#(...tho apparently it's rare for them to have this effect BUT THEY CAN! i have two data points)

[army-of-bee-assassins]

you know i mostly really like my grad program and everything but i have very quickly learned not to ask too much about vision and hearing loss bc it turns out most of the faculty here know very little about those things. they know a little bit about hearing loss but really only in the sense of "get them fitted with hearing aids/CI as early as possible so they can develop like a hearing child". i really wanna learn more about language development in deaf, blind, and deafblind children because that's the population i specifically wanna work with (and have worked with in the past). and it's just been frustrating having my questions about those populations be met with "uh. i'm really not sure."

most of the faculty have been nice about it, but i have had the misfortune of being assigned an advisor who is borderline hostile about it. the first time i brought up this subject, (back through email when i was still deciding where to go), i was asking about an ASL elective that was offered within the program and whether there were any other electives with related topics. she responded by telling me that this was a masters program in speech language pathology, not ASL. great! you could've just said "no." the second time it came up was a few weeks ago when i talked to her about maybe doing a masters thesis (i won't be doing one, by the way). i said that if i were to do one, it would be about deafness, blindness, and/or deafblindness, and she said something like, "that's not a subject that's typically studied or taught in a CSD curriculum". as if it's just crazy that i as a CSD student would want to learn about something as esoteric as fucking vision and hearing loss! what a marvel!! not like those two senses have fucking anything to do with communication huh??? not like children who are deafblind face significant barriers in their development of language, the effects of which i have personally seen in numerous individuals??? clearly i'm really the crazy one here

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Gave a 10/10 to a BL... me!

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Nov 2023 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 4 of 8 - I love this show. I adore Tew's the simple backstory. No frills. No fuss. He got dragged in the way many do and he can kill so they kept him. They aren’t trying to make it needlessly complicated (which is rare for Thailand). That said, the pacing is way tf off, the emotional arc is rushed and then sappy out of absolutely nowhere. Before you ask, the kiss is not at issue, we halfway through they should be kissing, but the romantic life changes - too soon. But I don’t care. Finally, they left us this ep reminded of 2 v important things,

this pair kisses beautifully

in BL all mafia be gay

Fun fun!

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - It's official, I love this. It’s a classic caregiver/bodyguard trope where one of them is opening the other one up to the world, but sweetly. I’m enjoying the softness of JimmySea's take and I hope GMM TV takes its cues from the success of My School President and doesn’t push this particular show into rough or edgy territory. Stay on target GMMTV. Don't mess with my bias again!

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 3 of 10 - Finally, our adorable side couple has emerged! This show remains engaging without losing pace (despite the main couple being slow burn), which is all I want from a Thai pulp, and more I could ask for currently from a sports BL. 

(Note: when I dictate the computer always puts "Thai pope" instead of Thai pulp - this is hilarious to me.)

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 14 - I guess they didn’t strip the omegaverse out of this. Unfortunately, I’m not an omegaverse fan, so I find its presence extremely off putting. (But it’s kind of amazing that somebody finally put one on our screen.) Unsurprisingly, it’s a lot of alpha posturing and hyper masculinity, because that’s what this kind of worldbuilding is an excuse for (lazy writing and lazier characterization). This means I don’t like Babe AT ALL except that he’s smell orientated and a bit verse. Way is lovely tho, because Nut is a great soft screen presence amongst the testosterone haze. 

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 2 of 8 - I’m not gonna lie (when have I ever bothered to lie to you all?) I’m struggling with this show. The sound effects are getting worse. That is not allowed. Still I found this installment slightly more bearable than the last last, probably because there was more of the cast in play and less of Jade being too cringe to live. 

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - AKA temporal paradox of pain.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Friends Forever ep 13 of 24 - Ooo it’s a bit of a teacher/student (coach/player) thing. Linguistic negotiation and kinkification of phi. Also actually kinky. But not consensually. Gonna get dark. Bummer. 

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 1 of 14(!) eps - Whines. Must I? Gaga doesn’t have a skip ahead button. Sad sack main characters really do not work for me. But this was better than I expected. I wasn’t expecting much. 

Look: This is helmed by Cheewin (shudder) with screenplay by Den (Only Friends - shudder the second) under Copy A Bangkok (they deserve not my shuddders). It's gonna be a shizz show people. It's Thai dark War of Y style - my least favorites. Apparently, there is meant to be a "plot" but when has Cheewin ever bothered with plot?

On a completely different note does the blond look like that Korean actor/idol from At a Distance Spring is Green & Wanna One to anyone else? Or is it just me? (Park Ji Hoon)

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

A Breeze of Love (Korea iQIYI) eps 3-4 of 8 - I like it a lot. Dongwook is so obtuse and socially awkward and reserved and needy and Dohyun is so gay over and simultaneously wildly confused by this behavior. Fantastic. A bit stiff, even for Korea, btu I'm okay with it since everything else I'm watching right now is decidedly NOT stiff.

I finished it!

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo - Japan BL movie 1.5 hr

Best friends life together during university - cheerful sunshine loves to cook, grumpy tsundere loves to eat. Aki is a bit manic pixie dream boy for me (not my favorite archetype) but they’re cute and it’s one of those Japanese slice of life pieces like Our Dining Table that isn’t really a romance in fact it’s barely a drama. This isn’t friends to lovers because they’re basically already in a relationship (which everyone around them knows) they just aren’t fucking. I did spend a lot of time worrying that they weren’t eating any green things whatsoever. In the end this isn’t my thing when there’s no kissing at all, and this was a bit too dull even for JBL. Sorry Japan, one cannot trade on cute and cheese alone. I know, you want to. But that's not a BL or a personality. 6/10 

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan, maybe coming to Netflix) 8 eps - This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.

I LOVE LOVE LOVED THIS. IT'S SO GOOD.

10/10

Let me be perfectly clear: I have watched 646 BLs and only handed out nine 10/10s.

I talk more about why this one made the cut, here.

It's Airing But...

One Room Angel (Japan Gaga) 6 eps - adaptation of Harada’s manga (which I did not like) about a clerk who's stabbed, nearly dies, and returns home to find an angel waiting for him. With only 5 eps and a good chance this won’t end happy, I'm gonna wait and let you tell me how it goes.

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14 eps - I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all) even one featuring Singto and Fluke. I'm holding off on this one and if told it's good I'll binge later.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed. Waiting to be told if I should bother.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until it completes its run.

Next Week Looks Like This

STARTING

11/20 Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - trailer here, stars Ohm (of OhmFluke) opposite Guide (bestie from IFYLITA). This looks like an actually gay version of Antique Bakery (play it again, BL). I'm intrigued, it looks HELLA pretty.

11/22 7 Days Before Valentine (Weds ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk. Adapted from y-novel of the same name, directed by Tu (180 Degree) stars Jet (Why You… Y Me?). When you want your old love again, but fate sends you a reaper instead. All he can do for you is kill people. I'll likely give this a pass and wait to binge if safe.

11/24 VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Screenplay by Lin Pei Yu (WBL) about a chef who courts a shy writer with spicy beef noodles.

11/25 The Sign (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk, but with a suspense and adult characters. Special investigators who loved each other in previous lives reunite in new bodies. Stars Billy Patchanon (BillySeng) & Babe Tanatat (new). Includes other SCOY favorites as a special investigation team. I may give this a try (depending on distribution) because I'm into the non-horror bits.

11/26 The Whisperer (Sun ????) 1 of 10 - trailer here. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). He has dimples (My Ride) but I don't think even that gives me the will. You can tell me how this goes.

11/26 Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 1 of 12 - OffGun are back, trailer here. Adapted from the novel “Love Course! เสื้อกาวน์รุกเสื้อกุ๊กรับ” by iJune4S this is about Prem who runs a not-so-popular restaurant with 2 friends. About to go on a cooking competition with a huge reward, Prem gets involved with Ten, a stressed-out med student who wants Prem to teach him to cook.

Still Coming November BL

11/30 For Him (Thurs ????) ep 1 of 10 - high heat trailer, I suspect iQIYI will scoop this one up. From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night (please no) based on a y-novel, man nursing a heartbreak has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. It looks terribly trashy so I'm in! Maybe I'll do a trash watch?

Nov 2023 line up with screen caps here. Not kept updated.

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

To be fair this was last week but I did get the screen shot until now. (You are Mine)

I Cannot Reach You serving all Japan's favorite tropes plus some very un-Japan decent kisses.

(Last week)

[bellewintersroe]

Hiiii loveeee!

Did a lil dancey dance when I saw your opened you requests to write for our boys! So I am clearly a firm lover of anything Ronald Speirs and would absolutely love something for him if it’s not too much trouble? I have been feeling a lil fragile lately and not like my usual bad bitch self cause I’m just a lil exhausted so maybe a “touch her and I’ll kill you” kinda protective (and maybe borderline possessive ;) ) Speirs would make my little delicate self feel a bit better if you have any ideas?

Thank you so much!!

heyyy first of all it’s absolutely no trouble at all, thank you for the request!! Secondly I hope you feel better soon and get lots of rest :)))))

ps - so sorry this took so long to post.

Also the reader being a nurse is always my go to, I feel like it’s the most realistic position (even tho this is all fiction, idk) so I hope this is okay for you!!!! Please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes and tense mistakes (I have a bad habit of swapping between past and present tense)! tw- a little bit of harassment but Ron fixes that ;)

——————————————

You’re everything to Ron Speirs. When he see’s you getting hit on and jealousy arises, his protectiveness becomes apparent with a hint of possessiveness.

There you were. The first person Ron’s eyes landed on in the crowd of people. It was a cliche, but you really were his soft spot, his weakness, the reason why a fire ignited in his chest every time he caught sight of you. He loved you dearly, it was so simple to Ron. The only thing that wasn’t so simple was the protectiveness that emerged with his feelings. As one of the few combat nurses attached with Easy, both wanted and unwanted attention was something faced on a daily basis. Whilst the majority of the men had grown friendly and respectful of you and the other girls, for some, you were a rare sight. It was amazing the way desperation and the lack of female attention could effect some men.

Cat calling, yelling, whistling, even barking. You’d grown used to it all, the only thing you felt you couldn’t handle was threats or unwanted touching. Whilst it was a rare occurrence, it did happen. Not to be mistaken, as a combat nurse you were tough, extremely tough, and you had developed a feisty attitude alongside an iron fist that could break a man’s cheek bone. But when situations became out of hand and you found yourself weeping, that’s when Ron Speirs would step in.

“You want a seat ma’m?” One of the sergeants from I Company offered whilst your hands were plunged deep into the steamy water, attempting to wash the stains blood and grime out of the cloth. “Oh, no, no, I’ll be okay. Thank you, sir.” Forever polite, you’d got back to work, scrubbing and squeezing the apron dozens of times over.

You were to be moved off the line in roughly three hours, so you wanted to be prepared and get the last of the cleaning done before moving out. Haguenau was almost as cold as Bastogne, it had sucked the life out of you. Still, you trooped on, just like everybody else.

There was some commotion ahead of you, muttering and whispering followed by boyish giggles. Eyes were on you, they always were. The men of I Company whom you weren’t so familiar with seemed quite fond of having a female in their vincity. It wasn’t their chatting that bothered you, but they’re staring. Growing a scowl, you tensed your shoulders and avoided looking up in order to seem more unapproachable. Still, their eyes remained glued to your stature.

“I have a seat you can sit on?” One of them called out followed by a round of laughter, forcing an awkward smile, you subconsciously began scrubbing harder. “Hey, you wanna come sit with us for a while!” The same man called out again. This time, you couldn’t ignore his request.

“Uh, I’m alright thank you.” Confidently, you nodded and took another look at the blue cloth. It was almost free from grime, you were itching to leave the room, so your washing continued a little more vigorously.

“Heyyy, c’mon! We’re great fun aren't we?!” “I’m sure you are, I’m just a busy woman.” A little more genuine now, you took a light hearted approach, some of the men groaning in response. “What’s your name?” Gazing up, your eyes lingered at the man who asked, pondering if telling him your name was the best idea. Sensing your hesitation he laughed and sat up straighter, leaning one hand against the sink where you were stood.

