#classic score attack

[smbhax]

Playing Classic Score Attack mode in Tetris Effect: Connected on PS4.

Well, I guess I got a new tiny high score, 67652 pts. 'p'

Zoomed the view in and realized the gosh darned blocks are blurry. Blurry 2D in new games has become my biggest pet peeve of late! There was that blurry Shanghai game, a blurring of some of the game with a certain setting in Zachtronics Solitaire Collection--and now someone had the gall to make a blurry Tetris game!!! RAWHWHGAHGHA

[therealslimscreamer]

rage up the street dog on a leash

[b-blushes]

💀 why

💀 why

this was going to be a longer post but actually it's fine like that i think.

ANYWAY I'M GONNA TURN THIS DAY AROUND (it is. 8:55am) AND HAVE A GLORIOUS SATURDAY

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Akira Ifukube (Naoki Satō) - Godzilla Minus One - Godzilla Suite II 2023

Godzilla Minus One is a 2023 Japanese epic kaiju film written, directed, and with visual effects by Takashi Yamazaki. It won Best Visual Effects at the 96th Academy Awards, becoming the first non-English language film to do so. It was the first Godzilla film to be nominated for an Academy Award, as well as the first Japanese film ever to receive a nomination in the Best Visual Effects category.

The score is composed by Naoki Satō, but also contains re-recorded pieces from several Godzilla movies composed by Akira Ifukube; a three-part 10-minute "Godzilla Suite" comprising new recordings of music from classic Ifukube Godzilla scores, including the famous 1954 march, plus brief references to King Kong vs Godzilla from 1962, Mothra vs Godzilla from 1964, and Godzilla vs Destroyah from 1995. These tracks are mostly used as underscore in the major battle sequences, such as Godzilla's first attack on Tokyo, and then again during the final battle. The soundtrack won Best Original Score for a Fantasy/Science Fiction Film at the 2024 International Film Music Critics Association Awards.

"Godzilla Suite II" received a total of 85,2% yes votes!

[madridfangirl]

I'm taking you home NOW!

(Part 2 of the one-shot. On popular demand. Part one here. This is SMUT.)

Summary: Jude sees his girlfriend at a club, tries to control himself as he watches her have the time of her life, but ultimately decides to take the matter in his own hands. What happens when he finally gets his hands on her?

Inspired from an anon request.

She hung up. Jude couldn’t believe she hung up on him.

He stared at his phone, then at her through the glass, then back at his phone.

Boy, was he going to make her pay.

Ananya realised that wasn’t a very smart move but he had completely thrown her off-guard. Between fight or flight, her instincts went with the latter. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked back to her table, the intensity burning her skin even through the distance and glass divider. She didn’t dare to look in that direction and sat down with her back to him.

Jude stayed there for a few seconds, half-inclined to walk down there right now and make good on his threat. But if he did that, sex would be off the table tonight. His parents / team would get a heart attack from the scandal he would have caused. And Ananya - oh she would strangulate him with her bare tiny hands.

Grudgingly, he dragged himself back to his teammates. Brahim elbowed him as soon as he sat down, telling him he was being too plain. Just that, the rest of the guys were pissed drunk already and hadn’t noticed. Jude couldn’t get himself to care. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Ananya knew he wouldn’t just let it go. And she was proven right 5 mins later when her phone buzzed. 

It was a picture with him, Cama, Vini and three waitresses. Two of them were on either side of Jude, their arms around his back and his around theirs. Both leaning against him, a little too close, looking all giddy and infatuated. The typical reaction he invoked in girls.

She started at her screen, open-mouthed, at his obvious attempt to rile her up. No, she won’t give him the satisfaction. She watched her tone carefully before texting him back.

Ananya: ??

Jude: Sent by mistake. Was sending to one of the girls.

Please, like she was born yesterday.

Jude: They didn’t have their phone on them so I took from mine & sending over. To the one on my right.

So, Jude had her number and she had Jude’s. 

Ananya: How sweet.

The girl was pretty. A classic petite, sexy Spanish brunette. A high-end waitress for the VIP section of one of the most posh clubs in Madrid. In her tight-fitted top & mini-skirt. Ananya knew from first-hand experience how Jude had a fetish for such uniforms. 

Jude: Yeah she’s over the moon. Thanking me non-stop.

She groaned. The boy was smart, talking in insinuations so she couldn’t hold anything over his head. So he doesn’t lose the moral high-ground he had right now. So he could always say later ‘oh it was just a nice thing I did for my fans.’ 

The fucker. The absolute shrewd twat. 

It had taken him all of 5 mins to swing this. The girl was probably touching his arm right now, trying to get his attention in her barely there attire. Batting her lashes, smiling extra hard. Reserving special service for him. Ready to drop her knickers at his one look. 

Her friend probably wanted to join in too. Both in a frenzy over how sweet he was being. Trying to score with the hottest property in football right now (literally & figuratively), who was drunk (ergo unreserved) and looked like an absolute meal tonight. 

This happened all too often with him. Offers for quickies in washrooms / hook-ups / one-night stands tended to pour in for him freely. Jude would tell her every time someone hit on him so explicitly or proposition him so openly. It was an unspoken understanding between them, something that gave her comfort.

Usually, he would nip these things in the bud, not providing any encouragement. But tonight, would he indulge a bit? To get back at her for her supposed flirting?

She hadn’t flirted, she hadn’t. She just smiled a bit cheesily at the bartender and chatted him up so she could get her drinks faster. That’s it. That wasn’t flirting, right?

Jude would vehemently disagree. But fuck him. 

And fuck the fact that he knew her so well. He knew what this photo would do to her. The exact things running through her mind. How she would notice that his hands were on their waist, not their shoulders which was his usual with other girls. How she’d be able to tell that the girls were trying to throw themselves at him. 

And it had taken him less than 5 mins to orchestrate this. Such was his charm.

The bastard. She hated his guts right now.

He wanted every single one of these 30 mins to be a torture for her. Not letting her have the win. And he was succeeding. In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t cross the line, she trusted him. But there was a grey area that existed between nonchalance and crossing the line. And Jude being Jude was obviously well aware of that grey area of ‘humouring someone’ or ‘harmless flirting.’

If she was making him wait, then he wanted to make sure she feels the pinch of it too. To the point where SHE suggests to call it a night sooner. How sweet a win that would be for him, he’d forever throw that in her face.

No. Whatever happens, she won’t succumb to such lows. Even the great, most desirable Jude Bellingham would have to wait once in a while. Even if it was killing her from the inside.

Ananya: Careful, unless you wanna sleep on the couch tonight.

Jude: Neither of us are sleeping tonight.

She hated the shiver that ran down her spine. She hated the power he had over her, making her tremble just with his words.

In need of some liquid courage, Ananya downed three more shots of tequila quickly. That, and the lack of food during the night, hit her straight in the head. She went to the washroom to fix her look, re-applying the makeup.

It was almost time. To walk into the lion’s den. A pissed-off predator on edge. At least that’s what it felt like as she somehow found the way to the back-door of the VIP section.

When she saw his car, she froze. Not knowing what to expect tonight. He’d always been possessive & dominant, but tonight he felt unhinged. Like some switch had flipped in his head. 

When she didn’t move for a few more seconds, her phone started ringing. She didn’t bother looking, she knew it was him. Growing impatient. Wanting her to move her butt. As if he was the king of the world.

Cocky, entitled prick.

Half-pissed and full drunk, she marched to the car. As soon as she got into the back-seat, she turned towards him.

‘Just you? Thought your admirers would join you.’

Jude scoffed, looking at her like she had let his childhood pup run to the road and get hit by a car.

‘Look who’s talking.’

Their eyes locked in a fiery staring contest.

‘YOU SENT ME A FUCKING PHOTO YOU JERK.’

‘You started it.’

The fact that he was able to keep his head and speak with an even tone pissed her off further.

‘I started it? I STARTED IT? OH YOU LITTLE…’

A timid uncomfortable clearing of throat from the front seat broke her out of her rage. Poor Agnes wanted to be invisible in that moment.

‘Ummm, sorry but shall we get going? The security is signalling us to clear the lane.’

Jude recovered quickly while Ananya sat numb. Having completely forgotten about the sweet chauffeur’s existence. Someone she had grown fond of. Someone her uncle’s age maybe. Someone she respected. And she just made a scene in front of him. Horrified, she sunk into her seat.

‘Yes please. Take us home.’

‘Sure thing.’

His place was a short 15 min away. Especially at this hour of the night.

She was determined to let these minutes pass without any other incident. But Jude had other plans.

He took off his jacket and threw it over her, covering her waist and legs. Before she could tell him she wasn’t cold or anything, his hand found its way under the jacket to her thigh, lifting her dress up, grabbing her bare skin.

