#god I don't like playing the rock A and I can finally stop lol

[toothpastecanyon]

You don't understand how happy this image makes me. I've been playing 5 years waiting to unlock the Rock B Cruiser so I can unlock the Rock C Cruiser so I can finally have a decent shot at unlocking the secret Crystal Cruiser without the stupid chain of 3 random events that have to go exactly right.

I know no one I know plays this game but I've literally been waiting to get this achievement for 5 years!!!

Maybe later I'll do a rant explain about how hard it is to get but for now I'm just so happy and also I should go to sleep lol

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[daphwritesworld]

can you pls write a short about alessia waking up feeling a bit horny and touches herself to the thought of you (her teammate she has a crush on) 👀

A/N— sorry this took a two days to get out…I dropped my MacBook charging block in fucking orange juice so it couldn't charge it lol..i'm back to business tho!!

!! MINORS DNI 18+ !!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥♠♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You're on top of Alessia, shirt thrown off and breasts pressed up against hers. Your mouth's are so close she can feel your breath on her lips, but they aren't touching. There's a lingering question of should we be doing this— but neither of you voice it as you stare into each other's eyes. The deep void of tension and lust that's been brewing between the two of you is winning, and you both know it. You know it from the way her fingertips are digging into your hips, sure to leave behind indented bruises in her wake. And She knows it from the way you take the final step, leaning forward to connect your lips and sealing it with a moan. It's dirty and rough; exactly how you play out on the pitch— with a hint of aggression. She can't help but moan back into your mouth when you grind down into her lap, your hands gripping the hair at the base of her neck causing a shiver to rock through her.

That's when reality has to cruelly come crashing down on Alessia in the form of her alarm clock. The incessant beeping echoes throughout her room as she throws her arm out to disable it. She sighs and sinks her face into her pillow as the morning ambiance once again consumes her, free to let her mind wonder back to her dream…well, wet dream…but we don't have to be specific. Oh no, she's definetley NOT thinking how you looked and sounded on top of her….or the geyser currently residing between her legs right now. Nope! she's not thinking of that, or how you kissed her cheek last night drunk and told her thank you for walking you home. Thank god it was freezing outside, so her cheeks were already red to begin with…but that doesn't mean you missed how her ears blushed, though.

Alessia isn't thinking of any of that when she rolls herself over on the sheets and spreads her legs, slipping one hand down to the waist band of her ruined panties. The other goes under her sleep shirt, fingertips teasing her nipples in a way that has chill bumps rising onto her skin. She plays with her underwear for a second, debating on what to do with her limited time before practice. Her hand starts out slow, lightly rubbing over her lips as she inches her way up. When she finally does reach her clit— it's magical. She feels like her body's on fire from the small touch, eyes closed shut in early morning delusion as she pictures you between her legs. Ass up ass down as you pleasure her, your mouth sucking on her clit— she slips her other hand down to pull her panties to the side— and her fingers pumping in and out of her pussy.

She starts thinking of how last week you got a red card to push the girl down who slide tackled her too hard, Leah having to of pulled you away as the refs came running with the cards already in the air. Her fingers push into her cunt faster, curling them right up to her g-spot as her other hand keeps applying pressure to her clit. You defended her— and holy fuck was it hot. She had to take a cold shower in the locker room just be able to drive home undistracted. The last thing she needs is her insurance rate going sky high because she couldn't stop thinking of you two fucking like dogs out on the open pitch. Her breathing is starting to pick up with her finger's thrusts, the orgasm building in her stomach licking at her sleepiness as she becomes less and less drowsy.

Her hips start chasing after her fingers, the add pressure behind her movements starting to put a shake on Alessia's legs. The adrenaline of the movement has blood pumping so hard through her veins that her heartbeat starts pounding into her ears. The sound adding in as a backtrack to the way she's so fucking infatuated with you. From the way you call her, "Lessie!" to the way you bring her an extra drink to practice for her…Yeah she's got it so bad. But right now all she's focused on is what your voice would sound like whining, moaning, and groaning out her name.

"F-Fuck!" She lets it out as a gasp escapes her, body trembling as she lifts her legs up onto her chest. It changes the angle of her thrusts, going even deeper than before. It only takes a few more for the dam to burst, a toe curling orgasm the reward. Alessia's back is arching off the bed and squirt splashing out to soak her fingers and the bed beneath her. She has to focus her brain on trying to breath again— cumming so hard she forgot how to for a second. It's like you put her brain in stick shift, and you aren't even really here to be switching it. The thought of you alone had her clutching the sheets and spraying like a damn fire hydrant. Just as she gets her bearings back, a familiar ringtone breaks out across the post orgasm bliss. She blushes so deep she can feel her cheeks burning, but despite the embarrassment she picks up instantaneously.

"Morning Love, how'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby, Lessie. What about you?"

And oh her mind wonders back again, getting lost in your voice as she wonders around her apartment getting ready for practice.

"Can you please pick me up today? Oh, and take us to get coffee first? My head's killing me from last night!"

She just smiles as she reaches for her keys, already planning on swinging by to get you anyway. "Anything you want, Love."

[r0syr3a]

Letters to lovers

Cliff Burton x Reader

Words: 565

Genre: Fluff and angst

Warnings: Discussion of Cliff's passing and swearing

Author note: omg I can't believe I finally got the balls to start posting my writing RAAAHHH! This is for Isa, aka @metallicaislife, one of my favorite blogs! Jewel anon is finally revealed lol. I did use the wiki page on the tour for the order of where they played so it makes a bit of sense. Now, on with the story~

Dear, Y/N

I knew you'd end up looking into my shirt drawer once I left for tour, so I figured I would leave you a little surprise. I knew you'd miss me too much that you would just HAVE to wear one of my shirts to bed ;)

Alright, I'll stop being a jackass now. You told me how much you love letters so I figured I'd write some for you while I'm on the road. As I'm writing this, I haven't even left yet and I already miss you so much. This is gonna suck mega balls, I know it.

Try and get some sleep and take care of yourself while I'm gone, My Star. I'll try and see you whenever I can and I'll call as often as possible.

Love always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

I hope you enjoyed my first letter, we just made it to St. Louis. I don't know how many of these I'll be able to write and receive just because we'll be moving so fast, but I'll write as many as I can, I pinky promise. (See? I do remember things)

Every show so far has been FUCKING WILD! God, I wish you could be here to see it all, I think you'd love it.

I miss you, Y/N. I don't wanna be sad and sappy but it's true. You're My Star, how am I supposed to be a rockstar without My Star? Right now, I'm just a rock and that's not nearly as cool. I'm gonna stop writing this so I can call you.

