#building sanitisation

[borealing]

im not really a fan of zombie media in general but for gong yoo... it was worth it

[familyabolisher]

that person on twitter who said she was glad to have found a book with no sex or swearing in it has "jesus-loving" in her bio so i don't know why we're behaving like what is obviously run-of-the-mill christian conservative pearlclutching (a tale as old as time) is a symptom of the Degeneration of the Culture lol

[clits-and-clips]

I will fling myself into the ocean if I have covid and give it to my mum. The timing of all of this is a sick fucking joke

[homunculus-argument]

A sweet slice of life series about some former byronic anti-hero who just managed to finally complete their all-consuming revenge quest, and is now just sitting there like "ok, now what." When you've spent seven years of your life training to fight, just to kill this one guy, and then worked ever since to infiltrate an organisation to raise in its ranks for the sole goal of getting close enough to the target to kill them, and the moment is finally over and everything you've worked for is finally complete, and you didn't die trying like you gambled that you might, there's still life left.

And it's all about this former warrior hero just awkwardly gingerly trying to learn how to build a normal life. There isn't one to go back to, the villain whose end they dedicated their life to killed the protagonist's family and burned down their village, they've got to start from scratch now. And the audience learns about their past life through the way they suddenly remember how things used to be, and how long it's been since they've last done something ordinary.

Frequently making observations like "damn, I shouldn't have made a deal with that entity to trade their ability to always know someone's greatest weakness, in exchange of my memory of how to bake bread", or discovering that their cursed weapon of Kill Everything You Touch can also be used to sanitise jam jars.

[haikyu-mp4]

Get to know you

Fluffy workplace romance working for the MSBY Black Jackals with your crush Sakusa, for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @act-nat-ural. word count; 1319 – f!reader

“Hi, Sakusa!” you greeted, voice way sweeter than when you greeted any of the other players who arrived that morning. Sakusa nodded his head once in greeting before heading to the wardrobe, leaving you to cover your face with your hands and groan in defeat.

Having a huge, obvious crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi was already hell, but actually acting on it and trying to both gain his attention and act cool about it, that was even worse.

You’re an assistant manager for MSBY, always ready with their water bottles, towels and a thorough review of their game stats. For any events, you were there as well, doing your best to predict their needs.

Atsumu patted your shoulder. “That’s just Omi for ya, don’t mind him.”

You pouted, getting out your notepad to ready it for today’s notes. “I would think less of him if I could,” you mumbled, making the rusty wheels in Atsumu’s head start turning.

Ohh… our manager has a crush!

On the way to the press event, you were squished in the middle seat between Hinata and Sakusa, gnawing at your lips as if that would make you any less nervous.

As you neared the location, you fumbled around in your purse for something while Hinata loudly practised his manuscript. Just as Sakusa was about to turn to you and ask for something, you held your hand out with a small bottle of unscented sanitiser. The kind that was all flat and could fit in his blazer pocket.

He looked up in surprise, silently meeting your eyes with a grateful nod. Instead of holding his hands out, he took the bottle from you and distributed it himself before sneaking it into his pocket.

While he rubbed his hands together, your attention was drawn back to the shorter player who asked you for some details.

It might have been your delusions, but it seemed like Sakusa stuck around you while inside the event building, sighing in relief when you had brought an extra mask for him just in case.

It even earned you a spoken, “You’re a lifesaver.”

After a division game finished in a victory for the Jackals, you ecstatically handed out bottles and towels, doing your best to praise all the players on their individual performance.

You were about to turn to Inunaki when someone stumbled into you, a flurry of awkward limbs and curly hair. Sakusa held your shoulders to steady himself, grumbling an apology and childishly accusing Miya of pushing him.

You smiled nervously before looking to the side so he wouldn’t notice your blush. “Don’t worry. And your spikes were amazing today, Sakusa. Good job.”

Sakusa eyed you for a second before stepping away, throwing a “Thank you, y/n” over his shoulder as he moved along with the rest of the team. 

He said your name.

On the last practice of the week, before you would all have a week off for autumn break, you were surprised to find a cup of coffee sitting on the bench where you usually sat. You blinked at it for a second before asking the coach if it was his, holding it up to him and feeling it was still warm.

“It has your name on it,” the coach said, making you turn the cup in surprise only to find he was right. Your name was written on the back in cursive, with a little smiley at the end.

Looking around, you checked to see if anyone was waiting for you to acknowledge them, but no one was. All the players had lined up for warm-ups led by Meian, so you left the mystery for another time.

Unexpectedly, he added, “Someone already filled the first round of bottles as well, so you can just take a rest until they start the drills.”

It made you stutter, unsure if this might be some test to see if you were still motivated enough for the job, but the coach’s smile made you agree and sit down. You silently drank the coffee and watched the players until you finally had to get to work, and the empty cup was tucked away in your bag.

If only you dared look at Sakusa, who was staring from the corner with a small smile on his face, happy you could take a breather before running around to cater for them all day.

He wondered if that one was actually your favourite coffee, or if you just got it because it was cheaper. He wondered if you liked going to cafes and if you had other hobbies. He wondered if you knew how to cook and what season of the year you liked most.

Sakusa found himself to be very… interested in you.

You were dressed in the most gorgeous dress you could find, in a colour you loved and with your most shiny necklace locked around your neck. To say the least, you felt exquisite.

However, your hands were anxiously fiddling with the fabric. It’s a Christmas party, reserved only for the team and their staff. The players were dressed up in suits and you were pretty sure everyone had noticed by now how your eyes trailed after Sakusa.