She gaped at him in shock, but he looked straight ahead, completely nonchalant. 

The pressure of his hand increased. She bit her lip to muffle her gasp, trying to push his hand away but Jude stayed firm. She tried again but he gripped her harder, showing her how it will play out if she struggles more.

She couldn’t push him away with more force. She couldn’t call him out verbally. She couldn’t throw the jacket away while his hand was there. With Agnes sitting ahead, all these would create such a scandal in her head that it would take forever to recover from the embarrassment.

And Jude knew that. He knew she didn’t have an escape, and he pounced on the opportunity.

His hand travelled further up, brushing against her core. Her shocked whimper didn’t go unnoticed this time, and Ananya tried to cover it up by pretend cough.

‘Would you like some water?’

Agnes passed over a bottle to her, which she took gratefully. While Jude suppressed a smirk building at the corner of his lips. How she wanted to slap that pretty face right now.

While she sipped the water, his fingers brushed against her again, and some water spilled out. A trail of droplets went down her lips, via her long neck, soaking her cleavage, disappearing into her strapless dress. Drawing Jude’s attention. He stared at her wet, smooth, glistening skin and cursed inwardly when she wiped off the spilled water with her hand, missing his thirsty look altogether.

His hand assaulted her sensitive skin with more intent, alternating between her thigh and her core. Feeling how wetness started to pool between her legs. 

Helpless, she looked out of the window. Hoping for the universe to swallow her whole. Biting her hand / wrist to mask her whimpers. Feeling a strange mix of anger, frustration & arousal. All feelings accentuated due to her drunken state. He was stroking the fight away from her, one touch at a time. Every move calculated to turn her into a whiny hot mess. Needy, pliant and ready for him.

She hated him for putting her in this vulnerable position. But her body was responding to the thrill of it. Jude was the king of spontaneity and adventure, never a dull moment with him.

Finally, they reached home. The ride felt like 3 hours to her, but it had only been 12 mins.

‘Thanks Agnes. You can leave the car here.’

The middle-aged man turned towards his boss, confused. The car was in the open driveway, not in the covered garage where he usually parked.

‘It might rain tonight. And the dust…’

‘It’s alright. See you tomorrow. Good night.’

‘Good night to you too.’

A very confused Agnes got out of the car, as his passengers remained in the back seat.

Ananya knew where this was going. Doing it in the car was one of Jude’s fetishes too. He would have preferred an open road if he wasn’t who he was. She was just thankful he waited for Agnes to be out of hearing distance.

As soon as Jude saw the compound gate click shut, he grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap, making her straddle him. Her dress inched further up by the position, pooling at her waist, revealing her matching red lace panties. Jude traced the border of the flimsy garment with his index finger, losing his focus for a few seconds, while she tried to gauge his mood by studying his face.

She was still mad at him but darn it she also needed him now. His expert fingers had worked their magic as usual. And her drunken state was making her needy. She liked to be taken softly & slowly after being buzzed. While that wasn’t gonna happen tonight, given the mood he was in, but maybe she could find a middle ground.

Ananya leaned forward, trying to kiss his lips, but he grabbed the back of her head, keeping her in place. Staring at her with a ferocious intensity. Like he wanted to eat her alive.

‘You had your fun tonight.’

Being the sole object of his undivided, obsessive attention was also intoxicating in its own way. There were surely worse things in the world than Jude Bellingham wanting to fuck you anytime he wanted.

And she needed him to get on with it, preferably not too roughly.

‘Yes, with my friends.’

Her tone was soft and assuaging. She moved in his lap, trying to rub herself against his crotch, but he grabbed her hips too, not letting her dictate the terms.

‘Not JUST with your friends.’

The image of the bartender and those ugly, sweaty guys trying to dance with her was still fresh in his mind.

Arguing that point would be useless, so she changed tact, keeping her tone sensuous.

‘Does it matter? I was always going to come home to you.’

He scoffed, incredulously. 

‘YOU REFUSED ME. I NEEDED you and you REFUSED ME.’

He was painfully half-hard most of the night, all because of her. And she had refused to take care of his need.

‘Didn’t refuse you baby, just asked for a bit more time with my friends.’

‘Yeah right.'

Despite her horniness, his petulant tone was starting to set her off. Here she was trying to be the adult, to let bygones be bygones, but he was stuck on being petty. 

‘What are you implying exactly?’

‘That you FLIRTED with that asshole, you KNEW what you were doing. And then you picked your friends OVER ME.’

He was probably right about the flirting bit. In a rational state she may have conceded this. But rationality had gone out of the window at his entitled cribbing.

‘Yeah, and what about what you did, huh?’

She grabbed the collar of his shirt, both to shake him and to steady herself.

‘I got one night in weeks, WEEKS, to get out of work early and have fun with my friends. But you wanted me to drop EVERYTHING and run to you at your first command? To be at your beck and call all the time? I don’t deserve one night off?’

‘All the time? ALL THE TIME? We have barely….’

‘SHUT UP.’

She yelled like she meant it, shushing him up for good.

‘And you had the audacity to send me THAT photo? Fuck that, you had the audacity to TAKE THAT PHOTO? What did you do to make them so giddy, huh? Smiled at them? Paid some compliments? Let your gaze linger? Brushed your fingers against their hand? What did you fucking do in those 5 mins that they were FALLING ALL OVER YOU?’

Jude leaned back against the seat. Smug, proud, making no effort to hide the sentiment.

That egotistical dickhead.

‘Who says I did anything?’

‘I’ll fucking slap you I swear. TELL ME.’

Jude eyed her, calculating his next move, choosing his words carefully.

‘Just said I liked what they were wearing.’

She shook him by his collar. Hard.

Jude loved it when she was all pliant and needy. But he loved it even more when she was this feisty & lippy with him.

The image of him complimenting them and them turning into mush on the spot made her want to puke. 

Enraged, Ananya moved to smack him on his chest but he grabbed her wrists, hard enough so she feels the sting.

Another defiant staring contest ensued, as she struggled to get off his lap, failing miserably, her movement making his blood rush south.

Defeated and pissed off, she reverted to a verbal retort.

‘Maybe I should call that bartender and say that to him too, yeah? He did give me his number after all.’

He hadn’t. Well, he was about to do that but she cut him off at the right time. To hell with facts though.

Jude stilled, then turned the full force of his glare at her, face heating up with ire at her words. 

She tried to meet his eyes head on, but it was like staring into the sun. It burned her, and she flinched, looking away to shield herself.

He locked her arms behind her back, tightening his grip on her wrists, his hot & heavy breath causing goosebumps on her face. 

She thanked her stars for not mentioning Arjun instead of the bartender, an option she had considered briefly. God knows how nuclear he would have gone then. Would have probably kept her locked in his room, tied to his bed for weeks on end.

‘He did what?’

His voice was low & threatening, somehow a lot more sinister than when it was raised. She felt its effect straight between her legs.

‘Answer me, sweetness.’

Oh, the bite in that suppose endearment. She shuddered involuntarily. But she was too far in to back out now.

‘I…I wasn’t gonna do anything about it.’

‘Immaterial, darling. You let him think he had a shot, yeah? That he could take you home tonight, or to his car, or a quickie in the loo. Correct?’

She shook her head from side to side in a no, unable to find the right words to respond. 

‘No? So when you were bending over the counter, giving him a view of this…’

He grabbed a breast harshly, making her gasp.

‘….was it to tell him that you were taken?’

She whined loudly under his touch.

‘Jude c’monnn I….’

‘Quiet.’

She hated herself for complying immediately. Like an obedient pet. 

The temperature around them was both burning hot and ice cold at the same time. Silence hung heavy in the air, only the sound of heavy breaths breaking through. 

And then, she heard the unlocking of his belt buckle.

Her eyes went to his waist, as he slowly took off his belt. What he did next made her throat go dry.

Jude tied her hands behind her back with his belt, in a tight grip, while she was still straddling him. His eyes boring a hole through her shaking body.

‘Someone needs to learn how to behave. And a reminder of who she belongs to.’

She wished he would go back to his frenzied ire. Because whatever it is he was doing right now with his chilly even tone was a thousand times more unnerving. She had never seen him like that before. 

‘This dress……was to be worn for me. But now, you’ve ruined it.’

She guessed his next move, but before she could utter a word in protest, strong hands ripped through her dress. Forcefully and mercilessly. Like that garment had personally offended him somehow. 

Ananya saw the remnants fall over the floor of the car in a pile, swiftly followed by her lace panties. It was a shame; she really liked both of those. He had bought them both for her.

Jude looked at her now naked form, while she still hid from his gaze.

He tapped on her lips with two fingers, gently. Then shoved them inside. Spreading her legs with his other hand, he shoved two fingers inside her wet, tight, leaking heat. Then latched on to a nipple with his teeth. Her resulting cries were muffled with his fingers in her mouth.