“I don’t care for her name.” One man remarked, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. “Well I care for more than that.” “C’mon, baby, give that a rest for a minute-“ the man lingered his palm up your wrist. Snatching it away, you returned a scowl. “No.”

“don’t be fucking boring, c’mon.” he stood up straighter, the other men growing quiet as a tension replaced their chatter. With a sigh and the roll of your eyes, you stepped back, lifting the cloth from the water. Screw it, you thought. A dirty cloth was better than this harassment. “Oh, you think you’re better than us don’t you?” He seemed highly offended by your actions, ringing out the cloth snappily, you prayed that he’d just shut the hell up and leave you alone. “Hey!” He yelled more, startling you as your wide eyes met his narrowed ones. “See, this is why women shouldn’t be out h-“ before he could finish his sentence the door slammed open, everybody simultaneously jumped. Within seconds nobody else other than Ron Speirs was stood at your side. Relief was quickly followed with a slight worry. A worry that Ron would end this man’s existence.

“Have we got an issue here, private?” Ron’s voice was low, eyes dead set on his victim, jaw tensing whenever he seized to speak. Your heart set off accelerating, knowing your boyfriend didn’t tolerate any of this shit, especially not when it came to his girl.

“No, sir.” The man clicked his tongue, avoiding all eye contact with the Captain. “Then explain to me why it’s acceptable to speak to her the way you did? You think it’s okay to lay a finger on her?” Oh, Ron had seen it all, he was furious, still remaining formal, but the slight shake of anger in his voice was something you recognised instantly.

“Uh-“ he was cut off, a dismayed Speirs leaving no time for an answer. “No, it’s not Private-“ Ron read his name tag, “Smith.” The way he spat out his name oozed venom.

“You even speak to her again I won’t hesitate to take this further.” Ron could’ve sworn and yelled, but somehow his cold, stern exterior was even more intimidating. The private’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, blinking like an idiot. His head turned over his shoulder, but Ron’s armed hand came up, knocking the Private’s arm with the back of his gun.

“No, don’t look at them; do I make myself clear, private?” Now, the man looked worried. “Sir, I-I didn’t even touch her-“ there was the slightest attitude plaguing the Private’s tone. You knew immediately Ron wouldn’t stand for that. His hand roughed up into the man’s shoulders, shoving him back into the wall. Deciding you’d seen enough and witnessed enough humiliation, you removed yourself to the front of the building, taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself down.

It wasn’t that you worried for Ron, it was more for the other guy. Whilst you knew your partner would remain professional and respectable, you had seen first hand how Ron’s temper could take over. Of course, it was only when it was needed. He wasn’t a fool. Besides his protection, you felt a slight frustration and sadness deep inside of you that you couldn’t shake. The event had somehow resurfaced more negative emotions from the night prior. Jackson’s death, the chaos of the patrol across the river. It was all too god awful, and the last thing you needed and deserved was some idiotic private trying to make a move on you.

Your sleeves eventually grew damp with the tears wiped away, your face was now icy due to the wet trails they left down your cheeks. This wasn’t like you, experiencing a moment of overwhelming emotions you just couldn’t stop yourself crying. You wanted Ron, you desperately just wanted him to come out and hold you and warm you up. You’d dealt with the horrors of war alike many of the men out here, why was it they felt they could disrespect you? It wasn’t fair.

Ron was outside. Speaking to another officer who had asked him what had happened, but when his eyes landed on your tearful ones, he too felt an overwhelming surge of emotions. Anger, sadness, horror, “I’ve dealt with it, thank you Richardson.” Speirs slapped the man friendly on the shoulder before focusing his attention on you. He was striding in your direction, eyebrows screwed and hands ready to outstretch to hold you. Fuck those men who’d disrespected you, if it was in any other circumstance Ron wouldn’t have hesitate to throw punch after punch to each and every man that even looked at you in the wrong way.

Your head dropped, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth as Ron’s hand landed on your upper back, walking you further down the alley way for more privacy. “Hey.” His voice soothed, you sniffled in response.

Ron’s hand smoothed over your dampened cheek, chest aching at your sadness. If he could take it away and put it on himself, he would. People didn’t see Speirs as an empath, but he truly was. You’d truly softened his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible; he needed you. Selfishly, all to himself.

“Are you okay?” His voice was much slower now, deeper and velvety. “I’m okay.” You sadly spoke, doe eyes gazing up into his. If Ron could melt, he would’ve there and then. “Thank you for standing up for me.” Your emotions took over, body and mind yearning for his comfort as your smaller arms wrapped around his torso. Ron didn’t hesitate to hold you back, kissing your forehead carefully and holding his hand to the back of your head. He cradled you as though your life was in his hands.

“I’d always be there for you.” Ron muttered, grazing the same hand through your hair. “I coulda killed that fucker.” He then whispered, his other arm tightening around my waist. Sighing into his touch, you merely managed to get a; “Ron-“ out before he’d cut you off unconsciously.

“I woulda. Nobody speaks to my girl that way, ‘specially not some low life mother fucker that-“

“Ron.” Slightly amused, you peered up at him with a smile. “-That has half the capabilities you do.” Admiring him, soothing his anger, you ran your hand over the apple of his cheek. The slight stubble that had grown nipped at your skin. Ron felt his temper dismantling second by second. “I love you. You know that right?” He’d told you calmly. Suddenly, your troubles no longer felt so substantial. Nodding, you opened your mouth to speak, but he’d cut you off again. “I’d kill for you. My girl.” Ron’s hand placed under your chin, the slight possessiveness causing your stomach to fill with butterflies.

“You’ll be killing nobody for me, Ron. I love you too.” Hugging closely into his body, his chin came to nestle on top of your head.

“I would.” With a sense of humour, you smiled again, the way your head tilted back giving room for him to kiss your slightly chapped lips gently. “Nobody’s disrespecting my girl.”

[otakween]

Zero Men - Volume 1

Now that I've finished 0-Sen Hayato, this manga was next on the list, another oldie. At least this time it's by the Godfather of all manga, Osamu Tezuka. I think this is his first work I've ever read??? Apparently no one cares about it because there's very little English material on it. Oh well, the main character is cute!

Ch. 1

Omg I'm loving this so far! The art is so dynamic and cute and the dialogue is really colorful too. The protagonist Ricky is adorable ;w; I love his tail.

That was a pretty badass and hilarious opening with the two soldiers fighting a pointless war while also low key bonding over a baby they saved.

Ricky crying when his dad told him his tail was something to be ashamed of broke my damn heart! Glad the dad isn't fully evil though. Just misguided...

Kind of weird that the dad is like "I swear I'll find you a doctor!" Like dude...you've had many years to do that and it probably would have been easier when the kid was an infant.

Ch. 2

Obvious parental death is obvious. Ricky sure got over it quick lol.

So, so far we know that 0 men can survive extreme temperatures, are really fast learners, and have great agility. I think this is an Elfen Lied scenario where they're supposed to be "evolved humans." Making them squirrel like was kind of a weird choice but oh well.

The professor's design where he basically just has a cloud for a head reminds me of Dr. Uranus from Cyborg 009. Peak old dude character design lol.

Losing one dad and then instantly meeting your real dad is pretty wild. The emotional whiplash made it all feel kind of rushed and silly. It's nice that Ricky doesn't feel like a freak anymore tho. Kind of an ugly duckling story.

Ch. 3

Woah, suddenly the story gets very different. Forget the evil scientists, it's time for robot demons apparently! New bad guys are Enma (Buddhist God of Hell) and Satan. Fun for the whole family!

Enma kinda looks like one of the guards from Squid Game lol, simple but menacing

The scene where Enma and Satan make an entire lighthouse disappear and the keep jumps out to save his life was effectively frightening. I wonder if that guy will come back as a witness?

All of Tokyo is ripped apart and put back together in like an hour and everyone just shrugs it off!? I know Japanese people can be complacent, but not THAT complacent!

This chapter felt like an anti-communist message with every house being exactly the same but "something's missing." I googled it and apparently Tezuka was a communist, but only for a short time before he changed his tune, so it's still possible that's what he was going for.

Ch. 4

So apparently the professor is a good guy now (despite first impressions) as he teams up with Ricky to investigate Enma.

We learn that 0-men are closer biologically to squirrels than they are to humans...riiight. The adults definitely looked more squirrel-like at least.

Pretty savage of the professor to shoot up his friend with a gun to "check if he's human" (including a shot to the head!?) Reminds me of the original Stepford Wives when the MC stabs her friend in the crotch.

The way Tezuka draws the prime minister feels very Looney Tunes. He's very rubbery.

Ch. 5

This manga is very text heavy so the average chapter takes me a bit to get through. Luckily, the Japanese has been very easy so far! (Rare for an older manga...)

Ricky and the Professor escape the clutches of King Enma who was planning to kill them if they didn't reveal the whereabouts of the 0 men. They end up in the forest where Ricky finds his mom and dad again. They ask Ricky to return to their country with them but he turns them down because he's vowed to be an "ally of humanity."

I can see why King Enma wears a mask...he's pretty dweeby looking under there. I like his mad scientist hair though. The fact that his face is a little disfigured gives Darth Vader vibes.

Ch. 6

Ricky and the professor try to alert the public about King Enma's take over. People start to be swayed, but then Enma just kills anyone who tries to join the resistance, so they don't get very far. By the end of the chapter Ricky is captured again by another power hungry person after the 0 men. Gdi Ricky...

I know it's for plot convenience but Ricky's tail pops out so easily that you'd think they'd come up with a better strategy for hiding it than stuffing it into his pants by now.

Ch. 7

Ricky splits up from the professor and finds himself captive on a boat. His 0 men parents come to save the day (apparently this was like a 0 men slave ship) and they knock out their captors.

Ricky just did a dramatic goodbye to his parents in chapter 6 and now he's back with them again? Make up your mind, story!

I was proud that I was able to read the kanji 船長. The videos I've watched of Marine-Senchou (vtuber) helped me out with that one.

We end the chapter in the jungle of the Himalayas. Maybe we'll learn more about 0 man culture?

Ch. 8

Uhhh wtf!? Ricky's dad just dies in an avalanche and they're like "meh, whatever!" Seriously Ricky and his mom recovered from that way too quickly. He might not really be dead, but they believe he is!!

It was cool seeing how the 0 men have been evading humans by living in a place that's only reachable by their species. That felt believable. I bet their land is nicer than the weird place Ricky was living before anyways. No dictators (I hope lol)

Ch. 9

Lol my previous statement was immediately proven wrong in this chapter. Ricky basically went from living in 1984 to Brave New World. I quickly went from enjoying learning about 0 men culture to being like...oh...that's not good.

Kind of confusing that Ricky's mom would intentionally bring her son into this world if she knew how messed up it was? She even is like "here's our apartment where we'll live as a big happy family" but then Ricky learns that kids are separated from their parents super early in this world and sent to live in a children's village. Like...did she not think of that??

Why was chapter 9 like 3 times longer than chapter 8? Well, I've been enjoying the kanji reading challenge. This manga has no furigana...

Ch. 10

Man this story is cyclical. They escape, they get captured, they escape, they get captured. Tezuka also seems to have ditched who I thought was the main villain for now. Will this whole thing be episodic or will we get a real plot?

They come across some yeti in their travels who say "yeti yeti" like Pokémon lol. I wouldn't mind seeing them make friends with all the cryptids, but the visit was very short.

Ricky's mom asking him to shoot her tail off with a gun was pretty dark. It does seem like it would make their lives a lot easier to remove their tails (in hopefully a less painful way), but I guess it's the principle of it.

Dude at they end looked like a Cyborg 009 character with his giant buttons and fancy hair haha.

Ch. 11

And just like that we gain another random party member (and Ricky's mom gains her 2nd adopted son in like 2 chapters). Ricky and Pete bond over their daddy issues.

I was wrong, they did bring Enma back. He reveals that his new, Communist version of Tokyo was inspired by the 0 man way of living, so I guess that explains that.