I love you always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

Fuck, I'm so sorry. I haven't written in forever. I'll try and do better after these next California shows. At least we'll get to see each other for those, right? It's gonna feel amazing to hug you and finally have you in my arms again. The guys miss you too. Kirk says he needs you to paint his nails again before we leave again like it won't be gone in like three days.

I hope you're taking good care of yourself and I'll see you soon.

Love always, your rock, Cliff

Dear, Y/N

WE'RE IN EUROPE BABE!!!!!

It's honestly so cool, we explored some old castles and shit yesterday. The time zones keep waking me out so I don't know when to try and call you, I'm sorry I haven't.

I have been taking pictures for you though. We could make a little scrapbook with them when I get home! We are currently in Ireland so you best believe we are drinking THE BEST beer ever.

I honestly don't know what to write about. All I know is that I love you and I miss you and I can't wait to come home or at least fly you out for a show in some random country.

Soon, My Star,

I love you always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

Hey, it's Lars. I know you already got the news by the time it gets to you, but I know he'd want me to send it anyway, even if it isn't finished. We'll be there soon. Hang tight, please. We love you.

Dear, Y/N

Europe is officially my favorite. The best breakfasts and the best beers? What more could I need other than you here? I am definitely bringing you here one day. I promise.

[valve3nthusiast]

Octomer Ratchet is so good. I can imagine any chromatophores he might have going wild while pursuing Drift, if he has any natural camouflage abilities.

Perhaps he plays a game with Drift, hiding among coral and rock formations in order to "sneak up" on him, his usual brights reds and whites distorting to match their environment-- Maybe arousal causes some colour changing as well?

IDK I just really like the idea of Ratchet changing colour (or at least hues) like a mood ring lmao maybe it even frustrates him a bit, like oh no my fucking chromatophores are going to give away this huge crush I have -- he might try to hide in corals or swirl up a bunch of sand with his tentacles initially

If Drift is a land dweller, then maybe they figure out Ratchet is interested in him by studying how Ratch's colours change, and what patterns/colours only appear when Drift is around...

...and maybe Ratchet's attempts at hiding/playing hide and seek (lol) are mistaken for aggression at first, because they don't know why he's doing it

and then they guess it's some kind of broody behaviour, like maybe he's trying to defend a nest or egg clutch that he doesn't really have?? Because Ratchet's grumpy but not usually aggressive and it's weird behaviour from him as far as they're aware. So then he gets a little pity from the facility staff but it's hilarious because he does want to Do It but all the guessing isn't quite right. Like yes it's about Doin It and Eventual Eggs but not in the way they think. Communication Issues lol

"stop giving me extra companion fish out of pity and just give me Drift, do you not see my cream and burgundy-red colouring, is this somehow not clear enough? Oh god here he comes, sand sand sand I need more sand why is this coral so small" no it is not clear to them, Ratchet. lmaooo

Anyway this is earthstellar but Tumblr will only let me send asks from my main blog and not my TF blog lol so ayyy just wanted to say, loving this mer AU situation 🐙💖

This is such a good concept,,, besotted Ratchet accidentally telling on himself with his own colors is genius. Also blushy Ratchet is adorable <3

Hmm a really clear concept just came to me... Security guard Drift at the marine research facility, Ratchet is the only mer there who constantly avoids him, so he just disappointedly assumes he gives Ratchet bad vibes

One night when he's on a skeleton shift, he passes by Ratchet's tank and suddenly notices that something is fucked up with the filtration pumps (or whatever I don't know how aquariums work)

He immediately makes an emergency call to the aquarium techs who are at home. They tell him to get Ratchet moved till someone arrives to fix it. So he's hesitantly going up to the tank like, "hey buddy I know you dont like me, but I gotta pull you out of here for a bit, it's not safe" Ratchet quickly pulls himself right into Drifts arms... and now he's carrying a big squirming octomer. Drift's pretty surprised, but he brushes it off as Ratchet wanting out of his tank

When Drift finally gets to the temporary tank he expects Ratchet to jump from his arms and signal for him to basically fuck off... instead, he goes to put Ratchet down, only to get pulled into the tank with him. Now he's sitting in chest high water, pinned by a heavy wiggling octomer in his lap

For Ratchet, life is good 😎👍

Drift, meanwhile, is mentally repeating "don't get hard" like a mantra, while a purring Ratchet's tentacles caress every inch of his plating. Since it was the middle of the night, they have to wait a good bit for someone who can fix the pumps to get there and make Ratchet's tank safe again...

Maybe, as the hours go on, Ratchet gets a bit friskier... or maybe he just leaves it at intimate exploration, because he's too busy watching Drift whimper and twitch underneath his tentacles <3

[travellingwiththedead]

Ok, thoughts on my second watch of iwtv s2e8 behind read more (because spoilers and shit):

so sad that the season is already over but also so looking forward to next season ^.^

Does Lestat know Nicki had a grave in the cellar of the theatre? Also Nicki was only 27? Hm.

Not them paning over the bookshelves before they drop it all on Daniel later xD

I think the whole pebbles in his Achilles tendons thing Louis is pulling is the most emo shit he's said so far. Like how the heck would you even wear shoes, my man?

"or maybe he has (removed them) and he's been lying to you all these years for effect." Daniel, you got those two old men down perfectly. I bet that's exactly it. There never were any rocks and Louis is just trying to make Armand extra miserable.

Louis playing "what if" games and always getting to the same result. You're just too down bad for that frenchman, my dear, there was never any other way for this to play out.

Armand, how much are you lying right now, my dear? I doubt they'd leave you in charge of the place where they're keeping your lover in a box in the wall....

I want Daniel's powers of multitasking xD Look at him have a whole conversation with heckin Raglan while still taking apart those old vampires and not getting caught. (Also Daniel's name on the chat xD Pulitzerootwo)

Louis in his manic Blade era, gods Jacob Anderson, the actor you are.

I kinda wish they had spent longer on him taking down the theatre but I get that they only had so much screen time and a lot of stuff to cover.

At least we got him taking down Santiago with that machete, A+

"If I'm not with him, I'm nothing" oh Armand, dear, we need to get you some self-respect. See also him staying with Louis for 70 years knowing exactly that Louis is only doing it to get back at his ex.

I guess they finally remembered VC vampires are literally dead to the world by day.

But if they were sleeping shouldn't it be daytime outside? And it clearly is still night when Louis walks out.

Louis goading Santiago into acting unwise is so good. (Also the glee Ben Daniels talked about the fake head with was so cute, I love it.)

Real Rashid, you're great. Glad they didn't eat you.

