week say that the forest arc in the novel is pretty long and speculate it would go on for at least two episodes, but then the actual episode was only that, a single episode.

The translation of adaptions is an interesting one. Like, take the pipeline of manga to anime. One chapter is not enough to make a full 25min episode. Most episodes are at least three to four chapters if not more. That's why shows rely on filler to allow the comics to progress further, as well as, padding an episode heavily with recaps, and filler scenes in between canon content.

I'm rewatching One Piece now and even before I picked up the comics I could tell when the show caught up. Similarly with video game movies, one factor in why they're so hard to adapt is a larger amount of the game time is doing game play. Which you can't translate into a film format. You see this a lot in book adaptions as well. An hour episode can and will cover several chapters b/c it'll cut internal narration - which takes up a lot of space in books.

From the novel spoilers I read, Porsche and Kinn at the hospital and all the cuddling was already a big chunk of an entire chapter. There's also obviously cutting some other moments from this upcoming arc b/c it doesn't fit with who Kinn or Porsche are as characters. Those cut novel bits are where I think they'll fill in with plot relevant to the show - what I'm speculating is the investigation of the minor family.

There's some other novel spoilers I saw that make me think a NC scene is possible, whether it's probable, eh now that I don't know. The show keeps surprising me. I wasn't expecting the final 10mins of last episode, nor the amount of character development they packed into one episode. The show has also done a good job of pacing the overall plot of the show. It's set up all the pieces, now it just has to pull the trigger.

Since we're officially half-way through the series - 7 out of 14 eps - we're at the rising action according to the Ficthtean Curve:

Or at closing in on the mid-point from Blake's Beat Sheet:

Honestly the mid-point is what can make or break a shows season. It's why 22 - 24 ep series have fallen out of style. It takes to damn long to get to the mid-point and then even longer to get to the final climax. It's exhausting.

For TV the climax doesn't have to be one episode either, it can be multiple episodes, building towards the final confrontation and then we can have the falling action followed by the resolution.

Sorry I'm getting way off base lol

My overall point is the show still has a LOT to cover for a show that's halfway completed, tick tock on the clock and all that. Like we have the interpersonal relationships that need resolution, along with the main plot resolution. Beyond Kinn and Porsche there's still a lot of story to deal with and cover (legit I'm wondering if they'll just cut the Time, Tay, Tem thing tbh). So I wouldn't be surprised if Kinn and Porsche pretty much resolve their relationship issues next episode either during or by the end leading into ep08 b/c we'll still need to break them apart for one final conflict by the end.

[wwilloww]

athair lusa | pjm

athair lusa, the ground ivy, springing up from the soil with rich, purple flowers and broad green leaves.  

Origin: Ireland

Pairing: Jimin x FaePrince!Taehyung

Genre: Folklore. Suspense. Fae!Au.  

Rating: NC-17

WC: 2.4k

Summary: “Is it not a strange request,” Jimin says, “to ask me to dance when there is no music?” While on his way to draw water from the well, Jimin slips on a rock. When he stands up again, the world around him seems unrecognizable, as if everything has been dusted with an unfamiliar enchantment. 

Warnings: Possessive behavior.  

A/N: This story, also known as “The Fairy Dance,” is a story I grew up to, one that was told to me over and over. I consider this to be part of a larger personal project to queer the stories I grew up on. It’s an effort to normalize the presence of queerness in lore and unravel gendered expectations within folktales. Because of this I’ve done my best to stick to the oral telling of this story in both content and style - meaning the writing differentiates itself significantly from my usual style! This project is special to me and I truly hope you enjoy it. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.

Thank you to @jingabitch​ for helping me when I felt most stuck with this! Thanks a million to my love @ot7always​ for editing the image in this banner and listening to me ramble. And of course a hUGE THANKS to the lovely folk in BTS Smut Hub for being my constant inspiration and motivation.

And finally, this is part of @ksmutclub​’s Twisted Fairytale collaboration!

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Athair-Lusa.

In a town on the western most coast of the Isle, there lived a young man with hair that shone like the rays of August sun. He was beloved by the townspeople, known for the enchanting melodies that lifted from his lips like birdsong, ensnaring anyone in range. His name was Jimin.

One day in late November, as the night began to draw in, Jimin set down his reading and readied himself to go out into the darkness. He preferred the stillness of sunset and often went out at this time, just to hear the soft hymn of the world slipping slowly into sleep.

Now, it has long been known that the Veil between worlds is thinnest in November. As the remaining veins of summer fade from the land, spirits and creatures of the other worlds come to press up against the thin border between their world and ours. Even nighttime comes to linger, snatching time away from the golden fingers of the sun.

On this night, Jimin decided to take his walk to the well to gather water. He swung his wooden bucket over his shoulder and set off into the darkness. The trees stood tall above him, watching his path. Jimin felt the hair on his neck raise, as if something was watching him from the shadows. However, rather than turning home, he lifted his face to the night sky and sang. The music spilling from his lips split through the darkness of the night, and Jimin felt a sense of peace wash over him.

As the small stone structure of the well came into sight, his foot slipped. He could feel his ankle twisting, and then the feeling of falling through empty space. The air wooshed up around him as he fell.

His back hit the hard earth of the path, crushing the breath out of his lungs. For a moment, Jimin simply lay there, taking deep breaths to calm the fright in his body.

When he lifted his head, his old wooden bucket was nowhere to be seen. Instead of a path hardened by thousands of years of travelers, Jimin lay on a soft field of grass, shimmering emerald green beneath the full moon. Around him, everything seemed as if it had been touched by an enchantment. The trees, whose leaves had dropped a month ago, were now blossoming with flowers of the most brilliant colors. The chill of the winter air was replaced with a soft and warm breeze, lifted off a summer sea. And as he looked up at the sky, the moon hung twice as large, as if she had come down from her high throne in the sky to take a closer look at the goings-on of the people below.

As Jimin sat up, he saw a great crowd gathered a short distance away. As his vision cleared, he realized that they were circled round a fire that danced and leaped and seemed to reach out to the figures surrounding it. As if his mind had been wiped clean of thought, Jimin stood and began to move towards the crowd, mystified by their tall frames and slender figures.

Jimin himself was of average height, his body built like the land. Ready to work, ready to dance. But at this moment in time, Jimin’s body drew him forward towards the beings that stood round the fire, till at last, he stood in the very midst of them.

They held onto their silence, watching his every step. It was at this moment that he thought to be afraid. But as he made to step backward, to step out of their circle, he realized he could not.

Panic began to rise in his throat like bile, setting his muscles alight. Just as he opened his mouth to scream, the crowd around him turned and parted and a handsome young man stepped into view. Jimin’s eyes widened as he took in the figure, who walked like a prince. He wore a red sash, deep as freshly drawn blood. A golden band dressed his long dark hair, shining like the sky on the eve of a new moon.

Jimin’s heart thrummed in his chest as he realized the handsome prince was approaching him. He walked slowly towards him, allowing his eyes to rove over the young man. When he finally reached him, he bowed and extended a hand. An offering.

“Is it not a strange request,” Jimin said, “to ask me to dance when there is no music?”

The prince raised his head from the deep bow and swept his hand into the air. Instantly, the sweetest music carried through the night, surrounding them. He took Jimin’s hand with one of his own, wrapping the other one tightly around his waist. Jimin gasped as his chest was brought to the prince’s, their closeness sending warmth to his cheeks.

"What is your name, dear stranger?" Jimin asked, his brow furrowed. His words seemed to stick in his throat, bewilderment flooding his mind. Such a handsome stranger had never wrapped him up like this before, in such beauty, in such enchantment.

The prince smirked. "You may call me Taehyung."

"Are you a prince of these people?"

"If that is the word you use—then yes."

Jimin opened his mouth to ask more, but the Prince silenced him with a twirl, sending all thought of questioning the strange being before him out of his mind.

They danced until the moon became tired and went to sleep beneath the darkness of the horizon and the stars took their leave from the dance floor. As the prince twirled him round the fire, it seemed as if Jimin was gliding through the air. He had always been known by the townsfolk for his light touch and graceful step. But in the prince’s arms, Jimin’s body felt different. The strain of the movements was eased and he felt boundless energy spring up in his chest beneath the attentive gaze of the prince.

"I have never seen a man dance with your grace," the Prince mused, his gaze falling to Jimin's lips. "Or known one to capture such beauty in his every movement."

Jimin was not used to such flattery. His cheeks were painted with his embarrassment, he ducked his head. The Prince was quick to lift his chin, bringing his face ever-so-close.

“Do you like me, sweet boy?” the Prince asked, tilting his head.

“I do not know you,” Jimin replied, slowly. “How do I know if I like you if I have just met you?”

“There is an eternity to get to know me.” A smirk flashed across the Prince’s sharp features before he pulled Jimin tightly against his tall frame and spun him further into the dance.

Twirling around the fire, it became easy to forget the rest of the world. For that moment, all that existed was the feeling of his feet leaping off the ground, and the low music, and the feeling of being held so tightly by his partner.

Just as Jimin began to feel like time was slipping away from him, the figures around him stilled and the music slowed to a complete halt. The prince still had his arms wrapped around the smaller man, his face pressed close and curious.

"Will you dine with us tonight, dear Jimin?" the prince asked, his voice threaded with sweetness. Jimin's gaze fell to the prince's lips where a small smile played along the pink, plush corner. He wondered when the Prince had learned his name.

Before he could answer, the ground rumbled and split open, a long staircase descending into the darkness of the earth. The prince held out a hand, and hesitating, Jimin took it. Despite the warmth of the tall man's palm, Jimin's skin erupted in goosebumps.

The prince led him down the flight of steps, the rest of the dancers following silently behind. It seemed as if the stairs might never end, the rock around them becoming darker and warmer as they descended. After an unspeakable time, the steps widened and a great hall appeared before them, lit by thin candles that stood as tall as Jimin. As he looked up at the ceiling of the hall, he realized there was no roof, despite the depth to which they had descended. Instead, a yawning darkness looked down upon the company and untethered, unsourced lights bobbed gently through the air as if upon an invisible current. Before them lay a great table, heaped with every delicacy Jimin had ever conceived of and decanters filled with the most aromatic wines.

The Prince squeezed his hand tenderly, guiding him to the head of the table. There, the Prince took the golden plated chair and motioned for Jimin to take the one beside it. Gratefully, he bowed his head and slipped silently into the seat, admiring the gentle merriment and splendor laid before him.

As Jimin took the scene before him in, the Prince leaned closer to him, reaching out to twirl a piece of his light hair between his fingers.

“I’ve always wanted this,” the Prince said, his eyes never leaving the man’s hair.

“W-what?”

The Prince seemed to catch himself and pulled himself out of his reverie.

“I am a collector of beautiful things,” he said, as if that explained his strange words.

“I don’t understand.”

The Prince smiled softly, running his finger down Jimin’s nose and over his lips.

“Then drink and be merry,” he sang, his voice strung together in the most beautiful melody.

A dark-haired lady came between the Prince and Jimin, holding a jewel-encrusted decanter. Bowing her head, she first filled the Prince's cup, her hands wrapping slender and delicate around the silver handle. But as Jimin watched, he realized there was a slight tremble to her movements. He looked up at her, only to see her eyes darting to and from the Prince and his newest companion.

The young lady came around Jimin's other side, and as she leaned over to pour his golden goblet full of the sweet wine, she whispered in his ear, "Eat no food, and drink no wine or you will never see your home again."

With that, the woman stood abruptly and disappeared down one of the many hallways that spotted the great chamber.

Jimin quickly set the cup down on the table. The Prince took note of this, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"My dear, sweet Jimin," he said, his voice threading through the air like song. His voice spoke of softness, of tender touches exchanged in the dark. And yet, as Jimin gazed upon him, he saw the coldness in the Prince's gaze. "Do you not enjoy the taste of my wine?"

"No, no," he said, quick to unravel the tension of the moment. "I am simply not thirsty."