She was helpless, unable to do anything but to let him have his way. Whining & moaning through it all.

Jude’s hands worked at fast pace, sending her into an overdrive. Then, he switched both hands, making her taste herself on his fingers. As his mouth paid equal attention to both nipples. 

She shuddered violently when his thumb found her clit, as his fingers scissored her mercilessly. And she came on his fingers while screaming his name, falling over his chest, as he made her suck the fingers clean.

Jude gave her precisely 10 seconds to catch her breath, while he unzipped his trousers.

Immediately after, she found herself being brought down over his rock-hard dick, whimpering all the way through. As always, she struggled to take him all in, especially with this angle, and he revelled in the sight, getting extra hard by it, finally nudging his way in.

She had never been rendered this helpless before. Her legs were cramping and her arms were immobile as he bounced her up and down relentlessly, like a maniac. The overstimulation making her eyes water.

His mouth travelled through her torso, leaving angry marks on her sensitive skin. It was pointless asking him to go easy so she didn’t even try.

But when his thumb found her clit again, forcing her towards another orgasm while he was still nowhere near his, she begged him to slow it down. He went just a tad slower, just to humour her but the pressure made her head spin. He was playing her body like a pro, applying just the right pressure at all her sensitive spots together, wrecking her completely. While she was just a helpless doll in his lap.

Jude looked at her bouncing body, swollen & sweaty with his attention, just how it should be. Instead of slowing it down, he increased his pace. And the pressure of his fingers and teeth.

Ananya cried out in painful pleasure. 

She knew what he wanted. She had been fighting hard not to give him the satisfaction. But she was close to shattering again. And he would keep going like a madman till he extracted what he wanted from her. He’d somehow push out his own release and she was nearing the brink of passing out from overstimulation. 

After a long time, she looked straight into his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry?’

‘Yeah, what for?’

‘FOR EVERYTHING.’

She cried out with an extra hard thrust.

‘More specific.’

He wouldn’t let go, not even now, not when he had her completely at his mercy, not when she was meeting him 80% of the way. 

‘For….the bartender…the waiting…the dancing…the fighting…..the dress…..the bra…just…..please Jude.’

Her helpless moaning of his name and the sheer submission of her body did the trick. 

Jude undid her wrists, and brought them around his neck, stroking the bruised areas softly.

She sought out his lips for comfort and he kissed her back slowly, while still bouncing her rhythmically on top of him. Sweaty limbs intertwined. 

Their lips found their familiar motions as her nails dug into his shoulders. He sighed at the sensation. Both nearing their peaks.

‘Dove?’

Her heart swelled at the fondness in his tone and the use of her nickname.

‘Yeah baby?’

Their eyes met. How she could just drown in those honeyed orbs and never come back for air. What a sweet demise that would be.

‘Nothing happened with those girls. I didn’t want them.’

Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest now. And her tears spilled for a different reason. He kissed them away, peppering her face with kisses.

‘I know baby. I know.’

She hugged him tightly, as he rocked them both to their pleasures, coming down from their highs while still clinging to each other.

A few minutes later, he unwrapped her from around himself, covered her in his jacket, and carefully picked her up to carry her to bed, tucking her in.

As he slid under the covers and came to hold her, she stopped him with a hand to his chest.

Confused, he searched her face but came up with nothing.

‘What?’

‘You need to go back to the car now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want Agnes to find my torn clothes tomorrow.’

‘I’ll do it in the morning.’

‘We might end up sleeping late and he comes in early.’

‘You want me to go down right now?’

‘Won’t you? For me?’

‘Fine. Whatever.’

She smiled as he stomped his feet all the way down to the car, making his displeasure known, but still keeping her wish.

..........................................................

There you go.

I had no plans for Part 2 but your enthusiasm made it happen.

Let me know your thoughts / comments :)

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

[amazinglystay]

Curveballs and Close Calls

‧‎₊˚✧ Bf!Seungmin x reader ✧˚₊‧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

warnings!:

Mild language (playful insults like "loser") and a intense sports game with some fluff

(not proof read)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting the baseball field in hues of amber and gold. The energy was electric, the kind that made your chest tight and your palms clammy. You stood just outside the dugout, bouncing on your heels, arms crossed as you squinted at the mound. Seungmin adjusted his cap, his familiar sharp gaze locked on the batter.

The bases were loaded, the score tied, and there were two outs in the bottom of the ninth. A classic baseball cliché, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Don’t choke, loser,” you muttered, knowing full well he couldn’t hear you. But a small part of you hoped he could.

One of his teammates, sitting next to you on the bench, snorted. “You’re brutal. Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

You smirked, not taking your eyes off Seungmin. “That’s exactly why I can say it. Besides, if he screws this up, he’s walking home.”

That got a laugh from the guys around you, though you didn’t miss the way your fingers tightened nervously around the edge of your jacket.

Out on the mound, Seungmin wound up for the pitch, his form as effortless as ever. You watched as he threw a blistering fastball, the kind you’d seen him perfect over countless late-night practices. The batter swung—and missed. Strike two.

Seungmin stepped off the mound for a moment, his eyes scanning the dugout. You rolled your eyes when he found you, tilting your head as if to say, Get on with it already.

He grinned—just the faintest twitch of his lips—before turning his attention back to the plate. He knew you were freaking out, even if you’d never admit it.

“Show-off,” you muttered, even as your heart flipped.

The next pitch flew out of his hand, a slider that curved wickedly. The batter swung and connected, the crack of the bat sending the ball soaring into the night sky. Your stomach dropped as you watched it arc toward the outfield, where the center fielder sprinted back, his glove raised high.

“Catch it, catch it, catch it,” you whispered under your breath, the words tumbling out like a prayer.

The fielder leaped, his glove snagging the ball just before it could clear the fence. The crowd erupted, cheers drowning out groans from the opposing side. The game was over. Seungmin’s team had won.

The dugout exploded with shouts as his teammates rushed the field, surrounding Seungmin on the mound. You stayed put, leaning against the fence with a small smile tugging at your lips. You’d never admit how proud you were, not right away, anyway.

It didn’t take long for Seungmin to break away from the chaos, jogging toward you with his cap in one hand and a cocky grin plastered across his face. His hair was damp with sweat, his jersey streaked with dirt, and yet he still somehow managed to look annoyingly good.

“Thought you were gonna walk home if you screwed that up,” you teased as he stopped in front of you, his breath still coming fast.

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Guess I’ll be driving us home, then. You can thank me anytime now.”

“Thank you? For what? Nearly giving me a heart attack?”

“For winning the game,” he replied, leaning down slightly so your faces were inches apart. “Or is that too much to ask from my very supportive girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the proximity. “Don’t get used to it, Kim. I’m only sticking around because I promised your mom I’d make sure you don’t starve.”

“Aw, so you do care,” he said, his grin widening.

“Barely.”

But before you could fire off another jab, he reached out, his hand cupping the side of your face. The playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced by something far more sincere.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I was nervous for a second there. But then I looked over at you, and… I don’t know. You kind of make everything feel easier.”

Your heart melted, the teasing retort you’d been ready to throw at him dissolving on your tongue.

“Well, someone has to keep you from falling apart,” you murmured, your voice softening despite yourself.

He smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now,” you muttered, though your cheeks betrayed you with a telltale blush.

As the celebration roared on behind you, Seungmin laced his fingers with yours, tugging you gently toward the field. “Come on, you’re part of this, too.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t throw the winning pitch,” you said, letting him pull you along.

“Maybe not, but you’re the reason I did.”

And as the two of you stepped onto the field, surrounded by cheers and laughter, you couldn’t help but think that Seungmin was worth all the mean jokes and every heart-stopping moment in between.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/n 🖤 : make sure to like or reblog if u enjoyed it and to make sure u eat sleep and drink 👌🏾Okie bye bye now!

Masterlist ist here

[gh0stly-mp3]

no love, no game ♡

karasu x bllk gn!reader

synopsis: a match between you and karasu is a mind battle full of feelings, and you both secretly know that, but who will win?

tags: neo egoist league arc, enemies to possible lovers?, implied crush, soccer match description, provocations

warnings: (very) suggestive, might have grammatical errors, unspoken attraction

You stretched as you walked to your position on the field, the match between Ubers and Paris X Gen was about to begin. The raven's eyes were fixed on you, and you stared back like a hawk, ready to hunt. You knew what was about to happen.

Matches between you and Karasu were more than just a game; they were mental battles, where every move, every pass, every dribble became a calculated tactical move. But there was something else in the air, something beyond tactics and perfectly placed passes: the chemistry between you and Karasu. He knew it. You knew it too.

