#it was so fluid and beautiful like holy heck

[smilingperformer]

....

I think Kimi no Boken just got de-throwned by Hello on best visuals.

[ecargmura]

Hirogaru Sky! Precure Episode 33 Review - Majestic Halation

This episode was MAJESTIC. Holy heck. It felt as if my vision got better with how they animated the action sequences and the new group attack. It’s like I’ve been purified as well. Before this episode, Episodes 9 and 15 were my candidates for best Hirogaru Sky episodes, but now Episode 33 sits on the throne for best episode by far. Is there a future contender? Maybe, but let me and the readers revel in the majesty that is this episode.

Why is this episode so good? Because there’s a lot of plot progression in regards to Ellee and Cure Majesty. There’s also a bit of dungeon exploring with the way an ancient ruin showed up in a lake in Sky Land all of a sudden; said ruins lead to the Majestic Chroniclon, where it bestows the Precures the ability to use their new group attack: Precure Majestic Halation.

The ruins itself are full of mystery. Apparently, a mural of teen Ellee was already painted on there as if it was waiting for her. It makes me wonder if Ellee is a reincarnation of sorts. There has to be a reason why Empress Underg is so keen on wanting her gone and why Ellee is able to bestow Precure powers onto people. Now that I think about this, the more the anime goes into the mysteries of Ellee, the more questions I have. The big reveal of her origins are treading at a snail’s pace. I do like how quick and to the point the dungeon crawling aspect of this episode was; this show wastes no time in trying to power up Cure Majesty.

Remember the ending of the last episode where Mashiro was looking all worried? It turns out that she is very worried and rather against Ellee fighting and going on the battlefield. She’s unable to say it because she knows Ellee has to fight as Cure Majesty, but doubt and hesitation clouds her heart; it’s also the fact that Mashiro cannot say “no” in situations regarding Ellee. It’s understandable why she feels this way. She and the other Precures have been protecting Ellee since the beginning. I’m sure that she also feels tremendous guilt for what had happened when they first encountered Skearhead. Because of her kind heart, she’s someone who feels as if she has to protect Ellee from danger as she’s a baby. It’s also natural instinct to want to protect those smaller and weaker than you; she has motherly instincts towards Ellee and it’s very reasonable. Like, I cannot find fault with Mashiro’s doubts and uncertainties. I’m glad that it gets resolved with Sky telling Prism about the events of Episode 5, where Sky had uncertainties about putting Mashiro in danger. I really like that callback and it was what Mashiro needed—to be able to trust in Majesty.

Now, let’s talk about the animation. Wow. The way Majesty in particular moved when she started fighting Minoton was so fluid. Like, I don’t remember the last time Hirogaru Sky had this high quality sakuga for their action scenes. It was beautiful to watch. It felt as if the vision in my left eye, which is weaker compared to my right, has improved and I suddenly got 20/20 vision.

Majestic Halation easily overshadows Titanic Rainbow as the awesome finisher. I just love everything about it from the way each Precure poses cooly—Butterfly takes the crown for best pose—and then they make their emblem followed by the giant laser beam they summon from it. Also, if you had noticed, they skipped the transformation sequences for the Precures; it was definitely to show off Majestic Halation. Now, the question is, will they use this for the finisher going forth? My only gripe with this move is that it takes way too much time.

Minoton was a good part of the episode, but he was also the weakest part. The way that he broke into the ruins was suspenseful and got me at the edge of my seat, but the way that he kept consuming Underg energy mindlessly was a bit meh to me; like the stakes were high for this episode due to Minoton, but the way he kept raising them sort of dragged. Like, Minoton wasn’t a big threat before and only now he becomes a huge one for this episode. Now that he’s been completely purified, who’s the next villain? Will it still be Skearhead? When will Empress Underg take the stage?

While this was a fantastic episode, my only concern is that Ellee feels more like the main character than the actual main character, Sora, now. I know that the story has always revolved around Ellee, but Sora is the main protagonist because the show always promotes her as the leader and such. I know that this might be the reason why the show chose to make Ellee stay a baby in order to not steal Sora’s thunder, but I still can’t help but to worry about her MC status being taken away by Cure Majesty. What are your thoughts about this episode? Do you also worry about Ellee stealing the MC spotlight?

[sketchyfletch]

People you want to get to know better

Tagged by @dwead-piwate-meggers (thank you! I am having a stressful morning because of boiler noises so this is very sweet and appreciated)

1. Three Ships: Varies on depending what I'm into, but right now - Beau/Yasha from Critical Role, Leliana/F Warden from Dragon Age, Korra/Asami forever.

2. First Ever Ship: The earliest I can ever remember being invested in the relationship side of things I think was either Quasimodo/Esmerelda (Disney version) or Hercules/Meg. Although looking back Esmerelda was my baby gay awakening so I don't even know what was going on there.

3. Last Song: Last one was from tumblr - Sa Ma (Horse Races) by Haihuai Huang. The last song I intentionally listened to was the Punk Rock Factory cover of Poor Unfortunate Souls (an absolute banger).

4. Last Movie: Shotgun Wedding - 3 out of 5. Pretty fun. Last movie I really enjoyed is a hard decision between Knives Out: Glass Onion and the Lost City.

5. Currently Reading: I usually have two physical books and a couple of kindles on the go along with whatever section of Ao3 I am stuck on. Currently:

The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karuntilaka - really good, a photographer in Sri Lanka who is dead trying to figure out what happened. But holy heck it's a grim read at times.

How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran - a lot of people get put off by the title because they think it's a guide. It's more how Caitlin herself figured out what it means for her specifically, and she is a tremendously funny writer. She doesn't hold back on descriptions of various bodily fluids.

Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy by Kevin Kwan - this is my go to re-read at the moment. Rachel's reaction to the mad world of the super-rich is extremely relatable but Kevin's true talent is describing beautiful architecture and FOOD. Oh my god the food descriptions. I want to go to a Singapore hawker's market so badly.

The Adventure Zone graphic novels by the McElroys. The next book is out this month! I am ridiculously excited!

6. Currently Watching: Season 2 of the Legend of Vox Machina. I never watched the first campaign as the second was starting around the time I got into it, and this is a great way of saving me 400 hours of my life.

7. Currently Consuming: Tea with milk. I rarely drink tea but I have an engineer in the flat and it feels like I'm not entirely ignoring him if I offer tea periodically. Also it's cold as tits in my flat rn.

8. Currently Craving: I love making Chinese-inspired chicken thighs. The marinade is five-spice, soy sauce, sesame oil, rice wine and ginger. Sometimes I put a little tomato puree in there too. Soak in the marinade for two hours/overnight, and then bake in the oven for 40 mins. They are so good and I am never not wanting them.

Thank you! Tagging for the 'would like to know you better' - @forestlich @thessalian @yamisnuffles

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[redpandaramblings]

Ten Minutes to Midnight

Enby Present Mic x Enby Reader

CW: Enby Present Mic (All pronouns used but mostly they/them), Heavy references to sexual acts, bodily fluids, drinking, minimal editing

Your head was absolutely pounding. You cracked an eye open, groaning softly. Mercifully, the room was dark. Good. You didn’t think you’d be able to face sunlight right now. Who knew pro heroes could party that hard?

Well, you did. You knew how hard they could cut loose. This wasn’t the first gig you had DJ’d for after all. And heck, you worked with the cockatiel himself, you knew exactly how wild he could get. Though since you were thinking of work… You brought your wrist close so you could squint at your watch. 5 AM. A little later than you thought for how dark the room was, but not bad. You weren’t going to be late for anything, though you really knew you should start making a habit of making sure you had the day off after a big gig. You sighed, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes before freezing. This was not your apartment. This was not your bed.

You were not alone in this bed.

Holy fuck, how drunk were you last night?

You remember the party for most of the night. The hero commission was footing the bill, so drinks were flowing freely from the start. You had resisted for quite a while, using the excuse that you didn’t drink while working. That had lasted you a while, but not the whole night. You can only refuse the top heroes of the nation who you happen to be friends with so many times. And then Hizashi had taken over your equipment and ordered you to have some fun. You remembered dancing with Midnight… After that things got a little blurry. If you had to guess, you had gone home with someone. And unless you had snagged one of the cute waitstaff, that someone was a pro hero. Awkward, but not the end of the world, hopefully. You knew pretty much all of them, and were friendly with a decent amount. Perks of working in radio and hero promotion. So, you could live with this. Hopefully. Bracing yourself, you looked over at the other side of the bed.

Blonde. Very tall. Covering their head completely with a blanket. You snorted softly and gently tugged at the blanket to see their face. Oh. Oh no. Anybody but them. You'd rather it be Endeavor. You knew this stupid beautiful face well. You saw it almost every day at work after all. Why the fuck had you gone home with Hizashi. Well. You knew why. Anyone with working eyes probably knew why. They were radiantly handsome. And they could be so charming and funny. They knew how to get you out of your shell without pushing too much. If you were honest with yourself, you knew you had liked them for a long time. There was just the little matter of knowing they didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t they have a crush on one of their friends from high school? It barely mattered. Even if they didn’t, the two of you worked much better as friends.

You very slowly inched yourself off the bed, standing and then wincing. The telltale soreness combined with the cool liquid dripping down your thighs was the final nail in the coffin to confirm that the previous night had not ended innocently. Great. Just… great. You looked over to where Hizashi still lay, sleeping. They hadn’t budged an inch. You weren’t looking forward to trying to wake them up. Although… You paused as you bent down to pick up your discarded clothing. Maybe you didn’t have to. Mic had had a lot to drink last night, even more than you had. You could just get your stuff and forget the night had ever happened. If you were really lucky, they wouldn’t remember a thing. If you were less lucky, they’d remember, but appreciate you clearing out and never ever mention this embarrassing night again.

With that in mind, you quickly gathered the rest of your clothing, getting dressed as quickly and quietly as possible. You couldn’t find one of your earrings, eventually giving up. It had probably come off during the party anyway. In a few short minutes you were closing the door behind you. Now, all you had to do was avoid your co-worker, the one who had given you the night of your life, and pretend everything was absolutely normal. How hard could that be, right?

~~~~~~~~~

So. Work was hell. You rested your head on the door of the janitor’s closet and sighed deeply. Why did it seem like every time you turned around, Mic was right there? Walking into the station early in the morning? They were there because they brought coffee and snacks as a holiday treat. Leaving the station late at night? There they were because they were going to do one of their “Surprise Party Nights with Present Mic.” It was like they were living at the station lately, and you couldn’t exactly do your own DJing job from home. So when you had left your sound booth to sneak out for lunch, only to hear the click of their heeled boots coming down the nearby hallway. And now you were hiding in a janitor's closet. You couldn’t keep doing this. It was insane! You held your breath as the click of Mic’s heels stopped nearby.

“Now where did that little bird fly off to now, hmm?” You heard them mutter to themselves.

Great. So they had been hanging around looking for you lately. And you didn’t think you were lucky enough for it to be just friendly reasons. You waited a few minutes after hearing Mic’s heels click away before creeping out of the closet. Avoiding them wasn’t going to work forever, much as you wished it would. You had to talk to them about what happened sometime. Pulling out your phone, resolute, you sent them a brief text.

Hey. Know you’ve been looking for me. We do need to talk, but can it wait until after the company New Years party?

Their reply came almost instantly. As long as we can talk later. But I need to ask, we good?

You chuckled, shaking your head. Yeah. We’re friends, dork. We’re good.

You laughed when he sent back a custom sticker of themself giving a big thumbs up. Yeah. You two were good. It might be awkward as hell for a while, but you were good. Now you could focus on just getting through the rest of this year.