The Prince leaned into him, a smile spreading across his lips. "After all that dancing, you must be thirsty." He brought the cup to Jimin's lips, but he held his mouth shut.

The others at the table had fallen silent to watch the Prince hold the goblet to the man’s lips.

A large one with silver hair that fell to his waist stood abruptly from his chair, knocking it back in the process. "Whoever comes to our table must drink with us," he growled, grabbing Jimin's arm. A deep shock ran through him, stopping his heart.

At that moment a red-haired lass, her hair split into intricate braids, snatched Jimin's free hand and tugged him from the grasp of the large silver-haired being.

"Run!" she commanded, tugging Jimin towards the stairs. The pair wove their way towards the entrance, dodging the grasp of the dancers.

Around him, Jimin could hear the bellowing anger of the Prince, echoing off the walls of the hall as if he stood in every corner. Chairs and platters crashed to the floor as his subjects jumped up, attempting to stop his exit.

While Jimin was not large and while he did not hold the brute strength that many men boasted about, he was graceful and swift. Guided by the red-haired woman's agile steps, his pace was quick, as if he had learned this kind of dance many many years ago.

The pair sprinted up the steps, hand-in-hand, until they emerged into the dark night. The coolness of the early winter air washed over them, bathing their red faces and stinging their lungs. From the satchel that hung round her waist, the woman withdrew a vine. She grabbed Jimin’s hand, opening it up so she could place the plant securely. With tenderness, she wrapped her hand around his, closing it in a fist.

"You are safe for the time being," she said, her breath heavy with effort. "Take this, and hold it until you reach home. No one can harm you." Jimin opened his palm to look down upon the large-leafed plant. Athair-Lusa. Ground ivy.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The woman nodded, a sad smile playing across her lips. Her eyes shone with the kind of grief that only one who knows their own destiny can hold.

Jimin could hear the sounds of footsteps running up the stairs and so he took the white and green plant and turned his back on the field, the stairs, and the man who had held him so tenderly; and he ran. He ran along the sward and through the forests surrounding the town, past the well, and across the path. At last, he reached his home. He threw open the wooden door and locked it behind him.

His heart beat so quickly and furiously he worried it would pound its way straight through his ribcage. Behind his back pressed to the door, he could hear a great sound emerge from the forest and a voice cried out to him—

"The power I had over you is gone through the magic of the herb that ties you to this world. But when you dance again to our music, you will stay with me forevermore, and nothing shall hinder that eternity."

Jimin closed his eyes, clutching the herb to his chest. When he had regained his breath, he made his way over to the small bed tucked in the corner of his small home, folding the leafy plant carefully beneath the collar of his shirt.

It took a while before sleep came for him, and when it did, it was restless and dreamless.

However, Jimin kept the magic branch safely tucked into his clothes every day and the Fae never troubled him.

But it took many years before the sweet, low sound of music and the searing eyes of the Prince left his dreams.

taglist: @ppersonna​ @thatlongspringnight​ @myimaginationsrunningwild​ @ladyartemesia​ @ezralia-writes​ @ggukcangetit​

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[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Vampire Ecstasy (Sarno, 1973)

As a teenager in Toronto in the 2000s whose parents had Rogers Cable, one of the key drivers of my horror fandom was a channel called Scream. Launched in 2001, this was a channel that specialized in horror films, and provided me with an opportunity to catch such classics of the genre as Evil Dead II and Blood Feast (although I did not appreciate the latter at the time). On one hand, my budding cinephilia was nourished through whatever Criterions I could get my hands on at the public library, which lent itself to a kind of curation. On the other hand, my interest in horror was fed through a more omnivorous approach, as I would devour whatever movies I managed to catch this channel during its regular generous free preview periods during the month of October. (Looking back, I feel a bit of guilt around this, as the channel rebranded to a more milquetoast iteration known as Dusk in 2009, and then ceased operations in 2012. Were people like me to blame? I can only atone by buying an ill-advised amount of Blu-rays to support companies selling horror titles going forward.) Even though I was cursed with certain ideas around "good taste" at the time, I recognized this channel for the boon that it was to my cinephilia.

Those ideas however led me to squander the channel that was one up from Scream, Drive-In Classics, which specialized in exploitation movies. (Amusingly, after Drive-In Classics ended operations, it was replaced by the Sundance Channel, which is about as far as you can get in terms of programming.) Before my tastes had become sophisticated and/or debased enough, I naturally assumed what was shown on this channel was a heap of garbage and didn't spend a lot of time watching it, although every once in a while curiosity would get the better of me and I'd hit the channel up button to see what was on. During one of these televisual excursions, I stumbled across a scene of some kind of strange ritual, characterized by boobs and bongo music. Despite being relatively prudish as a teenager, I was transfixed for reasons that were beyond me at the time (okay, that's a lie), and watched with rapt attention for a few minutes with the sound really low only to quickly change the channel before anybody else came in the room. That scene was from a movie called Vampire Ecstasy (AKA The Devil's Plaything), which for years held a great deal of psychic weight over me yet I'd found it hard to come across a copy and had never seen mentioned in my internet circles during all these years (it doesn't even have a Wikipedia page). But now, through the miracle of Tubi and the Film Movement Blu-ray label, I found it was available to stream in a beautiful HD transfer, so after many years, I was able to finally sate my curiosity.

Sometimes you see a bit of a movie out of context and develop an idea of what the movie's like that's completely divorced from the real thing. For years, I'd imagined Weird Science had some wacky extended chase where the heroes escape from an evil pimp played by Bill Paxton, wearing his yellow suit from Predator 2. When I finally watched it last year, I realized I'd extrapolated much of that entirely from the "malaka" scene and had actually only seen the first few minutes. Other times, as in here, you see a part of the movie that proves to be entirely representative of the whole thing. Vampire Ecstasy has many, many, many scenes of nude female characters conducting some kind of weird sex ritual in a dungeon, set to bongo music. Some of these scenes involve marital aids, like dick-shaped candles and wooden cones, as well as the occasional dude, but others merely involve them writhing to the bongo music. (There is occasional gyrating as well. What is the difference between writhing and gyrating, you ask? Well, I'm not a man of science, but I would wager that the direction and intensity of the oscillations plays a role in distinguishing the two.) Now, I'm not against any of this in principle, but the movie runs an hour and forty-three minutes long, and these sequences ensure you feel every second of that runtime. (It's also unclear whether the bongo music is diegetic, as other characters seemingly hear the bongos, yet nobody is ever seen playing them. Such are the mysteries of Vampire Ecstasy.)

However, the movie does offer some of the pleasures you'd expect from a movie called Vampire Ecstasy. One can try to dissect the particulars of the plot, but all one really needs to know is that there are a group of sinister lesbian vampires (the ones conducting the aforementioned bongo rituals) combating a professor of vampire history (or some shit), who may have an incestuous attraction to her brother. Aside from the numerous, numerous nude scenes featuring fairly attractive participants, the movie benefits greatly from being set in a castle near the Bavarian alps, which lends the movie an appropriately chilly atmosphere. Combined with the vaguely German accents of most of the cast and the death metal font of the opening credits, this plays credibly like a Eurosleaze vampire movie, perhaps like one Jean Rollin would have made at the time, so it surprised me that it's directed by a Joe Sarno, an American. Sarno was a prolific director of both softcore and hardcore pornography whose work I'd like to delve further into, as by all accounts, he made some pretty good ones. (During one of my other bouts of interest in Drive-In Classics, I distinctly remember seeing Abigail Lesley is Back in Town appearing on the programming guide, tantalized by the NC-17 rating noted in the movie description but too afraid to be caught actually flipping to the channel.) I suspect Vampire Ecstasy isn't the greatest entry point for his career, and unlike Rollin, he never manages to imbue enough of a sense of threat into the movie, so whatever atmosphere is present never accumulates into dread. As a result, this is hard to recommend as an actual horror movie, but it holds some interest as a curio. Given my interest in clothing, I must note that one of the female characters arrives in a fedora, pinstripe suit and tie, so she immediately became my favourite character. There is also a scene where the heroine's clothes all fall off as she's attacked by bats, in a scene less gruesome yet similarly entertaining as the bat attack in The House by the Cemetery. See, it's not so bad.

[duhragonball]

I think I’m just gonna ramble a bit-- nothing earthshaking-- so here’s a nice, unrelated picture of Cooler to set that up.

I managed to get through Camp Nano in April with about an hour to spare.  I’m still frustrated with my pacing, because I’ve gotten pretty good at finishing the November writing goals with time to spare, but I always end up falling behind on the shorter goals I try to do during the rest of the year.   July is up next, so I’m kind of hoping I can turn this around by then.  

April was difficult all over, so I’m trying to use May to chill the fuck out.    Somehow I find that hard to do.  Like if I’m relaxing, I just get bored or feel unproductive.  That’s one reason I’m writing this post.    I just want to get some thoughts out of my head so I can move on.

For whatever reason, I got sucked into watching YouTube videos about the Nostalgia Critic and his various blunders from 2012 to present.   That sounds pretty sad now that I write it out, because I never followed the guy that closely, so I keep forgetting the hellacious filming schedule discussed in the Change the Channel movement happened years earlier, and the movies themselves were ridiculed as debacles, so it’s not just one bad year, more like nine or ten.   Anyway, watching all of this has given me some stuff to think about.  

I think I first heard about the NC when he started doing that “feud” with the Angry Video Game Nerd.   They did some videos together teasing a crossover, and then they finally went through with it, and it wasn’t terrible, but I had no idea who the other guy was.    It was like Batman teaming up with some indie comics character you never heard of.  Batman doesn’t need the rub.   From the beginning, I got the sense that Nostalgia Critic was the one driving this concept.  Once I heard about Channel Awesome and all these YouTube reviewers crossing over with each other, I was sure of it.  

Looking back on it all, I get the sense that NC has never really had much of a creative agenda.   His early work involved “reviewing” movies by playing long clips of them to recap the plot, and then making some snarky commentary.  Not the worst format, except he kept getting copyright strikes from YouTube, which was why he started his own website to host his videos.  Over the years, it feels like people have begun to recognize the flaw in that format.  Past a point, you’re not really “reviewing” anything.  It’s more like an MST3K style thing, only shorter and less authorized.  

Years ago, I used to read this site called “The Agony Booth”, which sort of did the same thing but in text.   Before YouTube really got going, the only way to lambast a movie or TV episode properly was to meticulously describe it in prose, with the occasional screenshot here and there.   Nostalgia Critic probably represents a point where people realized they could do the same thing in video form, except it starts to cross the line from commentary to something else.   Siskel and Ebert never did a blow-by-blow synopsis of a movie.    Reviewers like the Agony Booth crew did, because they were often discussing old material, and couldn’t show it to you or assume that you had seen it yourself.   A lot of NC’s early stuff was the same deal, where he’d recall something from his childhood and rewatch it to see how it holds up in the present.  So I’m sure a lot of his content covered old, out-of-circulation things.   But he’d do more recent stuff too, and the attitude surrounding YouTube at the time was that you could pretty much do whatever you wanted as long as you kept it under ten minutes. 

Anyway, the Channel Awesome thing looked like an alliance of similar YouTube reviewers, and they kept appearing in each other’s stuff, and then they did the anniversary movies, which were basically “mega crossovers” with all of them appearing together in the same... story, I guess?   At the time, I wrote the whole thing of as a masturbatory power fantasy.   Comic books did crossovers like these all the time, and YouTube seemed to have hundreds of “reviewers” and “personalities” who would put on silly costumes and carry toy weapons like they were about to fight Thanos instead of discussing the ALF cartoon.   The second Channel Awesome movie was about high fantasy tropes, and the third one was a space opera, so that seemed to support my assumption.