First Half

The game began and Karasu led his team's attack with confidence, his eyes following the ball while his mind worked ahead of everyone else. His body, agile and flexible, moved across the field in an almost hypnotic manner, trying to completely dominate the game.

But there was one look - a single glance out of the corner of his eye - almost provocative. Karasu was paying attention not only to the game, but also to you. Something in the way he was playing said that he was having more fun than usual, eager for you.

You knew what he wanted. He wanted to destabilize your mind, to make you doubt your own reflexes. But you were ready for it. It was as if the field was an extension of your minds, and each step you took was a response to the other, a dance of sharp minds.

The ball was with Karasu, and he moved quickly. When he tried to get past you, with that classic tactic of pushing you away with his arms, you didn't hesitate. You anticipated his move with precision and launched yourself to intercept it. But what you didn't expect was that he had already anticipated your reaction. The speed with which Karasu turned the other way was so fast that you were lost for a moment.

The tension between you two grew. He looked at you with a mischievous smile, as if he knew what you were thinking, and made a precise pass to one of his teammates.

"Do you really think you're going to get me that easily? Don't tell me you're still mediocre." - The provocation in Karasu's tone was clear, after all, he knew how to annoy you. He wanted you to play even more aggressively, he wanted you to come closer to him, to take risks.

You didn't respond with words. Instead, you repositioned yourself, intercepted the ball, controlled it with an almost arrogant calm. The game was changing, but in an unexpected way: your mind and his were in sync. You were playing for more than winning, you wanted to test Karasu's limits.

You kept going with confidence, and before he could react, you made an incredible pass to Isagi, who scored the goal. The crowd went wild, but your eyes were on Karasu, who didn't look angry. He just smiled, a mischievous one.

"You're not going to mess with me again, asshole." - He said, approaching you during the break. His gaze was no longer that of an opponent, but of something that was becoming impossible to ignore. His tone was low, as if he was talking about something personal.

"You underestimated me, birdie", you replied. - "Now it's time to stop your little charms and tell me what the fuck you have to do with me."

The field seemed to disappear around you. All that existed at that moment was the two of you - your bodies close together, your eyes locked, your breathing heavy.

"Deep down, you know what I want, don't you?" - Karasu murmured close to your ear, sending a shiver down your neck; and for the first time in this game, he wasn't talking about soccer.

Second Half

The whistle blew for the second time and the game resumed, but now there was a different energy. The fluidity of Karasu's moves made you wonder if he was deliberately playing on purpose to challenge you, not just in the game, but mentally and physically.

You and Karasu faced each other again. There was no more room for disguise. The desire, the competitiveness, the sexual tension - everything was at stake now. Karasu made a bold move, trying to feint you in a way that seemed like a provocation. Of course, you responded with equal intensity, disarming him, but the touch of his body against yours was inevitable. The warmth of your skin, the weight of your presence... the sensation of closeness was intoxicating.

In that moment, you both knew: whoever won, wasn't just the winner of the match; and you had to focus on the game, on destroying this hot asshole's ego.

After a lot of sweat, the game ended with your team winning, but the real victory lay elsewhere - in the unplayed game, in the unresolved tension. As the final whistle blew, Karasu approached, his smile now more genuine now. He knew the battle wasn't over. Not yet.

"I see I'll to have to ask you for a rematch". - He said, his voice carrying a silent promise.

You got closer to him, your heart racing and your eyes locked with his. "If you want, I'll give you that rematch later today, birdie".

[noneorother]

All the music you didn’t hear: The Good Omens soundtrack is lying to you. *Part2*

The Bonkers Meta Series 2: Electric Boogaloo. This week on the chopping block: The official Good Omens 2 soundtrack album!

Part 1  l  Part 2  

If you, like me, have absolutely no respect for your time (or your 2023 Spotify Wrapped) and are willing to sit with the show and the David Arnold score album running side by side to match up all the songs, then you too can find out what I did: exactly 6 songs in the album go off the rails in the show in a very specific way. And you know what they say about a song…

So let’s break these misbehaving songs down, shall we? 

A Bell Tolls for Thee

There are SO MANY DAMN BELLS in season 2. I think the sound department might have had a competition going. But I want to show you the bells that happen in the music of the show, but not in the album.

Specifically, there are tubular bells all over the score in David Arnold’s orchestration in season 2 (and some in season 1). It’s an instrument used throughout classical music to represent grandfather clocks or church bells, signalling time passing, like striking the hour. But, this season has done something devious: it sets up your expectation by putting tubular bells in all the regular places in the score, so that you notice less when they whack a big tubular bell ring in a place where it should not be, at a key moment in the story. 

Feel free to go back and listen to these time codes in the show, it’s going to become obvious real fast.  

S2E1 - 14:55 l Song : Into Soho Aziraphale answers the door to a naked Gabriel, and recognizes him for the first time. A bell rings once.

If you listen closely to the album version, David Arnold recorded a beautiful and uplifting ending to this track. Too bad we never get to hear it in the show, it splits off into a bell toll and then a reorchestration. We never hear the end!

S2E1 - 42:30 l Song : Tiny Miracle Aziraphale & Crowley perform a class-A miracle, and Crowley pokes the barrier with his finger. A bell rings twice.

Same thing for Tiny Miracle! The ending of the song in the album we never get to hear in the show, it gets interrupted by 2 tubular bell tolls and another reorchestration of other music. 

S2E3 - 33:59 l Song : Reprise - Something Terrible Aziraphale considers the statue of Gabriel in his present day trip to Edinburgh. A bell rings three times.

This one starts from silence with 3 bell tolls as a reprise of “Something terrible” starts just after it. The second and third bells are woven into the music on beats they never appear in those bars on the recording. 

S2E4 - 38:00 l Song : Zombie Dressing Room  Shax asks Beelzebub for permission to attack the bookshop. A bell rings four times.

This one is extra weird (see my first music post). Even though we stretch out Zombie Dressing Room way after the dressing room scene is over and into the Shax in hell scene, it still manages to work in 4 new tubular bell rings that aren’t there in the score, and we never hear the same ending as on the album. 

S2E5 - 00:05 - 10:14 l Song : Reprise - Something Terrible Shax requisitions troops and gathers her legion. A bell rings five times.

This one is tricky because Shax’s scene in hell is cut up 5 times, but you probably see where this is going: every time we cut back to Shax there’s a new bell rings once that wasn’t in the recording.  

S2E5 - 29:56 l Song : Shax Shax arrives from Hell in the elevbator to attack the bookshop. A bell rings six times.

This is the last time in the season when we hear extra tubular bells. In a pretty bizarre turn of events, the demons Shax has mustered have walked in from down the street, but Shax takes the elevator to arrive at the bookshop. What a way to treat your troops. In any case, we get a final song that doesn’t get the ending it deserves, and gets cut off in favour of a reprise.

Taco Bell: Live Confused So why put so much effort into signalling these 6 specific actions with bell tolls? The first three are clearly Aziraphale & Crowley related, while the second three are Shax related. (All the Shax actions accompanied by bells have flashing lights above Shax.) Could this be a way of signalling we are halfway to the second coming, 6 hours until midnight on the armageddon clock? Or something else entirely?

Every time we hear the added bells, the soundtrack in the show deviates from the planned endings written for the album. Are these mistakes in the timeline, that were never supposed to happen in the ineffable plan? I guess we'll all be listening together for tubular bells in season 3... -------------------------------- Thanks to @embracing-the-ineffable for the encouragement, and the Ineffable detective agency for all their hard work. Part 1 is here!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What do you think, Azula and Zuko are more alike than their fans want to admit or are they completely opposite and going in different directions?

ANON, YOU FOOL, YOU OPENED THE FLOODGATES!

Azula and Zuko are a classic case of "same writing, different font." Just two sides of the same coin. Zuko is who Azula would be if she had been the scapegoat of the family, wore her heart on her sleeve, was just a good bender instead of a prodigy, and was willing to question Ozai. Azula is who Zuko would be if he managed to suppress emotions, didn't get in his own way due to impatience/desperate need to prove himself, was the golden child and never questioned Ozai in any way.

They have MANY things in common. Both are stubborn, proud, deeply patriotic, ambitious, social disasters yet super badass when in their element, passionate about their beliefs and, more importantly, take their roles VERY seriously - what creates contrast between them is what said roles are. Azula is the "perfect", ruthless, cunning princess that was taught to be proud about not caring for others. Zuko is disgraced son that has to prove himself (to himself, to Ozai, and, later on, to the world) that he is worthy of being the future Fire Lord.

This point is even highlighted by the role reversal that happened in the Last Agni Kai, in which Zuko is winning by using Azula's tactics, letting her attack and waste all her energy, while he saves up his own so he can strike full force once she's too tired - he even tries to goad her into using lightining so he can redirect it and win, and it would have probably worked if Azula hadn't found an easy target in Katara. Their strategies, levels of confidence and even personalities change to be more like their sibling's based on their situation.