It should be illegal to look that good.

You jumped as a figure dropped onto the chair beside you. “Is that drool on your chin?” he teased, pointing to the side of his own mouth with a wolfish grin. You punched his shoulder loosely, but your other hand was still raised to check for any drool.

It made the setter laugh heartily, and you shielded your face from everyone as they turned to look. “Atsumu,” you groaned. “Shouldn’t you be embarrassing yourself on the dance floor by now?”

“Ha, ha.” The man settled into the chair, and you eventually turned to look at him properly. He almost forgot what he was supposed to say, not used to seeing you so dolled up. You looked amazing. “I suppose you don’t want to hear my plan to get you and Sakusa together, then.”

“Hardly,” you agreed. “But I bet you’ll tell me anyway.”

An arm rested across the back of your chair and the setter leaned closer. “Right you are. Now, the DJ has been instructed to play a slow song next, and you will ask dear grumpy to dance.”

You looked at him wide-eyed before your gaze automatically moved to the grumpy in question. “I can’t just do that. Have you seen him today?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Him? Look at you.”

You had to give it to Atsumu. He got you dancing with Sakusa, arms resting around his neck while you did your best not to step on his feet. His hands were firm on your waist, but his dancing was stiff.

Make the most of it, you decide. Taking a deep breath, you finally look up at Sakusa to find him staring at you with an unusual flush painted upon his cheeks.

“Are you okay, Sakusa?”

“Kiyoomi.” You raised your eyebrows, making him carefully clear his throat. “You can call me Kiyoomi.”

“Kiyoomi.” Your heart skipped a beat when his face responded by growing even warmer as you repeated his name. “Are you having a good time?”

“A little embarrassed you asked me before I could ask you, but at least we got to dance.”

You let out a small gasp as he twirled you, making you smile even more. “Do you like dancing?” you asked him as he pulled you back to his chest, seeming to loosen up more in his movements.

“Not particularly. But I think I like you.”

And to say the butterflies fluttered in your stomach would be an understatement. “I think I like you too.”

Your eyes spoke a thousand words that night, fluttering lashes and soft looks coming together to tell the other how you felt. I would like to get to know you more.

masterlist

[angelicgirlmj]

simple skincare routine (+ product recommendations based of skin types)

hi angels! skincare has been a big passion of mine since i was around twelve and began to develop some hormonal skincare issues. these really made me insecure and i still struggle with my skin. but being consistent and developing my routine, working out my skin type, eating with my skin as a focus and trial and error has got me to a place where im much much happier with my skin - and id love to share some tips and products with you!! remember your skin is exposed to so much and such a delicate part of your body, treat it with the love and respect it deserves. ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

firstly: figuring out your skin type

im not exaggerating when i say the basis of a good skincare routine is knowing your skin type. it makes it easier to buy products, work out what your skin needs and how to achieve the look you want.

dermatologists agree that there are four skin types:

oily (skin produces more oils and sebum).

dry (produces less oils and sebum).

normal (produces a normal amount of oils and sebum).

combination (areas of skin which are dry and areas that are sebum heavy/oily).

so…

how do you work out your skin type?

well there are two easy at home methods!

watch and wait (requires cleanser): wash your face with a gentle cleanser and pat dry. wait for half an hour or so and observe your skin. shiny all over = oily. tight and perhaps flaky = dry. shine in t zone = likely combination. hydrated and comfortable but not too oily = normal.

blotting sheet method (requires blotting sheets and cleanser): wash face with gentle cleanser, pat dry and waist for half an hour or so. press blotting sheets to chin, cheeks, forehead etc and examine the oil left on the sheets. lots of oil = oily. almost no oil/no oil = dry. oil mostly in t zone = combination. minimal all over face = normal.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

secondly: building a routine

now youve worked out what skin type you have it’s time to build a routine! i personally have combination skin that verges more on the dry side.

my am and pm skincare routines look like this…

am: cleanser, ice face, oil face and do gentle gua sha routine, moisturiser and spf. applying facial sanitising spray regularly throughout the day.

pm: double cleanse, ice face (only if feeling puffy/sore), moisturiser, 1 - 2 spot treatments and sanitise face.

am products:

cerave hydrating cleanser.

corsx moisturiser (great for dry and spot prone skin, little goes along way).

la roche posay spf 50+.

jojoba face oil.

vital baby face spray.

pm products:

la roche posay effclar duo.

avene hydrance aqua cream.

two over the counter spot treatments.

you may need to cleanse your face more/less, use less moisturiser etc. developing your skin care routine is through trial and error, just be observant of your skin and take notes on any effects or changes a product seems to have.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

thirdly: product recommendations

here’s a list of some product recommendations! some i have personally tried (they will be starred), others are popular ones based of your skin type loved by many.

cleansers

dry: cerave hydrating cleanser ⟡

oily: la roche posay effclar duo cleanser ⟡

combination: neutrogena skin balancing purifying gel cleanser

normal: paulas choice perfectly balanced foaming cleanser.

toner

dry: laneige cream skin toner

oily: body shop tea tree toner ⟡

combination: innisfree green tea toner

normal: la roche posay toner

moisturisers

dry: corsx moisturiser ⟡

oily: glow watermelon pink juice moisturiser

combination: byoma moisturising gel cream

normal: la roche posay cicaplast baume B5+ ⟡

spf

la roche posay spf 50+

black girl sunscreen

supergoop unseen sunscreen

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

thank you for reading angels! feel free to give any skincare product recommendations or reviews. im planning on doing an in-depth personal skincare routine post soon. hopefully you enjoyed!!

love, m.