From watching all these videos about the movies, though, it looks more like each one was mostly about the Nostalgia Critic talking all his “friends” into another one of his kooky schemes, and they all just sort of go along with it, even though they know him to be a self-centered jerk.   Then the third one ends with NC quantum-leaping out of the story itself and meeting Doug Walker, the guy who writes and plays the character.   They try to sell the audience on the idea that NC had some sort of character development across the three movies, and he decides to sacrifice himself to save the day or something.   This was touted as the finale for the character.   Except it turned out later that Doug Walker wasn’t just playing a self-centered jerk, he really was a self-centered jerk, because he treated the others like crap during the filming and didn’t tell any of them that he was killing off their website’s top draw.

That leads into Demo Reel, the series Doug Walker introduced to fill the void.   From what I’ve seen, it sure looked like he wanted/expected this to be a big hit, and he killed off his biggest meal ticket to make this happen.  But everyone hated it.  I think the pilot episode asks the question “What is Demo Reel?” about three times.   Each time, the answer makes less and less sense.   “Demo Reel” the show is about a studio named “Demo Reel”, run by Donnie DuPre, a self-centered jerk who seems to think there’s big money to be made in plagiarizing movies.   The whole thing is just a flimsy plot device to explain why Doug Walker and two other actors would bother making a no-budget parody/re-telling of three Batman movies smooshed together.   There’s no real-world or fictional reason for three people to do this, it’s just that Doug Walker wanted to make a YouTube video about Batman, but he didn’t want to use the NC format, and he couldn’t just talk over a Batman movie without getting in trouble with Warner Bros.   And I guess just... dressing up like Batman and making jokes needs some sort of context, so that’s where the Demo Reel concept comes in. 

What really annoys me is that Demo Reel has this “mockumentary” thing going on at the same time, so you end up watching their parody movie and the scenes where they make the parody movie, and you get these interview segments where they talk about talking about making the parody movie.   It’s like “The Office” except every character is completely delusional.   They’ve all convinced themselves that this is a really good idea, and I guess the joke is that this is a really stupid job and they must be pretty stupid to work at it.   

No one knows where Demo Reel was originally headed, because it was so reviled by the audience that it got cancelled in five episodes, ending with the revelation that Donnie DuPre was the Nostalgia Critic all along, in some sort of amnesiac state.    Or maybe that was the plan all along, I’m not sure which scenario would be dumber, honestly.   New Coke was a sincere effort to phase out the original Coca-Cola formula, but it was such a failure that everyone thinks it was a brilliant ploy to make consumers appreciate the original.   So who knows?

Anyway, this started the next phase of NC, where he would just remake scenes of whatever movie he’s covering that week, a la Demo Reel.    I don’t know if that’s just a strategy to avoid YouTube copyright strikes, or a stubborn refusal to give up the core concept of Demo Reel, or what.  Then he got around to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”, and everyone crapped on that, big time.   I haven’t seen the original movie or his “review”, but from what I gathered, Doug

a) basically did a shot-for-shot remake of the movie, only shorter and cheaper.

b) spent the whole video lambasting the movie and the band for making it.

c) offered his parody songs for sale on iTunes, calling them a “love letter to Pink Floyd.”

The big question is: Why did he put so much work into making the thing when he had so little to actually say about it?   There’s no clear opinion expressed about the movie, even though the video is supposed to be a “review”.   He kind of acts like he thought “The Wall” was okay, but the parody lyrics read like the awkward part of a celebrity roast.   Why go to all this trouble unless you really love or absolutely despise “The Wall”? 

Eventually, I started to figure out that this guy really just doesn’t have much to say.   He wants to make videos, make movies, make reviews, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any real opinion or thought that he wants to express.   I was watching him freak out over the credit card scene from “Batman and Robin” and thought “Are you that upset over Batman having a credit card?”   That’s not even in the top twenty dumbest things in that movie.   Sure, it’s worth a snide remark, but not much more than that.  But he’s “doing a character”, and the NC’s whole schtick is to flip out over stuff like that.  

Except it’s not a character, because NC is just Doug Walker wearing a stupid hat, right?  In the movies, NC’s whole persona is that he’s a self-centered jerk who treats his friends like a personal army, and the real Doug Walker was doing the exact same thing off-camera.    Donnie DuPre was another “character”, wearing a different hat, only whoops, he’s the Nostalgia Critic too.   And even if he wasn’t the same guy, his persona was... you guessed it, a self-centered jerk who treats his friends like a personal army.  

There was this whole era on YouTube where it seemed like all these “content creators” were trying to adopt silly gimmicks.    I’m guessing the Angry Video Game Nerd started the trend, because he dressed up in a white button-down shirt with a pocket protector and glasses.   He looked like a stereotypical nerd, you see.  And he’d drink a particular kind of beer, and lose his temper and set Nintendo cartridges on fire, because AVGN was a character.   You watch James Rolfe being himself and he’s a whole other person, always smiling and talking about horror movies and filmmaking, because that’s what the real guy is about.   There’s a separation there.  

I think that was the disconnect.   A lot of these YouTubers saw James Rolfe playing the Nerd and just assumed the secret was to rant and rave about some topic, and he used a Nintendo Zapper to shoot a pickle monster once, so dressing up like a Power Ranger in a trenchcoat didn’t seem like a bridge too far.  Well, no not if you’re trying to make a movie or tell a story.  If all you want to do is talk about Star Wars, you should probably keep it simple.  I think one of the consequences of Nostalgia Critic’s fall from grace is that modern YouTubers are more grounded.   I’ve watched a lot of Jenny Nicholson videos and she’s pretty funny and animated, but she’s not trying to be a charicture of herself.  She’s just this lady sitting on her bed surrounded by porg dolls.  It works a lot better.   

I used to watch the Game Overthinker unironically.   Does anyone remember Moviebob?  Well once upon a time he wasn’t completely bonkers.   The GO series was reasonably well done and uncomplicated... until the dude started appearing on camera and introducing “characters” and storylines that killed whatever point he was trying to make in his video essays.   Then I started watching him ironically, and then I sort of stopped caring about him altogether, and then he pissed away whatever goodwill he had.   I can’t help but feel like he might have been better off just staying behind the camera, or if he had to be on-screen, just sit on a bed with a bunch of Mario dolls or whatever. 

The fad of YouTube personality as wannabe superhero got me thinking of the whole “Mary Sue” and “self-insert” thing.   They’re really poorly defined terms, and they’ve been overused in so many unfair criticisms that I don’t think they make much sense anymore.    When I first got into fanfic, I saw a lot of people simply writing themselves into their stories.   That’s what a self-insert was.    You literally inserted yourself in the story so you could tell Wolverine to his face that his haircut looks stupid, or whatever you wanted to say to him.    I always found this idea infuriating, because I know who Wolverine is, but this other guy telling him off is a complete stranger, and why should I care about him?   Why should Wolverine care? 

One response to that problem would be to present your self-insert like a bigger deal than you are.   You could put yourself in this story and not only talk to Wolverine, but give yourself an elaborate backstory, where you’re a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and you and Logan go way back, etc., etc.   But that’s a tricky proposition, because if you’re doing it right, you’re just inventing a new character with the same name as you.    Or you can overdo it and make the character too big a deal, at the risk of outshining the other characters.    The Mary Sue concept originated from this, with Star Trek fanzines getting all these story submissions about young, super-talented ensigns who join the crew and immediately win over Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. 

The dirty little secret of character creation is that every character you write is a self-insert or an author surrogate, to some degree.   You can have one that’s meant to be your alter ego, the one who’s based on you and tends to react the way you would in a similar situation.  But you’re writing all the other characters too, and deciding what they think and say and do, so to a certain point they also think a lot like you do, whether you meant for them to or not.  The trick is not to be super-blatant about it, or to revel in the creative freedom to break the fourth wall.   Readers hate that stuff, because they don’t know you well enough to get the joke.   

That’s the advice I’ve always had at the ready in case anyone ever asked me.   But, watching all this stuff about the Nostalgia Critic has made me realize that it applies from the other direction.    It’s very easy to say you’ve created a character, distinct from yourself, only for it to turn out to be more of a reflection of you than you intended.   I can’t tell if Doug Walker is self-aware or not, but it seems like the joke with all his “characters” is that they’re extremely selfish and shallow, and yet he seems to also be selfish and shallow.  So is he aware of this, and he’s trying to exaggerate his flaws for his characters?  Or does he just not realize that he’s telling on himself every time he plays these roles?   Or does he think everyone is selfish and shallow, and that this is just boilerplate information, like blinking and wearing shoes?

I’ll pick on myself, because it’s handier to do so.   I’ve made a bunch of original characters over the years, some that were supporting players, and others who were designed to be big deals.    One of my villains was this bitter misanthrope, and eventually I realized that I was a lot more like him than the outgoing group of buddies that he was trying to oppose.    That hit me and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with that ever since.  

I wrote a butler in my Hellsing fic, basically an anti-Walter based on Marcus Brody from the Indiana Jones movies.   He was clueless and couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and he was really old, so he told the vampires that if he ever had a heart attack and dropped dead on the job that they shouldn’t pass up the free meal.   Is that me in there?   I tend to think a lot about the world moving on without me, and my own obsolescence.   I just didn’t think I was tapping into that when I wrote the character.   I wouldn’t even bring it up, except I liked writing the guy so much, and that’s the main thing I remember about him.  

A lot of my villains in Luffa are representations of things that I’d like to see punched, because Luffa is an unapologetic Mary Sue Self Insert.    I made her all these other things that I’m not: brave, a woman of color, a good cook, a charismatic lover.   But fuck that, this was all just a ploy to keep people from noticing any resemblance to me and my imaginary punching agenda.   But the villains hold all these shitty attitudes and shitty behaviors, things which I consider to be wrong but sometimes catch myself turning a blind eye to.   Jealousy, greed, fear, resentment, and so on.  

You end up putting a lot of yourself into your writing, there’s really no way to avoid it.  The only real trick is to disguise it a bit so it looks like a story instead of just an essay or an autobiography.   I think that’s where some of the YouTube personalities got it wrong, because they would try to tell a story AND write an essay at the the same time, and that’s tough to pull off.   One of the big things that came out of that whole Channel Awesome document was this problematic scene in “To Boldly Flee” where Linkara has been replaced by a cyborg duplicate, and he converts Lindsey Ellis into a cyborg, and someone hears all these suggestive noises and thinks they’re having rough sex.   It’s awkward anyway you slice it, but it gets even worse because it’s basically the real Linkara and Lindsey Ellis.    Their “characters” are so poorly distinguished from the real people that there’s no other way to describe it.  

Also, one of the most salient points I picked up from watching all these commentary videos is that real people can’t have character arcs.   You can’t just stick Filmdude and Captain Snark and Filmdudette and Movie Sniffer and The Comics Complainer all into the same scene and expect anything important to happen to any of them.   They can’t learn anything or grow in any appreciable way during the story, because they’re real and the story is fictional.  The only “character” to their roles are the bit where they review pop culture stuff, which might as well be non-fictional, so why bother?  Even if I’m wrong, and there really is a more complete fictionalized version of everybody in the Channel Awesome Trilogy, the waters are so muddied that you can’t make sense of it. 

And that’s the real danger of leaning too hard into putting a 1:1 replica of yourself into your stories.  Stephen King can be a bus driver in one of his movies, and Stan Lee can be a bus driver in Avengers 3, but if Stan Lee just started kicking the shit out of Ultron it’d be confusing, especially for people who didn’t know who he was.  And if Joss Whedon started kicking the shit out of Ultron, it’d be even worse, because he’s not as well-known as Stan Lee.   You’re better off making up a guy like Thor or the Hulk who can do it for you, and then putting just enough of yourself into those characters that you won’t get caught.  

At least, that’s how I see it.  

[jiminwreckedme]

I Will Turn The Lights On #02

This is a scene from a psychological thriller series ‘I will turn the lights on’ which I have decided to abandon for the following reasons 1 and 2 and decided to post it’s summary instead.

The plot as such is quite heavy with it’s warnings, including #01, but this piece is NC-17 and can be read on it’s own, it’s just plain smut.