~~~~~~~~~~

The studio New Years Eve party. Huge, wild, sparkly. Big personalities, lots of drinks, lots of fun. The studio rented the top floor of a fancy hotel every year. A chance for everyone to cut loose and see the old year out with a friendly but firm boot to the ass. The company DJs took turns at the turntables whenever the whim hit them. Formal dress but informal attitudes. You were having a great time. It was good to finally relax again, though you were making sure to actually pace the drinking this time. Though things were much less awkward with Mic since your texts, you still didn’t want to tempt fate.

Speaking of the devil, over the soundsystem you heard one of your tipsy coworkers “All right, cool cats, it’s time for me to pass the discs to everyone’s favorite loudmouth. Make sure you have your ear protection, and get ready to make some noise! Because he is, she is, they are… Present Mic!”

And sure enough, there was Mic on the raised platform, and they looked beautiful. They were wearing a spiked leather jacket over a short sparkling dress that put the disco ball to shame. Their makeup was on point as always, and their hair was down, flowing over their shoulders. Looking at them was like a punch to the gut because it just further cemented just how much you loved this gorgeous, loud, brash, kind person. Really really loved them. And very soon you were going to have to have a “Sorry you fucked, but we’re still friends” conversation. Happy fucking new year to you. You shook your head before draining your glass, setting it on a side table. You needed to clear your head. You didn’t think you could hack anyone asking if you were alright right now. So you quietly slipped out of the main room, walking past the bathrooms and kept going until you reached the stairwell. You opened the door and used one of your shoes to make sure it stayed wedged open and wouldn’t lock behind you. You slumped on the stairs with a sigh and hung your head between your knees. You let your thoughts flow free and dark, wishing you had a cigarette because some situations just call for a smoke. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by when you looked up at the sound of the door being pushed open. A blond head you desperately did and didn’t want to see poked through.

“Hey, there you are. Are you okay?”

You sighed, your lips quirking up at the corners. “Not really.”

Hizashi frowned and hesitated. “Want me to go, or…”

You shook your head, scooting over and patting the cement of the step. “Come on. Don’t let the door lock behind you.”

Hizashi hurried into the stairwell, taking a seat next to you. They hesitantly brushed their shoulder against yours and you leaned against them in silent reply. Hizashi wrapped their arm around you, and gave you a squeeze.

“I don’t know how to even start this conversation.” Hizashi murmured.

“Hopefully not with never wanting to see me again?” You chuckle nervously.

They squeeze you tighter. “Don’t even joke about that! Of course I want to see you. I want to see you every day.”

You elbow them lightly. “Got some wine to go with that cheese?”

“Hey!” They laugh, pulling away to look at you. “I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Sorry. Would it help if I said I’ve been in love with you for a few years now?”

It was like all the breath left Hizashi and they stared at you. “Yeah… Yeah it would.” Hizashi pushed their hair behind their ear, and you noticed for the first time that they were wearing the earring you thought you had lost. You reached out and touched it before looking them in the eye and realizing something.

“God we’re idiots. You love me too.”

Hizashi smiled. “Yeah.”

“You’ve loved me for a while, haven’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Years?”

“Something like that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Crippling self doubt, among other things?”

“Well, same.”

“You expect me to believe that you, Presentation Micheal, doubted anyone would fall in love with you?”

“Well, waking up to find that the person you love and had an amazing night with tried to vanish the next morning isn’t exactly an ego booster.”

You flushed, looking away. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I was… Scared, I think. So scared that I’d managed to fuck up our friendship. And honestly, I still don’t entirely remember how we ended up back at your place.”

Hizashi gave you a squeeze. “Well that’s a shame. It was a great night. We could… We could try to recreate it. If you wanted to, that is.”

You look up at them and hold their gaze a moment before nodding. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the party beginning the countdown for the end of the year.

“I want to. I want to a lot.”

“Good.” Hizashi smiled, and leaned closer to you.

“Great even.” You whisper, leaning closer yourself.

There are cheers as the countdown hits zero, but you’re barely paying attention because Hizashi’s lips are meeting yours.

Maybe this would be a great new year after all~

That’s it everyone! Just a little self indulgent drabble with one of my favorites. From me and mine to you and yours, may you have a good and joyous new year. May 2022 be gentler to us than the past few years.

[ficsforeren]

Hello!!! 😁

Man.. Holy shit. Can I just say that I am so in love with the way you write? Like.. I’ve been reading your works for a few months now and every time you upload a chapter I’m just so in awe. I don’t know if you have any plans of publishing any books but if you did or do I’ll be the first to buy them cause what the heck?? You’re insanely talented and in all seriousness, your writing is one of the best I’ve ever seen. It’s so fluid, so full of emotion, so easy to read yet so deep, it’s so realistic and otherworldly beautiful at the same time. You’re soooo talented it’s insane. Thank you so much for sharing your work. I hope you have a great day and take care of yourself! 🫂💖

OMGGGG???? ALKASDJFLKAJSDKLFJLK I'M SCREAMING AAAAA

[quilloftheclouds]

beep bop I’m an anon from writeblr and I’d like to know your favorite writeblrs? here’s a chance to give them a compliment to make their day. ☀️

hhhhhhhnnnnnnn I HAVE SO MANY BUT NOT ENOUGH ENERGY TO COMPLIMENT EVERYONE. But I’ve been wanting to make a post like this for a while, so thank you for the excuse! I’ll leave a list of an absolute ton of marvelous folks at the bottom, but here’s a few that I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to interact with more!! (In no particular order~ ^^)

@pens-swords-stuff ONE OF THE FIRST WRITEBLRS I FOLLOWED. Undine should be like… a staple of every writeblr’s follow list. This lovely has a friendliness and compassion that knows no bounds, hosts so many supportive writeblr events, has masterful writing that inspires awe, and has so much heckin’ good advice stuck in that there brain of hers that I dunno if she’s even human anymore.

@mvcreates Also one of the first on my following list! Mina has jaw-dropping gorgeous art and graphics, handles her writeblr like an elegant professional, has a poetic type of writing so deeply steeped with symbolism that it makes me faint it’s so good (and such a personal inspiration!! WOW I WISH I had an eighth the skill), is honestly one of the main blocks of writeblr’s foundation with how much she reblogs and reviews other people’s comments, and is just genuinely such a generally fantastic person!

@lady-redshield-writes Lady Red’s writing. I just. It’s indescribable how heckin’ stellar, amazing, gorgeous? Marvelous, wonderful, brilliant, INSPIRATIONAL it is. Lady Red your skills should be illegal what the heck??? STARS ABOVE I have learned SO MUCH from reading your writing, you convey character and environment and worldbuilding in such a fluid and engaging way it is just. Magnificent. Holy stars. AND IN ADDITION TO THAT. Lady Red is one of the biggest rebloggers of other people’s content in the community, and leaves the most bestest of thoughtful comments! This writeblr has literally been the reason behind why I found so many of my favourite wips~

@abalonetea I remember being afraid of interacting with Katie because I was so intimidated by her absolutely masterful manipulation of words and fonts and sentence structure and I just. I was so in awe of her ability to do so much, so well, that I actually didn’t start interacting with her until a fair length of time after I started my writeblr. ^^’ But stars am I glad I did. Not only? Is Katie’s writing and worldbuilding and art just gorgeous and breathtaking and thousands of other wonderful adjectives, but she’s??? Such a genuinely nice person??? The events she hosts are so lovely for the community, too!!

@bookenders 🌵 friend!! Gorgeous writing. Wonderful worldbuilding. Adorable and relatable and marvelously well developed characters. Absolutely amazing poetry and prose both. And such!! A fun and kind and friendly and lovely person to talk to!! Enders is on a bit of a hiatus at the current moment, but they have so much content already up that I highly recommend you take a peek at!

@livvywrites FUN FACT. I WAS ACTUALLY. SO INTIMIDATED BY THE VAST AMOUNT OF WORLDBUILDING AND DEEP LORE THAT YOU HAD FOR YOUR WIPS. THAT I didn’t interact for a good long while. Why. I dunno. I am so heckin’ thankful I did though. Beautiful writing, stellar characters (who I’m love too much), worldbuilding that is so heckin’ deep that Livvy must be spying on a parallel dimension or something because it’s just so amazingly well thought out. And such!! A wonderfully creative, brilliant, kindhearted soul that is just so genuinely fun to chat with~

@dove-actually I’ve only really recently been reading into Dove’s writing but! I can already tell that it is all spectacular. I heckin’!!! LOVE DOVE’S CHARACTERS SO MUCH. Her worldbuilding is absolutely GLORIOUS, her dialogue is hilarious and emotional both, it’s just!! So amazing!!! And that’s not mentioning anything about how fantabulously supportive this lovely is! Dove leaves the most thoughtful and caring comments, and is just such an inspirationally kind and delightful person. 💖

@dogwrites A brilliantly clever and creative writer who knows just perfectly how to tear your heart out and throw it to the wolves (shh puns). Dog’s writing is so chock full of glorious description and inspirational characterization and I just. I need to find time to read more of it ahhhhHHHHH. BUT IT’S SERIOUSLY SO GOOD. And Dog’s aesthetics and graphic edits are always beautiful and so wonderfully fitting, too, ahhhh. AND DOG ALWAYS LEAVES THE NICEST AND MOST IN-DEPTH COMMENTS HOLY STARS. Anyways. Go read Dog’s stuff. Yeah.