Like I said, we're going in circles here. Now we're back to looking for the professor Ricky befriended in earlier chapters. After the gang finds a safe place to live, then what? Are they going to save the world from oppressive regimes? Is the goal to just be a normal, happy family?

Ch. 12

So apparently the professor they eventually find is some kind of fake (even though he passed Ricky's needle test). Can Tezuka decide if this dude is a good guy or a bad guy already!?

Kinda funny how when they found a safe place to hide out they're like "now let's confront the evil people!" Like...weren't you running to hide from the evil people? Well I guess heroes gotta hero.

Ch. 13

So now it's doomsday via Mt. Fuji erupting. Although the gang succeeded in destroying Satan's clone factory, they now need to worry about the fate of humanity.

The version of this that I got from Bookwalker is 4 volumes but MAL has it at 7 volumes, so this must be an omnibus. I wonder where the original volume 1 cut off?

That first volume was kind of all over the place. The plot progression didn't feel all that natural, but I think this was one of those stories that was supposed to be a one-off and then got expanded, so whatever. Let's see where things go in volume 2...

[beardedhandstoadshark]

I've never owned a DS before and I'm really interested in purchasing one but I have no idea which one I should go with. I know there's the regular, the 3ds and the XL, so which one would you recommend?

Depends on your preference! I‘m gonna go a bit into detail here so you know what you’re buying, and there’s a TLDR in bold at the bottom, but if it’s still too muddled please don’t hesitate to ask!

Also, disclaimer, whenever I talk about pricing it’s from my own perspective, so for all we know, I could buy something super cheap that’s really expensive for you and vise versa, so it’s better to check it for yourself still.

For starters, there‘s quite a lot of different versions of the console, with the og DS and 3DS even counting as their two separate lines.

Generally speaking I’d say go with a 3DS, as they can also play every DS game on top of their own (which doesn’t work the other way around) and the hardware’s only half as old, so it’s less likely to die on you in the near future. However that makes them more expensive, too.

XL just means bigger screen/console. It’s just like when a phone comes out in regular and big size. For some folks the added space is too much to properly hold it anymore, for others the regular size is too small to do anything. Depends on your preference. For comparison:

The DSi and New 3DS are both kinda like "upgraded“ versions of the DS/3DS, respectively.

Left is a DSi, right is a New 3DS XL. They both have the same sizes as their normal counterparts, so the size comparison still works. (Ignore the low screen light on the DSi, I just didn’t bother changing it back lol. On Max brightness they‘re the same.)

If you don’t plan on playing any Gameboy Advance games, absolutely go with a DSi instead of a regular DS. They go for the same price (at least here) but the DSi has better hardware and way more functions, while being way less of a brick compared to the og DS. Apparently the max screen brightness is also higher than the og? Idk tho.

Theres also the DS lite, which is a DS that looks like a DSi, but again. Same price, might as well go with the upgrade. In any case, they’re also both harder to accidentally snap in two than the og model lol.

The New 3DS only has better hardware but no new software compared to the regular 3DS. But it’s got extra buttons! Very rarely used, but they exist. It’s kinda like 60 fps vs 30 fps, if that makes sense? The hardware difference is noticeable especially right after you switch, but you can also live without it, and sometimes it doesn’t make that big of a difference.

Like, if I play Hyrule Warriors, the regular 3DS is barely holding it together on 20fps and can’t even do 3D while the New one‘s playing pretty smooth and lets you play with 3D. And only THEN does the N3DS goes down on the same level as the regular 3DS because it’s essentially playing the game in double for the 3D effect to work. Meanwhile Mario Bros 2 plays the exact same on both of them.

What you could also do, is get a 2DS. It’s like a 3DS, but in 2D. All the features of a 3DS except for the whole 3D gimmick, so it’s basically like the Switch Lite. You also can’t fold it like the other ones, unless you get a New 2DS XL, which is foldable again, but that ones‘ price range is all over the place. The normal 2DS seems to sell generally cheaper than all the other 3DS consoles, at least.

TLDR: your options are a

DS

DS Lite

DSi

DSi XL

For the regular DS line, and for the 3DS line a

3DS

3DS XL

New 3DS

New 3DS XL

2DS

New 2DS XL

If you only have under 100 bucks or don’t care about 3DS games,I‘d say go with one of the DSi. All consoles of the DS go for more or less the same price, and it’s got the best hardware and features of them.

If you’ve got extra pocket change, go with any of the 3DS consoles instead, as there’s just more games for it on top of a better hardware and less age. Your cheapest option is a 2DS, but a regular 3DS isn’t that far off either. They might even go for the same price, if you’re lucky? If you wanna, you can go also with a New 3DS if it’s a lot of pocket change.

And if you vibe with a bigger screen, take the XL version of whatever line you chose! Except for the 2DS XL, somehow its 3D counterpart is cheaper than the 2D XL again.

Also, ALL of these consoles come in multiple colors!

TLDRTDLR: DSi for price or any of the 3DS line for more games, imo

…and if you get any of them and the shoulder buttons are broken, that’s completely normal. You can drop them 100 times and the console is fine, but play Mario Kart too often and the shoulder buttons stop working lmao.

[amynmacaron]

19, 26, 30, 32, 35, n 38 owo

19. do you think grass and bug are distinctly different pokemon types, or largely the same and incorrectly categorized?

WH.HOW.H O W.IS A PLANT.AND A BUG.SUPPOSED TO BE THE SAME THING???????WHAT JUST BC THEYRE ASSOCIATED WITH GREEN??????????????HELLO???????????????????

26. pokeblocks, poke puffs, poffins, poke beans, curry, or sandwiches?

OOGH i dont wanna sound biased but i ADORE pokepuffs honestly ive made human grade pokepuffs just so me and my pokemon could all have them NSJDKDJF but i do love a good curry too<3ive never been to galar but i rlly do wanna go one day bc thats where my bestie lives And for the curry<3

30. what is your least favorite pokemon type?

IF ANY STEEL TYPE EVEN MAKES EYE CONTACT WITH ME I WILL EXPLODE.except the tinkaton line tinkaton can stay<3

32. have you encountered any rare or unusual pokemon?

enough so that people question how and why i have the pokemon i have XD but thats understandable tbh bc 1. fun fact praline is shiny! 2. just wait until i reveal what kinda pokemon honey is...........im too shy to do so yet but no ones gonna believe me if i dont have pictures anyways KSJDKDJJF

35. did any of your pokemon have temperament issues when they first evolved? how did you handle it?

praline and cannoli were definitely moody for a while when they evolved; it helped praline a lot to have her battle more than she did as a buneary, and she also received a lopunnite as an evolution gift from a friend which made her very happy!!i made sure to ease her into mega evolving to not cause her any more issues tho since she had just evolved after all sjjdjsjf cannoli however was more of a tricky case, she became pretty bossy, and both a clean freak and destructive at the same time!!!she didnt seem to want to battle tho, so i was stumped on how to help with her aggression, until i noticed that whenever after she ripped something apart she would immediately clean it up and then go hide under my weighted blanket. i did some searching and turns out she became even more sensitive to touch once she evolved, and rlly dirty things now seemed to overstimulate her!!i got her her own mini weighted poke doll to carry around when she cleans, and it helped her a lot ^_^ cinccino also produce a kind of oil to help clean their fur, and she wasnt making much of it early on in her evolution, so it also got better the more oil she started producing. macaron also lends a hand with her calming aura when things get too overwhelming for her jshdjsjd

38. what pokemon did you grow up thinking was rare only to find out theyre common elsewhere?

I ACTUALLY HAVE THE OPPOSITE EXPERIENCE i caught sprinkles in paldea, and her pattern is called the fancy pattern!!when i returned to kalos with her a lot of people were surprised to see a vivillon with her pattern; i found out that apparently fancy vivillon are just as common as any other vivillon in paldea, but in kalos, theyre so rare that many people think theyre effectively nonexistent in the wild anymore!!!

[fizzingwizard]

today i had a big work event which we found out yesterday would mean no lunch break... a few min to grab a snack around 11 is all there was and even that was barely there bc there was so much to do. i made sure to eat some bread in the morning but still was sooo hungry by 3 which is when they said we’d have our break... but it ended up being 3:15... and then effectively 3:30 bc of the packing/cleaning up time ;_; i had a bit of rice then. a few of my coworkers went out but the rest of us lit just passed out in a classroom until 4 buhahaha.

anyway i was so exhausted and hungry so for dinner i went to saizeriya and planned to order like 2000 yen worth of food. saizeriya is hella cheap which is why i like it so this means i was darn hungry haha. i got my fav peas with egg and pecorino (also good with asparagus but i didnt see it on the menu this time) and a small margherita pizza. also ordered two lamb kebabs but they never appeared. wasnt charged for them though and in the end decided i was pretty full after the peas and pizza and besides i wanted french toast for dessert. so i guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach.

... it’s also not impossible that the wait staff purposely “forgot” the lamb kebabs because they were like “why is one woman ordering this much food no way she can eat it” lol. I once got sick at an okonomiyaki restaurant and the waitress looked me in the eye and said “perhaps you ate too much?” lmao.

also on the menu is a glass of wine for 100yen. are you KIDDING. it is probably not good wine, but i can’t tell lmao. I love red wine and have no discernment about quality so 100yen for a glass of red wine couldn’t have been more perfect for me.

however i am now tipsy. yup from ONE measly glass of wine. im sure its in combo with how tired i am but yeah i was meandering a little on the way home xP also it has been probably a full year since i last had wine, and before that possibly even longer. yeah i do love it, but i dont drink alone, this was very rare for me and pretty much completely bc i wanted to try 100yen wine lol. and when i go out to drink with friends i usually get a cocktail (cassis orange or fuzzy navel). i drink wine mostly if there are no cocktails on offer or if i’m staying in with someone bc wine is more likely to be on hand than a cocktail. and i do prefer wine with pasta. but because of the pandemic and all i just havent gone out much in the past few years so not much wine drinking has happened.

so i never had much tolerance to begin with and now even that little ledge is toast apparently bahahaha

im just a little buzzed tho, it’ll probably mean i fall asleep soon, but that’s good. because i am hella tired. what a day what a week what a year. however. upside: i am on vacation now. yaaaaaay. gonna SLEEP ALL MONTH LONG

[trevanent]

part 2!! and now for some buffs!! well rounded are weapons that i read as just passable but that feel a bit limited, i like playing a lot of these but often feel a bit cloystered by their underwhelming aspects and think theys hould be tuned upa bit to rly feel fun!

participation trophy weapons

sploosh o matic: god what the fuck is even going on with this one. its been buffed in some goofy ways as sis with insane object damage and a unique swim speed effect that reall has no justification lore wise. but yeah its still so silly and rekegated to ambush attacks. honestly i would just reduce its shot rng, i know its a spray shooter but its not rly a good painter cos of how stupidly short its range is, so making it slightly more cpaable of killing from more than point blank could make it just a bit more threatening of a supportish skirmisher!