[sweetfushi]

How about a haikyuu sickfic where the reader has a sleepover at a characters house to nurse them, but they end up getting sick too and now it’s the characters turn to take care of them? You can change the idea if you’d like, good luck!!

NURSING HIM WHEN HE'S ILL

fluff | wakatoshi ushijima, kozume kenma, kentaro kyotani x reader, surprise surprise all of them are ill and idiots for not being careful (or just too in love to care), high temperature | word count. 1.4k ◦ notes. changed this very slightly if you can notice but the idea is very much still there <3

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

“I told you to keep your distance,” you sigh heavily, cupping the mug of warm chamomile tea and honey to measure the temperature. When you’re sure it’s cool enough to hold, you hand it to Ushijima, who’s barely keeping himself sat up on the couch. You wince as he coughs into his tissue again, before taking the mug from your hands.

“Keeping my distance,” he mumbles, “meant leaving you ill.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but know he means well. Did this man have any flaws? “And look what caring for me got you.” Once you sit beside him with enough distance between the two of you to ensure your health, you refill his glass of water that sits on the coffee table. In the meantime, Ushijima sips his tea and inhales wheezily. His cough was nothing serious because yours was the same, just an inconvenience that left you too unbothered to do anything other than complain and curse yourself for being so careless.

Ushijima, however, is much quieter than you when ill. The most he’s done is complain under his breath or groan loudly. Even so, it’s clear he’s uncomfortable and bothered by his illness. Especially since it renders him incapable of performing his best in matches. Luckily, he’s not had any upcoming ones due to the last two months being ones dedicated to training before the finals. Meaning, he had more than enough time to get better.

“You’ve officially killed me,” he huffs with his eyes closed.

Well, it appears even when he’s ill Ushijima will find humour in the situation.

You press your fingers to his temple in the shape of a gun - your middle and index finger together, your other fingers curled back and your thumb pointed upwards. “My cleanest kill yet.”

He shakes his head, before coughing loudly into his fist. All the while, you stare at him, waiting for him to calm and settle back into the couch with a tired look on his face. Ushijima glances at you, blinking slowly. Even when ill, Ushijima wants to maintain physical contact with you despite knowing it would be best not too if he valued your health alongside his.

But, he still reaches his hand out and hopes you get the message. God knows he’s too parched and sore to verbalise it.

And being the understanding woman you are, you appear to catch on with the way your lips tilt into a small smile. He knows you love it when he gets like this, particularly needy and aching for your touch. So, you apply a decent amount of sanitiser on his hands and wait for him to slowly rub it along his skin before grabbing his hand.

Your thumb brushes along the back of his hand, enough to soothe him even as another cough builds up in his throat. This time, he catches it in a tissue and gives you a tiredly sheepish look.

“I’ll wash my hands this time.”

“Good idea.”

KOZUME KENMA

Kenma is a good listener when he wants to be. He decided he would not listen to you when you warned him of his cold having the potential to progress into much worse. That being a fever; a fever that left him bed-ridden and highly uncomfortable with any sort of noise, skin contact and unequilibrated temperatures. He was dealing with all three with the sound of the washing machine, your hands placing a damp cloth on his forehead, and the open window of his previously warm room.

His expression is of evident frustration with himself.

“I… maybe,” his teeth chatter, “should’ve listened.”

You bite your tongue to suppress the urge to tell him I told you so, as saying that may only do good for your ego. Instead, you give him a pointed look that he just about catches through his hooded eyes and raging headache. Though even as you treat him, your sniffles pose as the remaining aftermath of your own fever from a week ago. Kenma knows this, so it is now his turn to give you a pointed look.

“Hey, you worry about yourself,” you whisper-shout, careful not to raise your voice to a decibel that would worsen his headache. “You can glare at me when you’re not looking like a sad cat.”

Kenma snarls, but he’s amused. He just doesn’t have it in him to express that, not when it meant laughing or even cracking a smile. But he does let out a small whine to let you know that he’s listening to your uncalled-for insults.

Your lips part as you go to talk again, but seal shut when you decide against it. You don’t want to bother him with unnecessary talk, even if your voice is one of the few he could listen to continuously without wanting to pull his phone out.

You refill his glass of water before helping him sit up in bed and offering him the glass. He takes a moment to just inhale and exhale at a controlled pace, before taking the glass and bringing it up to his lips. The positive thing about this all is that Kenma is very cooperative when ill because he hates being in that state as much as the next person. He’ll complain and grumble, sure, but it would never be towards any attempt to help him get better. Thus, he drinks the water in silence and politely asks for a refill.

“I was…” he mumbles, “gonna practise with Kuroo tomorrow.”

“Not in your state you won’t. Maybe he can FaceTime you as he practises, but you’re going nowhere near that court.” You pause for a moment, considering your words. “Or any other human for that matter.”

Kenma is on the brink of sleep as he stares at you for a moment, before shutting his eyes and sighing in agreement.

KENTARO KYOTANI

Once you’ve finally finished squeezing some fresh orange juice into a glass, you make your way over to the curled heap of illness that is Kyotani. You’d thrown a blanket over him and let him sip on the orange juice with a grumble. You were only a partial cause of his sneezing. The other part came from his open window, either due to the pollen that infested his room or the cool night breeze that unsettled his immune system.

“Thanks,” he manages to say, before slamming the empty glass down on the table just in time to catch his explosive sneeze in a tissue. You thank him internally for having the capacity to do that and not spread his germs (even though you had been the one to spread yours to him).