@ardawyn Oh my stars!!! SOPHIE’S DESCRIPTION. MAKES ME CRY IT’S SO VIVID AND GORGEOUS AND I CAN ALWAYS FEEL RIGHT LIKE I’M THERE. I love it so so much. And then!! Her characters are lovely, so full of personality and just!! Her writing style is just so elegant and beautiful to read and I just. I love her writing so much mate ahhh. AND THEN HER GRAPHICS???? [Insert ten page essay about why they’re so amazing here.] The colouring the textures the images the formats, how well they all fit. Her aesthetic edits are simply a dream. And that’s not even mentioning how SUPPORTIVE and KIND and FRIENDLY this lovely is!! Her comments give me LIFE. I loveeeee

ANYWAYS YEAH. That’s a lotta text and I wanna actually finish this at some point, so unfortunately that’s gonna be all for this time in terms of the longer comments. Sorry folks. ^^’ I still love all of you immensely, though. Here’s some more absolute inspirations to both me and I’m certain a whole huge part of the writeblr community!

@ditzysworld @tenacious-scripturient @waterfallwritings @milkyway-writes @roselinproductions @royalbounties @stardustscribes @sunlight-and-starskies @reeseweston @holotones @surroundedbypearls @erinnharper @llesbianwrites @radley-writes @vhum @half-explored @emdrabbles @evelyns-spilled-tea @cirianne @popovs @chauceryfairytales @eluari @beanenigma And many others I’m likely forgetting!

I know I don’t interact much with some of you (I just... love too many people’s stuff for the free time I have in a day >n

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 18

Last time, Ross was framed for the murder of Hughes, and may have been “killed” or actually killed by Roy. Hopefully we can figure out what the heck’s going on this episode, because I haven’t been this confused by how a death could be faked or not since BBC Sherlock.

Alright, looks like The Mighty Armstrong (who’s absolutely rocking his off-duty outfit) did take Ed to Resembool, supposedly to get his arm “fixed”. Oh hey, it’s the little Xing girl! May Chang, right? Wait, turn around you two! You just walked past a new character! Wait a minute, last time we saw the little girl she was traveling with- Methinks we’ll have a fight scene this episode. Ed’s demanding details from The Mighty Armstrong, who says he was just told to bring Ed here and rendevou with someone. A Lieutenant Breda? I recognize him as one of the Mustang Crew, but that’s about it. Although Ed doesn’t seem to be that happy to see him. Episode 18 - “The Arrogant Palm of a Small Human” Back in Central, Al’s wondering why Al hasn’t called to let them know he’s in Resembool. And Winry calls out the “repair” excuse when she was RIGHT THERE. Seriously, whatever’s going on they couldn’t think of something better? [Al]: “And the stuff with Lieutenant Ross… I have no idea what’s going on.” You and me both, buddy! What the heck suddenly Sword Guy’s in the room. Sitting right next to Winry? Nope nope nope shove of Princey you are not messing up my ship. Anyways, the illegal alien/lockup escapee popped in to let them know Ed’s just fine- Right as we cut to Ed dying of dehydration. What’s up now, why’s Ed in the desert? “Crossing the border”? Wait, with what Ling was saying, are they going to Xing? Why? Also TURN BACK YOU MISSED MAY! Breda asks the fourth rider, a Mr. Han, how much further it is, and the guide points out some ruins ahead. Wait, ruins? Oh hey, didn’t Ling mention some place called *checks past posts* Xerxes? Somber piano music as we look over the shattered pillars of this past civiliza- nope, Ed’s just ignoring everything to cool off in a well, complaining about how he was nearly burned by his own metal arm. Mr. Han asks why they brought a kid along, Breda complains that it was a direct order. Now that he’s sufficiently cooled off, Ed redresses and asks about his place described in a fable. The Eastern Sage, origin of alchemy? Ooh, history! An ancient kingdom destroyed in a single night, a sole survivor traveling to Amestris to spread the science of Alchemy… And Mr. Han says they have a story of a drifter from the West who lead them towards Alkahestry. Hmm, two survivors, going different directions? Makes sense that Ling would want to visit the ruins then, if Alchemy/Alkahestry originated from here. As they speculate how such an advanced society could be almost completely wiped out in a single night, Ed stops to look at some engravings on a wall. This feels familiar… wait, was this the stuff on the Door of Truth? Before Ed can say anything about that, Han yells at him to catch up. Man, this is a really big ruin, they’re heading insi- wait, what? WAIT WHAT [Lt. Ross]: “Edward!” You’re alive! You’re alive you’re alive you’re alive! How?! [Memory!Roy]: “Back east, where I was… It’s a nice place. None of the big city noise… and lots of beautiful women.” Oh boy, brace for enthusiastic shirtless Mighty Armstrong hugs, Ross. Daw. Breda says that there wasn’t anywhere in Amestris they could safely hide the “dead” Lieutenant Ross, so they spirited her out here. So Ross knew all along? Flashback! Breda’s confronting Roy about the newspaper article, how with Ross being publicly arrested and charged without a trial it’s all too showy. Then Roy gets a call from Falman- who’s quickly interrupted by Barry. Not on an official line, dude! In the park (in what I think is the same phonebooth Hughes was murdered in) Roy is confirming with Barry that a bullet was fired, but at him, not Hughes. And with that, Roy springs into action. He makes Barry promise not to kill anyone (still not sure how he got Barry to follow that), set a street, and had Breda gather supplies… oh. Right. Duh! The core theme of this show is Alchemy! Of course Roy could make a fake body! But that still doesn’t explain the dental records… Roy just says he has it under control. He has plenty of experience burning bodies. Later that night, Roy stops Ross in the alley, then throws down the fake corpse, torches it, takes her ID Cuffs and tosses her in the dumpster, to be escorted by Havoc. There’s a little wrinkle when Ed runs up, but Ross and Havoc make their escape. Back in current!Xerxes, Han’s explaining that Roy made a deal with Ling- hold up, “young lord?” Is this the old ninja working for Ling? I thought his name was Fu, not Han. Anyways, Han got orders to escort Ross east to take refuge. Ed admits that he’s impressed by Roy pulling off the trick. And then Breda twists the knife by saying Ed was sent out as well to not interfere in Phase Two. Oh, they’re gonna try and reel in the mastermind! Using Barry as bait, they want to see who comes for him and take them down. Uuuunfortunately, they’re sending Bio!Barry to do the job… Mid-show pictures of The Mighty Armstrong crying in all of his majestic shirtless glory, and the Holy-Leto-I’m-So-Happy-She’s-Alive Lt. Maria Ross. In the Central Hotel Ling’s let the other Blondes know the plan, and confirming that Ed was sent out of town so that he wouldn’t interfere in the operation. Unfortunately for Roy, Ed’s the Protagonist, so I don’t see this working out. In the meantime, Ling struck up a deal with Barry for the secret to his Soul Armor. But of course all the “science guys” who did Barry up like this are all dead, and he doesn’t know. That Alphonse kid, on the other hand… The Xerxes gang are going over their notes, sketching out the Goths and trying to figure out the methods and reasons behind the Homunculi. Ed takes a moment to think about how Hughes is gone, to which The Mighty Armstrong asks what his next move will be. [Ed]: “Al and I committed a taboo, but we still have people that help us. Some people get angry at us, and others support us silently. Each one of them has tried to help me keep my promise to my brother. So I have no choice… I can’t turn back. Which means, all I can do is move forward, right? And I’ll protect everyone I can along the way. I refuse to let another person become a victim. Not while I’m alive. I know that’s a hard promise to keep. It’s hard enough just trying to take care of myself. And to think that I’m even capable of it… maybe I’m just arrogant. But it’s the only thing I can think of. So I have to do it. I have to.” Cue approving grins from the rest of the group. You go, Protagonist. Ross gets ready to head out to Xing with a couple other people, confirming that her parents shouldn’t be told she’s still alive, otherwise they’d be in too much danger. Bleh, I can understand it, but I don’t want anyone else to feel like Gracia. She does ask they let Roy know that she is supremely grateful for what he’s done, and if there’s anything that she can do to repay the debt to just let her know. One final handshake with Ed, and she’s off to a new home, asking Mr. Fu (so wait, is it Fu or Han?) what Xing is like. As a native, Fu talks it up as a paradise. Then recommends she stop crying to save her fluids for the trek across the desert. Back in Central, Roy’s pencil-pushers are snickering at him as he talks on the phone to his “sweetheart”, who of course is Riza. But she suddenly stops and says they have a “customer”. “Kate”(Fuery) lets “Jacqueline”(Havoc) know. Hey, Falman? You might wanna get ready for a visitor. Bio!Barry is in the house! And in an interesting change of pace, Barry’s the one arguing for keeping someone alive! But then Havoc bursts in and starts trying to shoot Bio!Barry anyways? What’s going on here? Oh I get it, hidden identity in case the Goths are watching. But why try to shoot him and distract Barry? Who’s not doing so hot as he just figured out who this Human Chimera reminds him of, and lost his right arm for the trouble. Outside! Now, where did that Chimera go… broken window! Bio!Barry’s bouncing around the street now, leaps at Havoc who has a really unfortunately-timed stovepipe. Then there’s a rifle shot? Ah, so that’s why Havoc wanted to get outside, so they could get covering fire from Hawkeye. Who plays off the sound over the phone as slapping around a difficult customer. Bio!Barry’s at gunpoint clutching his perforated hand, so Havoc can ask some questions. However, the dude’s not exactly up for conversation. And Barry confirms, it’s his old body! Ok, phew. Was really worried about the evil clone possibility. This is just necromancy via sticking animal souls in corpses, then. In Xerxes, Ed’s gone back to look at that wall from earlier, identifies it as looking like the TC from the Fifth Lab. Two-headed dragon, sun… and the top part missing. No complete Human Transmutation ritual for you! What th- Ishvalan attack! Oh dear, that’s a lot of Ishvalans. [Polite!Ishvalan]: “‘Scuse me, young man. I’m afraid that we’re gonna have to take you hostage until your military returns our holy land to us.” Ed snarks that he isn’t worth that much, Polite!Ishvalan talks about how the death of a single child sparked the Ishvalan Civil War. Then an old lady in an eyepatch (Madam Shan, helped by a young Ishvalan boy who looks to have a burn scar and man there are a lot of burn injuries in the crowd, starting to get a bad feeling) orders the Leader to stand down and stop dishonoring the name of Ishvala. Ed lets his attacker go, muses that he’s always heard that Ishvalans hate Amestrians. But Madam Shan and the kid know that not Amestrians are bad, when they were injured in the civil war they were saved by two Amestrian doctors (!!!) Yeah, yeah they recognize the Rockbell name. They saved so many Ishvalans, refusing to abandon their post. Ed asks how they died- NO NONONO YOU FUCKER WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, SCAR?! So yeah. The Rockbell’s were killed by a patient that they saved, an Ishvalan monk wrapped in bandages with a tattooed right arm. With this knowledge, Ed leaves the Ishvalans, along with a message for the resting place of the Rockbell’s: their thanks, and their apologies. In Central, Barry’s laughing at the chance to chop up his own body, whatever’s kept him from killing people is failing in the face of this otherwise-impossible-opportunity. Riza’s commenting on how a customer is mouthing off… before she hangs up, saying she has her own customer to deal withat is Gluttony. Oooooh crap. You may wanna run, Riza. Wait, that’s it?! Boooo, awful cliffhanger! Ok, so Ross is alive! Yay! Still not sure how they dealt with the dental records, but whatever, everything else was answered! And now we’ve got the Goths responding it seems, with Bio!Barry and Gluttony set loose. Onwards to fight scenes!

