#Oh we got matched for an art swap

[girlsjustwannadrawwhump]

I’m working rlly hard on a drawing for a whump art swap event in a server but I can’t upload it here till the swap date cause I can’t risk my match seeing it but I’m also not sure I can even upload it here when it’s done cause there’s pretty much not a part of it that’s sfw :’)

#disclaimer: they know and they like n$fw #i wouldnt just do that out of nowhere lol #/Oh we got matched for an art swap? heres your character getting railed :)/ #anyway even with the /zoom in on a part and upload the full picture elsewhere/ #that ive used before #i pretty much only have characters A's eyes thats sfw enough lol #my mans wearing a ballgag so #I just wish id have an easier time uploading n$fw stuff on tumblr #but no hecking way im risking losing my account again #s talks #N$fw #anyway in case youre wondering what ive been upto #still whump stuff #holy shit these tags long

[joyjoy-ahoy]

Did you recently make the demon design for Celeste, or had you made it some time ago? Did you make a demon version of Caramael to match? :o

Also, I love seeing your OCs & art! It makes me feel nice and comfy :> I'm always in awe of your cute and creative designs & style!

Omg I'm so sorry if this reponse is late, tumblr never notifies me T__T

Oh you'd be surprised to know that demon!Céleste was designed way before I even made a post about her! There's a bit of story behind her conception:

I think it was around 1-2 years ago? That me and my friend poppy (@poplyy_ on twitter!! :D) were toying around with AUs regarding our own characters and loved to mess with swap AUs in particular.

For context, both of us had angel characters completely unrelated to one another, but we still liked to imagine them in different scenarios and what their designs would be like in these alternative universes. Naturally, when it comes to having angel characters, you of course would want to imagine what they would look like as demons, right? I initially thought of demon!Céleste to be all black and fuzzy, like her friend Picco, but never had gone as far to have drawn it.

Poppy drew her own version of demon!Céleste for fun, and I immediately disregarded my initial design idea for hers, because I loved the concept of a red imp so much:

It was from there that I wanted to draw demon!Céleste as an adult, using adult Céleste's base design and basing it off of Poppy's doodle:

Which answers your question, that Caramael was indeed also given a demon design to match with Céleste haha! Immediately after drawing Céleste, I turned to her champion, as I thought demon knights would be really cool as a concept.

They both later got updates in their AU designs though, I had to give demon!Céleste hair because my friends kept making fun of the fact that she looked a little bald compared to her angel design where her wings made her look fluffy LMAO

Demon!Caramael was also made black+white as opposed to black+red so that he could contrast with demon!Céleste better :]

It was from that point where I just self indulged in my own characters and continued playing with these AUs, thinking about their potential and what different interpetations can be done with them :]

#talk #artists on tumblr #angel #demon #oc #character design #doodles #art #original character #original art #so yeah now you know hehe :]

[thisismysecondrodeo]

"Love is a gamble we play and you've got much safer odds" - Ted Lasso x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Word Count: 2K

AN: Requested by @lassoposting (thank you!), you can also read this on ao3 I'll be updating here and there at the same time: Link

Rating: General

Tags: Henry Lasso, Michelle Lasso, Coach Beard, Jealous!Reader, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Beard's got your back Part 2 | Part 3 | Fic masterlist

-

You and Beard were sitting at a table in the Crown & Anchor, nursing a beer and reading your respective books. 

It had become a weekly tradition that the two of you referred to as Reverse Book Club: only reading and under no circumstances would there be any discussion, but occasionally if the book was good enough you would swap. Ted had asked to be included once he learned of it but he was much too…active of a reader. Lots of giggles and asides, and god forbid when he read a really good line and just HAD to read it out loud. He was not invited back, but he was unperturbed about the whole thing, still enthusiastic about his best girl and best friend spending time together. 

You and Ted had been dating for six months and you could honestly say you’d never been happier, even if on paper the two of you were an odd match: he was an older, American football coach with a son and a sunny disposition and you were a young art gallery director, moody and pessimistic without a single athletic bone in your body (or sports thought in your head). But when Ted popped up in your art gallery one day all earnest interest and thoughtful, if misguided, commentary, well you couldn’t deny you were smitten. It still took you asking him out on three separate occasions for him to understand you were interested in him romantically, and to this day he still frequently seemed shocked, even though you regularly greeted him after work with your tongue in his mouth and your hands fisted in his shirt collar(s). Six months wasn’t a lot of time, but it was enough for your lives to start to weave together, enough for him to casually mention the idea of moving in together—though that was also helped along by the fact that both of you had upstairs neighbors that made their displeasure for your nighttime activities well known. 

And of course, there was Reverse Book Club; the two people who understood Ted best in the whole world enjoying an hour of quality non-talking time. Until today, when Beard quietly slipped his bookmark (a Tesco receipt from 3 weeks ago) into his book and looked at you pointedly. You checked the time on your phone; it had only been 30 minutes. You raised an eyebrow at your friend quizzically.

“Plans?” 

“Nope.”

“Boring book, Coach?”

Beard tapped his hand on the cover, the title reading: The Black Joke: The True Story of One Ship's Battle Against the Slave Trade . “British naval history could never be boring, Director.” You were always amused when Beard used your job title the same way you used his, it felt like a sign of respect. “I just, well, forgive me for breaking the rules of Reverse Book Club here but I guess I was just curious how you were feeling? If you’re looking forward to it…or…”

You didn’t have to ask him for clarification; you knew your friend was asking about your impending meeting with Henry. You and Ted had been talking about it for weeks and his son would finally be there the next day; he was excited to introduce the two of you in person. You liked kids and you were good with kids, but you couldn't deny it felt like a test you needed to pass for your relationship to progress. If Henry didn’t like you there went moving in together, vacations to Kansas or anywhere else, hell, potentially there went the whole relationship. You scrunched your nose at Beard. 

“Looking forward isn’t quite the phrase I would use…”

Beard’s eyebrows crinkled together in an expression you read as offended on behalf of Henry. 

“Oh, I’m thrilled to meet Henry in person. You know I’ve met him on FaceTime and all that,” you waved a hand, “he’s smart and funny like his Dad, and I bought this art series Lego set for us to build together. Felt like a good introduction to my world since galleries aren’t the most… kid-friendly places. But I guess, I mean, I just…” you trailed off, chugging a bit more of your pint. “It just feels like I’m about to take an A-level I didn’t study for, you know?”

“Makes sense. But this isn’t something you pass or fail. It's more like a…mile marker.” 

You tilted your head at him, with an expression he read as expand on that.

“You see it, you experience the mile passing, you move on. Sometimes it affects your road trip because you realize you’ve been going the wrong way the past 30 miles. And sometimes it marks a spot you want to remember, a nice view, a midpoint as you get to your destination.” 

“Mmh,” you respond carefully. “Metaphor.”

“Metaphor, bay-bay.”

Beard picks his book back up and you follow suit, but you catch his eye again as he turns the page. 

“How far is a fucking mile anyway?”

-

“How was Reverse Book Club?”

Ted leaned in for a sweet greeting kiss, despite the fact that you had seen him just a few hours ago and you smiled into the affection. 

“Good. Think we might swap books next week.”

“Oh yeah? Beard wants to read,” Ted leaned down to check out the title of the pink book you had just sat on his kitchen table, “ Red, White, and Royal Blue ?”

You chuckled. “Probably not, but it's fun to get him out of his comfort zone.” 

“Well, I’m sure he also trusts your sensibilities. Hungry?”

You shake your head no as you move to the couch, picking up Ted’s Kansas City hoodie he always left on the back for you and slipping it over your head, the familiar scent of sandalwood and pepper from his cologne wafting over you. It settled you somewhat, but not enough to stop you from worrying your bottom lip with your teeth as Ted looked you over. 

“You eat at the Crown & Anchor?”

“Nah, just, uh, not hungry.” 

“Hm, well that just won’t do. What are you not telling me?” It wasn’t that you wanted to keep things from Ted, but you didn’t want to give him the wrong impression about how you felt about meeting Henry. You were touched that he wanted you to be a part of his son’s life, but it didn’t stop the nervous energy coursing through you that made eating an impossible task. So why couldn’t you just say that?

Ted made his way over to the couch, peeling an orange as he flopped down next to you, your thighs pressing together, shoulders brushing. Neither of you said anything, and you watched as he split the fruit into segments and popped one onto his tongue, licking a drop of juice from the corner of his mouth. It was…oddly seductive and your stomach fluttered for a reason that wasn’t nerves. He met your eyes and smirked as if he could read your mind, offering you a segment and you felt spellbound to accept. Something about the loving gesture, the way he let you sit and didn’t push, despite the fact that you were being cagey was something you hadn’t experienced in a relationship before, and you sighed, knowing that this man could make you bare your whole soul with a quirked eyebrow and a piece of fruit. 

“I’m nervous about meeting Henry. I mean, I’m excited. But I’m worried that if it doesn’t go well, this,” you gestured between the two of you, “can’t go on. And it’s not like I would blame you, I mean he’s your whole world and that’s how it should be. But I, God, I just love you and I want it to be, I mean, I hope—”

“Honey, you’re spiraling.” 

“I know.” You took a deep breath. “I know you’re going to tell me that everything is going to go perfect and that I should believe, and you’re right. I know you’re right…”

“But?”

“But. I worry. It’s just how I’m built.” 

Ted chuckled. Somehow over the course of the conversation he had snuck you most of the orange and he finished off the last segment before tucking you into his arms, your head resting under his chin. 

“I get it. Of course I do. And I could never fault you for being nervous, especially when I’ve never been in your shoes. But I gotta say…”

He looked down at you pressed into him, a goading look on his face. You rolled your eyes and the two of you spoke in unison. 

“Rom-Communism.” 

He dropped a kiss on the top of your head. And then your temple. And then your cheek and the space behind your ear that always made you shudder and then finally your lips. 

“Alright, to sleep. We have to pick up the boy bright and early,” he whispered as you separated, tugging you up to your feet with him. 

You pouted. “I’ll go to bed. But we’re not going to sleep.” 

“We’re not?”

You slipped the couch hoodie and your shirt off in one fell swoop before taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know what you were doing with that orange.” 

Ted laughed, moving his hand from yours to fit both of his large hands around your waist and gently tossed you to the bed, climbing over you as you giggled. 

The alarm went off early and Ted snuffled, the sun from the window just beginning to trickle over his bare back with one arm wrapped around your waist. He never reacted to the first alarm, he knew you liked to set three because you had an awful time forcing yourself out of bed, but today you were wide awake already, staring at the ceiling. It was going to be your last night in Ted’s bed for the next two weeks, both of you agreed that there would be no sleepovers while Henry was still getting used to the idea of having you around. It had been your idea—you didn’t want Henry to feel like you were pushing into his dad time. 