Oh Lestat, you're so unwell, quoting Magnus' words back at yourself. Also the heckin shackles on the wall and the alleged bruises that might have been on his wrists at the trial....

"Does it take a lot out of you, destroying everything in your wake?" Ooooh, the way we can't really tell if he's talking to Louis or Armand because Armand is standing behind Louis. "Well, almost everything". So it can be Louis destroying everything but Armand or Armand destroying everything but Louis.

Shut up Armand, how dare you say he came home. Rude, so rude.

And again I wonder if I made it up that they said "You can't burn Lestat twice" because they didn't even burn him once.

I guess Louis being a petty bitch and saying "Your punishment is that I'll be with someone else" is a kind of burn, tho? xD

Ok, boys, you can stop trying to sell your big romance now, no one is buying it any longer xD

And then Daniel drops his bombs, gotta love this old man. Also he really is a good reporter, that's the thing. He's good at his job and also an arsehole about it xD

I wonder if the telepathy with the tractor sales man fumble was planned or if they actually just wrote Daniel bringing this up because the fans caught them in a mistake LOL

Still don't really get where they're going with the whole "Vampire Sam survived the burning at the theatre and is working with the Talamasca" thing. Except for it being a way to actually have all these documents even after the theatre burned down.

Oh the panic in Armand's face when he realises that Daniel has a script with his notes on it.

If Lestat saved Louis on stage I'm guessing Armand had a different contingency in place for later? Because I really, really doubt he'd have let Louis burn on that stage.

Daniel is having way too much fun antagonizing these vampires xD I thought you wanted to make it out alive, my dear? Poking the bears is not how you do that, usually LOL

Daniel you smug little shit xD

Also why does it take Raglan heckin James telling you to get out of there to think of maybe getting out of there? Idiot with no self-preservation instincts xD

Ghost tour guy talking about murder night is so funny. "Sebastian Melmoth", "Lesander Lioncourt", "A 'so called' frenchman", and Louis' little grin xD awwww

"a local creole hustler and his little child bride, they were running a voodoo cult in the back rooms" Louis face at this also hilarious

Lestat in his depression episode in his little moss house with the ipad and the fake piano.

Oh the acting from Sam and Jacob in this scene, so good.

Lestat remembering the date and exact time Armand contacted him in the 70s. He's literally been suffering since then, hasn't he? Not knowing what Louis did to himself and if he was dead or alive.

Ok but what happened then? Did Louis just leave him in his little moss house with the hurricane tearing it down? It's what he did in the book. Guess we'll find out in s3.

So how much time passed between Dubai and this tv show interview? Are we in 2024 now? Or is it 2023? I guess it would not still be 2022 because publishing a book takes time?

The second I saw him wearing those tinted sunglasses I knew Eric finally got to play a vampire xD good for him, he deserves to have some fun with this next season, too. Also they better show us all the things between Daniel and Armand leading up to this. All. The. Things.

Love Daniel going off at the news guy because he doesn't give any more of a shit now that he's a vampire than he did when he was a mortal LOL

Finally some colour on Louis and in his penthouse again!

"No editors next book, I promise" xD

Why do Daniel's eyes change from blue to orange like that, tho, when he takes off the glasses?

Vampire!Daniel sounds way more like his 70s self than his 2022 self and I love it. He's so far definitely having fun

Louis, you big dolt, don't tell the angry vampires to come and get you. That's Lestat's thing and he's idiot enough for the both of you LOL (EDIT: Also he got rid of Armand's tree xD)

I think, as final episodes go, this was not bad. But e5 remains my fav from this season. It was just so good.

Now bring on s3 asap, AMC

[oc-babe]

Vampire Oc Introduction

Finally I'm posting about my boy 😩 he's been in my notes for a year, just haven't gotten around to editing his bio + posting him lol. Also I fear the lost boys and near dark inspo is impossible to ignore

♱♱♱

Name: Angel

Age: It's complicated, but he stopped aging at 28

Species: Vampire

Birthdate: August 4, 1956, Leo 🦁

Gender: Cis male, He/him

Orientation: Homosexual

Appearance

Height: 6'3"

Eye Color: Brown

Hair: 3a brown hair that falls downs just below his shoulders, both sides of his head is shaved down. Hair is typically kept down, though it's not uncommon for him to put it up in a ponytail

Race: Mixed, Half Black/Half Latino

Body description: Lean build with more visible muscle on his arms, freckles scattered everywhere on his body, has moles on his left cheek near his eye and on his right shoulder. Ears and right eyebrow are pierced

Aesthetic:

A lot of his style is built off of spite. Everything he wears, he kind of likes just because he knows it'll shock and piss some people he used to know off. Angel has an affinity for leather, flashy animal print (his favorite is leopard), cowboy boots, and big novelty belt buckles. Is drawn towards darker colors. He keeps an outfit simple: tries not to have clashing patterns and keeps his statement pieces to a minimum of one per outfit.

Personality

While he does have a more friendly and charming facade, it really doesn't take an Einstein to see that he's pretty guarded. Kind of guy to get into 10 minute small talk with and while he knows yours, you don't know his name. Can get pretty flirty with anyone, he doesn't mean it. Actually awful at commitment.

Bits of Backstory:

- Adopted into a Bible thumping, god fearing kind of home in Arizona

- After being caught with another boy when he was 16, Angel took all the cash he found around the house and ran off

- For a couple of years, Angel found himself hitchhiking and couch surfing with local hard rock bands

- One night in 1984, he found himself drunkenly flirting with another man in a bar right outside of Vegas

- He doesn't remember what exactly happened that night aside from taking free drinks from the stranger, but he woke up in a motel room dazed, hungry, and covered in his own blood

- His vision was hazy as he glanced at himself in the mirror. His body looked torn, yet nothing stayed except a dark red bite mark on his neck

Extras:

- Nowadays he continues his nomadic lifestyle in a suped up cargo van: fitting a small mattress, a box of clothes, and it's pretty decked out with plenty of curtains and windshield covers

- To keep himself stable, he does odd jobs. Doesn't stay in one place too long, he prefers a one and done or under the table kind of gig

- Angel can (kinda) play the guitar. When he was younger, he'd travel with a lot of bands and pick up some lessons from them too

- Hard for him to befriend other vampires, he doesn't remember who turned him, it kinda made him a bit distrustful of others

- Plus he's never been the type to be comfortable in a large group, the idea of vampire covens intimidate him

- While he's learned to live with his vampirism, he misses a lot of junk food the most. Potato chips, fries, anything fried in oil makes him gag now.