“Make sure to blow your nose and push the snot out, not suck it back in.”

“Ew, please don’t,” he grimaces. “I mean, I’ll do that and whatever, just please reword.”

You roll your eyes at his excessive disgust, but find it amusing that he can still generate anger when his nose tickles and his chest constricts. You’re not sure if that’s something you admire, but it is certainly something you find entertaining, so you can credit him for that.

Kyotani sees your gentle, almost dazed smile as you run your hand along his buzzcut, smoothing over his head and watching as he allows you to. Ever since you got married, he had made it clear to you that physical touch was enough to satiate him no matter his mood, so it’s no surprise that he’s closing his eyes and practically purring at the feeling of your hand on him.

For a moment, you pull your hand away from his head in order to pull the blanket tighter around him, and this frustrates him. He doesn’t care about the damn blanket, he wants your hand back on his head. Following that thought, Kyotani internally appreciates human incapability to hear thoughts or read minds, otherwise you wouldn’t let his thoughts go for weeks. You tease him enough as is, he’s not sure he can survive anything more.

You practically scream at the sudden sneeze he releases the moment you release your hold on his blanket. He grunts when you smack the back of his head.

“Surely you could’ve sneezed quieter.” You try to grab at his hair in an attempt to pull it, but hear him snicker when you fail.

“You were blowing this place up just as much a few days ago.”

“I’ve never known a sick person to talk so much,” you retort. Kyotani shakes his head at your immature response, but it gets him to fall silent and focus his attention on stopping his sneezes - as if paying closer attention to them would mean he would get better. Maybe it did, hell if he knew.

But, it was nice to be doted on, as much as he won’t admit it. He wouldn’t mind falling ill more often if it meant you’d devote your full attention to him.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[salmonellaandcheese]

i take Little Friend with me!

Hi I recently started carrying a bag and I am so blown away by the utility of having storage on the go…. I’m new to the bag life so what do y’all keep in your bags/purses? I have glasses cleaning supplies, lip balm, headphones, and perfume 🫶 Any suggestions?

[highprettybabyy]

Seeing Red

Part 5 - Clean Slate

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: Y/N takes a detour- -

warnings: enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore, maybe angst... some fluff...

AN: i'm very glad you are liking this series so far :)

this is a flashback

word count: 2.5k

Part 4

—//—

You moved fast at first.

Not because you were afraid - not this time - but because you had something to show her. Something real. Your fingers were still clutched tight around the folded flyers, soft at the edges from how many times you’d read them. Villas. Townhouses. Places untouched. Yours and hers, not just one or the other.

But as you passed a shattered department store window, something caught you mid-step.

Your reflection.

You froze.

Not because it startled you, but because for a second you didn’t recognise her.

The person staring back looked worn thin. Clothes torn. Hair matted and wild. Blood - old and new - streaked your collar and temple. Your skin looked pale and sun-touched all at once, like you'd been half-feral for too long.

You took a step closer.

There was dirt along your jawline. A dried scrape under your left cheekbone. Your lips were cracked, your eyes a little dull.

You looked like the apocalypse.

You swallowed, glanced down at the flyers still clutched in your hand, then back at your reflection.

New base. New home. Fresh start.

Right.

You turned on your heel and headed toward the nearest salon.

-

It had clearly been looted, but half-heartedly. A few drawers were open, product scattered across the floor, but the back shelves were still stocked. Shampoo. Conditioner. Masks. Scissors. Even a few unused towels, folded and dusted with fine powder, and a first aid kit.

You grabbed a large plastic basin from beneath the sinks, yanked open cupboards until you found a full jug of waterless sanitiser, which you shoved aside with a scoff. What you needed was actual water. Something real.

You filled the basin with everything that looked vaguely useful. Shampoo bottles. Three conditioners. Detangling sprays. Scissors. Clips. A wide-tooth comb. Then you grabbed four towels, stiff as cardboard, and headed toward the central hall.

The fountain was still intact.

It didn’t work, of course, but there was still enough water in the basin. Not much, but enough. It glistened under the sunlight filtering through the broken skylight, reflecting onto the cracked tiles around you.

You dropped everything beside the edge and scooped cold water into the bucket.

Then you got to work.

-

You didn’t rush it. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself take your time. You tipped water over your head, letting it run through the mats and knots and grime that had been building for weeks.

You used an entire bottle of shampoo, scrubbing until your scalp burned. Then the conditioner. All of it. All three.

By the time you’d massaged the last of it through your hair, the tangles were falling apart with almost no resistance. The wide-tooth comb glided through with only the occasional snag.

You rinsed in the bucket, emptied it into the nearby pots of long-dead fountain plants, then filled it again. And again.

It was messy. Undignified. But it was clean.

You trimmed your hair next, squinting into the fountain's reflective metal surface. Not a mirror, but close enough. You tried to keep the ends even, jaw-length. The scissors weren't the sharpest, but they worked.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was yours.

You washed the rest of yourself next: arms, neck, hands, face - scrubbing until you no longer smelled like rot and rust. You cleaned the blood from your shoulder, examined the healing wound on your forearm, applied some of the antiseptic wipes you'd found in the salon’s first aid kit.

Last came your face.

You crouched beside the basin and splashed your cheeks carefully, keeping your eyes open. Always open. You didn’t close them longer than a blink.

You dried off with one of the stiff towels, rubbing your hair until it was only damp and your skin felt warm from the friction.