At the second alarm, Ted roused. You could tell because his breathing was more shallow and there was the faint tickle of his eyelash against your neck where his face was tucked against you. 

“I can hear those gears turning, lil lady,” he grumbled. “They woke me up.” 

“Sure they did,” you teased. “Couldn’t have been the alarm.”

He kissed your neck before sitting up and luxuriating into a stretch and you watched with obvious interest as the muscles in his back and arms rippled. He caught your eye over his shoulder and smirked. 

“Impure thoughts this early? Why Y/N, am I just a piece of meat to you?”

You laughed as you draped your body over his back, your arms coming around to hold him against you. “A piece of meat that I’ll be missing for the next two weeks, that’s for sure.” Ted chuckled as you kissed his cheek. “Join me in the shower?”

The two of you arrived at the airport just before the flight was supposed to land, your hand gripping Ted’s as you sipped the latte he bought you on the way. Caffeine probably wasn’t the best choice today, considering it often made you jittery and anxious, but the routine of it was also soothing. He led the way to the check-in counter to present Henry’s itinerary and get a pass to pick him up from the gate and you tuned out, doing a little people-watching as Ted got the details sorted. You tuned back in when you realized his tone was frustrated. 

“What do you mean my son is not an Unaccompanied Minor? Did he not get on the plane, I don’t understand.”

“Sorry, sir, the system says the ticket was originally purchased as an Unaccompanied Minor ticket, but it shows that the service fee was refunded because they’re now traveling with someone over the age of 12 making them no longer unaccompanied.”

“Someone? Someone who? I don’t—”

“DAD!” 

Both of your heads whipped around to the sight of Henry Lasso somehow running full tilt across the airport, and despite Ted’s recent frustration (not at the attendant, never them, just the situation) he couldn’t help but grin. He turned back to finish his conversation with the attendant and apologize but you pushed him towards his son and answered for him. “Looks like we got it all figured out somehow, thank you. Appreciate you.” 

Ted had made it to Henry and spun him in a circle, other travelers be damned, and you made your way over cautiously. You couldn’t help but find the father-son joy a little bit infectious. 

“Y/N is here too! Cool!” Henry flung his arms around you as if he had known you all his life, and it was enough to release at least some of the tension you’d been holding. You got down on his level to give him a better hug. 

“It’s so cool to see you in person,” you smiled at him sincerely, “You know I thought when I met you, you’d only be like this big.” You held your hands apart, about the length of an iPad, and Henry laughed. 

Ted grinned at the two of you interacting as you stood up and he ruffled the boy’s blond hair. “We were gonna come meet you at the gate kid, but they said someone was traveling with you?”

Henry was about to answer when a voice spoke up from behind. 

“Hi Ted.” 

You nearly choked on your sip of coffee when you turned and saw the woman that was undeniably Michelle Lasso. Ted’s ex-wife. 

Part 2 ->

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso reader insert #coach beard

[junkdyke]

the irl lesbo shenanigans of this week ~

saturday i went to my friend's birthday party and she introduced me to her bestie from out of state. Me and this girl ended up talking pretty much all night, until i left around 4am lmao. She was a little shy but really cute, at one point she said i had really nice skin so i complimented her back by saying she had "really nice eyes that i'd been staring at the whole time" and she was kinda taken aback and blushed and was like "oh my gosh sorry i'm like...wow okay i'm super flustered" LOL it was nice, she walked me out at the end of the night and said i was "so cute", i invited her to an art exhibition the next day before she left back home but she couldn't make it. it was nice!! and my friend had such a good food spread, she made a seafood bake it was ufff

next day, my coworker had an art exhibition at our shop so i went to that, and it was really cool!! Great turnout, i think all of us are inspired to use the space for more events like that, we wanna do a collective gallery show with all the artists!! I talked with some guy who is a therapist for a while, he was alright, but end of the night, a small group of us stayed and went out onto the balcony to hang out. Someone played guitar while we sang along, i chatted with one of my coworkers about our first-times with girls and other experiences we had growing up, and then eventually my coworker was like "let's play truth or dare!!"

so we're playing, most people are picking "truth", everyone is horrified at all of the stories i tell LMFAOOO because every experience i have is unhinged! I got dared to kiss the person to my left, so i end up giving this really fucking cool tattoo artist i just met who is straight as hell a little peck on the lips. my coworker asks me, "if you could have sex with anyone here, who would it be"?" and i pointed at her and she goes "*gasp* MEEE? :D" LMAOO and then for some reason, the game briefly turns into spin the bottle???? it lands on me twice. First I kiss one of my coworkers and it's such a nice kiss, i accidentally leaned in for seconds (which she matched lmaooo) then the next is with the same one i pointed to, who i've had some "hmm hmm is this actual flirting or not" for a long while now, anyway, also a very nice kiss, she slipped me some tongue, and uhhh yeah, we'll see what happens next time we go out lmao whenever we party, she tries to feed me drinks so!

anyway, it was a really fun week despite having to get my car towed, and including the clothing swap day, i have been out until 4am 3 times this week and with working on my film until like 8am every day, my sleep schedule is nocturnalized!! but yeah, cute!!

#wlw #lesbian dating #dykeposting #mine #personal

[lizhly-writes]

I wish you would write a fic where jmx meets yhs. I like yang haoshu.

man! what's the point of sending this ask anonymously! yang haoshu's never even made out of discord!

Ahem.

Right. So. "Yang Haoshu" is an alternate universe version of Chen Lihua, where she was the second-born child of the Yang family instead of Yang Haoran.

The way she meets Jiang Mingxi in this universe is virtually identical to how the original Yang Haoran meets Jiang Mingxi -- that is, as small children and almost immediately trying to beat the shit out of each other, because they're both very easily angered.

It's really not that different from 'canon', because truthfully, at that age, the original Yang Haoran and Yang Haoshu aren't that different. I could have written that out, swapped a few names, and then I would have a scene I could actually use in the not-cnovel as a pseudo flashback, or something.

Instead of doing that, though, I wrote an entirely self-indulgent and significantly easier to write weird crossover snippet that I can't use anywhere else but this ask.

Under the cut!

...

Yang Haoshu was a world-class champion at making Jiang Mingxi angry.  This was a skill she had mastered at a young age, when she had realized that fighting Jiang Mingxi – punching, kicking, clawing, biting – just didn’t work.  

Jiang Mingxi was bigger, stronger, faster, and she devoured the martial arts education their parents gave them with an enthusiasm that Yang Haoshu couldn’t come close to matching.  There was no way around it; in a fair fight, Yang Haoshu would always lose.

Still, there were other ways of fighting.  As the saying goes, “sticks and stones may hurt my bones, but words–” 

Words had never hurt Yang Haoshu.  

Oh, she got angry, sure, but hurt?  Not at all.  And as she got older, the anger had mellowed out into irritation into annoyance into, perhaps, mild amusement. For all of the things Jiang Mingxi was good at, she could not rival Yang Haoshu in this.  This was ultimately the key difference between them: Yang Haoshu could keep her temper.  Jiang Mingxi could not.

And thus, when it came to words, Yang Haoshu always won.

Naturally, Yang Haoshu endeavored to win as much as possible.  And she did!  It was probably a little mean of her, but at this point, she was very good at it – even the right sort of smile was enough to send Jiang Mingxi into a barely restrained rage.

…This one, though.

“Hmm,” Yang Haoshu said, tilting her head at the Jiang Mingxi in front of her.  “You’re more level-headed than mine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” said Jiang Mingxi.  The words were right, but Yang Haoshu’s Jiang Mingxi would have been grinding them out, nails digging into her palms and drawing blood.  This one, though, only narrowed her eyes.  No sign of any real anger in her at all.

How interesting.  

Yang Haoshu smiled brilliantly.  “Ah, I don’t mean anything bad!  I suppose I’m projecting some expectations on you.  You look so much like someone I know from home, after all.  A childhood friend of mine!  I always called her Ming-jie –”

“Don’t call me that,” Jiang Mingxi said immediately.

Well, Ming-jie always did hate it.

“Are we not close enough for that kind of thing?” Yang Haoshu said.  “I must look very familiar to you, too.  Does she not call you that?”

“It doesn’t matter if she does or if it doesn’t,” Jiang Mingxi said.  “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“It could be argued it does, at least a little. After all–”

They were the same person.  This Jiang Mingxi’s Yang Haoshu – more than family, more than genetics, more than what science could ever hope to achieve, they were really, truly, the same person.  

“Doesn’t matter,” Jiang Mingxi said shortly.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Jiang Mingxi was like this at home, too.  Fiction, fantasies, philosophy, theology – none of them, no matter how well written, well-made, ever caught her attention more than sheer brute force and violence.

“None of this interests you at all, huh?” Yang Haoshu said.

How boring.

“Did I say that?” Jiang Mingxi said irritably.  “You sound just like – no.”

Yang Haoshu perked up.  “I sound like…?”

Jiang Mingxi exhaled, hand going up to her temples.  “It doesn’t matter.  Nothing about you, and your counterpart here – that relationship isn’t there.”

“...Pardon?”

“It’s experiences who make people what they are,” Jiang Mingxi said, turning abruptly.  “It’s those memories that shape a person’s drive, goals, personality.  If those memories aren’t there anymore, you can’t say that they’re the same person.”

Yang Haoshu blinked.  

“I,” Jiang Mingxi enunciated slowly, “am not the person you know.  You aren’t anyone I know, either.”

In truth, this was the conclusion Yang Haoshu had been contemplating, despite the shit she was trying to feed this Jiang Mingxi.  But –

“You have actual, articulated thoughts about this?” she said, delighted.

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“You’ve thought about this concept enough to immediately cleanly say this sort of thing?  You, of all people?”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

#i'm a boy who transmigrated into a gl novel what am i supposed to do now?! #transmigrated as the female lead's villain fiance #jiang mingxi #yang haoshu #my writing #asks #anon

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

A theory on the Primarch Mirror-Pairings and figuring out the identity of the Lost Primarchs from that

So this theory as a whole is nothing new, and I have seen versions of it going around. However, as a fun thought exercise, I thought maybe if there are two able to match up, that could be a hint towards two two "mystery" ones. Generally when dealing with Chaos you never just get the thing you want - you usually get two, neither being exactly what you wished for but technically fitting the definition. Given how the Emperor "tricked" the Chaos Gods in cooperating (strong word for just saying "No Fuck Off when being presented with the bill), the Primarchs should be no exception with this.

For this we will start with the most obvious pairings, and then move on to the speculative bits. Overall we should get ten pairings, each themed around a thing one would need as a load bearing pillar of the empire.

Pairing One: Rogal Dorn and Peturabo. Infrastructure. Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists are probably the only two legions that are actively involved in building infrastructure. These two are the ones who even in peace times could have their place in the Imperium - just imagine construction crews of Astartes taming even the most dangerous deathworlds and turning them into habitable planets. Sadly, in their timeline, there is only war.