[the-owl-tree]

Oh god, I didn't even consider the idea of Dovewing dying in Ivypool's SE. And while Dovewing is becoming more loved, I can absolutely see the editors/writing team deciding to kill her off because of the constant hate she got- and she HAS Birchkit who could become the next ShadowClan POV if that happened too. I think the worst possible option is Squirrelflight dying both for manpain with Bramblestar and so Ivypool, being acting deputy struggles with whether or not she wants to be leader, and Dovewing dying just so we feel sorry for her. I think I'd genuinely stop paying attention to ASC if they're killed off for drama lol, unless like Ivypool gets Dovewing killed because of her rash actions and finally has to deal with the consequences of her behavior. THAT at least could be interesting and a good reason for her to doubt her ability to lead when her hot headedness got Dovewing killed, buuuuuuut given that even after she interfered with sending a rescue party for SkyClan the Erins/narrative coddle her and have everyone forgive her and justify her actions? Even if she straight up gets Dovewing killed, I can already see the book bending backwards to defend her and people acting like it's Dovewing's fault. 💀

Tigerheart and Ivypool mean nothing to me without Dovewing, even Shadowsight and Lightleap being her kids is what elevates them for me. She's just That Good. If they kill her off I'm throwing rocks!!!! I feel like they wouldn't but, you know, they have a pretty blatant disregard for their female characters and you can't be sure -_- I especially don't want her to be thrown to the meat grinder for Ivypool's arc of all things, she already has a dead daughter we don't need more mince meat relatives!!!!

AVOS!Ivypool is so frustrating, like the books have always been awful about the code stringent characters that it peddles out. People's reactions to her in Tigerheart's Shadow drove me NUTS she is not being rational, she is being controlling and petty! THAT'S BAD WHY ARE YOU SAYING SHE'S RIGHT. Characters who are controlling and needy and petty are so good....but the narrative has to play into that, it has to acknowledge it to be fun to read. Ivypool clinging onto her sister would be fun if the text didn't want to constantly remind me how noble and loving she really is because of the code or whatever. I know the two technically reconciled but like. come on.

Seeing as how I still have to wade through "Dovewing abandoned her" takes, we must band together and fight for her tooth and nail to protect her.

[kimmimaru]

I don't know if this counts as a spoiler? But will put it under a cut anyway just in case. Its about Cloud in Rebirth.

Honestly they did such a good job of making Cloud's mental state fucked up. There are hints of it in the Remake but in Rebirth its very frequent. I'm talking about the times Cloud acts like a child. I can think of one instance in Remake, when he thinks the man in the black robes was Sephiroth and he pins him to the ground, his voice gets higher and he PANICS. In Rebirth it gets worse. When he brings Sephiroth the key to the black materia, his voice changes again to that of a kid. Its the same tone of voice my child uses when she brings me a cool rock she found. And honestly? That is so fucking disturbing. I can't get it out of my head. And now its slightly worse because he has a similar sort of tone when speaking to Aerith's ghost. The man is well and truly broken and he doesn't even know it. Its so apporpriate but god, I can't stop thinking about it, it makes me ill. It is fiction and there's not a lot of stuff that really gets to me in fiction, but this? Its awful. I spent the entire time playing those scenes with a tight knot in my stomach and its just so damn good. I was very impressed. Cloud does the same thing when he finally gets to reuinite with Zack, his voice gets infinately softer and more child-like. And again, this is apporpriate since he was unconcious for at least five years of his life, he never actually grew up mentally. Inside he's still fifteen/sixteen years old and in the OG its difficult to really get that across, but they did it perfectly in Rebirth. I don't know if its affecting me worse now because I am a parent myself, so it didn't really affect me the same when I played the OG (I was a kid myself so I missed a lot of the nuance I suppose, not to mention the technological restrictions on the PS1) or if its just that it has voice acting now so its a bit more obvious, I dunno. Its not just Cloud either. Like, even Tseng was a teenager and working as a Turk. Shinra put guns in the hands of children and its just sort of glossed over, I don't really see it mentioned much in fanfic and stuff. Yuffie: sixteen years old and trying to assasinate Rufus. Zack: Seventeen and sent into a war to kill people. Sephiroth: a living weapon from birth. The only character to ever even mention this is Reeve in one of the Novellas when he's speaking to Denzel. The WRO won't recruit children because of what Shinra did. I suppose because its so normalised in their world that no one else would even blink at it, but Reeve does and I like him for it lol. Basically, it makes sense that the characters themselves don't think about it, since its normal for them but I think it makes for interesting plots in fanfic. I've put it in a few times with the Turks and stuff. Anyways, sorry for rambling, my point is is that Rebirth does a great job of really driving home the fact that Cloud is still a kid inside. A teenager with a big sword and a broken mind.

[alexlacquemanne]

A week since his return, and I still can't believe it! What a return, I hope he stays in WWE, even on commentary, I don't care. But I need his legacy to be alive. All these things he said, all these things he did...

"I would much rather be hated for who I am, then loved for something that I am not."

“Don’t let these tattoos fool you. I’m straight edge. I’m a man of great discipline; I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs… my addiction is wrestling – my obsession is competition. Discipline. My name is C…M…Punk.”

Extreme Championship Wrestling. July 4th, 2006.

"Now, the first step to recovery for people like yourselves is a confession. You simply need to stop lying to yourself and you need to say to yourself: I HAVE A PROBLEM. What I want is for everybody to stand up. Now stand up. Ladies and gentlemen at home, if you feel the need to put your hand on the television screen you go right ahead and do that. But I need everybody in this arena and around the world right now to stand up and admit that you are all addicts."

Friday Night Smackdown. November 20th, 2009

"What you've lost sight of is what you are, and what you are is what you hate. You're the 10-time WWE Champion! You're the man! You, like the Red Sox, like Boston, are no longer the underdog! You're a dynasty. You are what you hate. You have become the New York Yankees!"

Monday Night Raw. July 11th, 2011.

Triple H : How did your movie do, by the way?" Triple H asked. CM Punk : Oh, mine went straight to DVD, just like yours.

Monday Night Raw. August 8th, 2011.

"OMG, Kevin Nash, WTF, thought he was dead, LOL."

Monday Night Raw. August 15th, 2011

"You gotta love crazy chicks!"

Monday Night Raw. June 4th, 2012

"I just want you to know that come Royal Rumble, and you have about three weeks to realize this, I'm gonna kick your ass 'cause I'm the best in the world. I'm the best thing going today. I'm the best guy you've ever stepped foot in the ring with. And you need to understand, congratulations, Rock, you just graduated from the kiddie table, but you just bit off more than you can chew. You're playing little league with your little insults and your rhymes and your 'millions and millions' and your 'finallys'. And I'm in the big leagues and I'm swinging for the fence. You need to understand that your little jabs and your insults, it's all kiddie games. You can't leave a mark on the champ's face. Come Royal Rumble, understand, when you step in the ring, your arms are just too short to box with God."