Member - Jimin x OC

Word count - 3.1K

Warnings - No plot, just smut, public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, hand job(?), dirty talk of sorts.

She clumsily pushed the ladies’ washroom door open, a little more than slightly out of breath, as she dragged Jimin by the hand behind her, half tripping, half stumbling. The moment they stepped in she stopped her urgent tracks and whined in annoyance.

“Looks like we have company.”

She pouted at the two women who were fixing their makeup before the large mirrors before turning to see the source of the loud intrusion and then quickly turning back to stare at their reflections. They were barely able to meet her eyes with Jimin’s body was pressed against her back so firmly, his hot mouth on her exposed shoulder, making a new mark next to the few he had already made earlier on the dance floor.

“This is a ladies washroom for fucks sake….“

“I don’t get why its so hard to get a room around here…”

Jimin’s current woman of interest turned around to him at their words, much to his disappointment on not being able to finish his act. He trailed his nose up from her collar bone burying it in her hair as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth, making her almost moan out her words.

“There’s people here, we can’t- “

“I fucking don’t care.” Jimin grabbed her by the waist, hoisting her onto the cold granite by the sink, wrapping her legs around him as he ran his tongue along the sweet scent of her neck, making sure he looked both women in the eye through the mirror, challenging them to try to stop him.

“You don’t care if people are watching?” She panted as his lips replaced his tongue and his hands moved down her body, gripping as much of her ass he could, harshly pulling her towards him making her hands that were trailing down his back, grip the fabric of his shirt involuntarily.

“The only thing I care about right now baby, is having my dick taken care of, so please, use your mouth for anything but talking.”

Jimin heard her let out a short, amused breath as she brought her hands up, running it through the hair at the back of his head and pulling him back to look him in the eye. “If you want this,” she licked the red of her lips slowly, making Jimin harder by the minute as she leaned in and he felt her hot breath by his ear. “you need to work for it baby.”

Feisty.

Jimin loved women like that. He was never the vanilla kind of guy, he loved women who were a challenge. Women who were exciting, women who drove him over the edge. From the moment he entered the club, he knew she was one of those women. And boy was she more than he expected. The way she moved on the dance floor looking at him, the way she didn’t resist when he approached her, the way she was the first to make the move on him, grabbing his hand and leading him away, Jimin could not believe his luck. And here she was, all hot, panting and nearly a mess in his hands in front of two mortified women yet she was challenging him.

Challenge accepted.

“Alright.” He pulled her off the surface, quickly turning her around, with one arm around her waist securing her against him as he looked at her slightly smug expression in the mirror before them. It was going to be fun wiping that look off her face.

“If that’s what you want,” He pulled down the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, down her arms, till the red fabric slipped down to her waist, revealing her black lacy bra that barely covered anything. Playing teasingly with the material, he let it go, earning a slight disappointed frown from her which was quickly replaced by a panted part of her lips as he moved it down to the thighs her extremely short dress failed covered. “Just pray that after I’m done with you, you’ll remember something other than my name.”

Much to his satisfaction, he felt her squeeze her legs against each other as her hand left the cold surface of the granite and held the wrist of his teasing hand encouragingly. “Oh you wish.” She was breathing hard and hitched and yet trying to act like nothing he was doing was affecting her. “and for the record, I don’t even know your name to remember it.”

Jimin smirked as he moved his hands between her pressed thighs, trailing up to her core, feeling her hold her breath the higher he went. “For you baby, it’s J.”

“Jay?” She moaned as he got closer making his dick twitch in his pants. Fuck, she was so hot. “What kind of name- oh my god.”

She threw her head back leaning against his shoulder as she felt his fingers against the thin material of her panties that were as good as soaked. Jimin felt the ego in his chest rise at the way she instantly unraveled to his touch. He looked into the mirror to see how she was arched against him, panting and moaning her words at this point. He let his fingers go and her tensed body instantly reacted. “What the-“

“Look.” Using the hand he had around her as support, he pushed her back towards the mirror, not so softly holding her chin, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. “Look straight. Don’t lean back. Don’t close your eyes. I want you to see what I am capable of doing to you.”

She nodded, more eagerly than she should have, as Jimin brought his hand back down between her thighs making her grip the edges of the granite hard. Though instead of giving her what she wanted he tugged the fabric of her dress which was tightly fit around her and pulled it up causing it to bunch up around her waist showing off her matching black lace panties.

“Well well, look who’s matching.” Jimin ran his fingers along the seams, looking her straight in the eye in the mirror. “Did you step out tonight wanting to get laid?”

She nodded slowly, unabashed as Jimin shook his head unimpressed, drawing his hands back again torturously. “Use your words baby-“

“Yes!” She gripped his wrist again, desperately wanting his hands that were always so eager to draw back, involuntarily bucking her hips into him, slightly but enough to almost draw a groan out him.

“Careful.” He growled low in her ear. “Don’t play with something you can’t handle.”

She drew back, knowing what was affecting him as she smiled at him, hips continuing to dig into his torturously. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

Jimin had to resist the intense urge to just stop playing around and fuck her senseless. “Oh yeah? Get on your knees and prove it then.”

She let out a short laugh. “Uh huh. I’m not falling for that.” Guided his hand down her body with one hand, she pulled the fabric of her panties to the side with the other. “You’ve got to work for it first remember?”

Persistent and had an ego that didn’t get attacked easily. Not only did that mean she was good with what she did but also that she knew it. Fuck. Now Jimin really wanted to have her begging.

Not wasting any time, he bought his fingers to her aching core, running it between her folds, feeling her wetness as she moaned his name when he slipped a digit inside her with zero warning.

“Fuck you’re so wet.” Jimin watched as her legs shook a little at his slow drawn out movements as she briefly shut her eyes. He immediately drew his hand back making them fly open in disapproval. “I said watch yourself, remember?”

Jimin put his fingers in his mouth tasting her as she parted her lips, instantly turned on. “Looks like you like watching me more sweetheart.” He smirked at her lack of composure and tugged her bra up, freeing her breasts before giving them a hard squeeze making her core throb harder.

“Please.” She whimpered, squirming with need, every second of her desire satisfying him. “Just…just…please.”

“Please what sweetheart.” He continued his act, adding more kisses up her shoulders, collar and neck. “I asked you to use your words didn’t I?”

“I-I need more.” She panted desperately.

“More what?” He sucked on her neck, running his tongue along the marks he littered. “What do you want baby?”

“F-fingers, mouth, dick, anything!” She gripped his hands on her breasts, biting her lip and even though she didn’t attempt to look seductive, Jimin was turned on.

“Eager. I like it, but I don’t think so baby. Look at you so wet and drenched, I’ve done enough work, don’t you think?”

“Please” She whispered. “Please don’t tease. Just-“

“Louder, and you’ll get it.”

“Please! Please I need more!”

Jimin smirked letting her soft breasts go as he pulled her panties down mid-thigh. “Hands against the mirror.” She immediately obeyed, her palms pressed on the mirror. “Hope you are sane enough after this to return the favor sweetheart.”

“Oh please I w- oh fuck!” She threw her head back as he quickly shoved a finger inside her warmth, curling it upward, knocking words out of her.

“You what?” Jimin feigned ignorance, proud at her inability to talk.

“I said I- Oh my god.” Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as he slipped another finger inside her, cutting off her words once more.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Move.” She whispered, losing her breath.

“Sorry what?”

“I said Move! I beg you. I’ll do whatever you want after this, just move please.”

“I’m sure you will sweetheart.” Jimin pulled his fingers back and thrust them inside her again as he latched his mouth onto her neck once more, loving the way his marks colored her skin. Her hand let the mirror go and tangled its fingers in his hair, urging his mouth to go on as he continued plunging his fingers that were slipping in easily with her slick arousal. She so eagerly took him in every time he drew out and plunged back in, that Jimin had to hold back his own moans at hers as he began grinding his palm against her. If his fingers alone did this to her, he couldn’t wait till he was actually inside her. He couldn’t wait to make her scream.

“Can you take another one?”

She nodded immediately and he too didn’t waste a second in slipping a third finger and she instantly let out the most ego boosting moan Jimin had ever caused a girl as she felt the burn of the stretch. Loving how her body was reacting to him, he quickened his pace, pumping his fingers in and out of her faster, curling his fingers to reach that one spot she seemed to react to the most.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh fuck yes, right there! Don’t stop-“

Unable to hold herself up anymore she leaned forward, hands gripping the edges of the granite, head hanging as she couldn’t take it.

“I said look at yourself. Look at what a mess you are, how fucked out you look. Look up or I’ll stop.”

“I can’t.” She was nearly crying out now. “I can’t st-stand upright to look I- I can’t-“

“Is it too much for you?” Jimin momentarily halted, worried he was getting carried away.

“No!” She gripped his hand, forcing his fingers deeper inside her. “No, no it’s not, just keep going.”

Jimin smirked pushing deeper and curling his fingers as he pulled her back, pressing her back against him, holding her in place with an arm around her waist.

“Look.” He ran his eyes along her body in the mirror. On the purple marks on her neck, the way her bra was pushed up resting over the erect nipples of her round breast, the way her otherwise tight dress crumpled around her waist loosely, the way his fingers disappeared inside her knuckles deep, her arousal leaking down the inside of her thighs to her pulled down panties. She looked so fucking hot like this that Jimin thought he would come in his pants like a teenager just looking at her.

“I’m-I’m close.” She moaned, closing her eyes as they rolled back and Jimin picked up the pace even more, groaning into her ear unable to keep his composure as his eyes never left her face, finally letting his fingers rub in her clit. That’s all it took and within seconds she came undone around his digits with her head thrown back against his shoulder, breathing hard as her chest moved up and down, her grip still tight around his wrist.

Jimin slowly slipped them out, causing her to wince at the sensitivity as he ran a finger down her thigh, collecting her arousal, bringing it up to her mouth. She immediately took it in, sucking softly, looking at his reflection with his digits in her mouth.

“I know you taste good baby.” Jimin chuckled at her eagerness as she turned towards him, back against the cold counter, running her own fingers through her folds, bringing up some of the slickness to his mouth. Jimin wrapped his lips around her fingers, tasting her once again, more prominent this time as he licked her finger clean.

“Time to return the favor?” She unhooked her bra, slipping out of it, and pulled the dress up her body and above her head, discarding both clothing on the counter behind her. Jimin looked around finally distracted to see that they were alone in the washroom. He didn’t even realise when their initial company left.

“Are you good to go again?” Jimin looked at her slightly shaking legs as she slipped out of her panties, standing in nothing but her heels. Fuck. There was something about the whole thing. About her in just those heels that turned him on so much more.

“Even if I’m not, I don’t think you can control anymore.” She looked pointedly at the fully-grown tent in Jimin’s pants, that was as hard as it looked uncomfortable.

Jimin laughed it off but before he could say a word she placed her palm on it, slowly rubbing it and suddenly he forgot everything he had to say.

“It’s not that-“ She stroked it soft and teasingly making him clench his teeth and swear. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh well, someone is eager.”

“You wish sweetheart.” He half panted, half smirked. “Playing my own game with me won’t work.”

“Oh?” She immediately pulled back, raising herself on the cold counter, leaving him aching. Jimin ran his eyes down her body for the hundredth time in the last five minutes as she spread her legs out, letting him properly see her play with her folds. “Who said I was playing your game baby?” She spread them further, her other hand on her breasts, squeezing them harder than he allowed himself to. “We are playing my game now.”

“I swear to god” Jimin wasn’t able to take it anymore. “If you don’t do anything right now, I will jerk off in front of you and leave.”

“By all means.” She shrugged, laughing a little. “But your hand won’t be as nice as mine. And no where close to my mouth.” She ran her finger suggestively between her folds again, making Jimin feel more turned on that ever. “And if you wait longer, I have better things for you.”

Sure Jimin loved to dominate, sure he loved to be in charge but there was something about women trying to take control. Initially atleast, rather than expecting him to do all the work, it was hot when they didn’t give in easily and more satisfying when they finally did. He was enjoying this way more than he could tell.