Pairing two, Roboute Guiliman and Horus. Logistical prowess, with the difference being that while the Ultramarines are superior at running a multi-system-empire, in terms of pure war logistics Horus is superior. The Lunar Wolves always won because they were good at fighting, stealth, speed, and anything - but because it is hard to lose when you got a fuckload of tanks and artillery backing you up and blasting the enemy to bits before you even get into close range.

Pairing three: The Lion and Alpharius. Secrets. Oh so many secrets. One is vey good at keeping them, the other at getting them. Both are defined by a paranoid streak that puts their own little club above everything in the universe, inculding the Empire they are a part of or the Chaos Gods respectively.

Most likely pair to do a loyality-swap in the future edition.

Pairing Four: Leman Russ and Angron. The "send them somewhere quick and brutal"-team. People tend to forget that lore detail, but given pre-nail Angron's palandin-equse abilities and personality, the War Dogs were initially designed as a rapid responder to help other legions. They were the cavallary coming in to save their friends in trouble by straight up murdering the enemy full-force. Sadly, the Nails in Angron's head had other plans.

Meanwhile the Space Wolves are there to get sent on allies should they pose a danger. They are the only legion that had combat experience against Astartes before the Heresy. Both would rush into combat with absolute savagery and brutality.

Pairing Five: Corvus Corax and Kondrad Curze. Role: being in your vents. Right now. These are the stealthy boys. Not much can be said here because the premise is quite simple, even if both legions draw entirely different conclusion on how to operate with their stealth.

The Raven Guard is more about surgical strikes from impossible positions, while the Night Lords are, well... more prone to evading the actual enemy while forcing a planet into compliance by sheer incomprehensible terror.

Pairing Six: The Khan and Mortarion. Movement. You wanna go somewhere and you definetly need to go get there? Either get there faster than anyone else, or just get there absolutely no matter what stands between you and the destination.

Pairing Seven: Sanguinius and Fulgrim. The potentially cultural icons of the Empire. Aside from both legions being some of the few that truly respect the arts, they are also both the legions with the most severe build-in mental illnesses. Both of them are a result of how "emotionally crippled" Astartes are by design when compared to regular beings. This probably deserves its own post.

---

This leaves us Ferrus Manus, Vulcan, Magnus, and Lorgar. It could make sense to put the first two into a category, but that would be the first pairing that would not follow the pattern of "loyalist vs. chaos" which by now has been established. Meanwhile Magnus and Lorgar do not really fit together either. Sure they both meddle with the warp, but that's something other Primarchs do too, even if to various degrees.

Assuming we put Vulcan and Ferrus Manus into the "Craftsmen" category, that must mean that the two Lost Primarchs might be mirrors to Magnus and Lorgar respectively. Alternatively one could put Magnus and Ferrus Manus into a combo themed around transhumanism, either by technology or psykic ability. This would fit with the established pattern.

Then the two lost would be mirrors of Volcan and Lorgar.

Since it is Lorgar in both cases, it would make sense given how out of his brothers the purge of the Lost shook him the most. In fact, the Emperor's lack of mercy in this case was probably the one thing that set the conditions for the heresy to happen. Him having a counterpart, probably a philosophical mind to bounce of his theologics, would make sense, and given how both within that theme would be more civilized than some of their brothers, they'd probably have some interesting contrast him.

Both would probably be the same in the way that they seek their salvation in something deemed superior to them. For the Word Bearers that was the Emperor. But who could it be for the Lost One? Maybe the Glorious Machine God? The Omnissiah? Given how the Word Bearers have a lot of cybernetic constructs fighting for them, despite that having little to do with their original theme, and Lorgar canonically having being close with one of the Lost, it is save to assume that Lost Legion One went HARD into tech - and probably got purged due to meddling with AI.

Vulcan meanwhile, while being a big guy with a big heart and some mad smithing skills he picked up at his core is about one thing: survival. He is a perpetual and just can't die, and under that theme his legions self-reliancy when it comes to weapons and other tech makes a lot of sense. The Salamanders are probably some of the toughest Astartes around, and they are very aware of it. Ironically that combined with the personality led to the highest casuality rates of any legion early on, as they would sacrifice themselves a lot to get civillians and guard out of the danger zone. Because who if not the toughest boys around should be the ones to rush head first into danger? It could also be that Perpetuals in general have an subconscious lower self-preservation-instinct, and that gets put into his Astartes as well - who sadly are NOT Perpetuals. They just get the brain of one.

So how would a mirror look like to this? Simple: survival through adaptation. A highly adaptive biology that with some bio-science adding it up could probably do everything from making them grow protective scales to getting gills. It could explain some of the weirder animal-themed chapters running around today.

They were probably purged because they went a bit too hard into "becoming their own species" by accident. Turns out when you are biological clay, changing one's sex is not exactly hard. So yeah, this is where the Lady Space Marines ended up - with the response of the Emperor being "Ew, girls are yucky - and also you are about to betray humanity as a whole by evolving away from it" followed by a purge.

Wait, doesn't this all sound familiar? OH RIGHT IT TOTALLY ADDS UP WITH MY PREVIOUS THEORY ON THE LOST PRIMARCHS.

Who could have known? It's almost like I had some thought put into it for a long ass time :>

#Warhammer 40k #wh40k #primarchs #theory #fan theory

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1174: Mansion Date Night~ (King of Fighters)

9:13 p.m. at Antonov'a Mansion's Dining Room..........

Krohnen is completely awesome struck at what is sitting right front of him right now: his bubbly, level-headed girlfriend, Angel, in a short, crimson red dress that almost matches the color of the lipstick she has on her shiny, luscious lips.

In fact, this might the very first time that he has ever seen her wear a dress, let alone in their date night tonight and yet....he couldn't help but to be mesmerized by her irresistible beauty. Not to say she isn't already beautiful in Krohnen's mind, but-

?????: Krohnenyyyy~

Krohnen: (Immediately Comes Back to Reality) Hm! Yeah? What?

Angel: You're looking a little out of it there, Cookie. You having a slight fever? (Forms a Seductive Smirk on her Face) Or are you just excited to see me this evening?~

Krohnen: ('Scoffs') Please. I feel as normal as I've ever been every time I see your face....But you uhh...(Starts Rubbing The Back of his Head Back and Forth) Do look pretty good tonight. (Starts Blushing) Great even......

Angel: (Giggles Softly at her Cute her Boyfriend is Acting) D'awwww~ Gracias, papi!~ (Crosses her Arms With a Proud Smile) It seems my romantic charms is still as strong as ever, don'tcha think?~

Krohnen: (Sighs While Rolling his Eyes) Yeah, and I somehow always fell for it every date night we've been on so far. (Takes a Sip ofhis Drink) Speaking of which, sorry this isn't the most ideal place for romantic evening. I tried getting us reservations from every fancy restaurants this town has to offer, but all of them are either already full or to expensive.

Angel: (Softly Fling her Hand Down) Oh, it's fine, cariño. I'm having a great enough time here already. And besides, you know I don't care all that much about fancy stuff in general.

Krohnen: Yeah, same here. (Shrugs) But I wanted to at least try and do something nice for you given it's Valentine's Day or whatever. (Takes a Bite of a Well Cooked Steak Antonov Made) Hm. Well, I'll be damned. (Takes Another Bite of his Steak) This might just be the best steak I've ever tasted.

Angel: I know, right? (Take a Bite of her Own Steak and Delightfully Enjoying it Shortly After) Mmm~ Soooooo Deliciosa!~ I can't even imagine how dessert would taste like~

Antonov: (Kicks the Door Open and Walks into the Dining Room Two Plates of Sliced Pieces of Cake in Both his Hands) Did somebody say dessert?~

Angel happily squeals and claps her hands as Antonov put her plate down in front of her. She uses her spoon to swap up one part of the cake and eats it and before anyone knows it, her delightfulnsss meteor skyrocketed from their.

Angel: (Gleefully Enjoying her Cake While Mumbling in Spanish)

Krohnen: (Turns to Antonov woth an Impressed Smirk on his Face) I gotta say, pops. Your meal and cake aren't half bad.

Angel: (Smiles Brightly at her Wrestling Boss) We didn't know you have a knack for cooking, Anty,, you're so talented!~

Antonov: (Starts Rubbing The Back of his Head Back and Forth While Chuckling and Smiling Bashfully) Aww~ Thanks for the feedback, you guys. To tell you the truth, I've been taking an interest in culinary arts for some time now. I even got the chance to work alongside the legendary chef, Gordon Ramsey, in the past.

Angel: (Places her Fonger on the Side of Her Chin in Curiosity) Culinary?

Krohnen: Pretty sure that's a fancy word for cooking and junk. (Turns Back to Antonov) You seriously survived a whole day in the kitchen with Gordon Ramesy if all people? That could've been fun.

Antonov: Make that a month and two actually. After the 14th KOF Tournament ended, I took it upon myself to harness my cooking skills under his wing. And yeah. It was a........challenge to say the least.

Flashback

Ramsey: (Angrily Yelling at Antonov Behind Him) Fucking hell Antonov!! Can't you go any faster steering the bloody mashed potatoes!?

Antonov: (Quickly Steering the Pit of Mashed Potatoes, Under Pressure) Yes, chef! I am going as fast as humanly possible, chef!

Ramsey: Don't even start with that "Humanly Possible" crap! I've seen a literal toddler steer pots more quicker and efficient than you could ever hope to achieve and the fact that you're still doing this five minutes after the order's wait time is already finished shows how pathetic you are- (Suddenly Hears the Sound of Sniff) What the bloody hel- Are you crying?

Antonov: (Already Has Twars Falling From his Eyes) ('Sniff') No sir!

Ramsey: You were named the "King of All Fighters" and have the audacity to shed your own tears inside MY kitchen!?

Antonov: ('Sniff') Chef! I get stressed easily when getting yelled at, chef!

Ramsey: Well, tough shit, winker. You could either pick up the pace, cut the bullshit, and finish cooking like you're supposed to or GET OUT!!

Bavk to the Present

Antonov: (Puts on a Dark, Yet Determined Look on his Face) That man gave me no room to make excuses. And I asked none. All I ever did was slaved over that shoving cooking for paying customers until the day I gave up my jacket and walked out of that kitchen, with my head held high. (Went Back to Smiling) I should definitely give him a call someday. (Walks Himself Back to the Kitchen) Hope he's not too busy these days.

Krohnen: I don't think I could ever see myself working under a hothead like that Ramsey guy anytime soon. (Turns Back to his Girlfriend) What about you, A-

Angel: (Continues Eating her Slice of Cake Until the Plate was Completely Clean Before Looking Back Up at Krohnen) Hm?

Krohnen: Nevermind.

Angel: (Points at Krohnen's Cake) Hey, are you gonna finish that cake of yours, Cookie?