[justchamomiletea]

Realizations pt. idk

(The Politician Spoilers ahead)

-just holy heck

-firstly, why does Ben Platt do this to me?

-why does Ben Platt always speak to gay dead teens!

-the colour aesthetic in this makes my heart happy (esp. wardrobe for McAfee and Payton’s mom)

-any and all flashbacks with River made me cry, we deserve more of those, Payton deserves more of those

-gunna be honest, never liked Alice much, don't hate me

-okay so this show is legit all over the place at all times and my brain was like ahhh trying to keep up but I loved it with my whole soul

-(funny to see Ben Platt and Laura Dreyfuss not kissing lol)

-the complexity that is Payton and his emotions makes me so happy and emotional myself, I can only wish happiness to him

-when he just broke in uni, I was so broken

-also, like what universe has this kind of high school drama and elaborate relationships? and like budget? what world are they in and can I be there? actually maybe I don't want that, I don't want to die

-not to be crazy or anything, but my inner fangirl needs more info on Astrid, Payton and River together

-PAYTON AND RIVER

-the representation of so many people, ethnicities, and fluid sexualities is beautiful imo (go pansexuality whoo)

-love how the only sane person dies first ep, and he's not even that sane lol

-dont even get me started on Infinity and her crazy story line and stuff omg

-kinda liked where it ended, kinda want a season 2...

[radiojamming]

hey. hey. i just wanted to say the angel fic with the guns for hire? it was So Good. im eagerly waiting for part 2, which i hope (first of all that this doesn’t sound demanding lmao) includes the pastor, or maybe the marshal? since they both have their own preconceptions of angels, or in Burke’s case ‘angels’. alternatively joey and staci or whitehorse? just cause they’re fun

OH HECK SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. hopefully the length of this makes up for it.

so this one is jerome, burke, pratt, and whitehorse. the rest of the guns for hire + hudson (i have a special aside thing for her, and mostly i was burning out on this section) will be in a part 3, plus a few other NPCs like eli. :D

also, part 1! in case anyone hasn’t read it.

- - -

Jerome makes his guesses when the Deputy arrives in Fall’s End. And truthfully, how can an entire town suddenly liberate itself through the intercession of one save for divine intervention? He’s been praying about it whenever he has a moment to spare; prays for wisdom, prays for deliverance, prays that all will be well and restored to rights. Finally, finally, there is an answer to his prayers.

He tries not to think too hard on it as they’re piecing the town back together, wrenching plywood off windows, sweeping up rivers of broken glass, tending to the wounded, and what ever else needs to be done. These are his neighbors, his friends, and even though the word feels soured by Eden’s Gate, his flock. They come first, and his musing on the Deputy needs to be secondary. 

But he can’t help but wonder when he watches their hands when they apply a patch of gauze, or how they softly console those who grieve. Jerome has prayed for a miracle; the kind that would bring an end to all this suffering. And when prayers haven’t felt like enough, he’s taken up the sword even when the book of Matthew promised he would perish by it. 

Now with the Deputy there, he thinks. He guesses. And he doubts until he remembers that Thomas doubted and Peter denied. 

When the Deputy finally comes into the Spread Eagle, sweat dried on their skin, dirt forming freckles on their face, looking more human than a miracle should, Jerome doesn’t ask. It doesn’t feel like the right time, right when Fall’s End shakily gets back on its feet and tries a hand at normalcy. Instead, Jerome clasps hands with the Deputy in gratefulness, and thanks them with very human honesty.

“You helped a lot of people,” Jerome tells them quietly, once they have a moment to speak without everyone in the bar asking them for more help.

A shy smile spreads over their face, and they nod. “I know,” they say. 

And so does Jerome.

- - -

Burke doesn’t know until he’s in the Bliss. 

His legs carry him through the soft, shimmering green mist, and he follows Faith’s soft humming across fields shivering in a warm wind, down to trickling brooks of crystal clear water. He smiles when his hands brush over clusters of wildflowers, their petals perfect, their colors vibrant. 

In here, he’s happy. Nothing hurts; nothing bothers him. There’s no stress in the Bliss, no sense of looming deadlines or expectations. At some point, he hardly remembers his old life, and outright laughs when he looks down and sees his kevlar vest. It doesn’t have a use anymore, save for being a comfortable, familiar weight against his chest. Why did he resist what Faith offered him for so long? Why did he fight this? He can’t think of anything close to an answer, so he laughs and laughs. He hasn’t laughed like that in years.

And then, Faith’s singing stops. The stars in the Bliss seem to freeze in midair, shining uncertainly. Burke’s laughter dissipates like mist in the sun.

He watches as something moves in the distance, like a heat mirage dancing among the twisted shapes of a grove of oleanders. The shape resolves itself into something vaguely human-shaped, and Burke squints against the too-still Bliss to try to see what it could be. Vaguely, he registers what sounds like someone screaming, but for all he knows, it could be miles away.

Then, he sees.

The Bliss makes it a strange thing, beautiful in a way that only the Bliss could manage. The being is crowned in the twisted stars of white oleander blossoms, and their body is formed of twisting, flowering vines of what must be a hundred different species. Purple and blue flowers fall over them like robes, and orange and red blossoms hang from their shoulders like a cape. Their eyes are two enormous gold lilies, and their lips are made of snapdragons. When they breathe, Burke can smell freesia and lilac, which seem to cleanse the air of the rotting-sweet smell of the Bliss flowers.

“Cameron Burke,” says the thing–spirit? He isn’t sure what to call it. “Let me help you.”

He stares at it, watching their right hand (made of twisting grapevines) rise, and pink-violet alstroemerias shimmer outward from their fingertips. Under their hand, the Bliss cleaves in two, an earth-colored void yawning open and forcing the green haze away.

The screaming gets louder, turns into wails of agony. Burke just blinks in confusion, unsure, uncertain.

Then, the Bliss leaves him. It doesn’t just fade or trickle out of his head. It disappears. It’s gone like it was never there, leaving his head hollowed and his body aching at its loss. He staggers at the sensation, and looks up to see–

The Junior Deputy. Rook.

Burke almost cries at the sight of them.

They’re standing in a clearing at the edge of a copse of trees, a small creek burbling quietly beside them. It must be just after sunset, since there’s still some residual light that allows Burke to see them. 

“What–” he starts, but Rook quiets him by putting their hand on his shoulder, a much warmer, reassuring weight than the kevlar.

“Later,” they say. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, and I’ll explain everything.” 

Burke nods, and something inside of him (close to where that happiness was) tells him that it’s best to stay close beside them, that everything will be alright.

- - -

Pratt finds out in a way that feels a lot like being blindsided by a semi truck.

It’s only a few days after Jacob has all but disappeared from the Whitetails, and rumors have been flying about how Jacob must have been murdered, his body out rotting among the ferns and prairie grass. But no one comes to the bunker to reclaim it or blow it up, and even when the number of Peggies at the bunker gets lower by the day, Pratt can’t seem to force himself to leave it. It’s as if something has locked him in place, like Jacob’s placed an invisible chain around his ankle. He stays, staring at cement walls, listening to the low whine of fluorescent lighting, the repeated messages on loudspeakers that might as well be done in the voice of a ghost.

Then (and it might be three or four days; time is strange down here), there’s a cacophony of noise that erupts on the floor above him, and Pratt clenches his eyes shut, arms shaking at his sides. This is it. This is how it’s going to end. Some Peggie is going to come into the room and finally put a bullet through his head.

The bullet never comes.

“Pratt,” someone says. There are hands on his arms, gentle and warm. One hand goes up to his forehead and pushes his hair away from his face. “Staci. Hey. Hey.”

They stroke his hair, and he feels their thumb go over a cut above his eyebrow. 

Pratt finally opens his eyes.

He nearly hits the ceiling when he realizes he isn’t in the bunker anymore. He’s in a place he doesn’t recognize, save for that it looks like a prison. There are bars on the doors and bars on the windows, cots lined up against the walls; but there are also open boxes of pizza that smells so good that his stomach nearly lurches clear out of his body, and little trinkets scattered around like duck lamps and baseballs and those stupid singing mounted fish. Pratt nearly faints.

Rook (holy shit, Rook) catches him before he hits the floor, hoisting him up with their right shoulder before helping him walk to one of the empty cots. He falls onto it, wide-eyed, gasping for breath, looking around while his head spins and his entire body feels like it’s on a different axis than the rest of the world.

“What the fu–” he starts, coughs, licks his chapped, split lips, and tries again, “What the fuck?”

Rook kneels in front of him, smiling apologetically, of all things. “Sorry,” they say softly. For fuck’s sake, they sound like they’re trying to coax a pet out from under the bed. “I didn’t want to have to do that, but you’d be in there so long. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“Where am I?” Pratt croaks, casting a weary look around.

“Hope County Jail,” Rook replies. 

The jail? That’s– Pratt can’t precisely think of how far away Jacob’s bunker would be from the jail, but the distance would be impossible to cross in under an hour, let alone a few seconds. 

He’s definitely going to faint.

Rook jumps up as Pratt lists hard to his left, their hand darting out to keep his head from hitting the metal frame of the cot. Vertigo seizes Pratt so hard that even if he had hit his head, he doesn’t think it would matter.

Somehow, Rook manages to maneuver him onto his back. They pull a thin linen sheet over him, and of all the stupid things to think, Pratt wonders at the smell of fresh laundry. He’s been so used to smelling every bodily fluid known that laundry of all things smells like heaven. His eyes close on their own volition, exhaustion and a headache dragging him low enough that it’s a wonder he hasn’t collapsed before that point.

“Rest,” he hears Rook say, but their voice sounds like it’s coming from another room. There’s a gentle pressure on his forehead, and the feeling of fingers stroking through his hair. “You earned it.”

Pratt falls asleep to Rook’s soft voice and the feeling of their hands. He dreams of walking over the tops of clouds, with a sky full of blinding starlight above his head.

- - -

Earl Whitehorse has seen a lot of things in his career that he can’t explain, and he knows better than to try. He’s seen people get mowed down by cars, only to get up and walk away like nothing happened. He’s seen little old ladies lift steel pipes off little kids. And he’s seen a quiet, polite man rise up to become a nightmarish cult leader, turning a picturesque western county into a warzone.

But he has never, never seen anything like Rook.