“Okay, what do you want?”

“Now we are talking.” She smiled instantly slipping off the counter and slowly getting on her knees. “Hands behind your back, no touching me.” Jimin obeyed knowing it was only a matter of time before he was in control again. She slowly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants as they fell to his ankles. “Use your words baby, talk dirty to me.”

With her mouth just a fabric away from him he almost groaned, until he heard her and his voice left him in an actual desperate moan. “You don’t need to ask for that sweetheart.”

In reply she pulled his briefs down, finally setting him free, wrapping her hand around him. Jimin hissed at the sensation, eyes immediately shutting. “And look at me.” Jimin looked down as her to see her looking up at him on her knees, his member in her hand, lazily stroking it. Oh fuck. He couldn’t wait to have those lips around him. He shouldn’t have teased her so much. She was torturing him. “If you stop looking at me, then I’ll stop.”

“Trust me baby, there’s no other place I want to look right now.”

She smiled stroking him faster this time, wetting her lips while she was at it, when the door suddenly slammed open with a string of curses that made Jimin inwardly let out the loudest groan he could manage, instantly recognizing the voice.

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung stood with his back faced to the two of them as she stoop up, sliding up the counter behind her and crossing her legs, to hide herself a little as she wrapped her arms around her breasts. Jimin pulled his briefs and pant up, immensely annoyed at how the situation turned out.

“Do you know him?” She mouthed, running her eyes up and down Taehyung’s back.

“Unfortunately, he happens to be my best friend.”

“Unfortunately, you happen to have to leave with me so put your dick back in your pants young man.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, he tightness in his pants annoying him. “I just got started Tae.”

“You shouldn’t have even started this in the first place, you asshole!”

“Is he jealous?” Jimin and Taehyung both turned towards her slightly surprised, Taehyung immediately turning back as he realized she was still naked, Jimin frowned at her.

“No, of course not. He’s my best friend. He wouldn’t be jealous of me for the world.”

“Exactly, what the fuck.” Taehyung agreed, talking to the wall.

“Ah of course, then I’m sure as best friends you guys share a lot of stuff too.” Jimin slowly nodded, sort of understanding where this was going. “Then if he’s up for it, how about sharing me?”

A/n - For those who have read the summary and know the plot, this by the way, is the opening scene of the series lmao and no, the woman in the scene is not Valerie, she’s a bit too sophisticated to engage in acts like this. This woman is just one of the many women Jimin has had flings with.

[dorminchu]

question ft. mystery wip [nsfw]

Fellas, what determines the difference between an M-rating and an NC-17 rating in literature (ao3)? Is it quantity of content throughout the chapters of a story or just one or two small yet intense moments that'll knock one's socks off? Violence/bad words/nudity aside, the following excerpt is related as I don't know if it's heavy enough to merit a rating bump. It's definitely NSFW though so be warned.

Note: This is most likely going to be the only scene of such a sexual/sensual nature in the story. As such it is also meant to be a cathartic hard hitter, hence the language. Not sure if it's too much or right at home; but perhaps you'd best be the judge.

She was delicate in every facet of the word. All sharp edges sanded off—a shadow behind her eyes, immaculately cold. Stray droplet of water fell from the golden tress just under her chin to her right breast. The start of gooseflesh on exposed skin. Involuntary shiver gripped her frame and resolved into stability.

She inclined her head. He shed his jacket and then stepped to her. He kissed the pulse in her throat and gripped her shoulders hard. Palms splayed to her ribcage. Her breasts filled his hands, nipples raised. She was watching him in a slight daze.

His head dropped. She draped an arm lightly around his neck. He put his mouth to her breast. Madeleine groaned, heightened. Fisting his hair, holding him in place. She was a beautiful, supple thing and he left no marks. Breathless hiss of "fuck" above him could not diminish her. Felt himself dragged upwards by the scruff of the collar and their mouths collided.

Arousal brought out a measure of impatence in her which he had not expected. She got an arm between them and went for his belt. It did not surprise him much but he was a little curious. She was peerless, had probably been this way for a long while. It took little more than insinuation to set her off now, starved for attention from an equal. She was as cold and exacting now as she was at the height of her arrogance. And she wanted him.

He palmed down her stomach and felt along the slick flesh of her. She went rigid, then fell to trembling. He mouthed at her jugular, pressing her to the door with his body. Undeterred she reached over and pointed him into her. There was a sharp flex of her hand on his shoulder as he entered. His breath caught, released through teeth; hers pelted his face. Warmth imbued seamlessly from her body into him, the rhythm of her heart like a captured bird. A tenuous half-smile that verged towards conceit.

Despite her attempts to remain cold and imperious she still gave a breathless little 'oh!' when he pushed into her again. Harmless impact of her body against the door. She slung the other arm around him. Her mouth parted, turning into his throat. Her cunt gripped him fiercely.

[mychemicalficrecs]

Any longer fics to get us through the pandemic? Thanx! (No waycest please) :)

Hi Nonny!

We're living through difficult times right now and many of us could probably use a little comfort. I hope there are a few fics on this list that bring you some joy.And if you can, spread the love and leave comments and/or kudos on works you liked and brighten an author's day!

Be kind and stay safe

Longer Fics

L For Lucky (M for Mine) by orphan_account, Ray/Mikey, 42k, Explicit. “Yeah, look.” Mikey turns his head to peer at the crowd over his shoulder. “This is going to seem weird, but.” He stares behind him and seems, for a moment, at a loss for words. “Well, there’s no tasteful way to say it.” Mikey looks Ray in the eye and just shrugs. “This is a highly organized sexual gathering for very specifically kinky people.” Ray feels a bit of spittle lodge in his throat and tries his best not to sputter when he disagrees, “That’s actually a pretty tasteful description of an orgy.”

Paradox 'verse by stoplightglow, Frank/Gerard, 42k, Mature, Teen And Up Audiences. You know the saying. The best part about hitting rock bottom is that you get to meet a hot psychic.

Skin of the Canvas by sinsense, Frank/Gerard, 42k, Mature. The typical nude model is someone like Phil. Phil is forty-nine and paunchy. He's starting to go gray at his temples and in his pubic hair; he likes to pose on a stool, curving his back and curling his fingers together between his knees. Phil is secretly awesome -- he likes the Misfits and builds model trains -- but he's not what Gerard would call prime ogling material. Neither are any of the other models who have posed for the life modeling or anatomy classes Gerard has taken. This semester, Anna was kind of cute, but she whined about the conditions the entire time she was there. In his four years of art school, anyway, Gerard has never once dealt with being attracted to the model. But this guy is hot. --- Or: Gerard goes to art school. Frank is a nude model. Somehow their relationship gets off the ground, in spite of everything working against them.

Let The Darkness Lead You Home by rivers_bend, Frank/Gerard, 49k, Explicit. Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero's parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he's born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he'd go to in order to find a new family to call home.

Stunning Someone by morbid_beauty, Frank/Gerard, 82k, Explicit. Frankie, a tattoo artist living in Brooklyn, has basically everything ze wants...except, like, someone to cuddle with at night. As lame as that sounds. Gerard, an art student living in Manhattan, meets someone of questionable gender and starts a friendship with an unrequited crush. (Or: the one where Frankie is genderfluid, Gerard is kind of ignorant to much of the queer community, and sometimes you just fall for a stunning someone.)

Envision the Magic by innocent_wolves, Frank/Gerard, 69k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard is a talented magician, responsible for much of the success of the famous Envision Destiny cruise ship. He's also one of those people. You know, one of those people who just seem to take up all the space they come across with their arrogance and confidence. You wouldn't wanna touch their personality with a 10-foot pole, but still people admire them. That is beyond Frank. Working behind the cruise ship bars and seeing Gerard pretty much every day, he can't understand what's so great about him. Besides, everybody else doesn't have to deal with his snide remarks and rude comments. Because if there's one thing Gerard seems to love, it's the act of constantly pestering Frank.

Rentverse by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Ashlee/Patrick/Pete and more, 77k, Teen And Up Audiences, Explicit. It's Frank's senior year, and it seems like he's constantly having new experiences, at least half of which come as a complete surprise to him. He falls in love, comes out, and has sex, not necessarily in that order. /// It's Pete's senior year, and with every day comes a new mistake. But he can handle them, as long as his friends can.

(To Die Will Be) An Awfully Big Adventure by FayJay, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Gerard has always vaguely liked the idea of being a vampire, in much the same way he's always vaguely liked the idea of time travel, or of being a pirate - but it's only when he wakes up dead that he realises that not all his fans (or friends) are actually human. This is rather a shock to the system, but Gerard does his best to deal with the fact that he's now an undead American, and he's lucky enough to get a little help from an unexpected corner. Just as he thinks he's starting to get the hang of being a vampire, however, everything suddenly goes to hell in a handbasket, and before he knows it there are angry vampires slayers chasing him around LA, and an urgent appointment with the Fairy Queen looming before him... A story about love, family, metamorphosis, art, trust and geekery.

Fit to be tied by maryangel, Frank/Gerard, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.

Only Going One Way by ataratah, jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Crossover with due South. Constable Gerard Way of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Detective Frank Iero of the Chicago PD team up find Mikey Way in a city where bowling alley score cards hide secret codes, where the good guys are either lying or undercover (and sometimes lying about being undercover), and where criminal bakers make drug-laced frosting.

Time Travel 'verse by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Gerard, Ray/Mikey, 79k, Explicit, General Audiences. In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019.

play and record, held down together by morphosyntactic, Mikey/Pete, 54k, Explicit. High school AU. Mikey Way likes keeping his head down and blending into the background at school. Then Frank signs the two of them up to do the school's weekly radio show, and keeping his head down gets more difficult, especially when he keeps running into senior soccer star Pete Wentz everywhere he goes.

Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, Frank/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.

It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Really, Really Do by wakingup, Mikey/Pete, 58k, Not Rated. Pete is trying to not fuck up this time. His friends don't have much faith in him, even though they love him. Mikeyway makes this easier and harder at the same time.

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0_fuckin_kay, Frank/Gerard, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

The Marching Band AU by frankiesin, Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Pete, Brendon/Dallon, 150k, all ratings. A bunch of gay teens are in a band and do dumb things while in high school. There will be a lot of pairings, each part can be read without reading the others, and the series is in chronological order.

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, Pennyplainknits, Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Pete, Bob/Ray, Lindsey/Jamia, Spencer/Brendon, 164k, General Audiences to Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

Nightswimming by waxjism, Mikey/Pete, Frank/Gerard, 163k, Not Rated. Summertime and the livin' is easy...

Unholyverse by Bexless, Frank/Gerard, Ray/Mikey, 187k, General Audiences, Mature, Explicit. Religion! Horror! Exorcisms! Piercings! And Gerard is a priest.

shut up and drive by Trojie, uglowian, Patrick/Mikey/Pete, 139k, Teen And Up Audiences. Pete Wentz is the grid girl, Andy Hurley loves him (not like that), and Jared Leto is the bad guy. A.K.A.: the bandom The Fast and the Furious AU that literally no one asked for.

[ljfeed-spn-j2-bigbang]

2020 Master List

Here is the 2020 masterlist. If you see any errors, please let me know.

Extreme thanks to

firesign10 for coding the list again this year! We all owe them a huge debt of gratitude!

Jared/Jensen

Stacks of Green Paper in His Red Right Hand

Link to Art: Here

Author: zara_zee

Artist: bluefire986

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPN RPF - Slash, Dark Romance, Action-thriller. Crime.

Word Count: 30K

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: References to child abuse. Organized crime. BDSM. Kink. Violence. Part of the Hellspawn 'verse

Summary: Life has never been better for Jared and Jensen. Business is booming. The challenges for control of the Californian underworld appear to have stopped. They have an awesome new house and an ever growing family of misfits and outlaws. Jensen’s even trying to quit smoking.