Krohnen: (Raises an Eyebrow) Don't you think you have enough sweets for one night?

Angel: (Raises an Eyebrow Back) Do you know who you're talking to right now? I'm the Toughest Woman in all of Mexico- (Suddenly Let's Out a Small Burp Before Quickly Covering her Mouth) Perdóneme.

Krohnen: (Snickers a Bit) More like the Burpiest Woman in all Mexico if you ask me.

Angel: (Pouts at Krohnen) HUUUUSH! I'm not burpy or gross! Take it back!!

Krohnen: (Chuckles Lightly) Alright, alright, I kid! You're none of those things. You're strong and cute, fun, reliable to an extent and....just amazing all around entirely. (Starts Rubbing The Back of his Head Back and Forth While Blushing Again) I know I don't tell you this as much as I should, but....Deep down.....(Gives Angel his Sliced Cake With a Genuine Smile on his Face) I'm pretty damn lucky to fall for someone like you.

Angel: (Stares at the Cake For a Brief Second Before Looking Back at Krohnen) .......You know. (Put the Plate Down and Move Aside) I think I'll pass on the cake for now. I want something else in mind to snack on.

Krohnen: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Really? Like what exactly?

Angel: Well~ (Starts Twirling The Front of Her Hair Around) Let's just say there's this slightly tall size treat that's all grumpy and rude on the outside, but ooooh so sweet on the inside~

Krohnen: Sweet, huh?

Angel: (Forms a Seductive Smirk on her Face) Yep~ And he's very yummy too. (Gets Herself Up From her Seat and Slowly Walk her Way Towards Krohnen) Like, the yummiest, sweetest thing I ever have the pleasure of falling head over heels for. (Sits Down on Krohnen's Lap) And his name is the one and only....(Gently Places her Habds Onto Krohnen's Cheeks) Coo-Kie~

Krohnen: It's Krohnen genius.

Angel: (Rolls her Eyes) Krohnen, Cookie, doesn't matter! Momma Angel wants her Valentine kisses right now!~

Krohnen: ('Sigh') Fine. C'mere.

And with that, the rebellious couple skip the rest of their meals and begin to make out with one another. As every since goes by, the session itself has eventually gotten more passionate and sensual enough to the point of Angel unbuttoning the top of Krohnen's shirt collar and start kissing the side of his neck until he gently pulls her away.

Krohnen: Wait, hang on a second. This is a clean dining room. We can't dirty it up by doing it here.

Angel: Right. Right....(Smiles Brightly as Sge Jumps off of Krohnen's Lap) Let's go to Anty's room!~

Krohnen: (Stops Angel by Grabbing Hd of her Arm) Yeah, no. We're not gonna mess up your boss' room again after he went to all the trouble to put this date night together for us. Also, ixnay on the KID being here.

Krohnen walks Angel to the dining room's doorway and shows her Misha sitting next to Ramon and an already sleeping King of Dinosaurs in the living room watching Wrestling on TV.

Angel: ('Sigh') Así es. He's still as wide awake as a cute baby gecko. But what are we supposed to do then? The holiday's is far from over and i am still very much horny tonight!

Krohnen: Don't get your hair in a twist. I got an idea.

Meanwhile at the Living Room.......

Misha: So, you've managed to win a lot of trophies in your Wrestling days, Mr. Ramon?

Ramon: (Smiles Brightly) Eso's correcto, my tiny friend. Most were pretty tough bouts to venture through and endure, but my papa always told me the "the Road to Victory is never easy in the world of Lucha Libré". (Pulls Up his Eyepatch, Showing Off the Scar in his Eye) And I have this scar to represent this crucial lesson.

Misha: (Struck in Awe at What He's Looking At Right Now) Woooooah......

'Door Kicked Open'

Krohnen: (Walks into the Living Room While Carrying Angel in his Arms) Welp, The night's still young, so we're about to head out. Don't wait up-

Ramon: Now, hold your horse there, lovebirds. You can't without give us some details on your little date night of yours.

Misha: Yeah and where are you going in this time of hour?

Krohnen: Date was fun, the steak and cake were both pretty good, and we're heading out to .....do stuff. In private.

Angel: (Happily Waves Goodbye as Krohnen Carries her Outside) See you all in the late morninnnnnng!~

'Door Close'

Ramon: ('Sigh') Leave to Valentine's Day to get them in the mood again?

Misha: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Mood?

Ramon: It's a romantic type of thing. You'll understand when you get other.

'Door Open'

Antonov: (Walks into the Living Room Carrying Two More Plates of Slices of Cake) Whooooo wants seconds!?~ (Starts Looking Around the Room Before Asking.....) Where the lovebirds go?

@thelexhex

@tampire

@theweebmaster31

@ma-lemons

#king of fighters #krohnen mcdougall #angel #antonov #ramon #misha #gordon ramsay #if john cena could co exist in the KOF Universe so could gordon ramsey lol #date night #cute romance #humor #krohnen x angel #Valentine's month

[eerna]

I have not read TLT but I see art for it a lot and got confused about who the short one with dark hair is, and for the longest time I just thought I didn't know which one was Gideon and which one was Harrow but. I just recently realized that there's some body swapping(?) so this whole time... the answer to "which one is that" is way more confusing than I initially thought and I feel less bad about my confusion!! (what exactly is up with the body swapping though if it's okay to ask? the tall redhead one seems to be back in NtN??)

OH ABSOLUTELY you can ask me aaaaanything about these books because I need every excuse to talk abt them~~ Yeah don't feel bad, even the readers are often confused over who is in whose body. We lovingly refer to these books as "musical chairs with bodies". The reason for that is necromantic shenanigans. Most of the time you can tell a character's body is piloted by a foreign soul because their eye color matches the soul, not the body. The small black haired one with black eyes is Harrow, and the red haired with golden eyes one is Gideon. If you see art of Harrow with golden eyes, there is a chance she is referred to as Gideon. In NTN both return, Gideon back in her own body and Harrow's body piloted by a person with golden eyes- everyone thinks it's Gideon, but it's not her, and in that case she is referred to as Nona. Hope this cleared it up!

#eernask #eernanon #eernask talk tlt #nona the ninth spoilers #just in case any gideon harrowbods didnt read the book yet

[slightlytoastedbagel]

Bagel decided to review the new outfits because why not: More More Jump

More More Jump is next as to follow the order the units are presented in game, so let's get into it.

Once again this is being made before I've seen Nightcord's but... these are my least favourites overall for now. There are some positives which I'll save for the individual segments but I'll just get the glaring issue out of the way.

Why the hell did they prioritise the blue for the skirts?

I know why the blue is there. It's to represent the sea of blue lights from Minori's performance in the main story, and I think including that in their new designs was a nice touch, but it takes over the skirts while each of the girls' representative colours get the minimal treatment. Literally everything about my issues with their new outfits would be solved if the blue and their character colours swapped.

Other than that? I do think the new outfits are nice. I think I prefer their old ones but they do their job as idol uniforms. Unfortunately they look too similar to really say much for each character but I'll try.

Minori's new hair accessory is very nice, not as good as her original, but nice. I like the skirt being longer on one side as well.

Haruka's skirt having the two flowing bits at the back is nice, as is her only having one bit of blue compared to Minori's two. Also she just looks happier than in her initial which is sweet.

Airi still having the sort-if crop top is a nice touch to make her stand out, as is her skirt being longer on the opposite side to Minori's. The blue bit being bigger as well add more differentiation.

Shizuku's looks like it can't be seen that well from behind Minori, but it just gets longer at the back and that's it. I... don't have much to say on Shizuku's.

I don't fully understand the new MMJ Miku. Why the hot pink? I mean she's rocking it but still. The grey fading to white is nice though. I guess it just doesn't fit well with the girls as a group. Maybe if they're giving the other Vocaloids new outfits they'll be matching with her?

I do wish we got something more similar to their in game idol outfits (the ones designed in Shizuku's witch event) but I suppose that was too obvious and also possibly too much to model? They could have just made them simpler but oh well. As it stands they have one glaring issue for me which sadly brings them down as a whole. Their outfits are nice though, they just can't beat their original ones for me. However the art is definitely better here so there's that at least.

#project sekai #more more jump #bagel's rambles

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Keith Max Card story ‘‘Acting as a “Major Hero”’’

Translation of Keith Max’s 2nd anniversary card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Junior: Uoooooh….!

Junior: Take this! And this…!

Keith: Hup… Hm…

Junior: HOW ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!

Keith: Down low, too slow

Junior: Gwaah!!?

-

Junior: Damnit… Lost again…

Keith: Need to remind ya that yer dealing with one of the great major heroes? Don’tcha think you can beat me that easily now.

Faith: A great major hero, hm?

Keith: What now, Faith… Anyway, s’time to swap out already. Ya gotta be bored of just sitting there and watching, yeah?

Faith: What makes you think that? There’s finally a mentor around here, and you should be the one training with u-

Dino: Huh, Keith!?

Keith: !?

Dino: Are you guys training for the Rookies League!? And you’re even doing it together with Junior, Keith!

Keith: The noisy one showed up…..

Dino: All talk about how you won’t be bothering with them, and despite the fact you left up everything to Faith too, you still came to look out for them…

Dino: This is the ultimate love and peace, Keith!

Keith: Yea, yea…

Dino: Huh, where are you headed off to?

Keith: I was just working for the sake of havin’ a tasty drink. I kept them guys busy for long enough, so I’m heading back

Faith: Hold on, it hasn’t even been 5 minutes since you came

Keith: Faith… you…

Dino: Then, you were all just getting started. I’ve also come to keep an eye out. I’ll pitch in if there’s anything I can do

Junior: Hey, wait a sec…

Junior: Keith and Dino are all full of energy, but I’ve been training for nearly two hours here y’know…

Faith: Well, you were going at it on your own until Keith showed up

Junior: Yep. That’s why you gotta let me catch my breath for a little bit…. And once my power’s replenished I’ll go for another round…

Dino: Junior… You truly are working hard…

Dino: Awright! I’ll support Junior and Faith with everything I have in me! Go, go, let’s go! Rookies-

Faith: That’s all well and good but I’d like for you to demonstrate us something.

Dino: Eh… demonstrate?

Faith: Yeah, demonstrate♪

Keith: Why do I got a bad feeling ‘bout this-....

-

Dino: It’s been a while since I sparred with Keith for realsies

Keith: Why the hell do I gotta fight ya when it’s training for the rookies…

Dino: Because the rookies asked for it. And there’s no reason to refuse, yeah?

Faith: Hearing 100 times doesn’t compare to seeing once, as they say. A demonstration by our mentors will answer our questions about how we should fight and what not

Faith: Ochibi-chan’s also interested, no? 

Junior: …Guess so. Haven’t seen Dino and Keith go at it seriously before either

Junior: I’m super curious about how it’ll play out

Keith: Guh, goddamnit… Why am I the only one who don’t got a say in this----

Dino: Let’s go, Keith!