Then you stood, stared down at the empty bottles of conditioner, and laughed - just once. It echoed.

You poured out the dirty water for the final time, giving it a quick rinse and wipe with a towel after, tucked the flyers in your pack, and turned toward the corridor - halting abruptly to also pick up the empty basin. Might come in handy.

You didn’t feel like someone new.

But you felt more like yourself than you had in weeks.

You passed by the window once more to look at yourself. It was similar to how you looked in a memory you visited more than you'd like to admit.

-

It started in Ethics & Public Policy.

The professor had barely introduced the topic before it devolved into a verbal tug-of-war. You weren’t even surprised anymore. It always happened when Jenna was in the same room - you’d say something, she’d challenge it, and the rest of the lecture would dissolve into raised voices and everyone else staring between you like it was some kind of sport.

Today’s match? Bioethics. Autonomy. State control. You’d made a perfectly reasonable point. Jenna had disagreed - loudly - and ten minutes later, it was a full-on shouting match with the professor looking like he aged five years trying to break it up.

“I swear to God, Ortega,” you snapped as everyone filed out, “you live to argue.”

“I live to correct stupidity,” she shot back, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

That was when the professor stepped in.

Both of you got assigned “cool-down time” with the campus counsellor.

You didn’t go.

You needed air. Distance. Anything but another ten-minute walk with Jenna Ortega breathing down your neck. So you detoured down the east wing of the building and ducked into the bathroom instead.

It was quiet. Bright, over-sterile lighting. You splashed water on your face and stared at yourself in the mirror.

You weren’t just mad. You were shaking. She always got under your skin - and not just because of the way she argued, or the condescension in her voice, or the way she always looked like she knew you better than you wanted her to. It was all of it. Every fucking time.

You hadn’t even dried your face when the door banged open.

“Seriously?” Jenna's voice bounced off the tiles. “You storm off and think I won’t follow?”

You turned, dripping. “I didn’t storm off.”

She walked in like she owned the place, letting the door swing shut behind her. “We’re supposed to go to the counsellor, remember? After you tried to chew my head off in front of thirty people?”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault you can’t handle being wrong?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jesus, you’re such a pain in the ass-”

“And you’re obsessed with fighting me.”

“Because you’re infuriating!”

“You think I don’t notice?” she snapped, stepping forward. “The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching? Or how you only ever lose your temper in my direction?”

You stiffened.

Something cracked then - something invisible but loud. The air shifted.

She was closer now. The bathroom suddenly felt too small.

“You think I don’t see through you?” Jenna’s voice dropped. Lower. Rougher. “You only ever argue when you want attention.”

You scoffed. “That’s rich coming from someone who walks into every room like she’s looking for a fight.”

“Oh, I’m looking for something,” she said.

You barely had time to process that before she stepped into your space. No hesitation. Her hand hit the tiled wall beside your head with a dull thud. Her body pressed close, not touching - not yet - but there, and you felt it like static in your teeth.

“Jenna-” you started, voice barely there.

She leaned in. Her breath hit your neck.

“Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

You should’ve. You could’ve.

But you didn’t.

Her hand slid to your jaw, her fingers were so soft. Too fucking soft. Your pulse hammered against your throat.

Then her mouth was on yours.

Hot. Fierce. No hesitation. No softness.

Your back hit the wall with a thump. Her fingers tangled in your hair. You gasped into her mouth and her hips slotted against yours and it was too much - too much heat, too much tension, too much everything that had been boiling under the surface for months.

It was wild. And it was only seconds.

Because the door creaked open.

“Sorry-! Shit, sorry-!”

A girl you vaguely recognised from another class recoiled, eyes wide, then quickly disappeared with a muttered apology.

You and Jenna broke apart fast - breathing hard, hair a mess, lips red.

She took a step back. Her eyes were still wild, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. But her hands were already balling into fists at her sides.

“Forget it,” she muttered.

“Jenna-”

She was already gone.

The door swung behind her.

And you were left in the bathroom alone, tasting her on your lips, wondering what the hell just happened.

-

Jenna paced the length of the furniture store for what felt like the hundredth time.

She’d already checked the front barricade twice. The maintenance door. The windows. Her gear. The supplies they’d stacked earlier. She’d even reorganised her backpack just to do something - her fingers trembling a little more than she liked to admit.

The sun had moved.

Light now filtered through the highest slits in the boarded window, casting long strips across the mattress and floor. She counted them out of habit. Watched the shadows inch.

Where were you.

She tried not to think about how long it had been. Tried not to hear the phantom echo of that last argument between them.

Her heart thudded. Her mouth was dry. She kept her expression still, focused, like if she looked calm enough, it would make it true.

She hated this feeling.

The not knowing. It reminded her too much of the checkpoint. Of her mother’s hand letting go. Of her brother not making it through the gate. Of sitting there, gripping her dad’s rifle like it would stop everything from falling apart.

She let out a shaky breath and finally gave in - grabbing her bag from the bed, throwing the strap over her shoulder, one last glance toward the door before she started to move.

And that’s when she collided into someone.

They both screamed - sharp, startled, loud enough to rattle the silence.

Jenna stumbled back, instinctively reaching for her holster, her heart punching against her ribs. “What the fuck!”

“Jesus!” Y/N gasped, blinking just as wildly. “You almost took my head off!”

“You ran into me!” Jenna barked.

“You were in the doorway!”

“I was leaving!”

“I was coming in!”

They both froze.

Silence returned, broken only by their breathing.

And then Jenna saw her.

Really saw her.