And then Jensen’s father drops a bombshell that makes Jared bench Jensen from everything but their ‘honest’ earnings. Jensen hates his new restrictions, but with so much on the line, he can’t argue with them—not until a friend of the Club is in danger and Jensen’s the only one who can help. And then he can’t just sit it out. Right?

Headstrong

Link to Art:Here

Author: fufuraw

Artist: yanyan

Pairing(s): Jared and Jensen

Genre: Gen

Word Count: 21,228

Rating: PG

Warnings: Were transformations

Summary: Jared learns about his family and his background. Jensen and the Bell Creek Pack are there to support him as he learns to navigate a world he never expected to have to live in.

On Your Way

Link to Art: Here

Author: zubeneschamali

Artist: quickreaver

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPN RPS

Word Count: 47,391

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: none

Summary: Jared's got a YouTube channel where he chronicles his attempt to run a half marathon in every U.S. state and all of the sights he sees along the way. Jensen's got a YouTube channel where he records his adventures in minimalist backpacking, taking to the most scenic places he can find with the least equipment he can carry. When both of them enter a competition for the best travel video blog—where the winner gets their own Netflix show—they'll have to decide if the growing attraction between them is more important than who wins the competition…

The Prophecy

Link to Art: Here

Author: tammyrenh

Artist: tx_dora

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPN RPS

Word Count: 25174

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: none

Summary: There is an old prophecy that involves an omega with magic ability far greater than has ever been seen before. Jared, a royal omega about to be given away to a very not-nice prince, decides to choose one thing for himself - who to give his virginity to. This act results in major consequences for both Jared and Jensen - including a pregnancy that shouldn’t be possible, magic that saves them and places them in danger, a voyage across the sea, sword fights, an evil prince, and, above all, the fierce love that binds Jared, Jensen and their unborn child together.

Freedom

Link to Art: Here

Author: sanshal

Artist: cherie_morte

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPN RPS

Word Count: 30,853

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Dystopian AU, Slave!Jared, Master!Jensen, Nudity, Collar, Sexual training- (prostate milking, object insertion, chastity, Punishment/spanking etc.), Brain-washing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Kids, Divorce, Mentions of depression, Crying, Alcohol abuse. Protective Jensen. The story is not as dark as the warning make it appear, however, please do read them carefully (as there are instances of them in the fic) and if you feel that you may be triggered, please be careful.

Summary: A new law comes into play which calculates an individual’s income and expenditure and if one fails to meet a particular ‘standard’, they are indentured till they can work off the difference by working for ‘sponsors’.

Jared fails to meet the ‘standard’.

Metaphysical Inc

Link to Art: Here

Author: blackrabbit42

Artist: beelikej

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPN RPF AU

Word Count: 21K

Rating: R

Warnings:

Summary: Loosely inspired by Monsters, Inc. Jensen works for the Life Department, Jared works for the Death Division. When they accidentally bring a live human baby into the metaphysical world, they need to work against the forces of Time and Fate, as well as that little shit from Chaos, Misha, to return baby Bee to her rightful place in the human world. Doing so might involve sacrifices and changes neither of them ever imagined.

The Rose Hidden Among the Thorns

Link to Art: Here

Author: backrose_17

Artist: 2blueshoes

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPN RPF AU

Word Count: 22,110

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: A/B/O, mpreg and cheating

Summary: Mob Boss Jensen Ackles is done with the thorn in his side FBI Agent Stephen Amell and he goes after Stephen's one true weakness, his loyal boyfriend Jared Padalecki. Jared has always known that Stephen's life is a dangerous one but he never expected to be drawn into a web of seduction and danger or learn secrets that Stephen has been keeping from him.

Master, Be My Slave

Link to Art: jdl71 Here

Link to Art: dun Here

Author: wincestwhore (Hunter King)

Artist: jdl71 and dun

Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Genre: SPF AU

meus_venator

phoenix1966

paleogymnast

aggiedoll

cherie_morte

bostonleigh (velvet-impala)

tcs1121

bluefire986

dwimpala21

candygramme and

spoonlessone

emmatheslayer

jdl71

dwimpala21

anniespinkhouse

amberdreams

junkerin

emmatheslayer

tsuki_no_bara

beelikej

dugindeep

cassiopeia7

kelleigh

blondebitz

nerdypastrychef

kaelysta

merenwen76

m14mouse

annie46

mangacat201

roxymissrose

phoenix1966

amypond45

siennavie

firesign10

a_dean_girl

smalltrolven

kaelysta

runedgirl

amberdreams

nyxocity

swan_song21

jalu2

paperbackwriter

kelios

tx_devilorangel

ameraleigh

amberdreams

whiskygalore

liliaeth

raving_liberal

m14mouse

[thebiasrekkers]

Star of Fate [Vampire!VIXX]

Plot: The longer you stare into darkness, the more you realize that something could be staring back. Even more so when that darkness doesn’t want to be brought into the light and will do anything to stay that way.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Vampire!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: OT6 VIXX x OC(s)

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Office Microaggressions | Bullying | Toxic Work Environment

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Links: FAQ || VIXX Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || Admin L’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,682

AO3 | WP

Tag List: If you would like to be added to this list, just drop us an ask!

AN: So…I know we said this was coming soon and I’m very sorry that this got started so late! I hope to have this out every two weeks, maybe more depending on the future. So please give this a lot of love and we hope you enjoy the ride!

Chapter 2- The Ghost Woman and the Hunter

Calling on your sins you're here in my dreams a desert place I'm not alone Do you really want to be me?

Her eyes popped open, the realistic feeling of falling completely disorienting her as she shot up from her bed. It had felt so real to her that her body jerked itself awake. Light danced its way in through the blinds, chasing away all signs of shadow. Never had she been so glad that she hadn’t purchased black out curtains than in that moment. She needed to see the sun and all of its glory to help the dream fade away into existence. Well, at least certain parts of it. There was a wistful part of her that still wished that she could be on that dance floor again with the handsome and darker skinned man. 

“Oh my….FUCK!”

Lucky yelled as she looked over to her alarm clock, realizing that it was the source of the chimes that she heard in her dream. Throwing off her covers, she scrambled to get half-way put together so that way she wouldn’t be late to her job. She even called a cab to get her there faster which was unlike her normal routine. Unless there was inclement weather, of course. 

During the ride, she kept an eye on her phone--it lighting up every few seconds as she checked the time. She made it to her desk just in time to receive the stack of papers from some of the other people there. Normally she wasn’t such a space case, even showing up early to get whatever else she missed the previous day. Lucky was a hard worker, nobody could deny that but it was that fact others exploited hence the reason why the stack seemed to get larger and larger by the week. The world of office politics seemed to be much like high school but it paid well enough for her to put up with the majority of it. 

She straightened out her hair as best as she could with it being so long and settled down to start on her work. Most of it had been reports that she had to pencil push and correct, which was easy enough for her because all the information had been just sitting there inside of her head. However, the more difficult stuff came along when the Vice-President stuck his fingers into everything. She couldn’t help but groan when she looked at some of them, saving the majority of them for last so that way she could take extra time on them. 

“Job finally getting to you, Leonora?”

Lucky didn’t realize how long she had been working on them until the voice pulled her out of the zone she had settled into. Turning around, she saw another coworker standing right behind her with a slight smile on her face. No matter how many times she tried to be friendly to some of them, they insisted on resisting any attempts at professionalism and decorum. Well, unless someone higher up was around. Not to mention the fact that they also insisted on calling her by her government name instead of the nickname that she preferred. She gave the sweetest smile she could muster and stood up, green eyes twinkling. 

“Oh, there you are Nancy! I got so caught up in fixing your mistakes that I forgot to give you this folder back! Everything in there should be up to date now and I even took the liberty of sending off the final draft for you. It was the least I could do since I was the last one that had hands on it. You’re welcome.”

She gaped at Lucky for a moment and flipped open the folder to read what she had fixed. Nancy’s ears started to go red and her thin lips flattened as she pressed them together in anger. Lucky raised an eyebrow at her reaction, knowing that she saw what had been edited by her. It had only been a few mistakes but they were some that would have made their department look bad. Plus Lucky also added her name to the document as one of the contributing factors, more so because she went through the trouble of fixing everything. 

“I hope this teaches you to quit pushing your work off on me, Nancy. Have a good day.”

Lucky turned away from her and sat back down at her cubicle, leaving the sputtering woman there to be embarrassed. Even though she had her own computer there, they all had shared files that they could all access and she lived up to her nickname that she had the time to quickly edit everything before emailing it out. It had been one of the rare times that she was able to stick it to them and it honestly made her feel a sliver of satisfaction at the situation. 

Because she was just a little bit petty. 

The sudden ringing of her phone took her away from the moment, the voice of her boss calling for her. Lucky was a bit confused as she looked at the time as she wondered why he had reached out so early. It normally was after lunch that she would meet up with him to go over various things pertaining to her new position. Lucky had been promoted to be the Personal Assistant for the Vice President. Naturally, he had more than one that would work together with him being at such a high level but most of them had quit because of various rumors of his misogyny and unrealistic ideals. Hell, she was even friends with one of them when she found out that she no longer worked there. Rumors circulated with her leaving and even more when she was appointed in her stead. 

Now, Lucky was one of the very few left so that meant that she had been picking up a lot more work than normal. Not that she went out much anyways with the amount of work she had. 

She walked the halls to his office, only to be greeted by the desk clerk. The tiny lady handed her a folder and suggested she find something appropriate to wear. Confused, Lucky looked through the folder and saw that there were some instructions as well as some papers with details on the new VIP’s that they had recently joined with. 

“What the actual hell? Does he expect me to drop everything that I’m doing to go to this event with him? After hours, no less?”

The lady just shrugged and went back to her work. Lucky could feel her indignation rising but left before causing a scene. It was one thing if it was an actual work trip that she had to attend but that had been some sort of event to flaunt and rub elbows. There wasn’t a real reason why she needed to be there so why all the preparation? She returned to her desk and went through the folder in detail. The only promise that she would receive was an extra amount in pay if she went, something that actually interested her. She grumbled as she leafed through it but decided that it was just for one night and that if it happened again, she would put a stop to it. The bright side to it had been that she could take off early to prepare for the event. That was always something she could look forward to especially that day since she moved like hell to get there on time. 

The one person that she could freely talk to in the office came up to her with a grin on her face. She had originally been offered the position but declined it because of family reasons but she was nice to talk to regardless. 

“So Lucky.. I heard from a little bird that you’re going to the VIP event tonight with Mr. Randall.” She wiggled her eyebrows and elbow at her while Lucky just scoffed. 

“Yeah, I guess. I wonder how in the hell does crap go around here so fast? It’s like the freaking flu!” 

“You don’t sound so enthusiastic about it.”

“Ashleigh, I really don’t want to go but they’re promising extra pay this time if I do. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and now I gotta go to this… grandstandin’ event. I wish someone else could go.”

Her coworker leaned thoughtfully on the cubicle wall before leaning down to whisper. It was only times like that when they would get a bit of privacy. 

“You could always quit and get some more sleep? I heard that the other assistant quit as well. I thought, at first, that you had too when you didn’t arrive when you usually do. They’re saying that the abuse from the VP is to blame.”

“Yeah well, tell the handsome man in my dreams to quit bothering me so I can go by to my normal schedule and ignore some of these chickens.” Lucky’s hand motioned like a beak as they both had a laugh over that before returning back to work. However, Ashleigh’s words stuck with her. The VP hadn’t been shy about voicing his displeasure to her about various things, even requesting that she cut her hair but she respectfully declined his request. All she stated was that it was within the guidelines of the company and left it at that. Something that didn’t win her any favors. 

And if the other girl quit too, then the sinking feeling in her gut proved to be more of an ominous feeling. Either way, she would have to go and see how it played out. 