Maybe he should have known back when they were hired, how quickly they took to the job, seamlessly fitting themselves in with the ranks of Whitehorse’s most trusted. And hell, maybe he should have known in the church, when they cast him a quick look that was full of foreboding and concern.

Should we really be doing this? they seemed to ask.

God, he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to. He can’t even count how many times he’s asked himself if things would have been different if they had walked away.

And maybe he should have know when they escaped the burning wreckage of the helicopter, only to blaze a trail across the county in every cardinal direction, cleaning up a mess that’s been over a decade in the process. 

But it isn’t the battle between good and evil, or even so much as a skirmish that finally convinces Whitehorse that his guess is right. It’s a quiet moment at nearly one o’clock in the morning, right after Rook’s arrival and subsequent rescue of the jail.

It’s been a long day, full of no holds barred fighting and the added stress of trying to get the jail back up and fortified. Virgil and Tracey have been nearly running themselves into the floor trying to get things back together. Whitehorse has been barking orders until he thought his throat would go numb. And Rook has been delivering ammunition to the towers and walls, checking up on people, helping where they can.

By one in the morning, Rook and Whitehorse sit at one of the picnic tables outside in the courtyard, sipping at styrofoam cups of burnt coffee. Whitehorse hasn’t said much to Rook outside of a thank you and some orders. There hasn’t been time to get sentimental.

But now, he can see something in Rook’s face. It’s apprehension, maybe something like guilt. They shift around, adjusting weight, sipping at the coffee even though both of them need to rest up for tomorrow. 

Finally, enough is enough, and Whitehorse sighs. “Spit it out, Rook. You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”

Rook sits up straight like they’ve been reprimanded, their eyes wide. Then, they relax again, and look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Sheriff,” they say. “I just… I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Whitehorse doesn’t say a word or do so much as raise an eyebrow.

Rook grimaces. “Things have been so strange lately. I mean, aside from the obvious. But– Shit, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“No, Rook,” Whitehorse replies with a laugh. “I’ve seen crazy, and out here, I think anything goes.”

They offer him a weak smile, and take the opening where it’s offered. “It’s just, I can’t… I can’t die. I’ve been shot, literally shot so many times. And all of those shots should have killed me. One Peggie got me in the stomach with a .50 caliber bullet and I walked it off. I got stabbed in the neck in Holland Valley, and I got an arrow in my kidney up near Jacob’s.” They shrug helplessly, like being functionally immortal is something to apologize for; like it’s inconvenient. “And that’s not the weirdest part! Things just keep happening around me. Animals follow me around, and weird plants pop up. I swear to God, I watched a star move. Like, literally change position in the sky. And it wasn’t a satellite or anything.”

Whitehorse watches them get progressively more frantic. They start detailing the sort of people who talk to them, bring them gifts, cry in their presence, and how a hummingbird landed on their hand the other day. They talk about how a hive full of bees just started droning around their head, but pointedly avoided stinging them. By the time they talk about a woman who started crying at them in something that sounded like Hebrew, Whitehorse puts one hand up to stop them.

“Rook, I’m gonna tell you something right now,” he says, and Rook looks like they’re ready to get an earful about how, yes, they do sound absolutely out of their mind. He takes another swig of coffee before clearing his throat. “Listen, there has always been something different about you. I knew that back when you signed on. And whatever this is–” He gestures to all of them. “–probably won’t surprise me. You’ve got something special about you. Now, I can’t say for sure what it is, but I do know you’re using it for good. And as long as you keep that up, there’s nothing wrong with it or crazy about it.”

It might seem dismissive, but after the Seeds and the Bliss and everything else, Whitehorse thinks that Rook–whatever they actually are–is the best thing that can happen to them.

There’s a long silence that follows, full of the crackling of barrel fires and the soft orchestra of late summer crickets. Then, Rook smiles. 

Eventually, Whitehorse is sure he’ll find out the truth about Rook. Until then, there are a lot of people they can help, and the very real possibility that they can take the county back and fix what’s been done. For now, that’s what matters.

[rantsandaves]

Of Rosy-finches & Men

Even though the Colima Warblers were long gone, I still wanted to see Big Bend National Park on my way out of Texas. As I was driving up late into the night, a light flashed on the dash of my truck. "CHECK GAUGE"- a warning not to be taken lightly. I pulled over and checked my fluids. My oil was about a quart low, so I pulled into a Motel 6 in Del Rio, Texas. I was nearly up to the 4k mark since my last oil change, so I figured it was time.

In the morning I stopped at a Wal-mart to get much-needed groceries and for an oil change. I thought I'd be saving time by combining the two, but a routine service that normally takes twenty to thirty minutes took nearly two and a half hours. I wasn't the only customer upset, but I tried to cut them some slack. It was the day before Thanksgiving, after all. 

Big Bend was a heck of a drive and I had naively hoped to camp there, thinking that most people would be at home with their families instead of at an isolated National Park, but when I arrived there was no place for me to stay. Booked up! I was disappointed but explored the park anyway. 

When I was in New Orleans, my cousin Ashley recommended that I check out Marfa, Texas, a place known for its mysterious lights and artist community. I didn't think I'd actually ever go there, but since I couldn't stay at Big Bend, it was sort of on my way to the interstate and provided a free place to stay the night. I sat on the top of my truck and watched the sunset at the Mysterious Marfa Lights viewing area. The lights danced beneath the mountains in the distance like distant fireflies. A light glow crept upon the flat desert. The lights are likely results of atmospheric conditions bouncing light around, reflections of the setting sun, passing headlights and campfires on BLM land. Or at least that's what they'd like you to think. 

I started my truck on Thanksgiving morning just outside Marfa, Texas. It was cold in this part of the desert, so I turned the heat on for the first time in two weeks. As I drove through the town of Marfa, I came to a stop sign. All of a sudden, my oil pressure gauge started bouncing like crazy, bottoming out then hitting the top, making a sound like "tick, tack, tick, tack." I pull into a dirt lot and shut off the car. I open the hood and check the oil. The level is fine, but something seems off. The oil drips down like water. It's a national holiday. I'm in a very small town. Nothing is open, except the gas station next to the dirt lot. I walk in hoping for some oil or oil additive but they're conveniently all out of anything for a non-diesel engine. 

I get back in the truck and allow myself to be upset for exactly one second. I start the truck and turn off the heater. The oil pressure gauge sits perfectly in the middle. I pull forward onto Route 90. All's fine until I slow to the next stop and my RPM dips below 1500. Tick, tack, tick, tack! As soon as I pick up speed, the gauge straightens out again. I figure maybe the wonderful Del Rio Wal-mart put the wrong viscosity oil in my truck and it is messing with the pressure. Or maybe they left something loose. Or maybe it's the oil pump. Yikes.

 I pull over and start obsessively googling what all the possible problems could be, then where I can go get my oil changed again. I call a bunch of shops, but naturally the only place open and available to do an oil change in the vicinity on Thanksgiving day is nearly two hundred miles away at a Wal-mart in El Paso. I say a Hail Mary to whoever the patron saint of Ford Rangers may be and hit the road. As long as I keep the RPM up I'll be okay. 

I make it to the El Paso Wal-mart after driving like Sandra Bullock in Speed. As I wait for the second oil change, I'm pacing nervously. "No mental-breakdowns inside the Wal-mart," I keep repeating to myself. My truck is everything I have. I'm upset thinking about how maybe someone's carelessness messed it up, how much it'll cost to get the oil pump changed out, or how many days I'll have to stay in El Paso waiting for a decent shop to open up. 

They hand me the keys back. I sit in the parking lot, idling for about a minute. The oil pressure gauge sits unwaveringly. My next stop was Sandia Crest outside Albuquerque, New Mexico. Do I play it safe and try to make the eleven hour drive directly home to Los Angeles? Or should I wager that the problem has been fixed and drive four hours to get those Rosy-finches at Sandia? I'll give you a hint as to what I chose:

On my way to Albuquerque, outside Truth or Consequences I slow down as I come up to a border patrol checkpoint. As I'm waiting to be asked if I'm an American citizen, the gauge starts jumping up and down again, just not as bad as before. In my rearview, I see a small cloud of blue smoke coming out of the exhaust. As soon as I get past the border patrol, I pull off into a picnic area. I check the oil level and it seems to not have changed but it definitely smells like burning oil. I say another Hail Mary and make it to Albuquerque just as the sun is setting. It's Thanksgiving, so use my hotel points for a free night, splurge on some beer and a mini-pumpkin pie. I spend the evening thinking about all the experiences and people I'm grateful for (this includes you, dear reader!) and that even if the year ends now with my truck on the outs, it would still be one amazing year. 

As the sun rises, I check under the hood and under the car. No oil leaks as far as I can tell. I drive slowly around town, letting the RPM dip below 1500. The pressure gauge stays where it needs to be, but I take it to one of the only shops open on Black Friday just to be safe. I immediately get man-splained about how to check my oil. They then tell me that it'll cost me $90 to have it looked at ("diag'ed" the guy said), and it won't be looked at until Monday because none of their techs have an oil pressure tester. I roll the dice... up Sandia we go. I arrive at the top of the peak, at just over 10,000 feet above sea level. This is my second trip up Sandia Peak to find Rosy-finches. The first time there was still snow on the ground but no finches. Now there's no snow on the ground and hecka finches! I was thrilled. Black Rosy-finch, Gray-crowned Rosy-finch and Brown-capped Rosy-finch were all present.  I sat and watched as all three species flew around the feeder, up in the conifers and down on the ground. I didn't even get altitude sickness this time around. 

From Sandia, I drive to Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. I had never been but had been told by many birders that it is a must-see. I also somehow managed to avoid seeing a Ross's goose all year and knew that a visit to Bosque meant I could finally check that bird off my list. I drove around the auto-tour loops in the late afternoon and watched as the Sandhill Cranes started coming in to roost. The Cranes must've numbered in the thousands, and there was no shortage of people visiting to take their picture. I got my Ross's Goose and even a surprise Western-screech Owl as the night set in. I magically had zero truck problems for the rest of the day. Maybe the Marfa lights did something to my engine. 

Headed slowly to California, I found my way back to Arizona and stayed on I-10. I visited the Holy Trinity Monastery/RV Park to see the Rufous-backed Robin and got lucky to see the Robin for all of three seconds out of three hours of searching. I then went to Las Cienegas National Conservation Area to look for Baird's sparrows, but being late in the day there was hardly any activity. I set up camp in Las Cienegas, which is BLM land at a beautiful spot between the Sonoran and Chihuahuan Deserts. I'd try for the Baird's again in the morning. 