They're also driven by the same fears: of not being good enough, of not being worthy enough, of not being loved. Fiting considering they were indoctrinated/traumatized by the same system/person, under the same roof, even if they were abused in different ways.

We see them making a ton of the same mistakes as well.

Zuko wants to make the ship go through a dangerous storm to chase the Avatar because "the safety of the grew doesn't matter", Azula has her infamous "Do the tides command this ship?" moment.

Azula banishes everyone because she's struggling to cope with her friends' "betrayal", Zuko becomes a much more cruel and self person after being disfigured by Ozai and even tries to get away from Iroh several times.

Azula is verbally abusive to her brother and sometimes her friends, Zuko is verbally abusive to their uncle.

Azula throws Zuko under the bus to be in Ozai's good graces, Zuko throws Iroh under the bus to win his dad's affection.

That last one is also part of a very noticeable pattern: Whenever Zuko is being unapologetic about being a villain, he tends to be VERY cunning and one hell of backstaber.

The Avatar returned but he couldn't capture him? He tried to keep it a secret. If no one else knows about it, they can't steal his chance to go home by capturing him first.

Some pirates want to attack the Gaang because they stole a scroll? Free henchmen. He just has to pretend this kid he wants to capture is not the Avatar, and thus not worth A LOT more than what these guys are getting as a reward. Zuko even has the nerve to go "Don't listen to him, he's just trying to divide us" when Sokka points out that he's REALLY screwing them over with this deal (they should make a support group with Long Feng).

Zhao captured the Avatar before he could? Go kidnap that monk back. It doesn't matter that Aang's capture means the nation Zuko genuinely loves will have no true obstacle in it's path for victory: If he's not the one scoring that major win, NO ONE is. His nation and his family can have their moment of glory AFTER he got his, not a second earlier.

Zhao tried to kill him and is going after the Avatar again? Time to dress up as one of his men to be taken by the idiot himself to the North Pole so he can interfere with his plans - literally the same as Azula pretending to be Suki, taking over Ba Sing Se and as a bonus discovering about their plans for the eclipse.

Azula is tracking Aang to capture him? Just follow right behind her and wait until she doesn't have her friends along so he has a better chance of winning the fight against her and being the one to take the Avatar to Ozai.

Oh, he was brought home because the Avatar is "dead"... except that might not be true, so maybe he'll be banished again? Mouth shut, Azula is the one who "killed" him anyways. Worse comes to worse, send an assassin to finish the job.

Hell, even when he's already determined to be a good person, he calls himself stupid for not blaming the whole assassin thing on his sister. Literally blaming her for his fuck up, the same way she did with that "Zuko was the one who killed the Avatar" thing.

His POV in Earth Kingdom Chronicles also give us some insight into what exactly he was thinking during the events of Crossroads of Destiny:

Zuko, I’m begging you,” Uncle said. “Look into your heart and see what it is that you truly want.” “You are free to choose,” Azula said. Then she and the Dai Li left. She is right. I am free to choose. And Uncle is right too. I must look into my heart and find what it is I truly want. That is easy. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I cannot deny my heart, my heritage, and who I truly am. I raced from the cell out into an open courtyard, where Azula was battling Katara and the Avatar. They had reached a stalemate, and then they were each waiting to see who would strike next. I did. I sent a fire blast that landed right between them. They were all looking at me, wondering what my next move would be. Good. I will show them my choice, the choice I always knew I would make.

Uncle looked at me without saying a word. Then he looked away. I can tell he’s very disappointed in me. But I had to do what I did.

Zuko is, to the Gaang, what Azula is to him: the wildcard, a huge pain in the ass, the unreliable son of a bitch that every so often gets them to chill just enough that they forget they REALLY shouldn't trust him, as he has a tendency of putting himself first, screw everyobody else. And much like he struggled to win their forgiveness and friendship after all that nonsense, Azula has to deal with Zuko's understandable suspicion of her intentions whenever she actually feels like genuinely being a good sister to him.

And what makes that parallel even more obvious (deliberately or not on the show's part) is that, when fighting Azula, Zuko is represented by the color red, but when compared to the Gaang, Zuko is constantly represented by the color blue. That's Azula's signature color, her name was literally chosen by the showrunners because of her blue flames - yet Zuko is the Blue Spirit, and is represented by the blue dragon when he and Aang meet Ran and Shaw.

And speaking of blue dragons, the "shoulder devil" in his fever dream has Azula's voice, while the "shoulder angel" has Iroh's voice... yet when he's trying to be one of the good guys, not only does Zuko explicitly ask himself "What would AZULA do?, he actually manages to be accurate when putting himself in her shoes, unlike when he tries to think/talk like Iroh, which always comes out as pure giberish.

So while the part of him that is more Azula-esque is very much treated as his "bad" side, it is still clearly a side that isn't going away, and sometimes it represents him better (and is far easier for him to understand/connect with) than the part of him that is more like Iroh - again, especially when Zuko's being compared to more "moral" people - and the writers are VERY aware of that pattern of Azula being THE person who knows how to get into Zuko's head like no one else can, mainly because of their familial relationship.

This quote about it by Bryan Konietzko in an interview was very interesting (and yes, I needed the wiki to let me know which half of "Bryke" he was 'cause I still can't tell them apart)

"When you study Eastern philosophies, the ego is a really tough enemy or antagonist. Again, we like to treat our characters very realistically. In real life, people have moments of great weakness, usually tied in with the ego. Your siblings can push your buttons. I have four siblings, a brother and three sisters, and no one can get you like your siblings. Azula knew ALL the right buttons to push to play at his weaknesses, parts of his ego which were susceptible to her. She did it well, and it was a moment where he just tasted this thing which he's wanted and focused on, obsessed over, for so long. I think it was very realistic."

Azula being Zuko's "ego" (or at least the person that can use it to their advantage the most due to her understanding of it) ties into her being his "bad" side, and makes for a nice parallel with her POV in the book Earth Kingdom Chronicles

I sent a message to Iroh’s tea shop — making it look as if the note had come from the Earth King — requesting that he and Zuko come to the palace as guests of the king, to personally serve him tea. There was no way Iroh could resist such an offer. The next day, I watched from the shadows as Iroh and Zuko set up tea in the palace tea room. I marveled at how soft and so pitifully domesticated they had both become. The once great general, who was called the Dragon of the West, and the Fire Lord’s firstborn, preparing tea like servants. If my father could see his son … Well, no matter. Soon they will be back in the Fire Nation, or else they will be destroyed.

I know he doesn’t believe Iroh and all his talk of turning to goodness. I know what Zuko wants deep in his heart. I have always known him better than anyone else. He can’t hide his true feelings and desires from me, no matter what he says, no matter how noble a face he puts on for others. I know what choice he will make, even if he doesn’t know.

It's interesting how Azula knew how to appeal to Iroh's ego as well - and that she's almost offended on their behalf, seeing them acting as servants, because, whatever her issues with them, they're still from the same bloodline as herself, and she very much would NOT accept being in such position, therefore they shouldn't be playing that role either (and it's clear she'll deal with them harshly if they fail to prove they were not, indeed, "domesticated").

But it's also obvious that she has a much better understanding of how to bring Zuko to her side - and that she doesn't care that much if Iroh follows along or just gets destroyed. Zuko was very much the true goal, and she actually lets us know why.

Poor, poor Zuko. I actually feel sorry for him. He still doesn’t understand, even at his moment of ultimate achievement. “Father doesn’t need to restore your honor, Zuko,” I explained. “Today you restored your own honor.” My brother looked away from me with a pained expression across his face. I hope he can eventually believe what I have told him: that by choosing his family, by choosing me over the Avatar, he has come back to his rightful place in the Fire Nation. And I welcome him by my side.

If Azula is Zuko's ego, the part of him that encourages his manipulative, selfish, cruel tendencies, Zuko is Azula's heart. That part of her that is still, in some way, innocent. Just a young girl that wants her brother to come home, so they can be a family again. The part of her that wants to be beside him, not three steps ahead of him in everything, taunting him about how he'll never catch up - because if he doesn't, she's alone.

Zuko's mistake was indulging his ego way too much, Azula's mistake was neglecting her heart - and both mistakes are a result of the same thing, namely Ozai and what he thought made someone strong or weak. Admiting fault and caring for others is weakness, and needs to be punished harshly. Burning everything down to be king of the ashes is strength.

And loyalty is something he demands from, and imposes on, others, not something HE is to ever give to anyone, hence him leaving Azula behind in the finale, to which she argues "You can't treat me like that, you can't treat me like Zuko."