Monday Night Raw. January 7th, 2013

"AJ is fabulous and sends her regards"

Monday Night Raw. November 27th, 2023

[thegeminisage]

ok, i'm shifting into zelda mode. i have until friday to finally beat this sucker which i think has actually wound up being a good thing - i was playing less and less of it and less and less often, partly because of time, partly because of brain chemistry, but mostly because i was getting tired of the like. grind. koroks shrines lightroots etc. i don't really want to burn out on totk, so i think if i stop and play pikmin, it will be a nice little break and motivate me to come back to zelda and actually enjoy it instead of just. going through the motions. which is great because i do enjoy this game and i want to remember that i enjoy this game, and also it means i have more of it to enjoy later - at WORST, i will come back for 100% when the inevitable dlc comes out. map fatigue of doing botw twice (nearly 100%ing it the first time, doing it all the way the second time) has been my biggest problem with totk, and it's possible that i will never play either game again (or if i do it will be a very, very, very, VERY long time from now, like at least a decade), so ultimately i'm not mad about stretching it out to make it last longer than just one summer. it's going to be a REALLY long time before we get another zelda. as in, i could very well be in my 40s by then. might as well shorten the wait if i can

anyway the first order of business is to go back and finish the mineru quest. i wanna enjoy actually having her in my party for awhile before i take her to the final boss fight - i should have done it ages ago lol

oh yeah i quit bc of a hinox lol but he was super easy

deeply unfortunate: found several enormous piles of minable rock. which i felt compelled to break all of even though it wasn't fun. the good new is one of them was made of zonaite somaybe soon i can upgrade my battery again

another giant pile of zonaite. im thrilled to have the mats but like...please let me do something else now lol. even mineru's arms have durability. i need my weapons. i've used like 40 bombs. i can't do this with yunobo over and over

also love and light to mineru but she is straight up in my way, and at this point in the game i can't dismiss her. like she wants to be close so she can kneel so i can piggyback and the mech is awesome when im in the mood for it but i am trying to do something. and she makes so many noises also. i think the sages, controlswise, are my least favorite gameplay element of this. they are SO. ANNOYING. i wish there was a limitation where only one could walk around with you at once and the rest were mapped to buttons lol

ok, got it mined. now to the actual spirit temple

aww i like the music here. i like the little lightroot piano cue. i wish i had an actual lightroot lol my hearts have been decimated

little bit worried about this boss.

oh shit i was exploring the arena and fell into the water while riding the mech and now i cant find her?! is she ok......................

oh whew there she is. rip i wanted to go get that big poe...i guess not. i'm sure after the fight i'll be teleported out and even if not it is so much swimming in the dark

oh SHIT evil construct?? DARK MINERU??? why can we have dark mineru but not dark link???

aaaah the old electrified fence arena

i wish i hadnt had to use a rocket to get in here. this fight feels slow and clunky without the benefit of a fan on mineru's back

FOUR ARMS?? OH SHIT WE GOT GENERAL GREIVOUS OVER HERE

GOT HIS ASS

oh my god it's MINERU like it was mineru but now she looks like a person and not a robot

oh god is she gonna give me a CUTSCENE?

like we just got one but am i gonna get another memory

THE

MURAAAAALLLLLLLL

this is breaking so much lore.

NOT THE HYRULE CASTLE THEME

oh a man of great evil here we go show me the boy it's been too long

SCREEEEAM THERE HE LITERALLY IS!!!!!!

oh my god the theme from that very first announcement trailer

THE SHOT FROM THE TRAILERS!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT ZELDA USING RECALL BABYGIRL YOU ARE SO COOL

YOOOOOOOOO

rauru sealing ganondorf with the fma scar movement. he threw his whole body weight behind that fist 😏

this is gay

IM LOSING MY WHOLE ASS MIND. REMEMBER THIS NAME: LINK. AND THE MAIN THEME STARST PLAYING

AND AT THE BEGINNING. IN THE VERY FIRST CUTSCENE. I REMEMBER SCREAMING OUT LOUD BECAUSE HE RECOGNIZED US. HE REMEMBERED. THE NAME

holy shit. holy shit!!! they literally are just frozen like that just like in my movie pitch <3

ANOTHER cutscene?? i am literally eating

WAHHHH fi's theme

oh im wailing she and mineru love each other so much...neither of them wants to lose the other bc theyve already lost sonia and rauru :(

GOD ZELDA BEING WILLING TO DIE FOR LINK...girl they said you WONT be able to change back ik bc of spoilers that she does but AAAAAA

idk why all the zonai are so long and wiggly. like kaminoans. i don't like it

"even if my body should perish i will be with you in spirit" zelda about to lose mom #4 :(

oh NICE i have unlocked some cool zonaite shopping options...which i refuse to use until i max out my battery, lol

wow. i even got to get those poes

popped out of the spirit temple and was able to grab a lightroot. perfect stopping point bc now i have stuff i have to do lol

[niniane17]

So I finally watched Saltburn. Spoilers, I guess? Whatever.

Why didn't anyone tell me what it was about? I thought it was some smutty teen movie about a crush! And there I was, thinking that my decade-long hyperfixation with the zombification process would never come in handy!!!

The rest is under the cut because it's a long read.

(As if anyone will care LOL)

I'll be honest and say I watched it mostly because I read somewhere it was a movie set in 2007 about a bunch of teens, and guess who also was a teen back then? I even visited Oxford in summer 2006. Though people had long forgotten Murder on the dancefloor. I think the hit was I don't feel like Dancing. Rosamund Pike was still known as Jane Bennet to most people, and she was in London starring in a Tennessee William play -I know because I had a leaflet, and I think I have it somewhere still. Oh those were the days!

But in the end, I'm glad I didn't know a lot about it, so I could enjoy with fresh eyes and no preconcieved notions, which I did, up to a point. Then I stopped.

Please note that I will only describe the themes here, because if I were to nitpick the plot (especially its insane timeline) I may never finish. Though I do wish we'd seen the dialogue between Lady Catton and her lawyers at the end: I may buy her being stupid enough to give away her inheritance to some kid she knew years ago, but I absolutely don't buy her legal firm accepting it.

Ehm. Anyway.

It has been described as an "eat-the-rich" film, and in a way it is, in the same way The Witch is about female empowerment.

As I said before, much of the audience's confusion towards that movie comes from the fact that we see women's liberation and empowerment as a good thing, whereas the folktales clearly depicted it as a bad thing. The same thing happens here.