Keith: Eh!?

Dino: I’m super duper excited about this! I won’t be going easy on you either…..!

Keith: Uooh!?

Dino: Haaa….!

Keith: Gah, wait wait…!

Dino: Don’t you run, Keith! Fight me!

Keith: Wait-... I told ya to wait---

Keith: GUAAH…!

-

Junior: Awesomeeeee…..!

Faith: Dino’s strength really is no joke. Keith just felt like he was at his wit’s end the entire time

Dino: No, not at all…

Junior: The hell was with all that oh so great major hero stuff! Acting all high and mighty and then you just get your ass handed to you, you should be embarrassed!

Keith: Guh…

Dino: W-wait a sec. I’ll have to stop you right there with how you’re implying that Keith is weak

Junior: Eeeh- wasn’t that a big loss for him though

Dino: It just happens to be that I’m pretty good at sparring where you focus on martial arts. …Well, I do wish he held out a bit longer though.

Dino: If this was a match where you prioritize your powers instead, we could’ve done endless rounds and I still wouldn’t have won against him.

Junior: Are you for real?

Dino: Mhm. Even with using my powers, the fundamentals of my fighting style wouldn’t differ much compared to earlier.

Dino: For someone like me who uses his whole body, going up against Keith’s power, psychokinesis, is the worst offender possible. Once you’re stopped in your tracks, it’s over.

Junior: I-I see…

Junior: Still, I’m here doing everything I can to get stronger, so knowing there’s times where you won’t win no matter what… It kind of dampens my motivation a bit.

Dino: I think it’s actually interesting instead. Everyone’s respective capabilities all differ from each other, so if you feel that you can complement the places you’re lacking in-

Faith: Then, maybe my power would be effective against Keith

Keith: Kuh!

Faith: Even if you stop me from moving, as long as the sound hits, I’ll still be able to pack a punch, yeah?

Faith: …Actually, can’t you also say the same for Ochibi-chan’s power?

Keith: ………

Junior: If we challenge him by using our powers from the start, then maybe we could win against Keith… is what you’re saying?

Faith: It will increase our chances, basically.

Keith: O-oi, oi, since when did you fellas make it yer goal to win against me?

Keith: We’ve been training for the Rookies League up until now, don’t get things all jumbled up now

Junior: Nah, I wanna atleast win once

Keith: Uuuh…

Faith: Well, it’s not as if we’ll be winning that easy now, right…?

Keith: Y-you guys…

Junior: I’m fully charged!! Got enough energy in me so let’s fight already, Keith!

Faith: I’m also feeling a bit energized so I guess I’ll join in

Keith: Wha-... we really going for two versus one!?

Faith: We’re rookies, and you’re the great major hero, no? We need at least that much of a handicap, or am I wrong?

Keith: Gh……

Keith: Dino!!!!

Dino: I’ll just mess up the whole power balance if I join. So instead I’ll be here on the sidelines cheering for you all♪

Dino: Go, go, let’s go! Rookies! Go, go, let’s go! Keith!

Keith: Gah, shiiiit…!

-

TL note:

“Hearing 100 times doesn’t compare to seeing once” is actually a Japanese proverb that’s equivalent to “Seeing is believing” in English. However due the fact that Japanese proverbs are often brought up throughout Helios stories because of Brad dropping them around (and there mention being that it’s because of Brad), I kept the literal translation of it. 

#heliosR #helios rising heroes #keith max #dino albani #leonard wright jr. #faith beams

[anxiouslyfred]

Nature Shows

Summary: Remus has all liked Nature documentaries. The light sides are a little confused by this the first time they watch one with him.

Authors Note: This was written while watching Our Planet: Coastal Seas on Netflix which did add in some of Remus’s reactions but not all of them.

/\/\

Janus once reasoned his fascination away as a way to make Thomas focus on the morbid, or erotic in a Patton approved way, but Remus had immediately argued that plants eating bat poo is neither morbid or erotic and it was the best thing he'd ever heard of. Besides, it wasn't like Janus had actually been trying to find a reason for Remus to enjoy nature documentaries, they'd actually been trying to convince Thomas to watch one, as muted as either of their voices were while unknown to him. Sometimes just discussing a subject between the 2 of them would make their desire more likely to get heard and, especially for something as simple as a show, to be acted on.

Now they were both known and to some extent accepted by Thomas as parts of himself it was easier to ask when Remus just wanted to relax with a nature documentary on. It was actually harder to get that accepted though since nobody actually believed there was no alternative motive in it. A glance at Logan and suggestion of an ocean life documentary instead at least got his desire listened to, trying to scare the Logical side was apparently something the sides could believe even when Remus had proven he had other ways to get under Logan's skin.

“Oh sweet, Remus picked the show tonight. Are we having bats and bears next time? Have you figured out why those two are so often mentioned in episodes together?” Virgil basically flung himself onto the sofa when he realised what was playing on TV.

Patton and Roman immediately turned to him in confusion, “How can you tell that it's Remus choice?”

“Guys, seriously? You never questioned why Thomas would suddenly decide to put one on when none of you three had asked for it? We used to have the loudest conversations about nature shows ever just trying to get him to put one on when Remus had been more wild than usual over a week.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Now shush, Remus can't point out his favourite creature features if you talk over it.”

The episode carried on playing, Janus, Virgil and Remus all watching it intently, and pretending not to notice the glances thrown their way as sharks, corals and kelp forests were shown on screen. “These fish are going to get hunted when they wanted to get fucked. Sounds like a bit of a turn off I guess.” Remus exclaimed as the focus shifted to herring.

“The whales have fur in their mouths? That looked like fur, didn't it? Major tickle in your throat constantly, right?” Remus looked back with that question, nodding at Virgil and Logan when they met his eyes, almost asking for them to agree with him before turning back to the screen.

He didn't notice Virgil raising a finger to his lips when Logan went to reply.

The herring reaching shallow water had Remus almost leaning nose to screen. “I wanna steal their eggs and make mosaics from them! We have to keep them abundant so I can do that someday, once Thomas learns to dive.”

“We aren't learning to dive, Re, look for other ways to put animals in your art.” Virgil nudged his head leaning back.

“Changed my mind, with music like that, Janus should be a jellyfish, not a snake!” The yell came a few moments later as ominous music accompanied the large jellyfish swimming up.

“Thank goodness Roman isn't as changeable as you so that swap can't immediately happen.” Janus murmured, seeming unheard by Remus but getting a smile and nod from Virgil.

Remus pointed at the screen soon after, “And I'll be an inca turn! They match my mustache!”

It was at one of the more solemn moments that Remus seemed to completely detach from watching the show for a moment, turning concerned eyes to Virgil. “You're gonna make Thomathy do something to stop the human destruction, right? We've gotta do something to save these hunters!”

“I'll bring it up to Thomas and I'm sure Lo will help, give us a chance to put that degree to us or something.” Virgil nodded.

“Indeed. It's an important issue in our world.” Logan agreed, before watching the screen again.

It was a few moments after that that Remus started laughing, “With names like shags and boobies I think sailors must have been really pent up when naming birds.”

Once the credits were running, Logan hit pause before Netflix could autoplay the next episode. “Considering we thought you were suggesting this to scare one of us, I'm frankly not feeling unnerved currently.” He commented, tone questioning.

“Course not. I just wanted to see some animals, learn about some lives different to the mess humanity has made of our own. Much simpler for animals to eat, sleep, survive and fuck than whatever the hell society has got us doing.” Remus nodded, “Another episode now?”

After getting nods from Roman and Patton, a raised eyebrow from Janus and Virgil waving slightly impatiently at the screen, Logan agreed, pressing play again.

#remus sanders #movie night #virgil sanders #Janus Sanders #logan sanders #Patton and Roman are mentioned too

[moonlit-flowerfield]

(REPEATING THIS LATER: If I see even one hate comment/reblog, I'm blocking you from seeing my 100% freestyle shit.)

So. I did art.

Y'all

I got bored and told @sanderdarksides and @starshard17 about RWBY and how we really are Ruby × Weiss × Yang

So we kidnapped @lazy-artist-coking and made them our Blake

Meet Team BAPS

Note time:

Bennie is NOT wearing a skirt. It is pleated shorts >:( it's just hard to draw those for me.

Bennie's design and costume is, in fact based on Ruby's. Colour changes, and a few other key differences, but overall (since they are the Ruby of team BAPS) based on Ruby.

Bennie is also the one with the closest costume to canon counterparts.

I am the Weiss (somehow).

But anyone with brains knows you don't wear too many light colours on the battle field!!

So fuck the whites and lighter light blues >:)

Also I just realized we don't have weapons, oh well.

Also I have short hair.

BUT DAMN DID I DRAW THAT SHORT HAIR FINE AS HELL.

Spot/Sara is Blake (cats...)

We kidnapped them and threw cat ears on them and they just said "oh okay"

But Spot also has brains, so we swapped the white for more blackish purple.

And now it looks like a fancy suit coat. No complaints here.

Ami my 👑👑👑

Ami 👑 is Yang Queen.

So I had fun.

Boob window.

Cool peeps don't get sleeves on their jackets!

Mech arm to match Yang's.

The hair is as beautiful.

And now, to get this out of the way: I used the picture below this paragraph/section as a reference for base and clothing. I did very basic outlining of the poses with it underneath the layer, and most everything else that looks the exact same or super similar was drawn before looking back at the og screenshot. Basically, I made a one time use base of the poses and worked on it. If you have issues with that, shut up and just ignore this post.

If I see even one hate comment/reblog, I'm gonna block you from seeing my 100% freestyle shit. Keep that in mind.

And yes I know BAPS doesn't fit the naming thing Mr Oum made for the show. However, since this isn't even technically an au, it's just me goofing around, I like to think whatever spoof world those versions of us live in are enjoying this team name. (Also, you try making a colour sounding abbreviation out of B, P, S, and A).

There may or may not be random comics on the way with these dummies.