She played by his rules, she neglected her heart so she would be worthy of Ozai's love - and then he took his love back anyway, just because he could. And then Zuko shows up and gets his happy ending after having asked Katara "How would you like to help me put Azula in her place?" He tamed his ego, and was rewarded for it.

Now, there is one big problem with that dynamic of "Zuko has to be loved, Azula has to be controled" which is when an incompetent writer crosses the line from making that literal instead of symbolic - which is how we end up with the Yang comics, in which Zuko cannot be described as anything but Azula's abuser, whom she's both loyal to and incredibly hateful towards.

He's the new Ozai, which is very ironic considering that was what Azula wanted him to be, and what the comics are telling us Zuko is fighting back against, even though he's constantly framed as the good guy for showing his sister the back of his hand (or an asylum to be neglected in, or the edge of a cliff to be thrown off of) when she's in the middle of a psychotic breakdown.

The show avoided that gross narrative with one simple solution: Ego's (Azula's) "Death" is not the triumph one would expect. She's humanized more than ever in the finale (and before in The Beach), the music is somber, and Zuko looks at her with pity by the end of the battle because this is a tragedy.

Because Azula is not just part of him, a symbolic element of his arc, she's her own person - and Ehasz making it clear that he planted the seeds for Zuko to help Azula redeem herself by showing her unconditional love frames his return as being not just her foe coming back to defeat her, but as her Heart sweeping in to rescue her.

Because, despite all the false dichotomy about how it's either him or her ("born lucky, lucky to be born", "I'm about to celebrate becoming an only child", "the showdown that was always meant to be") it simply is not a true victory for Zuko if the consequence is Azula's demise - and clearly the same applied to her, since she went out of her way to bring him back home.

...And to give credit where credit is due, even Gene Yang didn't fuck that up completely as, in Smoke and Shadow, when Azula is talking to Zuko (in a crypt belonging to a former Fire Lord's most trusted advisor no less) the man has Azula herself tell Zuko that sooner or later he'll realize they're one in the same.

(Even if I suspect that is just a result of him continuing trying to make Azula "Avatar's Joker" and since Zuko would be Batman, she would be obsessed with being his opposite and "completing" him, but hey, accidentally getting something right is still getting something right)

Oh, and they're both really pretty. That has nothing to do with anything, but I felt the need to mention it anyway.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Maybe dc×dp Jazz×Jason magical ceremony bullshit for soulmate friday?

"Hear-ye-hear-ye!" A glowing green man dressed in what looked like the stereotype for any comedic relief in midevial films called out as he floated above the city of Gotham, his voice projected around the world. "Her Royal Highness, Queen Regent of the Infinite Realm Throne has decided to cast the Ritual of Bindings, to draw her soulmate near in order to give DNA to help the Deaged King who has been injured and needs to be Reborn! Queen Regent Jasmine Nightengale will cast the spell in Three Scores! All those touched by Death may be called!"

Predictiably people freaked, running around screaming. Or talking about it, which was what the Justice League did right after, speaking at the table.

"Look, it's legit," John Constantine said to the others. "I've met Danny, the King, before he became deaged, and he's a good sort so is his sister. If she's calling upon the ritual... well, I honestly think she has no other choice."

"So she's going to force whoever-" Bruce said but John glared at him.

"No she ain't. Rather she'll give them a choice. It would be safer for her spouse to be her soulmate but she could find any random man to sleep with to get the DNA." he told Bruce who nodded grumpily. It appeared all they could do was wait.

After three hours, Bruce got an alert. Jason's tracker went offline. He didn't think of the Queen then, rather became worried about other things.

He should have thought of the Queen.

-0-

Jason found himself in a throne room, and reacted appropriately. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at a guy in armour. "Where the fuck am I?" he demanded.

"You are in the throne room of the Infinite Realms." a feminine voice said from behind. He turned to see a redhead behind him, dressed in a black dress. "I am Queen Regent Jasmine, and you are my soulmate."

"...Oh shit," Jason said, remembering the proclamation. He looked at the woman who looked back nervously. "This is for... the King?"

"My brother Danny is the High King. He was injured by an enemy of his, Plasimus. Vlad, our enemy, was obsessed with our mother. He wanted her but she hated him. Eventually he discovered Danny was transgender, as well as learning that Danny is like himself, what the citizens of the Infinite Realms call a halfa. Half human, half ecto being as they are called." Jasmine said in a tone that became choked as she spoke. "He attempted to claim Danny. I don't know how, he became confusing with calling my brother a son or a consort. I don't know which he meant and I don't want to know." Jasmine swallowed. "He attacked and our parents passed in the attack while Danny became injured. He needs to be Reborn, and I can provide half the DNA. I need another half."

"So... you want this a one off?" Jason asked. "Why not go out and pick up a random?"

"I don't want a one-off. I want a partnership. I want to raise my... my child with a partner. I also want him safe, and calling upon my soulmate will help." Jasmine said. Jason stared at her, wondering what to do.

He had never thought of marriage, or kids. Frankly with his life he didn't think it a reasonable thought. But here was a Queen asking him. His soulmate even.

(The part of him who loved the classics, who snuck smut novels and who had opinions on romance flicks was cooing inside of him, begging for this chance.)

Jason always did like kids...

"Alright so... what do we do?" he asked Jasmine who smiled beautifully. He wanted to put that smile on her more.

[best-iwtv-scene]

ROUND 1B, MATCH 6

Descriptions/Propaganda under the cut:

Claudia killing in front of Madeleine (2x06)

Sensing Madeleine's fear, Claudia brutally kills a group of young Parisians who attack Madeleine one night. Madeleine finds Claudia crouched over a man, drinking his blood. While Madeleine is shocked and afraid, she remains quiet and does not run, Claudia acting calmly and gently telling Madeleine that she is a vampire. The scene is shot like a classic horror sequence, focussing on Madeleine as the dead bodies are slowly revealed to her one by one. Additionally, the scene has notable parallels to Louis's turning in 1x01, Claudia mirroring Lestat killing the priests, and Madeleine mirroring Louis when she falls to her knees. The scene mixes horror and romance to great effect and is a climactic moment in the pair's relationship that the audience has been waiting on for several episodes now. It is scored by 'The Fantasy of Happiness' by Daniel Hart, originally from Claudia's monologue at the end of 1x04. Both scenes are tensely fragile moments and highlight Claudia's growth, while still showing this sense of instability in her due to her aggressive kills. "I'm gonna clean up. And then we can talk" "You're a..." "Vampire."

Propaganda:

No propaganda was submitted for this scene.

Insecure open relationship negotiation (1x03)

Disgusted, jealous and hurt after watching Lestat flirt and presumably sleep with Antoinette Brown several years into his and Louis' relationship, Louis confronts Lestat in a rare moment of vulnerability. Lestat laughs off Louis's feelings, delighting in his jealousy, viewing it as proof of care and even love for his maker. The pair then negotiate an open relationship, Lestat claiming that it staves off the boredom that a marriage of centuries can cause. The scene is humorous as it is obvious both vampires deeply hate the idea of their partner sleeping with anyone else, Lestat seemingly going through several stages of grief as he allows this to go forward. Additionally, this moment is a very clear sign of the deterioration of their relationship, showing how both men put themselves into bad situations just to see the other hurt, in search of proof that the other cares for them. "So I can fuck whoever I want?" "Of course. Of course. Of course! As long as you come home to me. Of course!"

Propaganda:

No propaganda was submitted for this scene.

[a34trgv2]

In Defense of The Super Mario Bros. Movie

Last year, Nintendo collabed with Illumination to bring their Italian plumber mascot to the big screen. It was an audience favorite, grossing $1.362 billion at the box office, becoming the highest grossing video game adaptation of all time. And yet, most professional critics passed it off as adequate at best children's entertainment, with a large number of them denouncing it as style over substance. Being an animation fan, a Mario fan, and a storytelling fan, I'm of the opinion that The Super Mario Bros Movie...is a cinematic masterpiece! Yes, you read that correctly. I absolutely love this movie both from a fan perspective and a narrative perspective. That may sound like hyperbole, but by the end of this post, I hope you'll understand where I'm coming from with my bold statement.