splattershot jr. : an actually good support shooter! the ink tank buff is very fun even if the bombs piss me off.but this is sans bombs balancing (imo splat bombs and burst bombs should both be nerfed p notably but thats another subject), it actually wants to paint, so instead of rng reduction, if say just make its jump rng less severe by default by a little bit to give it a little bone :)

l-3 nozzlenose: a silly guy :) i honestly v much agree w the notion that of the semi sutomatic shooters its gooft it has jump rng unlike the rest given the rest of its drawbacks feel fair enough. give it perfect jump accuracy :) ill pick it up again then. maybe a bit worse falloff in case that makes it a little too strong tho

range blaster: rsnge blaster is my glorious lover. id say shed be perfect if the base jump rng wasnt so bad. this, on top of making intensify action slightly more effective for blasters across the board, would make them less gesr dependent and more fun to experiment with gear for, and also just less agonizing to move around with

splat roller: straight up, rollers just feel so pathetic without a good painter. just buff its damage in a similar way to dynamo roller and make its roll speed slightly booster by run speed. in general though i cam up witha concept for all rolling weappns to reach max roll speed fast and to have an option to drop their flick to immedistely start rolling. this would make them actuay feel like they have a mobility option, and their roll ink efficiency should be buffed a bit. roll sucks horridly anyways so i think this option wouldnt be too much of a buff for roller, just makes it easier to get away or move thru enemy ink in certain situations! i also laid out that rollers flick cancel shoukd have mroe end kag depending on the roller, light rollers and brushes can even do it (ink brush too even if its silly) they can all do it almost instantly since they cant immediately kill with roll anyway. i shouldve mentioned this before oh well. anywaus thats all i think splat roller would need to be more fun :)

flingza roller: flingza is only good cos of its fat paint rly, its apparently good at fighting too but sheesh i dont love its vertical flick min damage at max range. i rly dont get why its minimum damage cant be 45 :p i think thatd be all it needs cos i do get how the weapon can be kinda strong as is along with cancellable flicks and mobility implemented

octo brush: implement cancellable flicks! give it run speed boostie! and return its melee hitbox so you can kill faster at point blank its fun!

bamboozler 14 mki: boost the damage!!! to 91!!!! irs crazy how much you could boost its damage with mpu before honestly but yeah sometimes its annoying how rare those random one shot combos from teammates can feel now. i think this and increasing its shredding power would be great for varying good counters to hp specials and boost bamboos fight. also, everyone ntoe these buffs all assume better special balance soon so that you dont freak out abt nerfing splatana object damage

ballpoint splatling: bp is scary honestly, the only thing i would change is giving it better shot celocity for its ling range mode,it feels goofy bow long those shots can take to hit lol

heavy splatling: i almost consideried boosting range, cos honestly heavy sucks without the choke point hp special blitz goin on rn, and it needs a better chance fightign charger. imo it should get a buff similae to the nautilus one, after maps r fixed its charge should let it shoot 14% longer and its shot rng should be reduced a bit so it can more reliably challenge chargers in certain situations!! and then you will all see...

tri stringer: tri stringer feels rly solid after the paint buff honestly, and i like its high ibject damage as a unique strength, however, as things stand, i think given the potential i do think it has, it should be able to charge fast in midair imo thatd make its mobility feel real good

too many flaws pt 1 (i will get to the rest of the list in one final post)

.96 gal: JUST REDUCE THE FUCKING RNG ALREADY GODAMMIT! But inly slightly cos if it git too accurate itd be way too op 😭 it still has to be kinda bad, but it should be able to paint a little better to make up for it :p and make its base jump rng penalty a little lower for the sillies cos it is still oretty fkawed design wise. a little smthn smthn

aerospray: keep it a five shot but buff its damage. make it do like 24.5 for better dps and damage vs objects also boost its range a little bit and i think making it have zero penalty for jumping, since every spray shooter seems to have some kindof unique trait to itself, and i think aerospray would actually have reasons to be played in higher level matches! after all, its rng is already bad enough lmao

splattershot nova: honestly this shits so fun and i kinda am glad im the end they didnt make it the new dualie squelcher . just lower its rng a bit so it can fit a bit better cos the five shot kill is bad enough as is even if its rng doesnt worsen over time 😭 its bad enough as is. the paint buff was excellent, and buff its damage to 24.5 like aerospray for dps reasons and boom bobs yer uncle

splattershot pro: i heavily agree with chara that it should just get a damn fire rate buff, but also a bit of a damage buff by a few damage points for better object damage, and i feel its strafe speed a lil buff, yeah its a long range shooter but it feels relatively fast strafe speed is a staple for splattershots so :p

h-3 nozzlenose: LITERALLY just reduce the endlag by like. two frames and h-3 will feel usable. id even go so far as to make its range just slightly longer, give it a unique range value like squeezer, cos if squeezer gets that much range but not h-3 come on!!!

luna blaster: unironically reduce its endlag. like by literally two frames to make it feel nicer i guess, and give it a bit better object damage multipliers to set it apart a bit more from the other blasters and octobrush!!

carbon roller: give it all rhe roller cancellability and mobility buffs! and faster max speed to make it better at mobility and better roll ink efficiency. actually make tha tink efficiency fairly signifcant so it can use the hell out of its roll for mobility , and make its roll do 80 just for fun! better silly combos. give it better damage scaling to make up for mpu and give it a higher minimum damage honestly, to make up for how worthless it is for getting thru mid , and make its horizontal flick just a liiiiitle longer range cos it feels silly how pathetic that feels sometimes. also its horizontal flick should paint a bit better to give it a bit something extra. cos in mt ideal world burst bonbs should be nerfed decently and i love carbon deco but . yeah

dynamo roller: CANCELLABILITY AND ALL THE OTHER ROLLER WID EMOBILITY BUFFS!!! the damage buff was huge and honestly i think cancellable flick, although it should have the most lag on cancelling its flick, would be huge for minimizing its horrendous weakness to splatbombs. also heres a real fun idea i just had, it should be able to crusb bombs. itd be super risky and situationaly but with the roll speed changes itd be more doable in certain situations for a bit of cheese and an anti bomb option, which i think this game needs a bit more if honestly. finally, i think its min damage should be raised to 47 and its horizontal flick should paint more consistently!!! how fun how unique!! :3

stay tuned!!

[hecticcheer]

Hyponatremia (unfinished T/M/A fic)

Fiveish months ago I tried to write a fic based on this scenario post I made. I’m super definitely never gonna finish it, and, it just kinda trails off at the end? Also it’s very rough. Features some American measurements in brackets that I’m too lazy to convert, if that gives you an idea. But I figured I’d post it anyway on one-slice-of-cake>no-cake principle.

As for the plot... uh. Jon has a headache; Martin tries to help, but makes it worse. For *checks notes* ~4200 words. If it has one saving grace, it’s that you can mmmmostly understand it without prior knowledge of T/M/A? Long as you know Martin’s living in the Archives to hide from an evil worm monster, you should be good.

--

As usual, Jon was the first person to join Martin down in the Archives that morning, sometime between seven and eight. And, no more unusually, Martin had twelve-plus hours of nervous energy to work off, and nobody to shed it on but his boss. “Morning. Sleep well? Tim said you still had some work to do when we left for the pub, but I didn’t see you when I got back so you can’t have made too late a night of it.” (Jon shook his head.) “Shame you couldn’t join us, by the way. Elena and Clarisse and them destroyed us on geography, and Sasha says you’re pretty good on maps and that. Maybe you could’ve saved us.”

“Doubt it,” said Jon. Martin waited for him to add more to that thought, but instead he just sort of stood there. Pinched one nostril shut and inhaled experimentally through the other. Trying to figure out which one was clogged, maybe? Tim said Jon’d said he had a headache; maybe it was a sinus thing. Not that this was exactly reliable intel. On pub-quiz Wednesday Tim always regaled him and Sasha with Jon’s latest excuses not to join them. They were always bad, but some were so bad Martin suspected they weren’t so much Jon’s lies as Tim’s lies about Jon’s lies. Probably not a great idea to mention this one, then. He’d stick to the first excuse Jon had allegedly given:

“Did you finish what you were working on?”

Jon closed his eyes, for a bit longer than the average blink, but not long enough to count as a proper wince. “Not even close.”

“Oh. What… was it?”

“Cabinet of statements from 2003. Or at least, nominally from 2003, though by my count less than a third of them actually date from that year.”

“Yikes. Need any help? Extra pair of hands, or.”

“Not right now.”

“2003,” Martin mused—“are you still looking for Mr. McKenzie’s statement?”

A short, but hearty sigh. Enunciated, practically. He didn’t open his mouth until afterward, but Martin could see his nostrils flare around it. “No. Three days ago, when I started to look through the cabinets marked 2003, I was looking for Mr. McKenzie’s statement. Now I just want to find out which statements in there I can’t send straight to the discredited section.”

Jon stood in the open doorway to his office by this point, hand on the knob as if to remind Martin of his eagerness to close it behind him. Even so Martin tried to peer past him into the office, looking for a discard pile of statements he might offer to shuttle away himself. This was pretty hard to do surreptitiously, though. He’d hoped his eyes would land at once on the tallest pile, at which time he could point to it and say, Are those the discredited ones, then? But from his vantage point all the piles on Jon’s desk seemed taller than usual.

“Right,” Martin said instead; “good luck.” He smiled weakly and returned his gaze to Jon, meaning to restore eye contact before he remembered how seldom Jon looked at people’s faces anyway. At this moment both his eyes were covered by the hand not on the doorknob. It would’ve been weird, he figured, to just duck out now while Jon couldn’t even see him, so Martin told himself to wait until he opened his eyes and only then back off.

But then Jon just stayed like that, for ages, with his fingers on one temple and his thumb on the other, blocking all possibility of sight. Eventually Martin felt like he had no choice but to say, “Are you alright?—or, I mean, how’s your head, by the way? Tim said….”

“It’s fine.”

“Ssssso it—doesn’t still hurt, then?”

“I’m fine, Martin. Thank you,” Jon said, but in one of the least thankful-sounding tones of voice he had. And then he closed the door, without even waiting for Martin to back up.

—

“Thought you might like coffee this morning instead of tea. It’s got more caffeine, and, that’s supposed to help, right? Plus I remembered what you said on your birthday about tea having tannins just like wine does. Of course, for all I know coffee might too—”

“It does.”

“Oh. Well… maybe the caffeine’ll cancel it out and you’ll break even? Or, I don’t know, maybe if you already have a headache they can’t trigger one.”

Jon’s answering Hm sounded pessimistic. Sure enough, as soon as Martin had finished his sentence he said, “I’m not that lucky.”

“Probably not,” Martin agreed with a laugh. “Still, least it’s hydration. Though caffeine’s a diuretic, so if I recall correctly you only get about half, volume-wise. That mug’s about… [twelve ounces,] I’d say? So it probably counts as about [six toward your sixty-four].”

“Yes, yes,” replied Jon, picking up his bottle of water and shaking it. When he set it down again, one look confirmed what Martin had suspected from the sound it made—it was nearly empty.

“Oh hey, look at that! Looks like you’re doing a pretty good job even without…” he trailed off, realizing too late that the most logical end to that sentence was my help, and that that was a pretty pompous way to refer to a coffee he was pretty sure Jon didn’t even want. So instead he said, “I’ll go refill that for you.” And before Jon could look up Martin scurried off to the break room with it.

The water dispenser should’ve been changed yesterday. When the water got this low it took ages to fill even a mug, much less a tall bottle like this one. It startled as a trickle, and by about halfway up the bottle slowed to a glorified drip. In his mind he pleaded with the water spout not to make so much noise; promised it he’d put in a new one as soon as he’d returned Jon’s water to him, mouthed encouragements to it. Not much farther, just to the top of the M, come on, you can do it. (The bottle was an Institute freebie, with Magnus Institute inscribed on it in black-bordered green letters. Martin had one just like it somewhere in his flat. Worm bait now, he supposed.)

By the time he brought it back Jon’s eyes were on the statement in his hands. Skimming, by the looks of it, rather than either actually reading or pretending to.

Martin endeavored to set down his refilled water audibly, but not painfully loudly. But Jon’s answering “Thank you” took him so much by surprise that at the last moment his wrist jerked and the bottle fell over.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry.” It had a lid, so, not an actual disaster? Jon did snarl at him though, or at least at the noise. His hands flew up as if to cover his ears, but he seemed to reject that idea halfway through. Just closed his fists around thin air, then leant his temple on one of them and sighed through his nose. “Sorry,” Martin said again. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jon’s emphatic blink seemed to stand in for a nod.

“Anyway, here’s a further [sixteen ounces] for you, looks like, or thereabouts,” ventured Martin, patting the side of the water bottle with one hand while holding it down with the other so it definitely wouldn’t topple again. “I’ll just leave you to it then.”

“Mm.”

“Good luck.”