#RWBY #RWBY art #starshard17 #artist-hope #lazy-artist-cooking #sanderdarksides #would you say this is an au? #im tagging it as au #RWBY au

[my-weird-news]

20 Epicly Awkward Prom Pics from the Funky Past 🕺📸

Prom Night Follies: Groovy Awkwardness That Ages Like Moldy Cheese 🕺👑 What is it about peeking into our pasts that tickles our funny bones? Seriously, it's like a nostalgia-induced comedy show where everyone's dressed in the silliest outfits, parading around like they just found a stash of enchanted dress-up clothes. Is it the thrill of seeing folks rocking their bizarre getups without a hint of irony? Or maybe it's the relief that we're no longer wearing powder blue top hats and curtains-as-dress fashion statements. Whatever it is, let's dive into the chuckle-worthy world of awkward prom photos from the Groovy era. Leave the Top Hat Alone, It’s Bored of Your Company Hold the phone, folks, we’ve got a guy in the back sporting a top hat that thinks it's starring in a soap opera. I mean, that thing has more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy. Meanwhile, Mr. Caught-Off-Guard on the side just wants to have a normal picture, but nooo, top hat guy is stealing the limelight. Let’s give it up for the gals though, who are pulling off their looks like they’re getting ready for a blast. They probably wish they left that top hat at home, locked away with all the ghosts of fashion past. Flannel Fever: The Key to Everlasting Love Step right up, folks, for the most '70s prom pic you'll ever lay your eyes on. We've got shag carpet squares, paper mushrooms that look like a failed art project, and dual plaid suits that scream, "Hey, let’s match like a married couple!" These two deserve applause for their coordinated flannel, but someone please get them a towel – the prom dance floor doubles as a sauna, apparently. Magic and Mismatched Expressions: A Perfect Recipe Attention, prom photographers: Can we get a matching expression coordinator, stat? Nothing says “I’m thrilled to be here” like a split-screen of a guy who's hyped and a date who's mentally grocery shopping. Seriously, it's like watching a buddy comedy where one person didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be a comedy. A Puff of Smoke and a Splash of Style Catastrophe Cue the smoke machine, folks! Behold the wide-lapelled flannel jacket that thinks it’s the real star of the show. Bowtie, you're cool and all, but let's be real – the jacket’s hogging the spotlight. This was clearly the golden age of experimenting with fashion, when everyone took a detour through Crazytown before arriving at Promville. But hey, at least this guy has the crown for the greatest 1970s mullet. Congrats? From Prom to Mortuary: The Unenthusiastic Guy Meet the guy who treats prom like a funeral procession. Hands folded, pet gecko missing, and an overall aura of doom – it's like someone swapped his prom ticket with a burial plot reservation. Buddy, cheer up! It's prom, not a séance. Life’s too short to mourn your own prom night. Moonlit Bananas and Peasant Fashion Hey, remember that time the school decided the prom theme was “Jungle Love”? No? Well, neither do we, because it's bananas – literally. Those gals are perched on a moon that could easily double as a giant banana in another life. Maybe the school mascot is the Fighting Bananas. Who knows, it's the Groovy era – anything's possible. ’70s: When Dads Took Over Teenage Bodies The 1970s: when teenage boys turned into middle-aged dads overnight. This guy's got more wedding vibes than a justice of the peace. Did they card him at the entrance? Or did they offer him a briefcase and a 9-to-5 job as a dad-joke enthusiast? Ah, kids these days. Blinds, Blinds, and More Blinds: Oh Yeah, and Teens In this thrilling episode of "Prom Pics: The Next Generation," our young lovebirds are upstaged by the real stars of the show: venetian blinds. Because who needs prom memories when you can have window decor? But hey, at least the kids look happy. Somebody tell the blinds to chill. Last Known Photographs and Prom: A Perfect Match Look, folks, it's the "Last Known Photograph" series, featuring two teens who look like they're posing for an FBI witness protection program file. Are they having a great time? Is this a prelude to a crime spree? We need answers. But we also secretly hope they had a redo for a less ominous prom pic. When TVs Were Prom Dates: An Awkward Love Affair Guess what, folks? The '70s brought us the golden era of prom dates – enter the disembodied head! Because who needs a whole person when you can just go with the floating head option? Half-price tickets for half a person, anyone? Growing Pains and Cloudy Dancing Being a teenager: a tumultuous journey from 4'11" to 6'1" with legs that suddenly think they're in a growth race. These younguns are trying to walk on clouds made of cotton, but in reality, they're just tripping on clouds. Disco dance meets accidental acrobatics – it's all part of the '70s magic. "Jungle Love" or Just Plain "Oh No"? Someone needs to explain the '70s' obsession with bizarre prom themes. "Jungle Love"? Really? Did the school mascot have a stroke of genius, or did someone think, "You know what kids need? A dance that raises questions about cultural sensitivity!" Let's all agree that "Jungle Love" should've stayed in the jungle. Captain Awkward: Ready for Takeoff Breaking news: Prom pic rule #1 – thou shalt not look excited. This guy’s suppressing his inner cheerleader so hard, he's about to explode in a burst of restrained enthusiasm. Inside, he's doing Olympic gymnastics. Outside, he's trying to win the medal for "Most Chill Dude at Prom." Flashback to the Groovy-est Gagworthy Trends Ta-da! If you ever wondered what a single frame of the '70s looked like, here you go. Behold the high collars, wooden wall panels, and oversized glasses that together create a montage of fashion crimes. It's like the '70s threw up in one picture, and we can't look away. Mickey Ears Are So Yesterday, Meet Mickey Dots Who pulled the Mickey Mouse prank on this guy's prom photo? Did he willingly become a# Prom Night Follies: Groovy Awkwardness That Ages Like Moldy Cheese 🕺👑 What is it about peeking into our pasts that tickles our funny bones? Seriously, it's like a nostalgia-induced comedy show where everyone's dressed in the silliest outfits, parading around like they just found a stash of enchanted dress-up clothes. Is it the thrill of seeing folks rocking their bizarre getups without a hint of irony? Or maybe it's the relief that we're no longer wearing powder blue top hats and curtains-as-dress fashion statements. Whatever it is, let's dive into the chuckle-worthy world of awkward prom photos from the Groovy era. Leave the Top Hat Alone, It’s Bored of Your Company Hold the phone, folks, we’ve got a guy in the back sporting a top hat that thinks it's starring in a soap opera. I mean, that thing has more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy. Meanwhile, Mr. Caught-Off-Guard on the side just wants to have a normal picture, but nooo, top hat guy is stealing the limelight. Let’s give it up for the gals though, who are pulling off their looks like they’re getting ready for a blast. They probably wish they left that top hat at home, locked away with all the ghosts of fashion past. Flannel Fever: The Key to Everlasting Love Step right up, folks, for the most '70s prom pic you'll ever lay your eyes on. We've got shag carpet squares, paper mushrooms that look like a failed art project, and dual plaid suits that scream, "Hey, let’s match like a married couple!" These two deserve applause for their coordinated flannel, but someone please get them a towel – the prom dance floor doubles as a sauna, apparently. Magic and Mismatched Expressions: A Perfect Recipe Attention, prom photographers: Can we get a matching expression coordinator, stat? Nothing says “I’m thrilled to be here” like a split-screen of a guy who's hyped and a date who's mentally grocery shopping. Seriously, it's like watching a buddy comedy where one person didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be a comedy. A Puff of Smoke and a Splash of Style Catastrophe Cue the smoke machine, folks! Behold the wide-lapelled flannel jacket that thinks it’s the real star of the show. Bowtie, you're cool and all, but let's be real – the jacket’s hogging the spotlight. This was clearly the golden age of experimenting with fashion, when everyone took a detour through Crazytown before arriving at Promville. But hey, at least this guy has the crown for the greatest 1970s mullet. Congrats? From Prom to Mortuary: The Unenthusiastic Guy Meet the guy who treats prom like a funeral procession. Hands folded, pet gecko missing, and an overall aura of doom – it's like someone swapped his prom ticket with a burial plot reservation. Buddy, cheer up! It's prom, not a séance. Life’s too short to mourn your own prom night. Moonlit Bananas and Peasant Fashion Hey, remember that time the school decided the prom theme was “Jungle Love”? No? Well, neither do we, because it's bananas – literally. Those gals are perched on a moon that could easily double as a giant banana in another life. Maybe the school mascot is the Fighting Bananas. Who knows, it's the Groovy era – anything's possible. ’70s: When Dads Took Over Teenage Bodies The 1970s: when teenage boys turned into middle-aged dads overnight. This guy's got more wedding vibes than a justice of the peace. Did they card him at the entrance? Or did they offer him a briefcase and a 9-to-5 job as a dad-joke enthusiast? Ah, kids these days. Blinds, Blinds, and More Blinds: Oh Yeah, and Teens In this thrilling episode of "Prom Pics: The Next Generation," our young lovebirds are upstaged by the real stars of the show: venetian blinds. Because who needs prom memories when you can have window decor? But hey, at least the kids look happy. Somebody tell the blinds to chill. Last Known Photographs and Prom: A Perfect Match Look, folks, it's the "Last Known Photograph" series, featuring two teens who look like they're posing for an FBI witness protection program file. Are they having a great time? Is this a prelude to a crime spree? We need answers. But we also secretly hope they had a redo for a less ominous prom pic. When TVs Were Prom Dates: An Awkward Love Affair Guess what, folks? The '70s brought us the golden era of prom dates – enter the disembodied head! Because who needs a whole person when you can just go with the floating head option? Half-price tickets for half a person, anyone? Growing Pains and Cloudy Dancing Being a teenager: a tumultuous journey from 4'11" to 6'1" with legs that suddenly think they're in a growth race. These younguns are trying to walk on clouds made of cotton, but in reality, they're just tripping on clouds. Disco dance meets accidental acrobatics – it's all part of the '70s magic. "Jungle Love" or Just Plain "Oh No"? Someone needs to explain the '70s' obsession with bizarre prom themes. "Jungle Love"? Really? Did the school mascot have a stroke of genius, or did someone think, "You know what kids need? A dance that raises questions about cultural sensitivity!" Let's all agree that "Jungle Love" should've stayed in the jungle. Captain Awkward: Ready for Takeoff Breaking news: Prom pic rule #1 – thou shalt not look excited. This guy’s suppressing his inner cheerleader so hard, he's about to explode in a burst of restrained enthusiasm. Inside, he's doing Olympic gymnastics. Outside, he's trying to win the medal for "Most Chill Dude at Prom." Flashback to the Groovy-est Gagworthy Trends Ta-da! If you ever wondered what a single frame of the '70s looked like, here you go. Behold the high collars, wooden wall panels, and oversized glasses that together create a montage of fashion crimes. It's like the '70s threw up in one picture, and we can't look away. Mickey Ears Are So Yesterday, Meet Mickey Dots Who pulled the Mickey Mouse prank on this guy's prom photo? Did he willingly become a Read the full article

[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​

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

[purplerose244]

Red Water AU

So apparently I completely forgot about this post stuck in my drafts, I saw others making a Kai and Nya role swap and I simply followed the example 🤷🏻‍♀️ Since I liked the idea I decided to continue it a little and actually post it, since I rarely talk about AUs 👍👍

I love my flame babe, I love my water goddess, so yeah 💙❤💙❤

Let's start ☺

The Golden Weapons now include the Spear of Water (too easy, I know 🤷‍♀️). We got the Underwater Castle as the home of the weapon and the dragon 🐉🐉

Nya's suit is probably gray? I like Nya having her own color honestly, I'd go with that

"But I wanna go there and save my brother!" "You heard the girl, this seems really important!" "Thank you!" "Is he hot?" "I guess! ... wait wha-"

Yep it's a Plasma ❤💙❤💙

Nya does considerably less rushed decisions than her brother BUT she is very prideful and tends to take initiative, very often going solo. She bumps heads with Cole a lot over leadership, they are friends but she takes a bit to value teamwork

She's less interested in the Green Ninja as a title and more as the best one can aspire to when practicing martial arts 💪💪

Yes the key for the true potential will still be not being afraid of failure 🌊

The Underwater Castle is in a bubble like structure that will get flooded while the others escape on a submarine. Then Nya will come out through a water vortex saving Lloyd I ADORE THIS SCENE IN EVERY UNIVERSE NOT SORRY 😍😍

Kai is the blacksmith and he is... very bad 😂

At the very beginning he makes such weirdly shaped weapons (squared and heart shaped and a spoon?), the guys don't really get why he makes them since they have the Golden Weapons 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

But he does his absolute best, improves, and by the time The Mega Weapon is forged he makes some pretty good weapons for them all 😊

There is no Samurai X but there is the Red Shogun 😏😏

The secret would last less than it did with Nya, buuuut it's actually Jay that finds out first and Kai begs him not to say as he wants to help in something other than being a blacksmith 🤷🏻‍♀️

Cue Jay coming up with the weirdest stories to cover him...