Based on the games, The Super Mario Bros. Movie tells the origin of Mario and Luigi entering the Mushroom Kingdom, meeting up with Princess Peach and facing off against Bowser. One aspect of the film that is often seen as weak is its story. I think the filmmakers made the smart choice in making this a classic Hero's Journey plot with Mario having to overcome adversity and prove his naysayers wrong. Not only does this make him more relatable, but it also prevents the film from overloading itself with superfluous subplots and tiring exposition dumps found in lesser media. I really appreciate that the film took it's time organically building the world with natural dialogue, visual gags, and letting scenes speak for themselves. This is especially true with the scene in which Peach tells Mario how she got to the Mushroom Kingdom. She only gives some brief insight into her early life while the visuals do most of the talking, and it ends with Toad playing the flute in tandem with the score. If this were as generic or formulaic as detractors say, they'd undercut this beautifully crafted scene with an unfunny joke. That's not to say the humor is cringe; quite the opposite, actually. This film is full of gut busting jokes and visual gags, such as Bowser slamming the keyboard cover on Kamek's fingers, Mario frequently failing the obstacle course, and that vicious dog attacking Mario and Luigi in the beginning. The film is chock full of hilarious gags that are well set up and have excellently timed punchlines. What makes the film's story resonate with me is it theme of never giving up. No matter how many times Mario fails, he never gives up and keeps trying until he succeeds. This is a very well good message to send to audiences, especially children. It's also well handled by being shown through Mario's determination and bravery. There are many films that follow the Hero’s Journey plot, but The Super Mario Bros. Movie is one of the finest examples in modern cinema.

The characters are all very well handled and are brought to life by such a great cast. Many were skeptical of Chris Pratt voicing Mario, given that we're so used to this iconic character being voiced by Charles Martinet in the games. That said, Chris Pratt more than did Mario justice, making him sound like a brave, sarcastic, and resourceful Brooklyn man. Charlie Day also did a great job voicing Luigi, making him sound cautious, funny, and kind. Anya Taylor-Joy did a great job voicing Peach, making her sound smart, funny, and brave. Keegan Michael-Key deserves major props for giving Toad a distinct yet memorable voice that makes him sound brave and funny despite being on the smaller side. This is because Toad in the games sounded like a woman putting on a gravely man voice, which especially works best in small doses and not in a full-length feature. The true MVP of the cast, though, is Jack Black as Bowser. This was perfect casting, and Jack knocked it out of the park. Bowser was fierce, menacing, and boisterous, yet also a true try hard when trying to impress Peach. I especially love his song, Peaches, which only works because Jack Black fully commits to it. All the other actors did such a superb job voicing their characters, including Seth Rogan hamming up his frat boy personality for Donkey Kong, Fred Armisen as the aptly named Cranky Kong, Kevin Michael Richardson as Bowser's kiss-up wizard Kamek, and co-director Michael Jelanic's daughter, Juliet as the sadistic but sweet sounding Lumalee. The characters were all so well realized and excellently cast, especially Jack Black as Bowser.

Illumination doesn't get enough credit for having some amazing animation in their films, especially in this film. They really outdone themselves, translating the world and characters from the Mario games into a full-length feature. In addition to giving them being, expressive eyes, distint body sizes, and very well detailed textures, they also give them unique character animations, like Mario walking more confidently than Luigi or Bowser stomping with every step he takes. The animation is especially well utilized during the action scenes, with great uses of squash and stretch, anticipation and follow through, and blink-and-you-miss-it gags. This is best showcased than in the Rainbow Road sequence which is full of all the aforementioned animation beats, including Mario punching Donkey Kong's should congratulatorily and DK being taken a back by it, the Koopas eating Peach's foot to the face, and the iconic Blue Shell attack. The animation makes this film feel as grand and as exciting as the games that inspired it.

The score and soundtrack also deserve credit for honoring the original game music and having a great selection of tracks. Composer Brian Tyler made great use of the iconic character themes, the Mario Bros. Rap, and the victory theme from previous Mario media in the score for the film. The film also utilizes pop tracks from the 80s that not only make for great montage music but also fit really well with their respective scenes. This is especially true with Holding Out For A Hero during Mario's platforming trials, Take On Me foreshadowing Mario's battle with Donkey Kong, and Thunderstruck building hype while the characters are building karts. I also can not praise Peaches enough for being such a well-made and funny track sung brilliantly by Jack Black. The soundtrack does a great job combining old music with new, making a very well put together symphony.

Nobody went into The Super Mario Bros Movie expecting a masterpiece, not even me. Yet after several rewatches, I feel the same about the film as I did when I first saw it. This is a masterfully crafted film that not only honors the video game franchise but is also a great fantasy film on its own. With organic world building, smart pacing, a great cast of characters, hilarious gags, and a fantastic score, this is very much the definitive Mario film and the best film based on a video game thus far. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time ;)

[lex1nat0r]

A couple of cases of convergent evolution* in TTRPG mechanics that I like.

*entirely possible one informed the other(s) in both cases, the impression I get is that if you read TTRPGS that aren't name-brand D&D you read a lot of TTRPGs.

Health as resource depletion (Worlds Without Number vs. Shadow of the Weird Wizard)

Easy combat maneuvers (Dungeon Crawl Classics vs. Black Sword Hack vs. Shadow of the Weird Wizard)

One of my favorite mechanics in Worlds Without Number is System Strain. Each PC has a number of available System Strain equal to their Constitution score (NPCs get one point). Every time a character receives healing they gain a point of System Strain. If they're already at their maximum, they don't can't get HP back without resting. For every night of "good, refreshing sleep" a character gets back one point of System Strain (in addition to regular healing from resting). This opens up some fascinating design space, for example a lot of magical item effects add to the user's System Strain. And it allows higher level undead such as wights to do damage as System Strain, keeping them scary without having to deal with the pain in the ass that is level drain. It's a really neat mechanic.

Flipping over to Shadow of the Weird Wizard, a game I have not played so my estimation of how this works may be off, characters have Health against which they accumulate Damage, as opposed to losing HP. If a PC's Damage equals their Health, they are incapacitated. If their Health drops to 0 they die. Over the course of an adventure (what Weird Wizard calls a Quest) there's a couple of things that can reduce a character's Health, the ones that stand out to me are falling and, fascinatingly, all traps listed in the GM's guide reduce Health instead of dealing Damage. As far as I can tell flipping through the books, the only way to restore a character's maximum Health is to get 6 consecutive hours of rest. The end result looks like an amazing way to re-contextualize traps. Instead of being an HP tax, they can really wear PCs down as they explore a location. Not to mention the threat of instant death if the trap can reduce a character's Health to 0 not everyone's cup of tea, I know.

System Strain and Health both impose limits on how much adventurin' a PC can do in a day (in addition to the traditional methods like tracking light sources). I have first-hand experience using System Strain in a campaign, and it works out really well in practice. I suspect Health can do the same, though I'm not sure how fragile Weird Wizard characters actually are on the table.

--

I have played none of the following games, so not sure how well the mechanics work on the table BUT

Dungeon Crawl Classics has a killer aesthetic, the corebook is home to one of my favorite illustrations in gaming, but I'm not sure it's a game I'd ever actually play. Yes part of it is the weird dice. All TTRPG dice should be platonic solids and I'll die on that hill and yes that means I think d10s should go back to being icosahedrons numbered 0-9 twice. Anyway. In DCC combat a Warrior (i.e. Fighter) or a Dwarf (Dwarf/Elf/Halfling are classes in DCC, inherited from Basic D&D) gets a Deed die (goes from d3 to d10+4 depending on level) to determine their attack and damage bonus. In addition, before making an attack, they can declare a Mighty Deed of Arms. As part of the attack the player rolls the character's Deed Die . If the die comes up a 3 or better and the attack hits, the Deed succeeds. Deeds are open-ended, examples include blinding, disarming, tripping, etc., aren't limited just to melee combat, and the magnitude of their effect is based on the result of the Deed die. Plus, and I think this is the important part, the attack also deals damage in addition to the Deed. So far I think this is the best mechanic I've seen for letting fighters do cool stuff. Deeds doing damage plus another effect means that fighters (and dwarfs) don't need to gamble on whether disarming or whatever is worth their turn instead of just trying to hurt someone.

I picked up Black Sword Hack mostly for its worldbuilding tools (which are very good) and was pleasantly surprised to find that it included a combat maneuver mechanic. Each character has a usage die (you shift down a die size when it comes up a 1 or 2 until you have to downsize a d4 and then it's gone) called a Doom die. When the Doom die is depleted, the character makes all rolls with disadvantage until they take a long rest (when the Doom die is restored to its max size for that character). In combat a character can add an effect to their attack by making a Doom roll before the attack attempt. There are two downsides here compared to DCC, namely that there's a defined list of possible effects and about half of them cause you to do no damage. It's decent enough rules as written, but were I to run BSH (which honestly I might get around to) I'd be tempted to just sub in DCC's Mighty Deeds and still require the Doom roll as a cost to make the attempt.