As I was about to make dinner, Adam called. We hadn't talked since Thanksgiving day and I was so happy to hear from him. We talked about our days and he asked me to describe the area I was camping at. I happily described the yellow-white hay-like grass that came up to my knees, how the mountains rolled against the skyline and the mesquite trees were short and stubby. I told him how much I love the Arizonan deserts, how you can just park on BLM land and there's no one around besides the javelinas. I described the feeling of being surrounded by the stars at night. In retrospect, this reminds me of the end of Of Mice and Men, where Lennie is daydreaming about tending to the rabbits, completely oblivious to his demise. "Tell me about the rabbits, George." 

I ask him how he's doing. He says he's having a difficult time, and then... As I'm so close to being in the same state as he is after over a month, he tells me he needs space. As I'm staring at the odometer on my truck, thinking about the 45,000 miles I put on it while driving by myself across the country, he tells me he doesn't want to prevent me from going places. As I'm camped out in hopes of reaching the 630 mark on my year list he tells me he doesn't want to keep me from achieving my dreams.

I was presented for the first time this year with a situation I could not get myself out of. I could get myself unstuck from mud and snow. I could get un-lost from the middle of nowhere without cell reception. I could navigate my way out of strange interactions with unsavory folks. I could get out of floods, hailstorms and away from tornadoes on the horizon. But I couldn't get out of this. 

An unexpected new experience to check off of the list: being officially dumped. An added bonus: being dumped in the desert. I felt like the old couch I had just driven past on Route 82. I wondered if the couch's owner had told the couch it was not its fault too. It was just me and the javelinas as I watched the sun set. At night, it was warm enough to keep the windows open so I could feel surrounded by the stars, like millions of tiny holes poked in a giant navy blue blanket. Even without my glasses, I could see the shooting stars go by.

I hardly slept, but the few hours I managed included sunrise. I woke up late on the Sunday after Thanksgiving and drove around looking for Baird's Sparrows. I found a couple on Curly Horse Ranch Road, further south from Las Cienegas. I had a hard time focusing and so did my camera, but I knew from the ochre face and the short, neat stripes across their breast that it was my 630th bird species for the year. I wanted to celebrate, but I was having a difficult time cheering myself on. Last I was in Arizona, back in August, I didn't think I would get this far. And now I wasn't sure how I could continue. I called my parents and told them I was coming home. 

On my way back to LA, I tried for the Ruddy-ground Dove outside Phoenix with no luck, but to be honest I didn't try as hard as I should have. Further west, I stopped at the "Thrasher Spot" off the 10 and finally got the LeConte's Thrasher that had eluded me in March. I was happy for a minute, then I kept going. After hours in post-holiday traffic, I was glad to be back in the home I grew up in surrounded by the people that love me unconditionally. 

I don't think I'll leave California for the remainder of the year. Although California is my home state and there's emotional comfort in being here, there are plenty of birds worth staying for as well. There's a Garganey, a Nazca Booby, a Red-footed Booby, as well as some more common birds I need like the Island Scrub-jay and the Tricolored Blackbird. And despite this heartache, I know I've been able to persevere through worse. I've still got my truck. I have 631 reasons to smile and a whole lot of birds left to see. 

[ununniliad]

Orange Crush

(Warning: Non-sexual kinkiness (with one or two moments of sexual implication) under the cut!)

In a nice sunny restaurant on a nice sunny day, at a patio table with a wide unfolded parasol over it, sat a girl with gray skin, yellow eyes and black hair. She had two horns on her head, one short and nubby, the other long and curving. She wore a green vest over a black T-shirt, a tan skirt, gold sandals, and an aura of nervous energy.

Her name was Swatii Kaksik, and currently, she was toying with her strawberry lemonade, swinging her legs, and running in mental circles. Aaaaa date. Aaaaa kink date. Aaaaa kink date with incredibly impressive alien girl who she definitely wasn't good enough for--

Nope nope nope! Swatii took a deep breath and let the thoughts of inadequacy dissolve into the background noise, the sizzling of cicadas and the bustle of people. She was done with that. She was on Earth, and on Earth, she was the cool alien girl. Yeah!

"Hullo there. Is this seat taken?"

Swatii looked up... and up... and up! Oh my goodness she was huge with muscles and those horns--

"Yes! I mean, n, n, by my d-date, if, um, Bedelia, if you're her." Swatii tried to arrange her facial features into a smile and not a slack-jawed drool.

The six-foot shaggy orange bull-girl smiled. "I am Bedelia, as it happens." She took the seat across from Swatii, who couldn't take her eyes off of her; her outfit, crisply-pressed pink slacks with a flowy white blouse, way too stylish; her broad arms, settling on the table; her subtle curves, under her outfit; her face, smiling and interested, with little laugh lines around deep blue eyes that were focused on her and were impossibly--

"Beautiful," Swatii said, then clapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed.

Bedelia's smile widened. "Really, you think so?"

Aaaaa! Aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa! said one part of Swatii's mind.

Welp, said another part. You can tell the amazing lady what you think of her, or clam up. Whatcha gonna do.

Swatii meekly put her hands down. "B-beautiful," she said. "Gorgeous. Stunning. Holy heck hot. I, I think so." Her cheeks were burning orange. Aaaaa, her mind helpfully added.

Bedelia giggled. "Goodness. Ten points for some lovely honesty, plus ten more for saying it so adorably."

Swatii melted. Her smile got wide and vague, her eyes lost focus, and her situational awareness softened and ran. "y'lik s'mth'n t'eat?" she managed to say.

Bedelia chuckled. "Well, I'm eating up your reactions." She picked up the menu. "But I am rather thirsty."

"Haha wow." Swatii put her face on the table and babbled quietly for a bit.

When she looked up, Bedelia was watching her quietly sipping a glass of orange juice. Swatii pondered that for a moment, thighs squeezing together. What a fucking power move. Holy fuck.

Okay, okay. She couldn't lay here and babble all afternoon. There would be time for that lat-- ahahaha, wow. She swallowed, sat up and grabbed her drink. "So," she said, "I've, um, heard a lot about you, your reputation, heh, um," she rubbed her cheek, "um, precedes you, um, what have you heard about me?"

Bedelia smiled. "Good things." She ticked off on her fingers. "You're new to the area, but you've already made an impact on the scene. You're a responsive sub and an enthusiastic domme, but it takes time and trust for you to be open for either. You're really sweet, to your partners and to everyone else around; you're an accomplished musician, and your face when you get complimented for it is beautiful; and all your bodily fluids are orange." She raised her glass, winking.

"Ahahaha--" Swatii bit her lip. The blush had now reached her toes, and her chest felt like a hot air balloon about to lift off. "Thank, um, yes, that's, that's true, thank you, um, I'm just gonna." She covered her face for a moment, took a deep breath, let it out, put her hands down. "Yeah. Also, have I mentioned you're hot yet?"

"I got that impression." Bedelia leaned forward, elbow on the table, face in her hand, examining Swatii's face with intense interest. "I also get the impression that you've got a purpose. Something internal, that you're working towards. And you brought it here, and you're nervously waiting to let it out 'cause you're not sure how I'll react."

Swatii wheezed, wanting to disappear under the table and into the earth and take a nice nap at this planet's core, but was pinned perfectly under Bedelia's gaze. "It's... I'm... I am discovering how incredibly hot it is to be peeled open and read like a book. My knees are gelatin, I couldn't stand up if I tried."

Bedelia chuckled. "That's why I do it." She stared at Swatii, inescapably Listening.

Swatii closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ...and another one. ...and another one. She peeked. Bedelia was still Listening. Aaaa. She took one more breath, screwed up her courage, and said, "Well um I was thinking maybe you could-- you could teach me and I could help you!!" She bit her lip and waited for a response... waited... peeked.

Bedelia was looking at her, eyebrows raised, curious, smiling. "Teach and help with what, dear?"

Oh shi-- "Sorry um sorry domming!" She sat up and squeezed her fingers together. "Like, um, you're really amazing and the best and I thought maybe I could learn from the best like I saw this really amazing co-domming scene and I was like wow and I don't even know if you'd be interested and I thought it might be dumb to ask but Genny told me none of my ideas are dumb and I should take risks but it's okay if you're not interested I totally understand and--" Swatii burst out in a paroxysm of coughing, wheezing with her hand over her chest.

"Oh!" Bedelia jumped up. "Oh, hon, breathe, it's okay, just breathe... there you go... have a sip, there..."

When Swatii was breathing normally, Bedelia scooted her chair over and sat down next to her, putting a broad arm around her shoulders. "I have to say, I've never gotten an offer like that before. Especially delivered with such adorable passion!" She rubbed Swatii's arm, and Swatii siiiiighed. "I admit, I don't have experience either co-domming or teaching my craft."

Swatii noddled. "Makes sense..."

"But," Bedelia continued, "I've always been interested in the idea of co-domming. And I never really knew who I'd feel comfortable doing it with. Trying with a baby switch that I've trained up myself sounds lovely!"

Swatii squeed! "Oh! Oh god thanks! Wow!" Her fists squeezed together. She couldn't believe it.

"But!" said Bedelia, putting on a Quite Serious face. "I do have one condition."

Swatii meeped. "Y-yeah?" she quavered.

"You get so adorable and squishy, I simply must get the occasional chance to dominate you into a pile of drippy orange goo."

Swatii squished her thighs together and squirmed. "I mean, of course! Isn't that what this whole date has been?"

Bedelia laughed out loud and ruffled Swatii's hair. "What an excellent point."

[spaacejunk]

The signs as things I've said in "Aw frickity, group chat edition"

Aries: We can have our phones out there but God forbid a boy sees a kneecap.

Taurus: butt fruit haha

Gemini: Is this what validation feels like?????

Cancer: ITS SPORTACUS!!!!!

Leo: I just drank 32 fluid ounces of water in one sitting, crown me your king

Virgo: HOW PHOTOGENIC CAN HUMANS GET IM CRYING THEY'RE ALL SO BEAUTIFUL

Scorpio: I'm lowkey McDead inside

Libra: GUYS HOLY HELL. also good morning.

Sagittarius: I want to glue string to my face and I don't know why

Capricorn: The Bum Butt thing?? I swear that was just My brother, I never participated in that.

Aquarius: My brother can burp the alphabet one by one.

Pieces: Go to heck you motherfricker

[winxrus]

World of Winx season 2 review

SPOILERS BELOW

Now that I’ve said bye bye high school,  let’s talk about WOW!

~(beware my ability to make gifs)~

Holy canoli.

This season was A-MAZING! Definitly better than the last one, and I loved season 1.

Things I utterly loved:

The winx

-Bloom

Okay maybe Bloom in the beginning was a a bit spotlighted (what else is new) and I had to take innumerable deep breaths whenever she sang or was mentioned that SHE was the one who wrote the lyrics for the band, I must say that she was great in this season. I found really interesting how her nemesis was approached: The fact that nobody else could see her but Bloom, how the others thought she was a little “cuco cuco” with her actions and words but always worried for her. Idk I liked it, it made her vulnerable and not so FOREVER INVINCIBLE. She was great in this season.