The protagonist does, in a way, eat the rich people around him, or rather he drinks them, since it mostly uses the vampire metaphor, but it's not supposed to be a good thing. I've read somewhere it's supposed to be "ambiguous" but no, sorry, there's nothing ambiguous about it. The upper class is depicted as stupid and kind of rude, but ultimately harmless. Most notably, we don't even know how they made so much money, though it's hard to believe they made it by being silly and harmless.

In contrast, Oliver lies all the time, and the big twists* about him are that he faked his poverty, revealing a wallet full of money (because if you have money in your wallet or even bank account that means you can spend it. Budget? What's that?) and that he faked his interest for Felix, at least initially. Perhaps he did come to love him eventually, but his desire is always tied to creepy or downright necrophilic acts, showing that for him, they're one and the same. The representation is crude, but the message is clear: the only way two members of different classes can be equal and in a loving relationship is if one of them is dead, and if you allow any mingling between the classes, lower one will absorb the upper one until there's nothing left of it.

Yeah, well, I don't care for that, to say the least.

I do understand the movie is symbolic, it's not like they're trying to hide it: there are vampires, doppelgangers, ghosts, fairies, minotaurs, pagan gods, and so on. I was sad for a moment there were no zombies, but then again, it's better this way: zombies represent undenturent servitude and slavery, and this is a movie where being faithful to your master is shown as a good thing. I really don't want to see a story where a Zombie Master is the good guy.

(You know you hit rock bottom when fucking Game of Thrones is better at themes than you)

So yeah, I do get it Oliver is a symbol. It's just that I think he's the symbol of something awful, right from the Victorian Era, with all its anxiety and fears about social mobility. It may be wrapped in a shiny package to appeal to young people but the content is reactionary and very dangerous.

Besides, even at a symbolic level, it's a failure: even the evilest vampire is made, not born. Who turned Oliver first? And where is it? Is it still out there, haunting Britain, Europe, and possibly the world, like a ghost? Nobody seems to care.

(Yeah, that's another thing: the upper class screaming for help because they're hunted by ghosts. Yeah, well, I sure hope you are. The question is by which)

(No, I'm afraid Dickens won't be of any help this time. Trust me, he really won't)

It isn't even that I don't understand the fear of being preyed upon and sucked dry by people close to you. I do, and it's even happened to me. But in my experience, the relationship with those people tend to complicated and very difficult to parse. In a way, it's almost a comforting fantasy thinking of them as machiavellian geniuses out to get you, rather than people who have their own shit going on and who just don't care about your feelings as you care for theirs. Or who just don't like you as you like them.

Speaking of which, I've seen people argue this is not a story about class but rather about shitty individuals, but it doesn't work. Just like Eggers' Witches are inextricably tied to their gender, and the horror comes from the difference between how women ought to behave and how the witches behave, Oliver's deeds are tied to his middle class extraction, and the horror comes from the difference between what he does and how he ought to behave instead.

And the members of the "lower class" do know how they should behave: indeed, towards the end we see Oliver being looked at with disgust by the manor's servants, and the butler is very antagonistic towards him. Tellingly, the movie's original ending showed Oliver being served the same breakfast he had refused at the beginning, symbolizing the fact that for the working class he will always be an usurper who may have inserted himself into the upper class but doesn't have the "right blood". I guess this was a little too much even for them.

Finally, it costs me to admit it, but even those filthy rich people have to work, or at least some of them do. The illusion of living a carefree life full of leasures is just that, an illusion. Once Oliver's dance is over, he's got a shitload of work ahead of him, possibly for the rest of his life. If he were a true-born (lol) parasite, that would scare him shitless.

I did like the deer costume though, it was neat. I also liked the dance, but I would have chosen Can't touch this instead.

TL; DR: Watch The Talented Mr Ripley instead. And then watch US by Jordan Peele. Ok it's set in a different country with different politics and blah blah blah, but at least it knows what story it's telling and also zombie metaphors are so much better for these things. Also I'd recommend The Shadow by Andersen too. It's a nice story that predates a lot of the modern doppelganger ones.

*Get it??? Oliver's Twists???? No but really, of all the literary references this is the one that makes the least sense. It just so happens that Dickens did, in fact, write about a villain focused on slowly evicting his master from his house in a parasitic way, and he was also compared to a vampire (and a zombie too, though Dickens doesn't use that word of course. And I think there's some ambiguous shit going on with him too, if you know what I mean). The difference is that Dickens, as a member of the middle class, wants to protect the middle class' interests so he depicts the working class member as the evil parasite. I guess what goes around comes around.

Couldn't anyone just...I don't know, google all this shit? It's not like Dickens is some unknown writer. I also don't think the Midsummer Night's Dream references were relevant, but I guess Othello would have been too obvious? IDK. Slutty fairies are cool, though.

[tricobicoart]

tf2 mae also started off as a crossover where she got kidnapped/captured near the base by the mercs so here's some text & text exchanges abt it

ath: mae gets dropped into a universe & interrogated by likeable & eccentric people but who are Not her boyfriend & boyfriend's boyfriend: I will betray all of you when the opportunity arises.

THEY GIVE HER TRUTH SERUM AND SHE JUST STARTS VENTING ABT MUNDANE SHIT, OR SINING THE PRAISES OF DAN & APOLLO & ATLAS & AMBROSE BC THEY;RE SO COOL & SHE LOVES THEM SO MUCH, YOU GUYS

atlas: OH MY GOD???? I LOVE THAT ZHE GETS INJECTED AND JUST MAE JUST RAMBLING ABOUT ALL THE WAY SHE LOVES HER PARTNERS "YOU WANT THE TRUTH?? OKAY FINE MY BOYFRIEND AND MY BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIEND ARE BOTH COOL AS SHIT, ALSO I SECRETLY LOVE (insert random guilty pleasure here) HAHA"

ath: JG;LKSFJGKH LMAOOO YEAH SHE JUST SINGS LIKE. AN ENTIRE ALBUM'S WORTH OF WILL WOOD SONGS

atlas: YESSSSS "my boyfriend said my eyes are WEEZER BLUE!!! He also said I might have autism??"/ref

ath: KLFJDSJGHKLSJFH YEAH!!!