Oh hey, Shadow of the Weird Wizard also has a rule for attack options. Like BSH it's a defined list of options, and you don't deal weapon damage if the attempt is successful but you do still get your bonus damage (which every character gets from levels in their class(es)) and any extra damage you would get. Weapons do from 1 - 4 d6 damage on their own, martial-focused characters get +1d6 bonus damage every level except level 1, rogue- and cleric- type folks get about half the number of d6s, and wizard-types don't get bonus damage but why is your nerd trying to trip people when they could be using their fucking magic. (Important sidenote: you can mix and match fighter/rogue/priest/mage classes freely in SotWW, it's very cool mandatory multiclassing). The other issue is that most of the attack options require you to beat one of the target's attributes +5 as well as their defense, but you are guaranteed at least some damage even if you don't clear the attribute threshold. It's harder to find a way to kludge Mighty Deeds of Arms into this one, plus all SotWW characters just get more features than DCC or BSH characters anyway, so this one I'd run as written.

So obviously I have a preference for DCC's Mighty Deeds of Arms because on paper it looks like the simplest and most flexible way to handle characters attempting cool stunts in combat, but it's nice to see BSH and SotWW trying to give that flexibility as well. It's nice that BSH ties that to the Doom die mechanic, even if the maneuvers themselves are more limited.

[madridfangirl]

I'm taking you home NOW!

Blurb from Part 2 (final part). Part one here.

Smut. Jude*female reader.

.......................................................................

She hung up. Jude couldn’t believe she hung up on him.

He stared at his phone, then at her through the glass, then back at his phone.

Boy, was he going to make her pay.

Ananya realised that wasn’t a very smart move but he had completely thrown her off-guard. Between fight or flight, her instincts went with the latter. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked back to her table, the intensity burning her skin even through the distance and glass divider. She didn’t dare to look in that direction and sat down with her back to him.

Jude stayed there for a few seconds, half-inclined to walk down there right now and make good on his threat. But if he did that, sex would be off the table tonight. His parents / team would get a heart attack from the scandal he would have caused. And Ananya - oh she would strangulate him with her bare tiny hands.

Grudgingly, he dragged himself back to his teammates. Brahim elbowed him as soon as he sat down, telling him he was being too plain. Just that, the rest of the guys were pissed drunk already and hadn’t noticed. Jude couldn’t get himself to care. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Ananya knew he wouldn’t just let it go. And she was proven right 5 mins later when her phone buzzed. 

It was a picture with him, Cama, Vini and three waitresses. Two of them were on either side of Jude, their arms around his back and his around theirs. Both leaning against him, a little too close, looking all giddy and infatuated. The typical reaction he invoked in girls.

She started at her screen, open-mouthed, at his obvious attempt to rile her up. No, she won’t give him the satisfaction. She watched her tone carefully before texting him back.

Ananya: ??

Jude: Sent by mistake. Was sending to one of the girls.

Please, like she was born yesterday.

Jude: They didn’t have their phone on them so I took from mine & sending over. To the one on my right.

So, Jude had her number and she had Jude’s. 

Ananya: How sweet.

The girl was pretty. A classic petite, sexy Spanish brunette. A high-end waitress for the VIP section of one of the most posh clubs in Madrid. In her tight-fitted top & mini-skirt. Ananya knew from first-hand experience how Jude had a fetish for such uniforms. 

Jude: Yeah she’s over the moon. Thanking me non-stop.

She groaned. The boy was smart, talking in insinuations so she couldn’t hold anything over his head. So he doesn’t lose the moral high-ground he had right now. So he could always say later ‘oh it was just a nice thing I did for my fans.’ 

The fucker. The absolute shrewd twat. 

It had taken him all of 5 mins to swing this. The girl was probably touching his arm right now, trying to get his attention in her barely there attire. Batting her lashes, smiling extra hard. Reserving special service for him. Ready to drop her knickers at his one look. 

Her friend probably wanted to join in too. Both in a frenzy over how sweet he was being. Trying to score with the hottest property in football right now (literally & figuratively), who was drunk (ergo unreserved) and looked like an absolute meal tonight. 

This happened all too often with him. Offers for quickies in washrooms / hook-ups / one-night stands tended to pour in for him freely. Jude would tell her every time someone hit on him so explicitly or proposition him so openly. It was an unspoken understanding between them, something that gave her comfort.

Usually, he would nip these things in the bud, not providing any encouragement. But tonight, would he indulge a bit? To get back at her for her supposed flirting?

..........................................................................

Here you go. Thought of dropping something before the full thing is done :)

[witchofthemidlands]

i know, i know realistically that because tales of the tardis is making it's return that “the one who waits” or whatever “the big bad” is that shall be giving the doctor & UNIT grief in the finale will probably be that villain from the pyramid serial that was, in fact, the first proper classic who serial i ever saw because it was on the sarah jane adventures dvd but up until the new tales of the tardis instalment was announced, i was so deep in the theory that this is all leading up to the trickster's greatest comeback of all time: ruby is an element of the pantheon & seeing as i've clowned too close to the sun i'm unleashing the insanity that's been occurring in my brain since “the devil's chord”

so basically the doctor said 8 words about maestro & i haven't been sane since.

“that thing must be part of the pantheon”

that was it for me then, i was CONVINCED that this might be leading up to have something to do with the trickster because in “the wedding of sarah jane smith” the doctor & the trickster/the pantheon talk about how they heard about one another through legend:

& from the spreading of the salt this era of doctor who has been all about myths & legends breaking their way through into the universe & the first half of the finale is titled “the legend of ruby sunday”

THEN maestro attacked ruby & the music played from within ruby is VERY similar to the score played in “whatever happened to sarah jane smith” when sarah jane was giving maria the puzzle box which protected her (& then later alan) from the trickster's power & this was the first time the trickster ever came into the whonivese & whilst i thought i was reaching here, i was CLEARLY not the only one who thought that the score progression sounded similar.

https://youtu.be/ARVTQ91P5RE?si=_TD41qhQ_PbQ-8kp

after “the devil's chord” i didn't want to say anything because i thought i was going to sound absolutely crackers but it was simmering, the thoughts that whatever ruby is COULD be connected to the trickster or the pantheon. honestly even if it turns out to be nothing to do with the trickster themself but just another element of the pantheon that's at play & what everything is leading up to, i'd consider that a win.

the full downward spiral into madness began after i witnessed the horror that was “73 yards” which both scared me for life & after like no doctor who episode has done in a VERY long time because not only was i actually scared of ruby sunday & was thinking WHAT IS THIS BEING but it also unleashed this:

deep down, my rational brain KNOWS it's not what my unhinged brain thought it were but in fact what it literally was which was a story filled with elements of welsh folklore BUT my brain said:

to my brain, “73 yards” reminded me of the doctor in “turn left” saying:

and whilst i was in my post 73 yards state of horror/being genuinely afraid of what ruby was there's was two options my brain was throwing out:

1) ruby could be one of the pantheon/the trickster’s brigade she's one of the changelings like the time beetle because life WAS changed in tiny little ways & this was literally probably one of ruby's worst case scenario: that everyone would leave & she'd be alone all her life & her fears manifested in her potential trickster/changeling power & made a whole new reality for her that she enabled herself to stop. it was all just her & the extent of her powers which could be used for very bad.

2) and this is the one that i latched onto like a person deranged:

ruby is a creation of the trickster, the trickster is “the one who waits” because the trickster has been “waiting” for a way to break into the universe & then i just went wild with this theory of mine because of the sarah jane adventures.

in the (devastating) final season of the sarah jane adventures, sky smith was left on the doorstep of sarah jane's house when she was a baby, similarly to how ruby is left on the threshold of the church on ruby road. now that's a reach, yes but HAD the sarah jane adventures series 5 finished the way it was intended to be finished, sky smith would have turned out to be the trickster's child in an finale called “the battle of bannerman road” & her trickster powers would have been awakened by the trickster. sarah jane would apparently have been considering this to be true because she'd gotten jo jones to research “trickster myths” sky would have returned to herself but would have evolved into an entity that would banish the trickster from reality & guard him in a prison forever:

The Battle of Bannerman Road (unproduced TV story) | Tardis | Fandom

honestly i started to imagine that a similar situation could happen with ruby because this story was ultimately never made & whilst i am probably clowning to the highest degree here, i thought about jo & clyde's segment of “tales of the tardis” & how clyde's story is left open ended as if it could possibly be continued & what better way to continue clyde & rani's story then to bring them back during a potential battle with the trickster? there is also the fact that the other unnamed episodes of the sarah jane adventures WERE actually made into stories for a fantastic show called “wizards vs aliens” specifically, “the thirteenth floor”

so perhaps rtd could be using the bare bones of “the battle of bannerman road” for the conclusion to the mystery of ruby sunday.

as i said, i went rather deranged with this one & it's probably going to be the greatest comeback for sutekh, who will probably turn out to be “the one who waits” possibly the head of the pantheon & the creator of ruby but my brain has decided to throw one more twist:

✨sutekh x the trickster✨

i'm kinda glad that this will all be over soon so i can be proved wrong & can enjoy a peaceful state of mind again, finally set free from my trickster theory 😅