Y/N stood straighter now, skin cleaner, blood gone. Her hair was damp and uneven but no longer tangled - freshly cut, still clinging to her neck and cheeks. She looked-

“You… what the hell?” Jenna gestured vaguely. “You left me for a makeover?”

Y/N blinked at her, then - slowly - smiled. “Actually? A fresh start.”

She opened her pack, pulled out a small stack of folded paper, and held them out.

Jenna frowned, taking them without a word. She looked down.

Flyers.

Real estate listings.

“Is this a joke?” she muttered, flipping one over.

“No,” Y/N said, softer now. “I just… we’re fighting over which base to pick, and I saw these, and- I thought… maybe we don’t pick yours or mine.”

Jenna said nothing.

Y/N’s voice faltered. “Maybe we find a new place. Together.”

Her words came quicker now, stumbling out. “We could pick something that suits both of us. High ground, good space, water access. Start clean. It’s dumb, maybe, I don’t know, I just-”

She stopped.

Jenna hadn’t looked up.

She was still flipping through the pages.

One villa. Two cottages. A narrow redbrick house with an overgrown garden.

Jenna’s eyes finally lifted.

Her mouth parted slightly. Her eyes shimmered, glassy, like a wave was just starting to crest beneath the surface. She looked at Y/N like she hadn’t expected to feel anything again today.

Tears clung at the edge of her lashes.

Not dramatic. Not noisy.

Just there.

“Jenna…” Y/N whispered, uncertain now.

But Jenna only stared at her for a long moment - like she was trying to remember every version of her, all at once. The stubborn one. The girl in class. The bathroom. The fight. The one who came back.

Then she exhaled.

“Can I keep these?” she asked.

Y/N blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Jenna nodded once.

And she didn’t say thank you.

But she didn’t need to.

Y/N shifted her weight slightly, one hand still half-raised between them like she wasn’t sure if she should reach out or back away. But Jenna didn’t move. She kept her eyes on the paper in her hands, flipping to the next one - a sun-bleached photo of a little house wrapped in ivy, set back from a dirt road.

“It’s kind of ugly,” she said after a pause. Her voice was quiet. Steady.

Y/N huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah. That one’s definitely a fixer-upper.”

Jenna turned the page again.

“I like this one better,” she murmured, tapping a villa with wide windows and solar panels already rigged on the roof. “Looks… safe.”

Y/N watched her. “It’s got a water tank in the back.”

They didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stood there, the mall humming with distant, far-off silence. Like the dead had forgotten this place for now.

Finally, Jenna gestured toward the mattress behind them with a nod. “Sit with me?”

Y/N didn’t answer - just followed.

They both dropped their bags, moving almost in sync, and sank down onto the edge of the mattress. It sagged slightly under the weight, creaking quietly. Jenna spread the flyers across the bedspread like puzzle pieces, the sun cutting through the boards at just the right angle to catch the gloss on the pages.

They sat close. Not touching, not quite. But close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Jenna pointed again. “This one’s gated.”

“Could help,” Y/N murmured. “Less open exposure.”

“Fewer exits though.”

“Easier to defend.”

Another pause.

Y/N reached down into her bag, taking out a bag of crisps and a can of peaches, together with a metal fork that should be washed more often. She opened the can of peaches by the lid and dropped the fork in before handing it to Jenna - who accepted it with a whispered "thanks".

Y/N ate a few crisps. Jenna ate a few peaches. They switched.

Jenna didn’t look at her, but her voice dipped low. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

Y/N looked down at the flyers.

“I wasn’t either,” she said.

Silence again.

But it wasn’t cold anymore.

Y/N nudged a new page closer. “We could go check out the street this one’s on. Tomorrow.”

Jenna nodded.

Neither of them moved to get up.

And for the first time since the world ended, it felt like maybe they were planning something more than just survival.

--//--

Part 6

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Heyyyy🤍🤍

It's me again...the third part was amazing as other.....Can you make one last part including Jihan,Samuel, Gun&Goo ...... please

~🤍

Okie dokie! ❣️🎀

I was originally planning to write for Gun and Goo, but honestly, the other characters are great, too.

Characters : Jihan Kwak, Samuel Seo, Goo Kim , Gun Park.

JIHAN KWAK

The moment Jihan gets his hands on the guy, he’ll land a direct slap on Mr. Boyfie and throw some serious death glares at his daughter.

He’ll definitely try to assert dominance, puffing up his chest to show who’s boss. Like, dude, you’re the adult here. Use your brain. Why do I feel like the police are going to get involved? Imagine poor Jichang having to face his brother, now accused of beating a minor. (No clue how Korean law works, so I’ll skip the legal details)

It’s Jichang who steps in and puts some sense into Jihan. He reminds him that it’s his daughter’s choice to make, and if he had a problem, he should’ve talked it out instead of going full WWE.

When Jihan finally returns home, he finds himself shockingly alone in the warzone. His wife and daughter are on the same team, and to his horror, his wife even approves of the relationship.

This is the moment Jihan’s hairline begins its slow but steady retreat😭🤡

SAMUEL SEO

He finds out over dinner, casually, in the middle of a quiet bite and nervous glances, when he notices his daughter is visibly nervous but tries to build up the courage to say something.

He listens calmly, giving her his full attention, but even as he nods, the calculus has already begun in his head: Who is this guy? What does he do? Is he capable? Is he worth her?

Samuel’s a strict, disciplined father. Unlike James, who, despite being a peak and excelling in everything, would expect his kids to be just happy, Smauel demands absolute excellence and perfection.That mindset extends to relationships, too. He believes in surrounding yourself with the right people.