—

After his stunt with the water bottle Martin had too much distrusted himself to risk making another big noise with the door, so he’d left it with its tongue sticking out rather than latching it. This meant he made almost no sound when he entered again. The first thing he noticed was that the water in Jon’s bottle still reached the top of the M. It still sat in the same place, too—not out of Jon’s reach but far enough away (Martin had told himself at the time) not to seem an imposition on his space. Almost definitely not where one would set it if one intended to pick it up again soon. His coffee seemed to have fared a bit better though. Half empty, one might say. Optimistically.

The second thing he noticed was Jon himself, who sat with his elbows on the desk, his chin on the heels of his palms, and his fingers arranged around his eyes like fence posts. Like a child peeking out at something they’re too scared to look at directly—except that his eyes were closed.

Martin snuck back to the other side of the door and knocked on it, gently. “Hey, uh, Jon?”

He didn’t look up, and opened his eyes for only a second before shutting them again. But he did drop his hands, threaded his fingers together and set them on the table, and bit his lip. “What, Martin.”

“Er—well, I know you said you’d given up looking for Marcus McKenzie’s statement, but I just realized I never asked if you’d thought to look in the discredited section. I mean, from what he said on the phone it didn’t sound like he took his dad’s statement all that seriously, so, maybe Gertrude put it in there, as, like, corroborating evidence that it wasn’t paranormal, and McKenzie senior’s statement just got misfiled?”

“Martin, I invented the discredited section.”

“Oh.”

“Anything else you wanted to say?”

“Oh, uh, nothing important. Just wondered if you’d like me to take that mug away.”

Instead of responding verbally, Jon picked up the mug and made what seemed a valiant effort to drink a little more of the coffee inside it. From what Martin could tell, he barely managed not to grimace in disgust.

“Do you like coffee? I’m not a big fan of it either, to be honest. Oh, well. If you can’t force that down you’ve still got plenty of water there, I see. Besides, it’ll wash out the taste.” (With an actual heh heh, which came out more like a small dog panting than like human laughter.)

Dramatic, snarly sigh from Jon. “Think I’ll pass. It seems to make it worse, if anything.”

“Oh. Sorry about that; must be those pesky tannins. I’ll just take your cup now then.”

But Jon only tightened his grip on it. “Water, I meant. The coffee’s fine. Not exactly my favorite beverage in the world, but, you were right. It’s a good idea.”

“Oh. Thanks, I’m glad you.” Martin smiled, then frowned. “Wait, water makes it worse?”

“Seems to.”

“Really? Are you sure it wasn’t just—too cold, or something.”

His laugh sounded bitter, hollow—theatrically so, in fact. A perfect Ha ha ha, except he didn’t say those words, didn’t enunciate them like Sasha sometimes did when Tim made a bad joke. He just made the exact sounds they were invented to transcribe. “No, Martin. I haven’t just been giving myself a brain freeze every time I.”

“…Right, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” For a few silent seconds Martin picked at a notch in his thumbnail, carved there earlier this morning by a stubborn paperclip. Part of him wanted to tear the nail off and have done, but he knew it would bleed if he did. Nothing to clip it with in the Archives, obviously. “Are you sure you won’t try again? This water’s quite tepid, actually, since I got it literally from the bottom of the barrel—”

“Martin—”

“Sorry, sorry. Just thought it was worth—”

“Don’t you have something better to do.”

“Er… no, actually. Pretty much finished with everything, at the momen…t. Though if you’d like to give me another assignment I’d be happy to—yeah. Do that, for you. Or I mean, for the sake of the Archives; I don’t mean it’d just be, like, busy work. Not accusing you of that or anything.”

“Are you comfortable leaving the Archives?”

For half a second Martin heard this as a hint—an offer? a threat?—that Jon meant to have him transferred to another department. Then he wondered if Jon was hinting it was time Martin found somewhere else to live. “What, like, permanently?”

“No—just as long as it takes to track down and interview Georgie Barker about her role in the statement Ms. King gave us.”

“Oh. Yeah, I think so, uh. Thank you for asking? I mean, Prentiss said she was done with me, right. At least, me personally. And she already knows I’m here, so it’s not like.”

Jon replied shortly, “Yes.”

“I’d like to listen to Ms. King’s statement first, though, if that’s alright. What’d you say it was about? The Cambridge Military Hospital?”

Another short, emphatic, nose-directed sigh. Couldn’t be too stuffed-up then, Martin guessed. “Technically, yes, though Ms. King insists the building itself had nothing to do with it.”

“Huh. What was it about, then?”

“She alleges that a woman she hired to help film one of her ghost stories peeled the skin off her arm.”

“Oh my god! I mean, did you—was she okay? Did she show you her arm? Did it seem to have—you know—skin?”

“Her own arm, not Ms. King’s.”

“Oh.” Martin sighed for himself now, though with relief rather than exasperation. Managed a tiny laugh, as well. “Okay, well, that’s. Creepy as hell, but, not nearly as bad as.”

“Mm. Nor nearly as verifiable as your version.”

“T…rue, no, I guess not. Anyway do you have the tape? I’d like to listen myself, if that’s.”

Jon pointed to a small stack of tapes on the bookshelf to Martin’s right. Sure enough, the top one had M. King, 0161704 sharpied across the label on its side. “Ah! Found it. Thanks.” He had a tape player squirreled away already; on another day he might’ve pretended otherwise, but for the moment he was too relieved not to have to make a pest of himself by asking to borrow one to worry whether the absence of that request might make Jon suspicious.

Besides, Jon seemed pretty… absorbed in himself, this morning. By the time Martin turned to face him again one of Jon’s hands had crept back up to his face, where its fingers now seemed to comb the hairs of his left eyebrow. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Jon do that before, plus doubted the hairs in question needed his help to lie flat. Jon’s eyebrows had always struck him as quite neat. Plus Martin had tried that with his own eyebrows plenty of times before the mirror in his youth, and knew it didn’t work very well even if you licked your finger—which Martin assumed Jon hadn’t. So he figured he should file this behavior in the same box as the earlier fist-clenching-to-avoid-covering-ears thing. As, like, headache-soothing for people who don’t want to look weak. Or unprofessional, or something to that effect.

This gave him a sense of foreboding when he thought too hard about it. But Martin needed so badly to keep this job, now that his flat wasn’t safe anymore. It seemed wiser not to look directly at abstract threats like that. If he could make Jon feel better then it wouldn’t matter, right? Or at least could be put off til next time.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Don’t recall saying I was,” Jon muttered.

Martin winced. He had said he was alright—Martin was certain. When he’d first come in that morning, he’d said he was fine when Martin asked, and then he’d closed the door. Didn’t seem worth correcting him over it, though. So Martin just said, “Try to drink something while I’m gone, yeah? Kool-Aid, for all I care, just. You really don’t look like you’re feeling all that well. And any kind of drink other than alcohol should—oh.”

He looked up, hearing Jon swallow what sounded like a lot more than the tiny sip of coffee he’d managed before.

“Well. Great. Thank you for obliging me.”

Jon continued to gulp down water, while staring right at Martin. He paused in swallowing to breathe, but even then did not remove the mouth of the bottle from his own mouth. When he tried to resume drinking it made him cough instead, and even then he didn’t set it down.

“O-okay, well, I’m sure that’s plenty, don’t—?” Hurt yourself, Martin wanted to say, but feared that would sound patronizing. The bottle was more than half empty now. Jon paused for air again. “For god’s sake, Jon, stop—that looks like it hurts—you don’t have to—?”

At last he slammed the empty bottle on his desk—more loudly than could possibly be comfortable for a man with a headache. Leant his elbow on the table, and between pants huffed a laugh and said, “Care to refill it for me?”

On a sort of autopilot Martin chirped, “Uh—sure! No problem I’ll just,” and rushed off with it to the break room. This refill took much less time, since he’d remembered to change out the thingy. But it still took long enough that by the time he got back he worried, “You’re not going to chug this one too, are you?”

“No,” said Jon, eyes and hands both busy now with a statement hitherto hidden by his elbow. He did not reach out a hand to take the bottle from Martin.

“Okay, I’ll just. Leave this here then. See you after the, uh. Yeah.”

—

And lo, it was as he had feared. Chugging [sixteen ounces] of water did indeed make his headache worse. By ten it seemed to count turning the page of a statement as an exertion worth pounding over. True, by lunch time it seemed to have backed off a bit—until he sat back down at his desk with his fork and plate. On his way to the microwave he’d thought he must be on the mend: his head throbbed a little harder than when he’d been seated, but not so much he’d have noticed the difference had he not set out to pay attention to it. Some food, maybe an ibuprofen or two and he’d be fixed, he’d told himself.

Once he got to the break room, though, he noticed something else odd. His limbs were weak. His knees seemed made of jelly, and wobbled beneath him every time he shifted his weight; his arms were steady enough, but when he set down the pizza box on the counter after retrieving it from the fridge he felt a surge of relief, which he hardly understood until he’d transferred a slice from the no-onion half onto a plate and picked up the latter to put it in the microwave. Even these tiny movements made his arms, neck and chest ache like they do when you hold your breath too long. He leant his elbows against the counter and gulped down air until his mouth felt so dry he couldn’t bear to keep it open. Wondered if he should sit down; he felt a bit dizzy. But he had less than 30 seconds left to wait for the microwave, which he figured couldn’t hurt him.

It didn’t, but the walk back to his office did a bit. Moving his legs’ sluggish muscles made his whole body ache—again like it does when you run too long and have to stop for breath. He figured it must be in a similar spirit that his head waited til he’d sat down to unleash its onslaught. Before leaving his desk he’d grown used to thinking of his heart beat’s faint buzzy shocks like the second hand on a clock, criticizing him under its breath from where it watched behind his eyes. This was… a great deal worse than that. He tried to time the beats against the ticking of his wrist watch, but couldn’t seem to focus on that and breathe at the same time. They were fast, though, at least at first. His heart rate did seem to calm down fairly quickly, but he could swear it never got all the way back down to its earlier rate—at least not before his attention shifted from the speed to just. How much it hurt.

Was that what made his slice of pizza so tasteless? When he cut his first bite, on its way to his mouth he thought he caught a whiff of the red onions with which its tip must have shared space, and only his horror of Tim asking What was wrong with that part, then? when he brought the otherwise-empty plate back to the sink stopped him from scraping that bite off his fork and trying again higher up the slice. But when he finally forced himself to eat it? Nothing. No onion taste, thank god, but everything else too seemed… muted. Hardly worth how the exertion of chewing made his head hammer after each swallow. Jon knew the taste of food was hardly the point of eating it, but? In the absence of everything he normally liked about cheese and meat and bread and vegetables, the fact the cheese squelched in his mouth made him wish he’d never left his bed. The way leaves of soggy spinach flapped over the sides of even his neatly-cut rectangles. His stomach tightened in revulsion, so that in his throat he could feel each swallowed lump shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be let in. Not to mention how the effort of cutting it shook the whole damn table.

He told himself he could skip the crust. If Tim asked about it, Jon’d just tell him it’d gone stale. Just get through the… other part, the crumb, the filling. Between throbs the ache in his tired jaw merged with the one behind his eyes. Why didn’t it always hurt to chew? Did the pleasure of tasting food give you enough endorphins to cancel it out? Would everyone have this problem all the time if we had to live on, say, dry toast?

Right, okay, close enough. Ibuprofen now. No, you idiot—other drawer. In the fantasy versions he’d rehearsed of this moment he clapped four of them from his palm into his mouth at once, and swallowed them dry. But his blister pack turned out to have only three left. Which was fine! Just fine. Better, probably, after so little lunch.

Also, dry-swallowing was kind of a misnomer? He’d never really thought about it before, but. Turned out it would only work if your so-called “dry” mouth had spit in it. As it was the pills stuck to his tongue, leaving streaks of spicy burnt-orange when he tried to claw them back toward his throat with his teeth. When they got far back enough on his tongue he had to concentrate not to gag, and they still stuck—even when he turned his nose to face the ceiling and thumped on his chin with his hand (which, ouch)—at that point he gave up and unscrewed his water. Allowed as little of it in his mouth as would let him swallow these damn things, and wash their stains off his tongue. And it still made his head throb harder.