"KAI? HE FORGOT TO TURN OFF THE HOUSE IN THE OVEN"

"KAI? I DON'T KNOW HIM"

"KAI? OH HE'S DOING MY LAUNDRY YEA HE TOTALLY DOES THAT WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHUT UP"

The date happens later anyway, Jay is trying to impress with all he has because knowing Kai is the Red Shogun already he feels like he's not good enough for someone this cool...

Kai makes it clear he really is 💙❤

Most of season 2 doesn't change, Jay is the one doing the engineering instead of Nya (A SACRIFICE THAT MUST BE DONE 😭 But I also miss engineer Jai so 🤷🏻‍♀️), Kai gets corrupted by the dark matter towards the end and... he gets a smooch from Bizarro Jay (he's a mixture of very pissed off and very delighted after that 😏😏)

We all know that the love triangle of Rebooted is silly so it's hard to even consider it but okay 😅😅

Kai doesn't like machines anyway so I don't think he would care so much, then again Jay will still find out about the perfect match so cue jealousy? I guess? Probably he's still insecure about himself so he puts it on Cole (I STILL DON'T LIKE IT BUT IT WILL HAVE TO DO)

Cole doesn't hit on Kai and Kai doesn't on Cole, and there is mostly a big tension because Jay feels bad about the situation but he really doesn't want to lose Kai because he likes him so much...

Nya doesn't have Kai's hate for technology, but she lacks game knowledge so good luck in the Digiverse 😅

Nothing else change, at the end Kai asks Jay for a break because after Zane's "death" he doesn't feel like he can stand this tension and wants to reconsider himself. Jay doesn't hate Cole and he generally pushes away everyone, so does Cole

Nya makes the speech at the funeral, and they all part anyway 😢😢

Nya is still with Lloyd most of the time, Kai is still in underground tournaments and he actually learns some more moves

Tournament of Elements is mostly the same too. Nya takes Kai's place into the actual tournament of course... and I kinda really like the idea of a phoenixshipping situation? 🧡❤🧡❤

It's Skylor and Nya flirting in the most obvious and smirky way 😗

The Cole vs Jay match is less hostile, it's more Cole trying to finally break through Jay and let him tell what's bothering him and why did he get so far away. Jay will reveal he doesn't feel as great as Cole or as anyone else and that Kai could have much better than him, especially after he acted over a matching machine and own insecurity. Plus he's the worst friend for pushing away everyone

Cue Cole beating all compliments and positivity into Zaptrap's thick head because BROTP BRUISE AM I RIGHT 🖤💙🖤💙

YES KAI TOTALLY GETS UNDERCOVER FULL KABUKI STYLE AND HE TOTALLY ROCKS IT WHAT ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT

Red Shogun is actually pretty good at hiding on the island 🤷🏻‍♀️

I actually think the "Kai betrayal" could work with Nya too, a calculated plan that ends up with the staff. Nya is still onto the perfectionist path so the fact that Lloyd, a kid who started martial arts much later than her, became the green ninja, deep down bothers her and she says this

Then the rest doesn't change... although I think Nya wouldn't miss the opportunity and she would get that kiss 🧡❤🧡❤

Possession my beloved 💚💚💚

YES GHOSTS TOTALLY MELT WITH FIRE WHAT ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT

When Lloyd gets possessed we are back at the leadership problems of the very beginning but with more problems: Nya wants to lead, Cole intervenes, Jay wants to try to and Zane... actually knows what he's doing 😅

Nya might be afraid of fire? Idk, could be cool to see that 🤷🏻‍♀️

Kai discovers to be a fire master and starts his training 🔥🔥

Kai has problems finding his weakness for several reasons, and besides being too arrogant to find some immediately, the biggest one is right under his nose so he doesn't notice right away...

Instead of a bucket, Kai has three candles lined up with only one burning. Wu states that another candle needs to be burning, but Kai can't use other objects or directly touch the candle. He tries all day, to no avail. He holds on for way longer than Nya did, he can't give up

And that's the point. Nya was afraid of failure. Kai is afraid of giving up

When he does quit at last, Wu simply burns the candle himself, since only Kai wasn't supposed to touch it. Basically all Kai had to do was stop being so stubborn.

I don't think Ronin and Kai would get along as he and Nya did 😂😂 Kai would just try to burn his pants...

And for the aero-blade Nya actually gets Ronin to lower the price. She's good, Ronin actually offers her to be partners 😎

But he refuses to give up the scroll of airjitsu so they still need to break in

Kai unlocks his true potential when instead of fighting alongside his friends he steps away in order to prepare a bigger attack, and it is a massive fire storm 🔥

You: but the village of Stiix is on water how do you explain tha- Me: ALRIGHT MOVING ON WHAT'S NEXT.

I kinda wanna leave Delara as Nya still for Skybound? Nadakhan mostly kidnaps Kai and the others out of vengence for what happened to his realm

Kai is unsure about where he wants to go with Jay, he knows he cares about him but so much happened lately between getting Zane back and him being a ninja, so... he asks Jay to have some more time

Due to this tense situation Kai doesn't give Jay his hand for the airjitsu, he lost Jay before as a friend too and he wants to give him a direct answer this time🤚

Most stuff is the same, cue Cliff Gordon's awful advices, cue Cole best bro 🖤🖤🖤

They all disappear at the end, Nadhakan takes Nya out so he can marry her. Meanwhile Jay's team of secondary characters save the day and once out of the sword first thing Kai hugs Jay ❤💙

Attacking Nadakhan goes the same, but Kai goes the extra mile to protect his sister so the venom hits him

Same scene of death, Kai states that death is not enough to extinguish his flame of love

In rewind they kiss still 🥰🥰🥰

I don't think much would change from then on, at least in general. I think there will be some conflict between Kai and Nya, because I think the ninja thing comes much easier to Kai since he is the never giving up type, which is a ninja very first rule. Nya is more rational at first, they learn from each other most likely

So yeah, Hands of Time goes as expected since they are both ninja now. The Samurai thing is something Pixal comes up with during that time, with the suit and everything, and Kai is basically pissed that the Red Shogun wasn't that cool 😂 The focus stays on the parents though

Sons of Garmadon follows this idea, at the end Kai stays behind with Lloyd

Hunted is similar, Kai gets pretty into protecting Lloyd at all costs, they all get reunited at the end with lots of Plasma and Phoenixshipping moments ❤💙❤🧡

For the rest I might think about it another day, this is it for now!

#i kinda love the idea of leader nya #and blacksmith kai #both being disasters #anyway #kai smith #ninjago nya #nya smith #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #lego ninjago #jay walker #ninjago jay #zane julien #ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago au #au #red water au #plasmashipping #plasma #phoenixshipping #phoenix #ninjago rebooted #ninjago tournament of elements #ninjago possession #ninjago hands of time #ninjago sons of garmadon #ninjago hunted

[ezrasimp]

my friend and I watched ofmd last night and I wanted to share her reactions

(The highlights without context are on my twitter (@pip82937) in case you want to see them without context first coz I think quotes are funnier if you have no clue what’s going on aha)

Episode 1: 

- (‘I should have 20 kills by now’) “Me in Apex [Legends].”

- (’Alright! Places everyone!’) “Stede is such a theatre kid.”

- (When the crew fight the British) “Any of Jay’s (our irl friend) parties.”

- (End of episode 1 when Stede is reading Pinocchio to the crew) “They’ve matched up that lighting really well.”

Episode 2: 

- (Izzy turns up) “Oh, I know you. [Derogatory]”

- (’A diversion, that’s what we need’) “[Quoting Moana] “As a diverrrsion!”

- “There’s something about Con O’Neill’s voice that scracthes an itch in my brain.”

Episode 3: 

- (Hornberry gets splattered with water) “Man just got baptised.” 

- (‘Someone buy my booty!’) “Blackbeard suddenly appears.” 

- (‘One piece of silver’s me bid.’) “One Piece?!”

- (Lucius doing the opening speech for Stede) “Lucius has never reminded me of Harrison (another irl friend) more.”

Episode 4:

- (‘I haven’t died yet.’ ‘Yeah ‘cause that makes sense.’) “He’s a fucking mood, Izzy, I dunno what you’re on about.”

- (Izzy walks away after Ed and Stede swap clothes) “He’s clearly not happy.”

- (‘I don’t know what to do!’) Me: “Me doing anything ever.”                 Her: “You stole the words right out of my mouth, you fucker.”

- (The lighthouse scene) “Oh I remember this, you showed me this.”

- (‘The only retirement we get is... death.’) “I want that.”

Episode 5:

- (Sees the guy get chucked to the other side of the boat before the title appears) “Me.”

- (Stede explaining passive aggression to Ed) “That’s an awfully autistic way of explaining it.” 

- (‘But I’ve decided to carry myself like I’m cute’) “Another incredibly Harrison thing to say.”

- [Completely speechless at ‘Ooo daddy’]

- (‘My name’s Mr Hands, First Mate Hands...’) “Mr Hand-Job, ha!”

- (‘Gaston!’) “Gaston? Oh no, hide the eggs!”

- (‘Sometimes a quick death is the best way to end a bad conversation.’) “I agree.”

- (‘This is far too fast, this is far too fast, this is far too fast...’) “Me becoming an adult.”

- (‘Oh Godfrey, stop fingering my dents...’) “Hmm, fingering dents, eh?” (‘You can finger my dents anytime!’) “Oop. [So they were actually going for that?]”

- (‘No, we love a good shanty!’) “[Bad French accent] Shantyyy!”