He isn’t against dating. In fact, he’ll be the one to ask his daughter to bring the guy home so he can test him himself. But the moment he opens the door and sees Jake’s loafer-of-a-son standing there, his brain short-circuits. Who brought this monkey? What’s the number for animal rescue again?

Still, when he sees how genuinely happy his daughter is around him and that, surprisingly, Jake’s son isn’t a playboy—he dials it down a bit. Outwardly, he stays composed. Inwardly? He’s cursing the poor boy’s existence.

GOO KIM

Dramatically screeches, whining, howling, clutching his chest, the whole “wolf meme tearing shirt” meme. “Sanitisers claim to kill 99.9% of germs,” he sobs, “but that 0.1%? That’s the male population!”

Goo, what the hell? 🤣🤣

His wife slaps him on the back of his head to knock some sense in, but he acts even more wounded, like the entire world has conspired to rob him of his babygirl.

Immediately goes full Olympic coach mode, starts teaching his daughter every self-defense technique she already knows, just in a more advanced version. “It’s okay if, in self-defense, you accidentally kill the guy,” he says solemnly. His daughter stares at him in horror. A slipper flies at his head😭💀

When she tells him she’s going out on a date, he cries like he’s sending her off to war. He clutches her hands, tears in his eyes. “Remember the first day of kindergarten? We both cried, and you came running back to dad... But now… now it’s just dad crying… alone…” She hugs him, pats his back with a tight smile, and walks out, thinking, “Should’ve just lied instead.” 😅🙏

GUN PARK

Chillest of the chill dads. Calmly hands her his black card and casually says, “Don’t exceed the limit.”

He trusts his daughter completely. He believes that if she chose someone, she must’ve had her reasons. And if things go south, he knows she’s more than capable of handling it herself. But this isn’t detachment or that Gapryong IDGAF energy. No. Gun cares. Deeply.

He just believes in growing through experiences by following your own path, learning, failing, and succeeding. He’s not the soft, overtly affectionate type. He’s the “nurturing genius” in his own way.

He raised her to be strong, mind, body, and spirit. Not perfect, not a replica of himself, and definitely not someone who needs to be shielded from the world. He raised her to face it.

He may have a few reservations about parenting. Thank you, Shingen and Somi ☺️, but he holds them in. If she comes to him to rant or cry, he’ll quietly listen, only offering advice if asked, patting her head, letting her know he’s always there.

He won’t fight her battles.But he will always be her anchor, the silent rock in the storm. And for this journey, too, he’ll be right there in the background. Watching. Supporting. Trusting.

[jadeoru]

SMUDGED LIPSTICK!

11: fresh start -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: i dont like who i was then - the wonder years 🎶

The uproar of cheering and applause thumped in your head. Your forehead was slick with sweat, and you were still catching your breath as you ran backstage. Your back pressed firmly against the wall, heart beating so loudly you could hear it; adrenaline coursed through your veins. You watched as the rest of the band flooded into the room, smiles spread widely on each of their faces - even tsukishima’s. Nishinoya was jumping so much so you worried he would take flight. Excitement surged through the room, it was moments like these in which you found yourself appreciating all of the effort you put in to reach this point. All of the shows that went wrong: when you got booed, when you got into fights, when there were tech problems that ultimately ruined the entire show, when your nervousness found a home inside of you, feeding off of your doubts; shaking your hands, and trembling your voice. All of those humiliating, daunting moments you faced together. Everything had to go wrong for the present to feel so right. You were exactly where you belonged. 

“Oh my god did you see the crowd? They went fucking insane!” Nishinoya practically yelled, arms flailing around as if they were fueled by raw excitement. Everyone nodded their heads exhilaratingly. “Holy fuck guys, we killed it!” you ran your fingers through your hair, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. All eyes turned to you as everyone smiled. With a shout of your name, your friends began to drown each other with their praise. Kiyoko’s voice boomed through your ears, “Yn, your stage presence is absolutely captivating - We’re so lucky to have you in the band! Without you the crowd would probably be asleep!” placing her bass safely against the wall, she walked up towards you and pulled you into her arms. You smiled so hard your cheeks began to ache, leaning into her warm touch. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re gonna make me cry, Shimizu. Oh my god I love you so much. You're the best damn bass player I've ever seen.” you laughed, squeezing her tightly one last time before pulling away. She simply kept smiling, before turning back to the other members, and continuing her words of admiration towards them. You stayed with the others for a good while, spewing your affection to them insistently, before taking a deep breath in.

“Guys. I think I'm gonna go find Sakusa.” 

Despite being 6-foot-something and undeniably the sexiest man in the bar, finding him proved to be impossible. Your eyes searched the whole building. Every time you thought you were getting close, all you were met with were traces of him: a white surgical mask stuck to the sticky floor, a half empty bottle of hand sanitiser abandoned on a somehow even stickier table. All you could find was proof of your clean freak ex-best friend’s presence, but not the actual man himself. Frustrated, and growing tired, you got yourself a vodka cranberry and stood awkwardly in the corner of the room. Maybe he’d find you instead?

After a few minutes of wallowing in regret and reminiscence of your memories, your hopes of seeing him again were quickly discarded as a group of people approached you. They looked at you with metaphorical fangs bared, and eyes filled with envy. Oh fuck.

“Hey, ‘yer the girl that was singing on that stage, right?” one of them called out. He was tall and lanky, with messy hair and a drunken slur in his voice. the rest of them snickered from behind him. He must’ve been the ‘leader’ of the group. You straightened your back defensively, trying to seem taller; more intimidating. “And what if I am?” your eyes flicked to the people behind him, who laughed.