Jon imagined shooting whoever next told him to stay hydrated. He derived little joy from the fantasy, though; couldn’t not think of the loud, sharp noise it would make.

Returning the plate could wait, he decided; not like it would attract worms in the thirty minutes it’d take for the pills to kick in. Meanwhile he’d just… keep sorting. He took a statement off the top of the pile in front of him and blinked at it over and over, until his vision resolved into a shape he told himself hurt marginally less than the others. 9720406, Nathaniel Thorp. Christ, 1972? “Misfiled” was practically an understatement for that one. And here he’d thought Gertrude had kept that part of the century in relative good order. Still, he stuck it on the all other years pile and reached for another. 0130111, David Laylow. Nope—still not 2003. 0002610, Jennifer Wong. 0910203, Lisa Jones. 0081711, Donald Gately. 0100912, Lawrence Mortimer. 0152101, Uzma Rashid. Ha!—0030707, Seymour… Backsides. Wait a minute. Hadn’t he seen a prank statement with that name before lunch? He grabbed a stack off the 2003 pile and found… Rashid, Mortimer, Gately. Had he switched the—? Look in the unsorted pile again, he told himself. Under where he’d found Mr. Backsides’ tale he uncovered statements 0031212, 0032504, 0031809, and so on. Great. After Seymour he must’ve got mixed up. There was no more unsorted pile—not on his desk, anyway. He’d have to pull some more out of the… open filing cabinet which stood across the room with its tongue stuck out at him. Yeah, well, that could wait too. For now he’d just. Check his email.

[sysig]

What is it this time, what could it be

[rkivesbby]

Fire with Fire [01]

elite alpha bts kim line x elite omega named reader

The Han Clan's power and distinction has long been deteriorating after decades of being unable to produce a true rare-breed omega. This changes as Han So, rare as you are, presents as a true omega. However, your fate has already been predestined— to infiltrate and destroy the domineering Kim Clan and their true rare-breed alphas.

Will you be able to fulfill your purpose?

Will you be able to keep up with your lies, deceit, and trickery, or will your walls start breaking down?

(angst / smut)

AN: this was not proofread 🥲 will do soon tho hope you enjoy! THIS HAS A PROLOGUE, please read that first 💟

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Chapter 1

You enter the room with elegance and grace that expected of an omega— with lightness in your steps, a welcoming aura, and a hint of a smile plastered across your face. You didn't miss the turning of heads as soon as you stepped into the room, even before your name was called out to be presented before the Kim Clan's leaders.

"Miss Han So of the Han Clan!" declared loudly by the escort. You can feel more heads turning towards you and a deafening silence with a mix of whispers settled into the room. You bowed in front of the podium and smirked as your head was down, relishing the attention.

"Miss Han, you came!" bellowed Kim Yul as she hurried towards you with arms wide open. She seemed genuinely happy of your arrival, you noted. "What a surprise Miss Han. I'm glad you accepted our invitation, we were really looking forward to finally formally introducing the true omega to the true alphas of our clan", said Kim Hwan with pride.

"Of course, everyone here knows how the Kim alphas and Han omegas have long been matched together. Of course including those of our omegas forcefully claimed by your men in the past", you said with fake lightness. Fuck, this early and you were already throwing snide remarks. Well, it's probably good to make them remember what they did and show that you are a different omega as early as now. You maintain your posture and laugh to stand your ground in the midst of their apparent discomfort.

"Yes, a thing of the past decades if you may. What's important is that we have here countless alphas of your liking, and of course our true alphas, our three sons." As expected, this man would never apologize. Well, you're not here for apology, but revenge. Doesn't really matter.

You smiled as you took Kim Hwan's arm as he guides you through the ball. "As much as I am delighted to be meeting your sons Mr. Kim, you do not need to worry and guide me through it all. I'd like to take my time meeting them through my own efforts. For now, let me explore your party and estate first. Thank you again for your invitation", you said sternly with a smile never leaving your face. They seemed very eager to marry you off one of their sons as soon as possible, as if they didn't abandon your clan when there were no true omegas being produced.

"Well then, we'll leave you to it. Enjoy the rest of the party, Miss Han. You're truly something else." said Miss Kim Yul as she hugged me for the second time. "My parents are coming in a while, too. It's best if you check up on them next." You reply to both of the older Kims.

Though you are well aware of the purpose of your arrival to this ball, you weren't sure if you should work too hard or get to it immediately. There's a part of you that wants to slightly rebel against your parents wishes and get away from the clan feud for a few moments, which is why you decide to postpone meeting the Kim alphas. Instead, you go straight to the bar and fill yourself with alcohol, the recent subject of your oral fixation.

You downed a number of tequila shots in a short period of time, causing you to feel woozy and hot. You only felt the effects as soon as you stood up, losing your sense of balance. 'What a freaking shit show of a party', you thought, as no one at all tried to flirt with you the whole time you were at the bar. It didn't even feel like you were the only omega at a party full of alphas.

You made your way to the dance floor spotting the oldest Kim alpha whispering something on a woman's ear behind her back, holding her waist. 'This asshole, didn't he know I was coming to this stupid party? Why the fuck is he flirting with this woman I can't even smell any pheromones on?', you thought to yourself, scoffing.

Kim Seokjin is one of the three true alphas you were most acquainted to, more than you'd like. Before you presented as an omega, he and you could have even been labeled as best friends, attached to the hip at school, though he was a few years your senior. He would often bring you to his home and boast about your friendship to his brothers, playing with you across the Kim estate. His family did not think much of the friendship, while you had to keep it a secret from your parents. You regarded the friendship as something precious to you, not to be tainted by your parents' hate towards the Kims.

However, things took a turn as soon as you presented as an omega. Your parents started seeing your value, becoming much more visible and valuable to the clan. You weren't sure if this was a good thing or not— formerly invisible but with freedom, now recognized but restricted. As you expected, your friendship with Seokjin took the biggest blow, almost immediately. You were sure you were not to continue the friendship while plotting his clan's downfall. He found you slowly becoming out of his reach, while still being able to see you change before his eyes. The good and innocent Han So was slowly becoming provocative and coy. You couldn't forget the words he uttered to you one night out of frustration.

"What the fuck, So? What the fuck is all of this? You disappear from my life 'cause you'd rather fuck all these low-leveled petty alphas?" He says with gritted teeth, his large veiny hands seizing your frail hands violently with no hint of remorse. "Get the fuck away from me, Jin", you say, freeing your hands away from him. "Just tell me if you want me to fuck you next." You add, scoffing. "Fuck me next? Are you fucking kidding me? I should have trusted my brothers, you're nothing different from all those slutty Han omegas." This he says with a resigned but certain tone. These words, no matter how much you try to dismiss them, shake you to the core. Not because you were hurt by the implication, but because you realize your parents were right. Kim alphas will remain imperious and egotistic, seeing omegas as nothing but objects to give them pleasure. Even Kim Seokjin, your best friend. 'Not anymore', you thought.

You try to come back to your senses as you try to see clearly just who Seokjin is fondling right in front of you. You squint your eyes to get a better view of your ex best friend being the one thing he disgustingly told you you were. 'You're just a slut like me, Kim Seokjin. Being an alpha doesn't make you any different.' You thought to yourself, pressing your lips together, displeased at the sight.

However, you decide to play the role of the cunning and slutty omega he claims you are. You grab a glass of champagne from the waiter and spill all of it all over yourself, stumbling in your steps to make it look like an accident. Now his attention was most likely on you, even if you purposely weren't checking to see. You then grab the nearest man you could get ahold of and place both of your arms on his shoulders, intertwining the fingers of your hands on the back of his neck.

"Hi there, alpha. Can you help me with my tiny little accident? I'm all wet." You say sensuously, but just loud enough for the people near you to hear, fluttering your eyes. The man was taken aback but quickly smirked, realizing he can take advantage of this. Giving all his attention to you, he held your waist and inhaled your scent in. 'This motherfucker's lucky, thank heavens he happens to be fucking hot too.' You think as he looks away to find some tissue of some sort. "No, alpha. Just clean me up with your hands. Touch me." You say, while going through the tangles at the back of his hair using your fingers. You hiked up the slit of your dress, showing even more of your thighs, reaching a very dangerous part of your body. He relished and smirked at the and says "My pleasure, omega." As he too roams his hands all over your body.

With this, you finally looked up to check Seokjin's eyes on you. 'Bingo', you thought as his full attention was yours, his eyes roaming around your body, following wherever the hands of the man in front of you touches. You reached for his left hand, places it closer to your face and licks it. "We should never waste this lovely champagne, shouldn't we?" You say, eyes still locked not with the man you're tasting, but with Seokjin's. You feel him lick the side of your neck and you shudder at the sensation. 'Man, this man's good.' you think closing your eyes, but quickly opening them again to look at the beautiful stranger in front of you. "Let's take this somewhere else, I'd like to clean you up a little more thoroughly", says the impatient man, eager but with poise. You smirk as you follow him wherever he might lead you to.

'This dickhead', you thought, as you were alone with a stranger in the Kims' one of many bathrooms. 'Why isn't he coming? Is who he's with his girlfriend or something?' you thought as the stranger's hands were all over you. You realize he has a distinct scent from the others now that you two were alone. He smells of wood sage, fresh rain, and sea salt. You melt into his scent as he carries your legs and sits you on the sink. "Strip." You command while smiling, as you spread your legs wide open. You lick your fingers, put your thong to side and touch yourself. His eyes turned dangerous with your actions and removes his coat and unbuttons his pants. He then proceeded to touch himself as he relishes at the sight of you. "You're such a fucking tease, Miss Han So. Just how I like it." He says, with a voice so honey deep you want to hear it scream your name and compel you to submission. You then stop touching yourself and proceed to kissing him on the mouth with roughness and a sense of urgency. You can feel his lips turn to a smirk as he mutters under his breath, "You're one feisty omega, you might just be made for me."

He returns your sense of urgency and climbs up to the sink to climb on top of you. As he attacks your mouth leaving you breathless, he grinds his cock to your pussy. You wince at this teasing, wanting it immediately inside of you. "Alpha, please. Fuck me now, put it inside me", you beg as he continues grinding. He smiles and looks at your face as you beg, taking in the moment. "Of course I will, my needy omega", he says as he touches his cock and rubs the tip onto your clit. You wince at the teasing again. "But not so fast, as much as I'd like to put my cum all over your face, I get off on you begging for my cock just as much." He says, continuing his actions. You almost cry at the sensation and arch your back and push your hips forward. You need some sense of friction and you're going to get it. "Fuck, alpha. I need your big cock please. It's the only thing I need, please put it inside. I'll be a good omega." You plead again, throwing all decency and pride out the window. His face lights up again at this, "I thought you were supposed to be a different omega, Miss Han? Doesn't look like it now, huh? You think you can tease me in front of my clan without you begging in the end?" He says, you not registering the words completely as you keep moaning. You slip off the strap of your dress to reveal your breasts and grab his right hand to guide them to your breasts. He knew what to do from that point on and massaged them while still grinding on you. You then reached for his cock and massaged it as you see the look of pleasure in his face.

Before you can put his cock and all its glory inside you, the door suddenly busted open signaling an intruder. Both of you, however, didn't mind and went about your business, not wanting the moment to end. However a very loud and firm voice vibrated in the room. You looked at the source of the voice and saw a very angry-looking Seokjin. 'Gotcha', you thought again. But now, you weren't so sure if you liked having him look for you and claim you or hated him for stopping this one hell of a good time with your stranger.

"I said stop this, Kim Taehyung." Seokjin says again, as he pulls the man on top of you and throws his coat over your exposed body.

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[takohebi]

It takes two (to hold hands)

Azul Ashengrotto/Jamil Viper

Word count:  1732

Summary:  Forced into physical proximity with his annoying classmate, Jamil Viper comes to an alarming conclusion

Ao3 Link

fic under the cut-

“Yeay! We are all together~”

Floyd sat down on Azul’s left, throwing his full weight on the cecaelia. Azul slid sharply, bumping shoulders with Jamil next to him. Before the two of them could right themselves, Jade sat on Jamil’s side, effectively trapping him.