-Stella

Oh, my heart. I believe Stella’s personality was one that definitely was rescued, I found myself laughing more with her, she wasn’t so “exaggeratingly eccentric and childish”, she showed that she was aware of what she was capable of without being cocky. She was more mature.   And when her nemesis brought back her childhood insecurities (COF COF FLASHBACK SEASON 2) that nearly crushed me. Stella isn’t confident all the time, she doesn’t find herself perfect nor adored by everyone. She has her insecurities and demons and she overcame them and that is such an important message…Stella you won my heart.

(And fuck you mermaids)

-Flora

HANDS UP FOR THE SHY BADASS FLORA! HER POWERS WERE ON! Seriously, I know that in beginning she was considered one of the most powerful fairies of the squad, but I couldn’t see it until now! I mean, the way she defeated her Nemesis and managed to restore (even if it was only for some seconds) the forest of the world of dreams made me speechless. You go Flora, you goddess, Nature is powerful indeed! Plus, extra kudos for the flower scene…WOW knows what truly is important and what messages should be transmitted to the audience.

(I also adored her playful side, so kawaii)

-Musa

#letmusasing

(Despite that) I got many good surprises from Musa in this season, in fact, she features one of my favorites scenes:

I said- I CAN’T SLEEP WITH THE LIGHTS ON!- I died in that scene.

Her personality was back: Boy did I miss the sassy, bossy and “I’m gonna kick your ass you pirate son of a witch” Musa.  Yes she’s more feminine but she knows when to raise her hand and voice on a tough sitch! (Not to mention how to stop fires) And even tho she has that tough side of hers, they were loyal to her soft side: she still is a dreamy person, creative, emotional and feels things intensively. I love that. [thinks about the scene where she stares at the ceiling of the theater].

I loved how she was more involved with music during the show, either in casual short scenes or in her powers.  Speaking of wich, one of the things that I believe WOW ruled was exploring their powers individually: I got so many shivers at the Notre Dame scene, when those bells started playing the theme song in such a sweet delicate melody *dies*, all in all, Musa worked a lot with sound waves and finally did something that I was dying for her to experience! – Eco localization.

I say yes to the Paris lover/rules at gymnastics Musa(I mean she pratically had a Quasimodo moment on Notre Dame) and I hope we can see her singing more instead of just testing the sound…

-Tecna

My baby, my precious. I felt like my soul left my body when I saw her fighting Virus with the sword. EPPPIC! Tecna is not all about computers in WOW, she actually shows how clever and perceptive she is. I meam sure she loves technology and all that but her logic isn’t dependent on a computer: she can fight, she can think, she learns how to trust her instincts (one of her biggest battles during the whole show) and she can also be goofy, kind, an amazing friend and a beautiful “control freak” *w* (yes my girl loves her shit in order prob TINK?!)

-Layla (Don’t care she’ll always be Layla to me)

Was I the only one who felt she was very bitchy during the whole season? And not just with Matt but, well, in general. Anywho, tossing that to the side, I liked her character development, how she learnt to trust Matt and that, episode by episode, her faith on him was growing. I also liked how they portraited her as a girl who “doesn’t think before she acts”, who’s impulsive and wants to get down to business, because Layla is brave, strong and powerful and dealing with her Akeles heels also seemed interesting to me (even tho I found her Nemesis the most boring).  Her powers got another turn: she was a morphix fairy, then fluids fairy(1st movie), then fairy of waves and now back to the fluids (I’m actually pretty okay with that).

Thumbs up on the sarcasm and on the more screen time.

New characters and plot

I found the plot itself very interesting. Once again, it’s like Disney, Once upon a time ad winx had a baby and Dragon is it good.

The story was intriguing, the characters design was beautiful and unique: in love with Matt’s hair, the pirates concept was awesome and the mermaids style was so back to rainbow 2008 art! Heck even the nemesis look incredible even tho some scared the shit out of me(yes virtigo and banshee i’m talking to you). The songs were also good (mainly onirix), there wasn’t an episode where I felt like”END ALREADY”. I SAY HELL YEAH to transformation sequences that seduce me. I specially loved how well their powers were explored, how Flora was so incredible and SHE TRAVELLED THROUGHT THE ROOTS OF THE PLANTS OF THE EARTH YALL, Layla surprised me with the way she managed to control water….They’re not just “naming powers” that look the same,this is deep stuff guys, each fairy is powerful because of their uniqueness and essense and that amazed me.

Summing up: 5 STARS!

So that’s why I’m just going to state the things that slightly annoyed me (EVEN THO THE GOOD THINGS OVERWEIGHT THE BAD ONES, THE BAD ONES ARE PARTICALLY NOTHING BIG OR DRAMATIC)

-How Tinkerbell gave up her powers-“Tinkerbell, you can’t get rid off your powers for someone you just met!” I mean, I’m a romantic person, I’m all about the cheesy loving stuff, but that was too much, too desperate and quick. Their whole love story was pretty much like that and I was actually excited when they met in forest, but now… No me gusta.

-I know plenty of people shipped Tinkerbell and Matt but…

I WANT ANSWERS

-The winx in action (as fairies in the world of dreams) I felt like they were more powerful individually in this season than together. Yeah, we got some nice convergence scenes but they didn’t seem so BAAAM you know? Like in the finally battle what did they do? It’s not that I don’t like Onirix, I actually found it very nice (including song and outfits) but when during action time? Ehhh…

-#letmusasing

-Tecna only makes shields…I only liked when she fought without being transformed, when she could just touch the floor and get acess to the systm in the room, her logical vision, her fighting skills, etc… Onirix was just boring for her ☹

Do I want a third season?

 YES and no. Yes, cuz damn I’m loving WOW so far but no because we all know in this fandom what happens to things when they get long…they end up “corrupted”, ruined, fucked.

So yeah there you go 😊 Thank you Netflix for bringing my girls back, for restoring their personalities, their “badassness”. For giving important mature messages without making the show childish and dull. For reminding us that our fairies rule with or without magic and that they’re not completely lost. Thank you for making me really happy and hopeful.

(I bet Venomya would cringe at my review…)

[chromemuffin]

Shoukoku no Altair / Altair: A Record of Battles

Another series I will be liveblogging, this time a wonderfully detailed manga set in a fictional version of the Ottoman Empire/Turkey (and written by a historian! how rare!). I guess Captive Prince got me started on a historical fiction kick, and I’ve been eyeing this manga for over a month wondering if I should read it or wait for the anime that comes out anyway...I decided to pick it up.

There are 18 volumes of this thing, so I suppose I should liveblogging by volume unless the posts start to get way too long. Which they may, if I get my hands on raws. I am a huge language nerd, so.

Chapter 1

First off, after reading the blurb at the end of the fan translated first chapter, I found out that the ‘shoukoku’ part of the title is a word the manga-ka made up. Composed of the words for ‘general’ and ‘country’ (a country run by generals), the translator found the word stratocracy (a government ruled by the military) fit the description best. Which is why the fan translations use the ‘Turkiye Stratocracy’, which is great because there is no confusion if you know what a stratocracy is, or take a second to look it up.

Meanwhile, the official Kodansha version calls it the ‘Devleti of Turkiye’. ‘Devleti’ is apparently Turkish for ‘state’ (so the State of Turkiye). Very different, and both good. I love translation work for this very reason. I think I prefer using stratocracy. It’s true to the original, and clearly distinguishes this story as being an alternate version of Turkish history to those who know the Ottoman Empire was a monarchy. There are already quite a few unfamiliar words around.

But. I also find myself liking Devleti of Turkiye haha.

HM THIS WILL REQUIRE MORE THAN ONE POST. There is so much to talk about before getting to the chapter itself.

First: the cover

all of them are so beautiful. The amount of detail in every article of clothing from the hat to the jewels to the pattern embroidered around the hem. And the sword. I know nothing about Turkish history or culture (and forgot what little my american schooling taught about the ottoman empire), but a quick search for Turkish swords yields some examples of the more intricately decorated ones. The manga-ka is a historian/majored in Turkish history which. is great.

It’s a pity the Kodansha volumes are digital only?? I’d pay for a physical copy (but don’t hate myself enough to buy a Jpn copy...historical stuff has too many complicated kanji)

I wish I knew more about their style of dress because it’s drawn so well. I’ll look that up another time.

I really love the asymmetry with the glove he wears for his golden eagle to land on. It’s not in every illustration, but it even goes up to his elbow as it should for a larger species of bird, apparently. it’s just. so much great detail.

his shoes

He has this like teeny tiny waist that is totally out of proportion with his massive hats. Also: how do you even figure out where all those folds go in those clothes.

Also, it uses the Turkish word for ‘chapter’, faşil. I’m assuming that’s the right one, of course. Manga likes to change up the words they use for chapters depending on the setting.

ANYWAY FINALLY THE STORY

Why is one of the months called ‘sugar’ in Turkish (sheker, or şeker more technically)??

Look at him, striking a cool pose. I find it funny that he strikes all these confident poses, but he’s actually quite tiny next to everyone else. He probably does it because 1) he is confident in his own abilities and 2) he’s still a teenager in a world of adults, and it’s held against him in this chapter. His inability to do anything later frustrates the hell out of him as it is.

AND HERE COMES HIS BIRDIE. my favorite already

the fuck this type of bird was supposedly used to kill wolves

and it weighs 8-11 lbs depending on male/female

This kid is stronger than he looks. Although, his is male (named Iskander, so I assume), and the males weigh less (avg of 8 lbs) but still. I guess that’s why he has a male one. The females are massive and would probably dwarf his tiny self.

How is this not a wonderful shot, though.

Also, thank goodness for katakana or else I’d have no idea how to even approach pronouncing his name.

As for the situation itself, we jump right into things with a national crisis.

He looks younger when caught off-guard.

Tell me you did not carry that 8 pound bird aloft on your arm all the way here.

The official translation forgot Halil’s nickname/title “大都市” (large city/metropolis).

And this is where things get interesting. Usually in the peace vs. war debate, one side will always seem unreasonable no matter how hard the characters try to convince you otherwise, but I like how this one is set up.

On one hand you have the side that wants war, sees the enemy nation as a threat, and even throws in that ‘do you want to make a scapegoat of one of your countryman just to avoid war’, though can’t really tell if that’s sincere sentiment or not.

But then the old guy, Halil just says ‘yes, if it means peace’. Kind of a classic argument? Reminds me of Akatsuki no Yona, and the state of their country before the story starts.

this. just. his face. I needed to show the two together. Zaganos is obviously not impressed.

and therein lies the problem with politics: its not really about what’s right. I mean, everyone in the room can probably guess that their own soldiers weren’t responsible. But for all present except Mahmut, the meeting was never about finding out the truth.