- (‘Hang on, that’s passive aggression.’) “Wow, that’s incredibly autistic.”

- (‘Have you ever been sketched?’) “Don’t offer to sketch him; offer to choke him.”

- (‘Because I think you met... at birth.’) “OOOP!”

- (‘What did you do to them?’ ‘Passive aggression.’) “Stede looked so evil then.”

- (The Moonlight/You Wear Fine Things Well scene) “Ezra, your mic is muted but I can still hear you sobbing.” (I was)

- (End of ep 5) “I’m really getting into this now.”

Episode 6: 

- (‘Stab me’) “This is highly suggestive but I think that’s the point.”

- (‘I don’t feel fear.’) “Edgy.”

- (Ed comes down on wires) “Looks like a fun time... just needs a bit of alcohol.”

- (‘Or as I like to call it, the Art of Fuckery’) “Summary of my life.”

- (‘They’re just pets.’ [Fang starts crying]) “I love Fang.”

- (‘I think Mr Bonnet’s theatrical skills are finally honed.) “He’s trying to get you killed Stede.”

- (‘Lucius, we’ve got a fuckery on our hands!’) “I was about to take a sip of my tea and I’m so glad I didn’t.”

- (‘Kinda like a dead person smell?’) “The fandom by the time season 2 is finally announced.”

- (Stede shouting ‘Fuck!’) “Me.”

- (‘It’s just a dream! It’s all a dream, come back!’) “[Laughing] A dream?!”

- (‘You’re a fucking killer, bro. So kill!’) “Alpha Males’ morning routine.”

- (‘I thought I heard laughter.’ ‘No, those were screams!’) “[Ungodly sound]” Me: “You okay there?” Her: “I nearly spat out my tea.”

- (Lucius cutting his own finger) “Nice one!”

- (The Kraken tentacles up against the window) “He’s gonna start crying.” 

- (Ed crawls away) “Me for real.”

- (‘Is that still on the cards, or...?’) “That is also an autistic reaction.”

- (‘...to a fucking duel’) “He did catch the sword to be honest.”

- (‘Stede wins!’) “They’ve come so far since the first episode, they’re happy to see him win. Since the first episode when they were, you know, plotting his murder.”

- “Bye bye sandwich!”

Episode 7: 

- (‘Tatty edges... it’s been around, it’s seen things!’) “Me making maps in primary school.”

- (‘I’d love to be stabbed by Jim.’) “Who wouldn’t? Did you see them in episode 1? I was shook in the best way.” 

- (‘Life is pain’) “Felt that.”

- (Sees the overhead shot of the snake being cooked) “Oh it’s this scene!”

- (I accidentally left my mic on and recited the scene, only realising right at the end) Me: “Did you hear all of that?” Her: “Yep!”

- (‘There are some scraps that didn’t completely burn!’) “Me with my mental health.” (‘No, I think I can fix this!’) “Not me with my mental health.”

- (At the end of the scene where Lucius says ‘That was really sweet’) Me: “Lucius has drip to be honest.”                                                  Her: “Look at those trousers!” [We start laughing]                                    Me: “I know right!”                                                                                Her: “And they look high waisted as well!”

- (‘You should have it [the orange]’) “I mean, it is their tree.”

- (‘La vida es dolor.’) “Agreed.”

- (‘This really is the perfect brandy.’) Me: “You.”                                          Her: “I was about to say me.”

Episode 8: 

- (Swede sleeping in the barrel) “This is like the barrel scene in The Hobbit.”

- (‘Left them to die at the hands of the Spanish?’) “Dun dun dun!”

- (‘Fucking Hornigold!’) “Ha, horny gold.”

- (‘Whip my balls!’) Me: “Him being whipped in the balls was improvised. What’s wrong with him?! [Affectionate]”                                           Her: “He’s a genius.”

- (‘He’d shat everywhere but in the bedpan.’) “Amber Heard.”

- (‘My crew mutinied. Third time it’s happened this year.’) “That sounds like a you problem.”

- (‘Turtle versus crab!’) “I love it. I wanna join. Where do I sign up?”

- (‘Chuck ‘em at eachothers’ heads, it’s hilarious.) “That happened in One Piece.”

- (Stede reading his book while shit happens on deck) “Me reading fanfics.”

- (Karl dies) Me: “Are you laughing?!”                                      Her: “[Laughing hysterically] Yes man! It’s the ridiculousness of it.” 

- (‘Fungina!’) “Vagina?” 

- (Referring to Calico Jack) “What kind of incel is this dude?” 

- (‘Take care mate.’ ‘You’re leaving?’) “Man’s masking so heavily he’s fooling himself.”

- (Lucius walks in on Stede and Olu being sad over their respective loves, done with life) “Same Lucius.”

- (Buttons wailing over Karl) “Me too.”

- (Olivia speaking) Me: “I love how it implies he speaks seagull.”       Her: “Of course he can, did you see that cursed shit he was doing towards Calico Jack? He has the blessing of the seagull God.”

- (‘I wish God had took me instead!’) “Me too!”

- (Ed looking back at the boat) “Look at that pining mess.”

- (The English arrive) “Ru ro raggy. [...] Hang on, how are they so blind that they didn’t see those boats coming? And that’s coming from me!”

- (‘Various stages of fucking each other over!’) “I mean, they are definitely fucking each other, just in a different way.”

- (‘You came back.’ ‘Never left.’) “That was marginally, ever so slightly gay of you. Your heterosexuality was slipping there.”

Episode 9: 

- (Starting episode 9) “Let’s go lesbians, let’s go.”

- (‘I’m a strong reader slash writer’) “Modern AU Lucius writes the dirtiest smut fics you will ever read in your life.” 

- (‘I forgot you were twins’) “Stede is a terrible liar.”

- (Frenchie falls over) “Born for this kind of espionage, yeah.”

- (‘Bit of fanfiction’) “[Almost spitting out tea] BIT OF FANFICTION?!”

- (‘You’re just some bored, little, rich boy.’) “Stab him too.”

- (Stede signs his confession) “Very quick signature.” 

- (Sees Izzy again) “Hello Izzy.”

- (‘The bill has come due.’ ‘No, I don’t wanna die!’) “Same, same, same, same, same.”

- (Izzy gets punched) “Nice! [satisfied]”

- (Chancy being himself) “Stab him!”

- (Crew backing up Stede) “I love them!”

- (‘We talk it through.’) “As a crew!”

- (Chauncy being detained) “Fight! Fight! Fight! Stab him in the other eye!”

- (‘Ten human years?’) “Me reading terms and conditions.”

- (‘Your shirt? Your socks?’) Me: “How domestic.”                                         Her: “I was about to say that!”

- (Izzy now in charge of the Revenge) “I feel bad for these fuckers now.” Me: “Who? The crew or Ivan and Fang?”                                      Her: “Yeah.”

- (‘No rations for a week’) “He’s a cunt.”

- (Beach scene begins, which she’s seen before) “The lighting looks awfully familiar.” 

- (They kiss) “I’m just gonna remind you of how I said they queerbaited baited you.”

- (‘Think up some new names, cool ones’) Me: “‘Cause if he had come up with names, he would have called them both Jeff.”                                    Her: “Oh yeah, definitely. [Laughing]”

- (‘He’s gonna come and wake you up’) “Is that really what’s gonna happen?”

- (Gunshot) Me: “Straight through his other eye.”                           Her: “FUCK YES! [...] Angst AU where Stede dies there and Ed finds his body.”

- (Izzy: ‘What can I do differently? I’m open to suggestions.’) “Everything. Die.”

- (‘Everyone’s got their own style.’) “I love Olu.” 

- (Izzy doesn’t get chucked overboard) “Goddamn it. Is this what blue-balling feels like?”

Episode 10: 

- (‘They have adjusted to the loss of their father far better than expected’) “Let’s not lie; it’s probably ‘cause the most he did with them was play pirates occasionally.”

- (Stede standing in the doorway with his feet out) “Put those grippers away!”

- (‘So, he’s sick but doing well, is the news?’) “Spot on.”

- (Izzy spits his drink on deck) “He’s a proper cunt.”

- (Lucius existing) “He makes the same fucking facial expressions as Harrison.”

- (Mary’s painting comes on screen) “Buttcheeks.”                                 Me: “Do you think they’re basking in moonglow too?”                  Her: “Most likely.”

- (‘I’m in the blanket fort’) “[Laughing] What a mood!”

- (Lucius writing Ed’s lyrics) “[Laughing] He’s so concerned. [Genuine]”

- (‘Someone entirely fictional’) “[Unbelieving] Mmh hmm.”

- (‘What if life just... begins again?’) “Lucius is for real the fucking therapist.”

- (‘You came in late last night.’) “She came in.”

- (Mary’s monologue) “Fair play. [...] Girlboss.”

- (Ed singing) “The entire crew are just looking at him like ‘When’s Stede coming back?’”

- (‘His name is Blackbeard, or Captain’) “Oh piss off. He doesn’t even have the beard anymore.”

- (‘Lucius will be more than happy to write down your lyrics.’) “His face says otherwise.”

- (Izzy being Izzy) “If you’re gonna be angry, go and make your own crew.”

- (‘Murder’s a natural cause.’) “Death is natural no matter how it comes to be so she’s got a point.”

- (Stede telling everyone about Ed at the pub) “They’re all a bit disappointed at that.” [Reads ‘disappointed sounds’ in the subtitles] “Damn I’m genius.”

- (‘I should have let the English kill you.’) “You should’ve let the crew throw you overboard, fucking hell.”

- (‘I serve Blackbeard, not Edward.’) “Okay piss off then, bye bye, nobody will miss you.”

- (Mary hovering over Stede) “My sleep paralysis demon.”

- (That ear shot) “Ew, no, not through the ear!”

- (‘Or just smother me with a pillow?’) “That happened on Game of Thrones.”

- (Replying to me saying how I was going to throw up after Stede said ‘His name is Ed’, clarifying that it was out of happiness, not homophobia) “If you’re homophobic and you get to episode 10 of this series, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

- (‘I’d like a shot’) “Literally.”

- (Mary screams) “A+ acting from Mary there.”

- (‘Is it just me or are they taking an awfully long time to come back?’) “I wonder why that is.”

- (Stede gets hit by a horse) “Yah, they got some good and proper special effects here.”

- (Reaction to Stede’s ‘death’) “Man had a leopard and chose to die by... [Piano falls on corpse] piano, actually. Not horse. The timing of that was great.”

- (Stede rides off) “Season 2 is gonna be full of angst, you realise this?”

- “That was quite enjoyable.”

#ofmd #our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #tw emetophobia #tw sui joke #reactions #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #oluwande boodhari #jim jimenez #ed x stede #jim x olu #jim x oluwande #can you tell she really started to get into it #it got to the point that i wasn't watching coz i was too busy writing down her quotes #this took over two hours to write up omg #long post