“My, it is such a rare occasion that we all have class together. A pity Kalim-san couldn't join as well.”

“Jade, could you move-” Jamil started.

“Hmm, what is it, Riddle-san? You need my notes for something?”

Jade had turned away from Jamil, apparently engrossed in a deep conversation with Riddle. Jamil turned towards Azul and glared , as if it was his fault that both of them were sitting so close, arms practically glued to each other. Next to Azul, Floyd’s head was already resting on the desk. If he was sleepy, he’d be really stubborn about moving or adjusting seats. Best to leave him alone for now.

Jamil glanced at Azul once again, thinking of some way to vent his frustration-

Too close… Azul was too close to him. Jamil could even catch a whiff of his cologne. Biting the inside of his cheek to suppress any useless thoughts, Jamil’s eyes flicked over to Azul’s face.

Jamil’s heart skipped a beat seeing the pink in Azul’s cheeks. The usually perky and annoying smile was gone, replaced by a quieter, more contemplative expression. Jamil wasn’t sure if that was an improvement.

Azul didn’t look at Jamil at all, instead looking over his notes with an intense look of concentration. There was barely a couple of centimeters between them. Suddenly the classroom felt stifling.

Trein was talking but Jamil could hardly pay attention, his mind choosing to focus on every single movement Azul made. From his breathing to the movement of his fingers tapping away to an unknown tune on his lap.

For some reason that irritated Jamil. He wanted to know what was the song Azul was thinking about.

Jamil’s own hand was resting on the seat, a bulwark between himself and his exceedingly annoying classmate. But not for too long-

“Ne, Jade~ can you lend me your pen? I forgot to bring mine, aha!”

Floyd reached out towards Jade who politely passed a pen to Floyd with a soft laugh. As he withdrew, Jamil belatedly realised that Floyd’s actions caused Azul to lean in even closer into Jamil’s personal space and in an infuriating turn of events, Azul’s hand was now on top of his!!

Jamil’s cheeks were burning. He dearly wished to subject the entire classroom to the same temperature as he was feeling.

He turned towards Azul again, seeing if he’d have a smug smile on his face that he always did when he messed around with Jamil and his thoughts.

He looked at Azul just in time to see him swallow, his adam’s apple moving in a mesmerizing manner. Azul’s left hand was covering his mouth and he was still looking staunchly ahead. But he was blinking rapidly and Jamil had a feeling Azul wasn’t really paying attention to the lecture.

Azul’s right hand twitched slightly, involuntarily. The movement heighted Jamil’s awareness of the ever decreasing space between himself and Azul.

Not just in terms of physical distance but also emotionally. Ever since they became classmates, a very odd bond had developed between them. Azul would pester Jamil for things like joining Octavinelle, and Jamil would refuse immediately. Despite their bickering, they sat together for class everyday and paired up for laboratory sessions.

Because Azul was the only one Jamil felt like he could be himself with. It was relieving, to be able to say whatever snarky and rude comments that passed through his head without suppressing them. To openly vent his frustrations without caring if anyone got hurt. And Azul took everything in his stride, often making a light-hearted joke about the whole situation, causing Jamil to almost smile. Azul was irritating, annoying, a thorn by his side. But he was by his side constantly, unwaveringly.

Jamil would never admit it openly but he had begun to enjoy Azul’s jokes, his snide remarks about other students, his capabilities as a competent mage and just his company. There were times when they pored over a bunch of reference books as they made a difficult potion. Neither spoke, as they were completely focused on their assignment, but having someone as clever as him to help out silently made Jamil’s job much easier. Needless to say, they always scored top marks and received generous praise from Crewel. It felt good to have someone as reliable as Azul as his partner…

Azul’s gloved thumb gently swiped against his own, jolting Jamil out of his daydreaming. It was a soft and subtle action but Jamil felt as if he was set aflame by it. From the corner of his eye he quickly looked at Azul yet again and was shocked to see Azul watching him. Jamil inhaled sharply. He must maintain his composure. It wouldn't do to expose a weakness to Azul.

Spite rose in Jamil. How dare he try to fluster him like so? Frowning slightly, Jamil nudged his thumb against Azul’s. He was blushing, sure, but he wasn’t going to let Azul get away with this. In the periphery of Jamil’s vision, he saw Azul take off his glasses and run his left hand over his face. Good.

A few moments later, Jamil felt a weight against his shoulder. Azul was leaning on him. Slightly, yes. But in this situation, every small thing either of them did was being felt keenly.

Not to be outdone, Jamil leaned back. He realised only a minute later that he was holding hands with Azul while leaning on to him. It felt… intimate. To Jamil’s horror, his body refused to comply to his mind’s demands to stop this endeavour at once. Azul’s weight felt warm and comforting. And Jamil liked this.

He decided to not look at Azul anymore, lest he lured Jamil into doing more foolish things. This was far enough. No more.

Azul moved his hand slightly and his fingers interlocked with Jamil’s. He didn’t attempt to actually hold Jamil’s hand. His fingers simply fell loosely in the spaces between Jamil’s own.

Jamil did not know his face could get even hotter. At this rate he’d look like he had a fever. Yes, perhaps he really did have a fever for he tentatively turned his hand under Azul’s and mimicked Azul’s earlier action. Now their hands were well and truly intertwined.

All this time, Trein was droning on and on and the only sounds besides the teacher and the occasional mews of his familiar were the scratching of pens and shuffling of papers. Jamil had noted earlier that despite whatever was happening between him and Azul, the latter was still writing down things.  

But Jamil realised only now that Azul was using his left hand to write. In the 2 years that Jamil knew Azul, he’d only seen Azul write with right hand. And now he was coolly putting up a front  of  the model student using a different hand while his right gently squeezed Jamil’s. It seemed like while it was an accident that Azul's hand came to be where it is at the moment, its continued presence on top of Jamil's was a deliberate move.

Suddenly Jamil wished he could go back to his room. His feelings were turbulent, volatile. He wanted this moment to never end but also wanted it to end quickly so things can return to normal . Azul was confusing him. Jamil can’t believe Azul would like him. Jamil offered no merit to Azul. Sure, Azul keeps asking him to join Octavinelle but it was simply to flaunt him like a trophy.

Right?

There cannot be any other reason.

And yet, here they were, hands laced together- almost tenderly. Both of them blushing and avoiding each other’s eyes. Why? Azul was the one who initiated. Jamil reciprocated, yes. But why?

Jamil was honestly scared to know why. To name a reason for their behaviour. He wondered if the tweels planned this. If they did, then did Azul ask them to? So many questions…

Azul’s gentle pressure on his hand brought Jamil back to reality from his wandering thoughts. He gave in and decided to spare a final glance towards Azul, hoping he’d find some kind of answer in his face.

Grey met blue as they both locked eyes.

Jamil’s heart raced as he saw Azul look at him with such a vulnerable expression in his eyes. His brows were furrowed slightly, mouth set in a hard line but his eyes- they seemed to be pleading. Jamil did not know what was he asking for but felt like he’d readily give it to him if he asked.

He wondered what kind of expression was he making. What was Azul seeing right now? And what was he thinking? Does Azul see a tarnished mage, bound by duties, responsibilities and chains that have and will continue to dog him throughout his life. Is Azul feeling pity or pride, seeing Jamil ensnared by him? Literally in his hand right now. More questions that Jamil did not want to know the answers for.

Azul’s lips parted. He was about to say something when the bell rang. And just like that, the magic was lost. Jamil snatched back his hand and Azul did the same, albeit more slowly. Jamil tore his eyes from Azul’s and hurriedly began to pack up his stationery and books.

Suddenly the world came into focus. Somehow for the past 30 minutes, Jamil had blocked every other sound, every other person but Azul. Now they were all making their presence known, almost overwhelming Jamil’s senses.

Jade’s voice, mixed with Riddle’s as they discussed some assignments. Floyd’s drawl wafted towards him… he was asking something about basketball. Jamil mechanically asked him to repeat it, as he tried to pry Azul off his mind.

When the 5 of them exited the classroom, Jamil finally felt he was able to breathe again. They all parted, going different ways to different destinations. Jamil was finally alone, as he walked briskly towards the Mirror room.

But his body felt a bit cold. His shoulder missed the weight from earlier. His hands especially felt oddly empty and… incomplete.

Jamil grew irritated.

It seemed like he had a crush on Azul Ashengrotto.

[liloinkoink]

I fully support your epee techno propaganda even though i was a saber user. Epee is more agressive than foil but still requires a lot of strategy and a lot of strength and speed. It feels like the right balence.

- mine-curse

@mine-curse

thank you, you've activated my slightly more thoughtful epee c!techno argument that's more than 'i fence epee so it makes me happy.' granted, minecraft combat doesnt really translate to fencing... but still.

i feel like half my argument comes from the fact techno doesn't use shields At All and instead chooses to dodge / use potions/armor?

in foil and sabre, you have right-of-way, while in epee, you dont. w the other two it's... sort of okay to get hit? so long as you can prove you've taken the attack away from your opponent, it doesnt matter if they also hit you. ie, if you parry your opponent but they still touch your arm/torso, if you've effectively taken right of way from them, their touch on you won't count. in epee, given we have double touches (and everywhere is target), every touch your opponent lands on you counts. you have to dodge or effectively protect yourself with a strong parry which completely deflects your opponent's blade so they don't hit you and also get the touch. compare that to techno's refusal to use shields, meaning he has to account for every hit and be careful to effectively dodge or protect himself prior to the fight with potions/armor. (truly, what is netherite armor with thorns iii except the minecraft version of an effective parry riposte?). if you've got a shield, you can get hit! it's not ideal, of course, but you can! not techno, and not epee.

also, c!techno is... i wouldn't call him a defensive fighter, exactly, but he's not aggressive? techno rarely starts fights. however, if someone else starts a fight with him, he'll win it, but he's not usually one to strike first. epee is, i think, the most forgiving of a fighter whose style is based in counterattacks (i speak from experience here, half my fencing is getting ppl in the wrist when they extend to hit. single-light wrist touch) vs, say, sabre. i fenced sabre recently and when the ref said fence i took a step back out of habit. my opponent fucking laughed at me

epee being the heaviest weapon and, at least in my experience, the one that bruises the most, as well as the one which most consistently creates the longest bouts (i recently fenced an epee DE at a tournament where the final score was 13-15 and i thought my fucking arm was going to fall off)... gestures to the fact techno is known for ridiculous amounts of grinding. the man can handle the more, uh, hellish? evil? aspects of epee.

in more silly evidence: look at techno and tell me he doesnt have the Epee Bounce™. this man is always bouncing, all the time, which makes him a great epee. my coach jokes epee is the philosopher's weapon (as opposed to, say, sabre being the hero's weapon (yes, coach is a sabre)), which i think is fitting for techno. plus the fact epee is apparently closest to historical sword fighting is smth i think he'd appreciate

THO i will say, i feel a decent argument could Also be made for sabre techno. i don't know enough about sabre to make it, so i reached out to my sabre roommate for comment. she said "of course he's a sabre. he went to a big fight and spawned a bunch of withers to do all the fighting for him. that's the most sabre thing ever." so there's that.

+ i dont have any kind of argument for it but sabre phil feels correct to me

(i dont know enough about foil to make any argument about foil techno. all i know about foil is every time i look over to the foil strip at my club theyre always doing some absolute nonsense infighting. foil techno feels incorrect to me tho)

[living-in-the-pokemon-world]

some tips for dealing with pikachu and raichu? we have some under the porch and i’d personally love not to get shocked while going out to get snacks at 2am (i don’t mind them being there overall tho)

This is a difficult one, mainly because there are two completely different reasons they could be shocking you:

1. They’re scared and trying to ward you off

2. They’re trying to greet you the same way they would greet other ‘Chus

Where the Pikachu and Raichu under your porch apparently have no issues with, well, living under your porch, I’m leaning a bit more towards the second theory. If this is indeed the case, then it may actually be a good idea to sort of play-up and exaggerate the effect their zaps have on you, like I’m talking hit the ground and start acting as though you’ve been hit by a Hyper Beam from Arceus itself. I know this sounds insane, but hear me out; members of the Pikachu line are very rarely malicious in their actions. They can be quite mischievous, yes, but you’d be hard-pressed to find one that causes pain for the sake of causing pain so, ideally, if you embellish your reactions a bit, they’ll realize that you don’t appreciate being shocked and will stop (of course, this is going with the assumption that the second theory is correct.)