atlas: SHE JUST PURPOSEFULLY IS EXTRA OBNOXIOUS TO GET ON THEIR NERVES 😭

ath: JG;LSCHG LMAOOO YEA MAKES STUPID ASS MEME REFERENCES *one of soldier's raccoons bites her* WAS THAT THE BITE OF 87!?!? KEKEKEKEKEKEK

ath: if mae ever gets captured by the tf2 mercs again or the elites she just starts explaining fnaf lore to them & it feels like this, despite her being the one restrained in a chair lol https://www.reddit.com/r/GameTheorists/comments/gvptak/when_you_try_to_explain_the_fnaf_lore_but_it/

atlas: LMAO "please, for the love of God, I do not know what the bite of 87 is!!!" - soldier "Sounds like someone is uncultured." -mae

ath: FLDHGJKDF LMAOOOO sniper: *bites a dude* mae: WAS THAT THE BITE OF 87!? entire tf2 team: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UUUUPP

atlas: LMAOOO Apollo, appearing next to zer: I'm sorry, do you wanna repeat that? Did you just tell zer to shut up??? Mercs: HAHA NOOO OF COURSE NOT * TOTALLY NOT ALL SCARED OF APOLLO*

ath: JFSLK;SGH;LDFJ LMAOOO AND THEY JUST LET THE TWO WALK OUT SAFELY mae, talking to apollo on the way out: anyways, that's why i think michael is the older brother. because it's funny. apollo: of course, honey

atlas: AGKHSHLKDFJKDDGJJFF every time Apollo reminds them all that he exists, they start internally shitting themselves

ath: HAJSJGSJS YEAH The only one the least scared of him is sniper, & that's bc the dude knows not to fuck w ppl more powerful than him Once Apollo meets him while he's in the middle of nowhere being high & they become like. Friendly acquaintances

atlas: Do you think they'd have to play rock paper scissors on who has to face him/LH YEAH ACJK THEY JUST RUN INTO EACH OTHER WHILE THEY'RE BOTH SMOKING AND APOLLO SILENTLY OFFERS HIM A JOINT

ath: JAHDGDJ ABSOLUTELY THEY DO. THEY GET IN FIGHTS OVER IT JAJDGDJJD AND HE VEEERRY CAUTIOUSLY TAKES IT BC IF HE SPYCHECKS THE MAN HE MIGHT KILL OR MAIM HIM

atlas: "I had to take him out last time!!! He blew up my head!!" "Well, don't look at ME!!! He broke my bones last time!!!!" Heavy finally offers to do it 😭

ADJKHDFJJFD AND APOLLO JUST LIGHTS A JOINT OF HIS OWN AND THEY KINDA JUST STAND THERE SMOKING IN SILENCE

ath: FJDSLKJGHSLFGJ LMAOOOO JUST "You make baby men very nervous. Can you leave? They're annoying."

SPY CATCHES A GLIMPSE OF THEM SMOKING & TELLS EVERYONE BUT THEY SAY HE MUST HAVE BEEN MISTAKEN BC SNIPER DOES HIS BEST TO AVOID HIM

atlas: "Do I make you nervous?" "….No." "Liar." AND HE JUST SHOWS UP WHERE THE MERCS WERE ARGUING AND THEY ALL SCATTER

YESSSSSSSSSS AND IT JUST BECOMES A THING THAT THEY DO

ath: FKSHDGLJFH LIEK CATS CONFRONTED WITH A CAT MASK and bc apollo is gone heavy can show relief that they've left him jhdksg

YESSS AND THEY START AHVING CASUAL CONVERSATIONS ABT WEED STRAINS & EDIBLES & THEN WHATEVER KILLS THEY GOT OR DIDN'T GET THAT DAY

atlas: THATS SO CURSED I LOVE THAT "WAIT, WAIT WAIT WAIT, I WANNA STRIKE A DEAL WITH YOU IDIOTS." and Medic perks up "Stop kidnapping my partner and I'll help you in fights or something."

HEHEHEHE YESSSS AND APOLLO BRINGS HIM SHIT HES NEVER TRIED BEFORE

ath: FH;SDFHJD MEDIC, THE DEAL-MAKING EXPERT after hammering out like a dozen details medic agrees pffffft what if mae accidentally made friends with pyro while captured & zhe just like. tries to sneak out one night to "accidentally" get kidnapped & see 'em bc she misses 'em

BROOOO "THIS EDIBLE AIN'T SHI--" BUT WITH SNIPER KDHFKJL apollo just "oh yea i forgot humans have different weed tolerances. uh. whoops"

atlas: AFKKDDHKJS SCOUT IS IN THE BG THE ENTIRE TIME SAYING HOW BAD OF AN IDEA THIS IS BUT ITS TOO LATE ZHKVDGMK MAE NO!!! Apollo and Mae just running into each other sneaking out "Where are you going…?" "Out. Where are YOU going?" "….Same here." "Cool, cool." And Apollo just slowlyyyyy walks off while staring at Mae

AGKKDFKJD LITERALLY!!!!! Apollo has to carry Sniper back to the base 😭

ath: SLKG;J;DLJFGHLKDJ LMAOOOO AND THEY BOTH GLANCE AT EACH OTHER BY THE BASE LIKE

[clayray3290]

Clayray Closeout 2023

2023 was a terrible year tbh. But still, plenty to look back on, warts and all.

Music - Songs

Clearly I never went back and actually posted the individual songs like I used to do, so let me just belatedly put them in here.

1. The Downtown Fiction - Some Place on Earth 2. Eric Nam - House on a Hill 3. Kelly Clarkson - red flag collector 4. Colbie Caillat - Worth It // Leigh-anne - Don't Say Love 5. About Bunny - Teeth // good problem - Stay In Bed // Matt Wertz - Something to Hold on To // NOTD - Less I Know // WhoHurtYou - Lesson in Letting Go // Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Wolf 6. Bea Miller - Lonely Bitch // Munn - Can You Hear Me? 7. R3hab - Rock My Body

Gonna stop there because that's 15 tracks lol.

Music - Artists

The Downtown Fiction

BTS

Kelly Clarkson

McFly

Britney Spears

Agust D

Taylor Swift

Beyoncé

Stray Kids

Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

Lol okay so The Downtown Fiction ended up at #1 because I became friends with the lead singer/frontman this year. I hope he does not find this hahahaha. Being back in LA and also back to having friends and a social life meant that I actually went to concerts this year. I went to the Agust D concert with friends, so that explains BTS/Agust D. Also went to Kelly Clarkson's show singing through her new album before it was out, because it was better than being home alone with the impending layoffs. The BTS friends are also very much into Stray Kids, so that's how they landed on my list. And then I went to the screening/singalong of Crossroads, which explains the Britney (not that I don't listen to Britney anyway), and then went to the Renaissance film with my cousin, which explains the Beyoncé (although again, I listen to Bey anyway).