Also, I love how he rants to Iskander, and even asks him a question directly as if he can answer.

o.o don’t ask me i’m just a bird

Halil calls him “Mah-kun” in Japanese, but the English version gets rid of this. It’s a pity, since it shows how close they are.

“You only just became a pasha, and now this. You must be exhausted.”

Dude, if he’s exhausted then what are you. You’ve had this position for 20 years.

And! yay! He’s angry at himself and his inability to do anything, rather than be angry at Zaganos. Shows that he really is more mature than he looks (especially with his grumpy facial expressions and petite self lol)

He looks just like his mother. D: poor baby iskander and mahmut

the amount of detail in this manga. see the rabbits hanging in the corner? 

also about the next panel: holy shit he fucking heard that??? his mother getting killed right in front of him, and he managed to stay quiet. poor terrified child like holy shit. and he managed not to crush little Iskander

I’m not going to show it, but if you look closely you’ll see she was not only stabbed in the chest, but also had a hand cut off at the wrist. wtf

every panel is so pretty jslethasdk the amount of detail in every background

his expression here just kills me. he’s just coming to the horrible, heart-wrenching realization of what has happened and UGH

I just really like his range of expressions. He’s just so damn uncomfortable with his elder, a guy he obviously respects and has a history with, bowing to him like that.

How can your heart not break seeing this. All he has left is his bird, the bird whistle, and the container for holding the bird’s meat.

Oh you conniving bastard- I actually thought the Emperor was in on it until the second read through I’m doing now. It was hard to notice since the panel just cuts from one scene to the next.

TINY CHILD YOU. Mahmut is taller than Halil counting the headpiece but he is made to look so tiny in front of adults. I think he’s supposed to be around 17 at the moment?

Man, he had a plan. How the heck did he have time to prepare the animal blood anyway? What a classy way to deal with your enemies.

I’m also happy that the manga-ka can draw birds so well. Iskander looks lovely.

...And that is actually really fucking scary. Those golden eagles are huge and strong enough to take out wolves.

The subtle expressions are great. As is the exchange between Mahmut and Zaganos here. They will probably clash again in the near future, but it seems they’ve gained a little more respect/acknowledgment for each other.

And now THIS, this is very interesting.

It looks like a statue, and that is clearly Mahmut and Iskander. I won’t make any guess though, I’m usually dead wrong with speculations.

I love the lines in this though, so fluid with Mahmut and straight and angled with the knight guy.

onward →

[kipsyq]

Talking about the worlds of KH3

I wanted to share some of my thoughts on Kingdom Hearts 3.  I’ll keep it as spoiler free as possible, but if you don’t know what Disney worlds show up in this game, ignore this post because I’ll be talking about most of them.   

So here we go!

Olympus (Not Olympus Coliseum).  I liked this world.  It was a good world to start with and had a lot of hype in it.  I was always wondering if this world existed in just a colosseum and people magically appeared to see the competitions, but apparently not.  No, there’s two cities AND Olympus too!  The world expanded so much and I liked it.  Also they finally addressed the movie’s plot, which was nice.  Also, I loved how Sora broke the fourth wall at the beginning, asking where the usual fan fare was, since there wasn’t one this time.  Plus it was so full of twists, like characters actually talking over text boxes!  The acting was....a little off.  And sadly we don’t hear Phil talk, which is okay because his model looked horrific.

Twilight Town: Boy does this town look as beautiful as ever.  The music is great and it’s full of people!  ACTUAL PEOPLE WHAT.  Everywhere you go, there’s someone talking and it feels alive.  Also, if you happen to find the outdoor theatre and watch the movie, you hear some hilarious reactions from Donald, Goofy and Sora.  They don’t mention how it’s a movie about Sora and Mickey, but it’s still cute.  Also Remmy!!!  I loved Ratatouille!  It’s a shame they don’t call him by his real name, but in reality, how would you know what his name is if he can’t speak to anyone else other than mice?  I also loved the story here.  Later on, a certain three characters become one of my favorite things about this game.

Toy Story:  The hyped out world we’ve known about since the beginning!  Was it good?  It definitely was.  The story was great and I loved watching the interactions between Woody and Sora.  Woody and Buzz also have this strong friendship with each other that feels so genuine.  I loved the story and the minute you enter the world, you’re faced with something both epic and out of nowhere.  Not saying what it is, but it made me think that Square Enix was doing a commercial in the middle of the game.  It’s a huge world though and I got lost a lot.  I did like the different places we went to and some of the mini games were fun.  Not to mention, Woody is now best toy.  FIGHT ME.

Tangled: How the absolute HECK did they get that animation so close to the original?!  I’m dead serious, they nearly REPLICATED the animation, but you can definitely tell it was redone for the game.  It’s so impressive to see every major moment of this movie get great treatment.  I love how much they stress how innocent of a character Rapunzel is.  She’ll divert the journey a few times to catch birds or play in the water with Sora, which is freaking CUTE.  Yeah, sure some moments are skipped because reasons, but it was still fun.  This world showed me how sweet and adorable Sora can be and I genuinely cared about everyone.  Also, this world introduced some of the most dramatic cutscenes ever and interactions between Sora and a certain person we all hate.  One of them at least.  The boss fight was also epic as heck and had a really cool design.  If you read the description of the boss, it actually makes a ton of sense why it was designed that way.  There were also moments I just imagined Sora walking in on with no clue what the heck he missed.  Also the dancing mini game was so fun and filled me with so much happiness because Sora is actually a pretty good dancer.  And also watching him, Donald, and Goofy spectate some of the bigger scenes made things feel more genuine.  There’s this one scene of them watching the lanterns fly that looked so beautiful, I screenshotted it and am considering making it my background.  It was beautiful.  Everything was beautiful.

Monster’s Inc:  Would you believe me if I told you they made a unique story for this world?  It’s actually a sequel to the first movie!  Not the prequel, but a sequel.  I LOVED THAT.  Sully and Mike were so cute with Boo.  They constantly show their love and affection for her and how much they genuinely care about her.  They also make use of the “laugh power” thing that actually gives us hilarious moments between Sully, Mike, and the three.  I love to see goofiness in this game.  The world was okay.  I wasn’t particularly a fan of the mechanics and gameplay of the world, but the story was fun enough to continue through.  And the biggest surprise I saw was that we were fighting unversed.  I didn’t expect to see those come back.  The ending cutscenes were almost as suspenseful as the previous world’s which BLEW MY MIND.  So much exposition dumped on poor Sora and then we have DOORCEPTION.  You’d understand if you saw the cutscene.

Frozen: I’m both impressed and disappointed with this world.  On one hand, the interactions are nice.  I liked how Sora interacting with Elsa added more to the pain you feel when she tries to push them away.  I felt that in the movie, but more here.  The world was beautiful, but kind of bland because snow was everywhere.  Sora turning from islander to snow lover to snow hater was hilarious.  Kind of a spoiler, they get knocked off the mountain a couple times, and Sora is literally tired of it.  This world showed me how flexible Haley Joel Osment is with his voice.  Also, remember when people were speculating this world would be like the Ariel worlds with singing segments and were fearful it would be just as bad.  Well they were partially right.  Did you really think Disney wouldn’t try to find a way to incorporate two of their most popular songs into a Frozen world?  Don’t worry, Sora doesn’t sing at all but he’s in the scene.  And actually, the songs fit into the narrative and weren’t just put there because it’s Frozen.  They showed Sora and his friends what kind of situation he’s dealing with.  Also the animation, like the Tangled world, was almost EXACTLY LIKE THE ORIGINAL.  I’m convinced the song Elsa sang was the same version from the movie, not altered or redone, but it’s still nice.  But what was I disappointed by?  Well, we hardly see Anna or Cristoph and Hans isn’t even relevant enough to get a scene.  I’m dead serious, even the game sees him as unimportant.  He just takes Elsa like he does in the movie and is revealed to be covered in darkness.  That’s it.  They also don’t explain why Elsa was taken down the mountain by Hans or Anna, who was left with Hans, was suddenly not healed.  If you never watched the movie, you’d be confused.  Also, the world just...ends.  No big ending or goodbye like in the other worlds.  That was kind of strange to me and it left me kind of confused.  But the world’s keyblade is great.  One of my favorite weapons.

Pirates of the Caribbean: I didn’t watch the movie, so I had to talk to my friend to kind of get clarification.  Actually though, if I had just waited, I would have gotten an explanation.  The only thing I’m left confused by is what the heck the white crabs are.  Don’t ask.  I loved the art style of this whole world.  Sora almost fit in entirely with the regular people and Donald and Goofy’s color palettes were so pleasant for the world.  It does lead to some funny moments though, like a group of regular people in a cutscene and Goofy standing just kind of on the edge of it.  It’s so surreal, but at the same time very refreshing! At first, the world irritated the heck out of me.  The flying segment was tedious and swimming was kind of annoying, especially since we had to do a fight underwater.  I don’t think it’s like the KH1 Ariel world, but it’s still kind of irritating.  But after that, SHIP BATTLES.  Oh boy, those were fun.  A little annoying, but fun.  I also loved watching Sora drive a ship like a teenager just beginning to drive his own car for the first time.  It’s surreal but also fun.  Also Sora is having a ton of fun in this world, more than before.  You can tell how excited he is to be a pirate and I love it.  Also is Sora a blitzball player?  He has the lungs of one because he never needs to breathe underwater.  One thing I did know about the story was the big whirlpool scene.  I wasn’t very good at that ship battle because you’re micromanaging three things at once: keeping your own ship safe, keeping someone else’s ship safe, and defeating the giant boss in the center.  Then the other boss comes and he’s not that hard to defeat, but can be at times because he almost blends in with the world.  I loved the story and the ENDING OF THIS WORLD.  Holy CRUD THIS LAST SCENE.  It’s the fight between Jack and another guy.  It seemed so fluid, well animated, designed, and scripted.  Even Sora looked like he belonged in this entire scene.  There was one moment, that I won’t spoil, that shocked me entirely.  Sora did something that made my jaw drop and it was probably the most emotional and epic thing I’ve ever seen this character do.  Like literally Sora, THE HECK.  It was also a very satisfying ending that left me happy to end this world.

Big Hero 6:  I’m still on this world, I just started it, but so far it looks great.  Sora is even more hilarious.  He had a moment when he saw all these cars and the giant bridge and freaked out about how cool and techy it was.  He even wanted to call Riku to tell him how cool it was, even though they had just gotten there.  And then the scene where he puts on an AR visor and thinks he sees a heartless was akin to a woman seeing a bug and freaking out trying to get someone to kill it.  I died laughing.  I’m already excited to see more of this world.

And that’s it for now.