When time came for her to leave early, Lucky instead went shopping for appropriate attire for that night’s event. Even neatly braided her hair to keep it out of her face. Simple, neat and just a tad bit sexy in the red dress. Once satisfied with her result, she waited outside for the driver to come around and pick her up. Upon seeing the expensive car, Lucky suppressed a shudder when the door was opened to reveal Mr. Randall. It wasn’t necessarily seeing her boss after hours but more of a combination of the car and him. Small vehicles caused her a bit of stress since she was involved in an accident many years ago. Since then, normally she would either take the bus or bike when the weather was nice. 

Thankfully, her boss wasn’t too interested in making small talk with her once they got on the road. The city was left behind soon and various gas stations and trees zoomed by them. She didn’t put too much thought into it until the driver turned onto a long, paved road after a set of gates. The mansion that appeared made Lucky’s eyebrows shoot up, something picking at her brain. She couldn’t quite figure it out but it was as if she had seen that place before. She had to shake those thoughts from her head as she concentrated on remembering the information that was given to her earlier that day. 

Knowledge was power and she needed it to navigate that world if she didn’t want to embarrass or otherwise offend anyone. 

Upon exiting the car and entering the elaborate place, Lucky felt all the eyes in the world stare at them. Putting on a gracious face, she walked slightly behind her boss as they were greeted by some of the others there. A few moments chatting with some of them, she soon found herself alone in the area while the others mingled. She wasn’t anyone of importance and therefore not worthy of anyone’s time, for the moment. She would let her boss do all the talking. 

Lucky gravitated towards the hors d'oeuvres while everyone talked among themselves. Plucking a few to put on a plate, she watched the room for any sign that she would be needed. Several of the clients that were in the folder she received were there and they were laughing alongside everyone else. A couple even approached her, asking questions about the company and trying to get a little information from her about how to deal with her boss. She couldn’t honestly say anything to help in that situation because she usually just listened to him bark his orders before correcting anything she needed to. 

She was left alone for another time, only appearing at her boss’ side when needed as the night went on. Soon she felt herself grow tired of all the people and the politics of said beings. Lucky had several drinks before that point and was in the process of acquiring another when a voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. 

“They’re almost like vultures, are they not?”

She looked around and up at him as he was much taller than her, even in heels. The man knew he was handsome, smiling prettily at her as he held up his own glass of red wine in a toast. Lips full and round eyes, Lucky had to appreciate his looks before replying. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that in particular.”

He gave a wide smile, eyes almost disappearing as they snickered at the rest of them. Lucky found herself talking more and more to the man who seemed just as bored as she was with the party. The more that she looked at him, the more that he seemed familiar to her and it dawned on her that he was one of the men from the folder. He had a nice voice, a bit higher than most of the men there but he didn’t hide it one bit. 

Lucky also noticed that the attention had been drawn to them just from them standing and talking to one another. He introduced himself as Jaehwan and they talked for another 15 minutes, slipping into easy conversation to keep themselves entertained. His jokes nearly had her spilling her drink, the folder not at all correct with the man before her. He was one of three men with his business, including one brother that rotated about in their company. 

Still, even with the jokes and the amicable banter between the both of them--her boss found that he had only missed the presence of Mr. Lee before her. 

“Ah. Leonora, I didn’t realize you had monopolized Mr. Lee’s time here tonight.” Her shorter framed boss then looked to Jaehwan with an apologetic look on his face, “Otherwise I would have saved you sooner!” Mr. Randall gave a laugh, expecting Jaehwan to laugh with him but didn’t. It surprised Lucky that her new friend didn’t go along with him on that but only sighed, looking to her in apology before speaking. 

“Leonora? And you said you were Lucky…” He grinned at her, ignoring her boss. She could see Randall’s face that he was growing annoyed, a face that showed up when things didn’t go his way. 

“Oh that’s just my assistant’s nickname that she tells everyone to call her even though we should be more professional. I’m her boss, Nicolas Randall. Vice-President of Nexus Assurance.” He held out his hand to shake but Jaehwan kept grinning at Lucky. His eyes suddenly were hyper focused on her, the doe eyed look that he did have--dissolved away. Almost like he had found something he really wanted.

“Uh well, I’ve been known to be lucky--hence the nickname.” She nervously laughed, highly aware that the tension was rising. Her eyes darted between Jaehwan as he continued to ignore her boss and the latter as he was getting more upset that the scene was even happening. That strange and ominous feeling was back, churning about the contents of her stomach. Jaehwan slowly turned from the friendly and open persona that he had while it was just the two of them, to something a bit more aggravated the longer her boss was there. There was a glint in his eyes that suggested something unfriendly was fighting its way out. 

Suddenly Jaehwan blinked rapidly before excusing himself but not before taking her hand and kissing it. Bewildered, Lucky watched him weave expertly through the crowd before taking a peek at her boss. 

And he was not pleased. 

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 26 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene confronts Carol and Paul makes his decision.

            “What do you want?”

            Carol’s eyes were big and scared. Not defiant at all. Her back was up against the jars of peanut butter on the grocery shelf. Gene looked at her, that pockmarked, freckled face, and tried to decide what Paul had seen there, those times they’d slept together. Then he realized, dumbly, that Paul hadn’t even really remembered. Carol had only become important when she’d hurt him.

            “I think you’re pretty well aware.”

            “I don’t want to talk to—”

            “You’re going to talk to me.” At the edge of his vision, he caught a glimpse of a mother pushing a cart, taking her little girl by the hand and tugging her away. She probably thought they were about to cause a scene. He swallowed, stepping forward and grasping Carol’s shoulder, abandoning the cart entirely. She didn’t struggle or argue, only put down her shopping basket. “Come on, we won’t do it here.”

            He thought, briefly, about taking her to his car to discuss it, just for privacy. He realized after a moment that would probably only terrify her further, so he settled for heading to an empty bench in front of the store. She sat down beside him on the bench, but her eyes kept darting towards the parking lot as if she were about to bolt.

            “Do you do this a lot?”

            That was the first thing she’d said in awhile. The snippy bitterness, the way it barely masked her fear, was strangely reminiscent. Of who, he wasn’t quite sure.

            “Pick girls up in grocery stores? No. Usually they just follow me wherever I go. It’s a little like the Pied Piper.”

            She stiffened, hands clasped in her lap, but didn’t respond.

            “I’m not going to hurt you. But you need to take that curse off him.” He shifted, digging in the pocket of his borrowed sweatpants as he spoke, pulling out his wallet, and then digging further, for his checkbook. “I’ll… listen, I’ll…”

            He trailed. He hadn’t thought this through nearly as well as he’d hoped. The plan, as much as there’d been a plan, had been to try and get an address off of the roommates, and go from there. He hadn’t anticipated being confronted with her so quickly. The money issue—that was another thing. Spending on Paul directly hadn’t been something that he’d minded a bit, for all the notations in his checkbook and all the credit card charges over the past several days. But on this girl, on Carol, he wasn’t sure what amount to offer. Too little and she’d laugh in his face. Too much and—but Paul was worth it. If he could just guarantee that she wouldn’t take the money and run—

            Carol flinched. Her teeth sunk into her lip, and she shook her head.

            “I don’t want it.”

            “That’s bullshit. You got thrown out of your old place. And if this is where you buy groceries, wherever you’re living now isn’t any better.”

            “How did you—”

            “I talked to your old roommate.” Something occurred to him suddenly. “She said you were expecting money when they kicked you out, too. Enough to pay the rent for three months. Where did you think that much money was coming from? Your mom? Or Paul?”

            Her breath hitched sharply. Her face had gone from ashen to waxy, the freckles standing out far too sharply against her skin.

            “No! I didn’t think it would work! I told him that!” He hadn’t moved towards her at all, but she was scooting up to the very edge of the bench. “I don’t want your money. I already told him how to get rid of it! He doesn’t need to be siccing you on me!”

            “You really think Paul’s got me on retainer? Oh, come on.”

            “I’m right, aren’t I?” Carol’s mouth twitched like she was about to laugh, the rest of her expression still as scared as ever. “H-he didn’t like what I told him. So he had you come and bother me instead. Right?”

            “Paul doesn’t have me do anything. I came on my own.”

            “He’s no good. He’s using you.” She unclasped her hands, one hand gripping the armrest instead. “Can’t you understand that?”

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s just had you handle everything for him. You think I couldn’t see that?” A sharp inhale. “He used you to get to me all the way around.”

            It was bait he wouldn’t even dignify with a response. He’d taken care of Paul. Of course he had. Longer than the past few days, if Paul’s claims were to be believed. But Gene hadn’t been used by him. Not ever.

“Are you really ruining a man’s life just because he only wanted to fuck you twice?”

            Carol flinched.

            “I summoned Marbas, he’s the one who…” she started to trail, cutting herself off abruptly. “L-look, I told Paul what to do already. He has to sleep with somebody. Didn’t it work? Or did Marbas try and—”

            “He hasn’t done it.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because he doesn’t want to,” Gene snapped. Carol gave him a look that seemed like a cross between bewildered and disgusted.

            “Why should he care?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “You do know. He said you had a tour coming up. So why would he hold off?” She snorted. “What stopped him?”

            “That’s not rel—”

            “What’s he afraid of?”

            “Nothing.”

            “You’re lying.” Carol seemed coiled up, like she was trying to make herself even smaller than she was, all crammed against the edge of the bench and the armrest. Like she could only manage to say anything at all if she was prepared to flee. “He’s scared of getting fucked.”

            “That’s not—”

            “What are you defending him for?”

            “Paul’s my friend.”

            “He’s not. H-he’d step on anybody to get his way.”

            “Why, because you feel like he stepped on you?”

            Carol stiffened, shaking her head.

            “I saw the way he was with you at 54. I bet he’s been making out with you this whole time, just so you’d do what he wanted.”

            “Is that how you think it is?”

            “Do you think if you do everything right, he’ll change his mind and let you?”

            Maybe some part of him had thought that once. The idea of getting in Paul’s pants had been there almost from the start. Something to do. Something to fantasize about and then maybe fall into while trying to get the curse broken. Something that maybe wouldn’t have meant too much. He hadn’t been completely selfless. But now—now, it wasn’t like that. Paul wasn’t just another girl he hadn’t fucked yet, he was—

            He was—

            Carol stared at him with something almost like pity.

            “He’ll give it up eventually. He won’t stay like this forever.”

            “I know.”

            “What are you going to do after that?”

            “We’ll get back on the road.” He shifted slightly, hand finding his own knee. “We start the new tour in July.”

            “No. What are you going to do?”

            “I don’t know.”

            She was silent for a long time.

            “I thought I was only gonna hurt him with this,” she said. “Teach him a lesson.”

            “Carol, he’s learned his lesson. He was talking about you yesterday.”

            “What?”

            “Yeah. He said he used to think all the girls knew what was going on, until he met you. He said he… he said we had some responsibility, for them thinking they had a real chance.”

            “Y-you’re just trying to make me feel like he’s really changed—”

            “No, I’m not. I swear, he said that. He said he didn’t mean to hurt them, but he did. I don’t know if that’s worth anything to you at all. But it should be.”

            She shook her head, but her expression didn’t match the movement. Her eyes were a little glassy, lips twitching. The hand that had been gripping the armrest drifted to her thigh, rubbing nervously up and down her jeans.

            “What else did he say?”

            “He… said if he didn’t want to be treated like something to collect, then maybe the girls didn’t, either.”

            “He said that?”

            “Yeah. He said that.”

            “He really…” she trailed, voice throaty. She shook her head again and stood up from the bench. She was too close to crying for him to want to reach out and grab her at first. Something about her seemed so fragile, so desperate. After all she’d done, despite all she’d done, a little acknowledgement and she was almost in tears. “Maybe I didn’t do so bad. I-I’ve got to go.”

            “Carol, don’t go. Come on—come on, we’ll talk about this some more—”

            “Paul’ll take care of it. I know he will. I’m sorry, Gene.”

            “Sorry?”

            “Because you love him, too.”

--

            Eleven-thirty.

            Paul peeled off his underwear, kicking it to the floor. He lay down on his stomach on Gene’s side of the bed, bunching up his dress until the hem was above his hips before slipping his hand between his thighs.