[hermannsthumb]

you should totally do something with ksci janitor’s vamp newt it’s so just so good

i sure will! in a vampire mood this weekend. @k-sci-janitor's vampire newt found here. warnings for quick mention of drinking, allusions to sexy stuff, and also the different kind of drinking you'd expect from a vampire fic (tho on the vague side)

-------------------

The circumstances that led Newt down the unwitting path of immortality and general un-dead-ness are, in hindsight, honestly kind of embarrassing. It'd be one thing if he could say it happened in the pursuit of, like, knowledge, like the fierce jellyfish sting scar on his wrist leftover from a research expedition when he was twenty-two or the equally fierce one on his knee received in response to his question (at the age of five) of what would happen if I jumped out of this very tall tree?, or even something unrelated to his extensive biology career, something impressive, y'know, Van Helsing style, something like tracking down some vampire king and barely escaping with his life (un-life?)—not what really happened, which was little more than a bad date. And not even the worst date that Newt's been on, if you can believe it.

Newt was young and stupid then. He still is young and stupid, technically, though the former by appearance only. (Eternally pushing thirty. If he could've picked, he would've done twenty-eight, just before his handful of grey hairs started cropping up. Newt's had almost forty-five years of staring in the mirror at those four fucking grey hairs. He gave up dyeing them around the nineties. Not worth it. Still annoying.) He liked to do what young and stupid people did, like get stupid tattoos, and have a stupid haircut, and get drunk at stupid punk shows and not stumble home until he'd had at least one regrettable hook-up with a stranger and maybe lost his wallet. (The two were often related.) That particular thing was what did him in that night. It was a different time back then, man—if a dude showed even the slightest inkling that he ran in Newt's sort of circle, if you caught his drift, Newt fucking jumped at the chance.

(The band was on their second set of the evening and Newt had already screamed himself hoarse with singing along. He'd ducked outside in a back alleyway for only a second to get some fresh air, the club suddenly too hot and smokey for him to handle, and was just about to go back inside and close out his tab for the night when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone—he was sure—lurking in the shadows a few feet away. He could hear breathing. He could see—eyes, maybe, in the dim neon light of the bar sign overhead. "Hello?" he'd called.

"Have a light?" the person called back.

They emerged from the shadows, and Newt felt himself relax at once. It was some spooky-looking guy he remembered seeing in the club, leather jacket, boots heavier than Newt's, dark hair and eyeliner. Tall. Newt remembered him, firstly, because he thought he was hot, and secondly, because he swore he caught the guy staring at him at least three times, and to Newt, that was as good as any pick-up line. He was wagging an unlit cigarette at Newt now. He was taller than Newt thought he was back in the bar—much taller, at least a full head on Newt. His eyes were a golden-brown, almost yellow, like a cat's, and Newt found himself unable to tear his own away from them. "L—light?" Newt echoed.

The guy stuck the cigarette in his mouth and arched a perfect eyebrow. Newt didn't smoke, but he did keep a lighter on him for occasions like this. He fumbled through his pockets for it while the guy stepped closer. "I was watching you," he told Newt, while Newt raised the lighter to the cigarette, "in there."

The flame danced and glinted against his eyes. Newt swallowed. "Uh-huh?" he said.

He flicked the lighter shut, leaving them both bathed in nothing but pink neon. A hand slid up against the wall next to Newt's right shoulder. Another plucked at the left lapel of his jacket. Newt was still staring at those eyes. "What's your name?" the guy said, in a puff of cigarette smoke.

"Um." Newt's leather jacket was being pushed off his shoulders. He felt his long hair being tucked to the side of his neck. All at once something seemed in snap in Newt—some reminder of where he was, and what he came here hoping for in the first place. Some hot dude was eyeing Newt up all night long, and now he was actually coming onto Newt, and Newt was about to get laid. He grinned. "Newt," he said. "Just call me that. You were watching me, huh?"

"All night," the guy said.

Newt's jacket hit the ground with a soft thump. A knee was being pushed between his. Newt felt his cheeks heat up a little—he wasn't used to people being this forward with him, and especially not in a semi-public place like this. Usually they at least made a show of offering up their apartment first. "What, um, what for?" he said.

They were kissing. Newt was clinging to the back of his jacket. And then he was kissing Newt's neck, and then he was—

"That kinda hurts," Newt mumbled. "Um, dude, I think your—your fuckin', tongue piercing cut me, or something. It's—"

It was hard to keep his eyes open. His neck felt weird. The guy was into biting, apparently, biting really hard, and yikes, that was going to leave a super embarrassing hickey that Newt would have to explain to his students somehow on Monday, but it also felt really good, like, Newt was maybe getting off kinda good, and Newt thought, dizzily, that he should at least return the favor before he finished up and collapsed in a happy heap on the ground. So he did.

The guy pulled back with a hiss. "Ow. What—?"

Newt tasted something coppery in his mouth, and he panicked and swallowed on instinct. "Oh, shit, dude, I'm sorry," he slurred. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away. "I was trying to be—sexy. Um." There was blood on the guy's chin. He was staring at Newt in something akin to horror. Dark circles were spotting Newt's vision. "I think you cut your lip," he said, and then he passed out.

Newt was alone when he woke up. It was still dark, too. He walked the two miles home, collapsing in bed, fully-clothed, just before dawn, and he didn't wake up again until sunset. He forgot his jacket, but at least he remembered his wallet this time.)

So, anyway, Newt thinks he can be forgiven if he...embellishes stuff a little when, for the first time in his whole long life, he finally spills the details to someone. Also, no way is he admitting the truth to Hermann of all people.

"There were a bunch of murders in the area at the time," he says, while Hermann, angled on his side next to him in bed, watches him raptly. It's kind of weird pillow talk, but their pillow talk rarely isn't weird. Usually Hermann will launch into a critique of Newt's latest pet theory before Newt's even caught his breath. At least he very courteously waited for Newt get a glass of water from the bathroom first this time. "Really brutal ones. Like, throats torn out, blood drained. Really nasty shit. Everyone was saying they were some kinda bizarre wolf pack attacks, but I knew better."

"Of course you did," Hermann says, running his hand down Newt's chest, and Newt can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. (He has a feeling he is.)

"You bet," Newt says. "It took me months of, um, super hard research. Finally I hunted him down to this—" Newt debates the coolest lair possible of a vampire, and then remembers Lost Boys, which, even though he resents it slightly for totally stealing the vampire vibes he was going for, is still a kick-ass movie. "—this weird cave, where he lived. The king of the vampires. I won, obviously, but he fought back, and he managed to infect me just before I hammered the, um, the wooden stake into his heart."

"So courageous," Hermann says. He reaches up and tucks a piece of Newt's long hair back. Hermann being totally cool with the whole vampire thing, and maybe even possibly into the whole vampire thing, is probably the last thing in the world Newt expected from him. They're no strangers to hooking up during long late nights of science, but Newt swears it's gotten more frequent. "You must've been terrified."

"Nah," Newt says, though he remembers the glint of the flame off those yellow eyes, and he shivers. Hermann notices; his eyes, not yellow, but a warm shade of brown that makes Newt feel like he's being wrapped in a blanket, soften. If Newt could still blush, he would. "I'm—um—I'm pretty brave."

Newt hadn't exactly been planning on telling Hermann about the whole thing, but (last week) he had the very unfortunate timing of beginning a late-night dinner just as an oblivious Hermann strolled back into the lab to pick up his forgotten pair of glasses. To his credit, he only freaked out a little when he saw Newt draining a blood bag like a fucking Capri-Sun, and even then (after what felt like ten years of horrible, horrible silence) all he said was "You're the one who's been stealing those from medical?"

Look. Newt hasn't drank from a human being the entirety of his un-life, and he doesn't plan on it any time soon. He's...a vegetarian. Effectively. It's sort of the reason he picked up a medical degree along the way once he got tired of breaking into blood banks. Even if it's still a little ethically dubious to steal blood like that, at least he's not swooping around on unsuspecting people like that—goth asshole who swooped in on him did. (Newt's never managed to find out who he was—he suspects he was some sort of vampire drifter in town that night just to find a victim. And Newt just had to think with his dick at the worst possible time.)

Hermann tucks another strand of Newt's hair back. Newt also did not expect how fast Hermann became cool with the whole thing, but on the other hand, giant aliens are clawing their way out of the ocean on a bi-monthly basis these days. It's hard to be skeptical about most things. ("Well, it does make logical sense," Hermann had said with an eyeroll. "When you consider some of your rather more bizarre quirks, I mean. I ought to have guessed it ages ago. I suppose that's why you have that awful haircut," and that stung, because yeah, Newt hasn't felt like changing it up since the seventies, and why should he, it kinda rules? but he just laughed it off and said, "You're one to fucking talk, dude!") "Newton," Hermann says now, gently, "what actually happened?"

Newt sighs. Hermann always knows when he's lying about shit. "I was making out with a vampire in an alleyway and then he bit me. And—um—I kinda didn't notice at first, 'cause it felt... good."

"Mm," Hermann says. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "That's more along the lines of what I expected. That, or you were hounding him for details like a proper biologist and he got tired of answering your inane questions."

"Very funny," Newt says. "Ha."

Hermann rolls away from him and stretches his arms above his head. Newt watches his throat work as he yawns, swallowing down a sudden lump in his own, and he feels a surge of something hot and—alien—in the pit of his stomach. "Over forty years," Hermann says. He picks up Newt's discarded sweatshirt from the floor and tugs it down over his head. "You must get terrifically lonely."

Newt half-shrugs. "I guess. I'm kinda used to it by now." His dad (who never brought up how Newt's aging seemed to be at a standstill when they saw each other, not once) is long-gone. Newt's tried dating, but no one's ever seemed to be into it as much as he is—and besides, it's not like he could ever do the actual til death do us part thing unless he went against every ethical bone in his body and made someone like him. When the internet became a thing, he considered making a forum or something to find more of his kind, but the thought everyone just being like the guy who accidentally turned him in the first place terrified him and he killed the page before it even left infancy. So, without any better ideas, Newt forged some paperwork and leaned pretty hard into the world of academia to fill up his sad little hole of a heart, resigned himself to casual flings with anyone who seemed interested, and it mostly worked. Mostly. And then the kaiju came along, and then so did... "You make it a little bit better," he confesses.

Hermann lays back down next to him. "I do?" he says.

Newt thinks he sees something like that hot, hungry feeling he felt in his stomach flash behind Hermann's eyes. He nods.

Hermann suddenly kisses Newt, pulling him down on top of him, and then tugs the collar of Newt's stolen sweatshirt down below his collarbone. He drags Newt's hand up to press against his throat. Newt feels the erratic beat of Hermann's pulse beneath his fingertips, his heart pounding against his ribcage (pressed up against Newt's silent one), and he almost moans. "Have you ever...?" Hermann murmurs, gazing up at Newt through his dark eyelashes.

"N—never," Newt stammers. "I told you."

"Do you want to?" Hermann says. Newt tries not to gape. "Just a bit at a time, whenever you need. You wouldn't have to steal those silly blood bags anymore. And—" He hesitates. "I admit I am curious. About the sensation."

"Um," Newt says. "I—"

He feels something sharp poking his lower lip. Fangs. His fangs. Oh, shit, he's never had that happen before. He forces himself off of Hermann before he does something stupid.

"Maybe, um, maybe later?" he squeaks, while Hermann just smiles at him.