Music - Albums

Kelly Clarkson - chemistry

Agust D - D-DAY

Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness - Tilt at the Wind No More

Beyoncé - RENAISSANCE

The Downtown Fiction - Losers & Kings

McFly - Power to Play

The Downtown Fiction - Let's Be Animals

Ayreon - The Final Experiment (Special Edition)

The Aces - I've Loved You For So Long

NOTD - NOTED...EP

Not many surprises here. There are some albums from longterm favorites here, like Andrew McMahon and McFly. Also generally enjoy The Aces. Ayreon being up there is pretty funny - I think some guy I briefly dated told me about them haha, and I think I just let the album play a few times and so it got up there.

Movies

Past Lives

A Thousand and One

Problemista

Joy Ride

Barbie

Honorable Mentions: Rye Lane, Are You There God? It's Me Margaret, 12.12: The Day, Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Shortcomings

[big-cheesy-productions]

The Loose Ends

Pathfinder Pirate Campaign Character Reflection

Session 15

Context: The party is finally back on the water sailing for Zaragoza. Many members of the party and the crew were able to reconnect with each other and pull pieces of information together, but they still don't have a complete picture. They were lefting hoping to get another piece to the puzzle (literally) in Zaragoza. Before they could contemplate anymore, they were set up on by multiple raging aboleths...

We also finally settled on a groups name! We are... the Loose Ends!

~

Thank the gods, or whoever is watching, we are finally, finally, back on open waters, sailing for Zaragoza. It may not be my ship, but the rocking of the hull and the whipping of the sails feels like home.

I was able to catch Edward once we were moving again. I told him of my poor assumptions of him, and he told me of his time as captain, and the fate of his ship and crew. My suspicions appear correct: that we share a kindred spirit, and that it is more than gold and treasure that drives him. I hope we can put his conscience and his crew to rest. With Jericho gone, I want him to be able to lean on me, as more than just a business partner. He dragged my ass out of Corvo’s, it seems the least I can do. I want to be friends, and that is what friends do, is it not?

Much was revealed in the tent that night, but I have no idea what to make of all the information. It seems we only have a few small pieces to a very large puzzle. What significance do the stars matching the isles hold? What is Vasque’s treasure really? Are the captain’s intentions true? How much does he really know? In those moments of wondering, I longed to have Aries there with us. He talked all the time about the stars and the movements of the isles and I admittedly would get bored and stop listening. But maybe they knew something. Maybe they had a piece to the puzzle. All the more reason to get to Zaragoza as soon as possible, but I don’t want to get my hopes up…

A familiar feeling rose up in me as I looked down into those red eyes and toothy maw (lol). Captain Thorne had told me of his encounters with aboleths, but I had never faced one myself. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the crashing of the water and the shouts of the crew. The only other sound was my breath heavy and quickening. This was not fear. This was not dread. No, this… this was adrenaline, bubbling up in me into pure exhilaration. My grip on the ropes in one hand and my scimitar in the other held fast as a smile broke across my face.

This was going to be fun…

~

Feel free to send me any questions! We are finally caught up so I can now post weekly as we play!

[theloveinc]

Same anon about putting pussy on the phone- it’s 11:43 pm and I can’t sleep LOL.

Flip the script. You have to get surgery- bakugou is LITERALY waiting around for you like a FUCKING dog. He’s so stressed it’s not even funny. It kind of is tbh can’t he looks like his normal too big for the waiting chairs self but he’s low key freaking out. He can’t lose you- he’s too scared to lose you. He would literally get a medical degree so he could just do the surgery his damn self so you won’t die. (He’s dramatic)

The moment he can see you he’s literally not leaving your side. Need to pee but you’re a fall risk? He doesn’t care that bed alarm is off because you’re up he’d be damned if you get a uti on top of this major surgery. Hungry? He’s not letting you eat the hospital food- hes calling his old man and making him make you food since he won’t leave your side.

When you finally get to go home hes the one to push you in the wheelchair to his all black sleek car. When he opens the door the passenger seat is already set up for you. It might as well be a bed from how many blankets, pillows, and anything plush is in that seat. He would LITERALLY TUCK YOU INTO THAT SEAT HOLY SHIT LIKE HE LITERALLY IS ACTING LIKE YOURE DYING. JFC BAKUGOU IT WASNT THAT BIG OF A SURGERY.

You’re so doped out you’re just smiling like crazy while you’re head rocks back and forth in the seat while you watch the cars pass by. You keep trying to reach up and play with his ears since they’re big but in a cute way and he keeps smacking your hand away and mumbling under his breath angrily. You’ve always loved his ears- they come out some and he has them pierced! A little chunk is missing from a accident when he was younger which has caused him to go deaf as well in that ear and he also does this cute thing when he’s stressed where he will tug or mess with his ear -

IM RAMBLING IM SORRY

(i'm just jealous of you for even being in bed at 11:43pm smh, but) I LITERALLY ADORE THIS? ALL OF IT??? AND it's so accurate, too????? The medical degree part is sending me... sooooo, so true bestie. He's such a fiend.

AND getting Masaru to cook, too sadhjfkadj. Waking up from a nap and seeing both him and his dad fiddling with the little, hospital room mini-fridge. You're like, "Masaru-san? You didn't have to cook!!!" and he's just smiling and shaking his head because Bakugo would've ended his life if he hadn't (and if he's an even BETTER cook than Katsuki, you don't say anything.)

(Also laughing at the thought of Mitsuki coming too, and heckling the doctor about the most random shit. Sitting next to your bed, her magazine on her lap, all, "You haven't changed my child's pillow case in TWO days? And all your tea is _ brand? What the hell do we pay our insurance for???

Like... CHILD? Tea????? And you'd think Bakugo would tell her to stop but he's just nodding right there along with her LOOOL.)

God, I wanna add onto everything but you talked about it all so perfectly already😭Bakugo adjusting the pillows against you 100 times before finally starting to drive. Getting so flustered by your tickling because he wants to respond and tell you to stop overexerting yourself but he's gotta keep his eyes on road. AND USUALLY, he's so nippy when you play with his ears cuz they're sensitive... but he just can't bring himself to get mad because you're injured and it's, it's... cute.

(Plus, I love your little headcanons about this!!!)

And overall, too... he love all your doped-up sleepy kisses, and the way you play with his fingers when you're bored in bed... and getting so antsy when he has to leave you for work, he calls once an hour AT LEAST, even when you're fine resting in bed or almost fully recovered. Screams at the neighbors when they do something irritating for "bothering an injured person..." skjdflkajsdhfajksd...

Literally... this whole thing is the best. Thank GOD you rambled. I swear.

(ANd Bakugo thanks you, too. He never thought he'd be so into caring for a sick person😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨) (iN A GOOD WAY)