            Slow strokes. As a guy, he’d been able to get off without a fantasy in mind, if he was relaxed enough. Masturbation had a sort of mechanical aspect to it. Now, it just—it felt more difficult, whether it was or not. The pleasure wasn’t as immediate or obvious. He shut his eyes, nose pressed hard against the pillow, finding the traces of Gene’s scent there without meaning to.

            C’mon. C’mon. His fingers rubbed against his folds, not wet yet, but at least warm. His imagination had always been so lousy, so literal. Getting with Gene had been so far outside the realm of possibility that he’d never jacked off over him before. Summoning his image up now was almost intimidating, close as it was, for all it added a rhythm to his strokes. Picturing Gene’s hand there instead, Gene’s body against his, warm and heavy, enveloping him. Paul turned his head just to get a little more air. His thighs tensed, unconsciously clamping around his hand.

            After a few minutes, only managing to get a little slick, he stopped rubbing his hand against his pussy and just cupped it instead, shoving his hips against the edge of his hand. It felt better, but it also felt more feminine, which was something he hadn’t given a fuck about when he’d gotten off on Gene’s leg, but it bothered him a bit while going at it alone. He’d get brief spikes of pleasure, but nothing sustained, and nothing like before. He was barely even panting.

He opened his eyes after awhile, catching a glimpse at the clock again. Eleven fifty. Twenty minutes of getting warm and getting wet without managing an orgasm.

            Paul wasn’t exactly trying to get off, anyway, but it was a bonus that didn’t seem to be in sight. Slowly, warily, he slid a finger across his slit. No tenderness to speak of, though, granted, he didn’t so much as ghost his fingertip over his clit. Then a bit deeper, pushing his index finger inside himself, just barely to the first knuckle. No pain this time, just an uncomfortable feeling. He pushed further, crooking his finger, trying not to tense up, trying to explore. Unconsciously, his hips wriggled, that uncomfortable feeling just getting worse the deeper he tried to get, body just tightening up hard around his finger, until he finally had to stop.

            He couldn’t do it. Fuck, he still couldn’t do it.

            Paul kept on trying for another ten minutes, honestly past when he started to get sore. He contemplated using lube on himself in order to keep up the effort a bit longer, deciding against it. Maybe he was stupid to keep on like that, as if a finger was really comparable to a dick, but he didn’t know what else to do. How else to try and gear himself up. He didn’t want to go into this only to have to back out because it hurt too much. Then there was the even more dire possibility that Gene might not even manage to penetrate him properly in the first place if he were too tensed up—well, it seemed unlikely, nothing like that had ever happened with a chick he’d slept with before, but… but he really didn’t know.

            Maybe he wasn’t going to know until it happened. Maybe he was wasting his time.

            He got up from the bed, tugging his underwear back on and washing his hands. He redid his nail polish, and spent awhile fretting in front of the mirror, even though he knew, or figured, that Gene wasn’t half so particular about how he looked right now. He combed and attempted to tease his sleep-matted hair, washed his face, considered makeup. His stomach was starting to growl, but he ignored it. Gene would be back soon. Paul would be ready for him when he came. He could guarantee himself that much. No more delays. Ace’s advice spun in his head over and over. He was following it. He wasn’t basing this off anyone but himself. He’d do what he needed to do.

            Funny how he wasn’t as afraid anymore, despite how unsuccessful his masturbation attempts were. Making the decision was its own relief, regardless of how everything turned out with him and Gene afterwards. If Gene got over Paul once he was back to normal, he’d… he’d manage all right. He would. The main thing worrying him right now was Gene still not being back from his myriad trips.

            Twelve-thirty. He flipped on the T.V., keeping the volume low enough that he could still hear the phone, in case Gene called him up. Just the act sent a stab of nostalgia through his guts. He used to do that in high school, come home and immediately turn the T.V. on as a cover, when what he was really waiting on was Gene’s phone call. It didn’t always come. Gene had an actual social life and actual friends and even a slightly revolving door of girlfriends. But he’d wait anyway, and maybe twice a week, the phone would ring—“hey, Stan, I got the new Zeppelin album” or “Stan, I heard one of the frats on campus is having a party tonight—free food if you want it, just don’t get wasted.” And Paul would go out and meet him, or Gene would come over, and there for awhile, a void would be filled.

            Twelve-fifty-five. He got up from the couch before the program was even over, pulling the saltines and peanut butter from the pantry, eating his way through about a third of one plastic sleeve of saltines. He despised his own paranoia, trying to remind himself that he hadn’t even been awake until noon yesterday, remind himself that he didn’t even know what time Gene had left, either.

            Gene had to be back soon. Just had to be.

--

            Gene didn’t even bother going back into the store to get the groceries, even though his driver offered, and even though Carol hadn’t gone back in herself. He’d watched her tiny figure shuffle down past the parking lot to the sidewalk and disappear, her last words to him ringing like a dull, brassy bell in his head.

            Once she was out of sight, he had his driver head to the nearest Jewish deli, ordering a couple bucks’ worth of sandwiches, not even vying for a sample of the matzo ball soup before ordering it. He stood in the deli, his driver at his side as the guy behind the counter prepared the sandwiches, and tried to remember what else he needed to do.

            “What time is it?”

            “One,” the driver said.

            “That late?”

            “Do you want me to take you back to Paul’s?”

            Gene hesitated.

            “I was going to pick up some more clothes from home first.”

            “Is Paul even at home?”

            “He’s been there the entire time.”

            “I’ve only seen that chickie.” His driver shook his head. “I didn’t think Paul was that generous with his pad. You bringing him back the food, too?”

            “I was planning on it.”

            “Those sandwiches are gonna get soggy if we have to stop by your place first.”

            “I think you’re just trying to get out of driving.” One o’clock. Paul was probably up by now. Part of Gene wanted to keep delaying coming back, but he relented. “All right, Paul’s is fine. I’ll pick up my stuff later.”

            There might not even be need for a later. Carol had been wrong about Paul in a lot of ways, but not when it came to the curse. He wasn’t going to let himself live this way forever. He had to value himself enough for that.

            Gene just—he’d wanted to fix things for him. To make things right. Really right, without any expectations in return. Without any hand of his own in breaking the curse, Paul wouldn’t have had to suffer anymore. He’d be free.

            The drive back to Paul’s was a little hectic, the lunch traffic in full swing. The filthy streets and buildings he’d had the luxury of avoiding over the last few years had been staring him right in the face since Paul had gotten cursed. It made him feel a little sick. Sick for being able to ignore it, and sick for half-forgetting he’d come up from no better than Carol’s lousy apartment. Even if Carol herself might’ve come from wealthier stock, at some point, she was in the gutter now. Stuck shopping at some rundown grocery store during the day while trying to grab onto some coattails at 54 every night. It was shitty, whether she’d caused her own problems or not.

            The traffic didn’t give Gene enough time to really iron his thoughts out. Before he knew it, he was at Paul’s front porch again, with just a single bag of deli food in tow. Paul answered the front door almost immediately. He had his hair fluffed up and teased again, and he was barefoot, wearing the sundress he’d bought a few days ago.

            “Hey.”

            “Hey.” Paul flashed a wan smile. “Did something happen?”

            “I left late, ran into a bunch of traffic. I got your soup and sandwiches.” Gene raised the bag. “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked the best, so I bought a couple—”

            Paul eyed Gene from head to toe, surveying the flower-print and sweatpants combination with an almost disturbed look, nose wrinkling.

            “You look like crap.”

            “Well, I didn’t want to get recognized.”

            “You said you were gonna bring back some clothes.” Paul didn’t say it irritably, but there was a slight, nervous edge to the words that bothered Gene all the same. “I mean, if you dig my wardrobe, you dig my wardrobe, but you’ve gotta add a little taste—”

            “I’ll just get a box of clothes sent over again. We can go get the groceries later. I didn’t really know what to buy, anyway.”

            “Gene, you really don’t have to.”

            “I will.”

            “No, I meant—”

            “I’m starving, aren’t you? Let’s eat.”

            Paul didn’t look particularly convinced, but he headed to the kitchen with Gene. He’d already set the table. He’d even added bowls for the soup.

            “Tab or water?”

            “Water.”

            Paul poured him a glass and got a can of Tab for himself. He reheated the soup in his microwave oven, split it between the bowls, and unwrapped one of the pastrami sandwiches Gene had brought, setting it on his own plate. Mechanically, Gene got a sandwich out of the bag for himself, not even checking the type before unwrapping it and putting it in his mouth. The tenseness seemed to make the air thick. Heavy. Paul cleared his throat.

            “I used to work in a deli.”

            “I remember.”

            “Deli in the mornings, cabbie in the afternoons and evenings, band practice late at night.” Paul shifted in his seat. “Ace drove cabs, too, and Pete—”

            “Pete drummed for that restaurant.”

            “Yeah. And you taught school. You were the only one working full-time.”

            “Hey, you’re kind of young to be getting nostalgic over that, don’t you think?” Gene tried to joke, eating another bite of his sandwich. The bread seemed to stick somewhere at the back of his throat, flavorless and chalky. “It wasn’t so long ago.”

            “I know, I was just thinking.” Paul took a swallow of his drink. “You always had a back-up plan. Nobody else did.”

            Oh. Gene chewed quickly, barely remembering to wipe his mouth, shaking his head. Maybe he was reading too far into the comment. But he doubted it.

            “Paul, I’m not thinking up a back-up plan right now. That’s not why I was gone.”

            “You’re not gonna ne—”

            “I went looking for Carol this morning.”

            Paul looked startled. He set down his spoon.

            “Why?”

            “So she’d take the curse off of you.” The words were slow and measured. He was having a hard time looking at Paul directly, but he made himself do it. He owed Paul that much. “I thought I could convince her for you. But she wouldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

            “Gene, you didn’t have to do that for me.”

            “I didn’t want you doing something you didn’t want to.”

            “But—”

            “We’ll call up Ace again. And Suzie. We’ll get this reversed without—”

            He stopped when he felt Paul’s hand curve around his. Long, warm fingers tapping against his wrist in a silent request. One he recognized well enough to lift his hand and catch those fingers in his, twining them together. Gene’s mouth twisted, another apology all but dangling from his lips, but Paul spoke instead.

            “Gene, I want to do it.”

            Gene stared at him, disbelieving. Paul was looking him right in the eye. Really unusual for him. His face wasn’t flushed, mouth wasn’t set in that tight line. Nothing desperate or fearful. His expression was open, brown eyes soft and almost gentle. 

            Gene had no idea what had changed. But Paul looked more at peace, and prettier, than he’d ever seen him.

            “You want to do it?”

            “Yeah. I want to do it. I’m ready. I’m really ready now, I promise.” Paul’s gaze dropped down, seemingly abashed, after a moment, and he picked his spoon back up with his free hand.

            “It’s not because I was late, right? You don’t feel—coerced or—”

            “Coerced? God, Gene, you…” Paul shook his head. He was smiling. Gene’s heart felt like it was pumping far too hard for his level of exertion, but he couldn’t seem to calm it. “I thought I was the one taking my time. Are you getting cold feet over here?”

            “No! I wanna make sure there’s nothing—”

            “I’ve just got one condition.”

            “Sure. Go ahead.” Gene said it without any consideration at all. His emotions were a bizarre swirl, Paul’s hand somehow the only steadying thing. Conditions. Paul might want oral again to start things off, or maybe he’d want to be on top, to get a little more control. That’d be fine. That’d all be fine. If Paul went really esoteric with it, or gave him credit for flexibility he just didn’t have, there might be an issue, but…

            Whatever Paul’s request, he was still smiling, and squeezing Gene’s hand.

            “Let me finish lunch first.”

            Gene was so relieved he started to laugh.

            “Yeah. Of course.”

            “And if you’re not gonna eat your half of the soup—”

            “That’s non-negotiable,” Gene said, and batted Paul’s incoming spoon away.