“It’d be a shame. Yer way too pretty to be singing stuff like that. Enough of that emo bullshit.” you scowled, rolling your eyes. Was this guy serious? “I’ll sing whatever the fuck I want, asshole.” your lips curved downwards, trembling slightly with brewing anger. He smiled at you sinisterly.

“You’ll never get a husband with that attitude, doll. Men aren’t into that edgy style ya know?” he spoke in a patronising tone that you couldn’t bear.

“Am I supposed to care what dickless men like you think of me?” you knew you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, you knew that it would only make the situation worse. but, you were way too stressed out to deal with this maturely. If he wanted to start a fight, then you’d finish it.

“You should - Just look at you! You’d be so much prettier without that black shit all over yer face. And the screamo music? Are ya tryin’ to look like a weirdo?” Did he seriously come up to you just to say pointless bullshit like this? Your fists clenched with anger, jaw clenched as you looked at the group of men with all the hatred you could muster up. “Suck my dick.” you spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes widened with shock, surprise quickly being replaced by offence. “‘Scuse me?” he asked, but you both knew he heard you well. The rest of his group looked at each other with a sinister expression, as if they knew what would happen next. You took a step forward, not caring if your boot stomped on his foot in the process. “I said,” you poked a finger at his chest hardly, enunciating each word with a rough poke. “Suck. my. Dick.” you spat at him. Muttering a low ‘you bitch’, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly, almost in an attempt to break the bone. “Yer gonna fuckin’ regret that - you bitch. I’m gonna fuckin ki-” His words were quickly cut off as he was pulled backwards by the back of his shirt. He turned around, eyes widening in fear as he stared at the man now in front of him.

Staring at this man with pure disdain was none other than Sakusa motherfucking Kiyoomi. And he was pissed. 

“Leave her the fuck alone.” he pulled him back harsher, causing him to stumble over, nearly falling. His words shot out like bullets, laced with venom that tasted like pure hatred. The man quickly stuttered out his apologies, aware of how much weaker he was in comparison to him. “Hey man- it was just a joke! We were just playin’ around!” you almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic the man looked now, if not for being frozen in complete shock. “Yeah? Well it’s my turn to play around then.” he spoke with the ghost of a smirk on his face. You could see the way his fist was clenched, his knuckles were white as he held onto the fabric of his shirt. Without warning, he raised his hand, and punched him in the gut. As he leaned over in pain, grunting dramatically, Sakusa took this as the perfect opportunity to push him, slamming the man down to the ground. The people around you quickly processed what was happening, and tried to avenge their fallen friend. They circled you and Sakusa with the look of pure evil displaying on their features. Before they could get their hands on him, Sakusa grabbed you by the arm, and dragged you to the back of the bar, leading you outside.

The cold night air pricked at your shoulders, as you stared at the man in front of you. “Holy shit, Sakusa..” you muttered, still in disbelief from what just unfolded in front of you. He took a step towards you, and with a fast beating heart, you took a step back. Your back pressed against the wall as you stared up at him. He scanned your face for any sign of injury, before whispering, “Are you okay?” In stark contrast to a few minutes ago, his voice was much softer now - much like his gaze. You nodded your head shyly, scared that if you spoke up now, you’d accidentally let out all of your emotions. You’d be damned if you didn’t think he was hot as fuck back then. You’d never forgive yourself if you accidentally told him that. He hummed at your response, eyes flicking to the door to make sure you were alone.

“Are you ready to listen to me now?” he asked, trying to sound calm, but there was no denying the desperation in his voice. You struggled to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. “What if I say no?” he leaned in closer to you, almost enough to feel your breath on his face.

“Then i'll keep waiting”

You smiled at him. You smiled at him for the first time in forever. He treasured the sight with every ounce of his being. You were just as beautiful as you were the day you left him. He couldn’t help but smile back, albeit significantly smaller. “Will you keep annoying me about this?” you asked, crossing your arms, your smile shifting into a playful smirk. “Of course I will.” he said, blunt as ever. You chuckled. “Then fine. Talk to me.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he began speaking. “Look. About… then - I…” he paused for a moment, searching for the right words to say. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for the things I said to you - For what I did to you. I know that saying sorry isn’t enough to repair the pain I put you through but I swear I’ll do anything to make it up to you. And I know i sound fucking pathetic right now but I just need you to know how much I regret everything that’s happened between us.” The way he spoke was the exact opposite of how he normally was: messy, frantic, unprepared and, of course, pathetic. He wasn’t sure how long he was talking for, in all honesty he wasn't sure how to stop. He explained everything to you, not leaving out even a fraction of how he had felt or what was going through his mind. You had to do a few double takes to make sure this was still the same Sakusa you had known before. For once, you thanked his blunt honesty. He rambled on and on, only stopping to catch his breath. When he finally stopped, you could see the embarrassment that shadowed his eyes. It was evident that his mind was beating him up for talking so much. A moment of silence hung around you. You struggled to fill it. 

You looked at the ground, taking in his words. “Sakusa.. I-” A few seconds passed by. “I was not expecting that.” you said with a nervous chuckle. He let out a quiet groan of shame, looking away from you. He was adorable. You took a moment to put your next sentence together, processing every word of his apology. With a shaky sigh, your eyes met his again. He prepared himself to face your anger, bracing himself to hear the insults you would inevitably sling at him. He didn’t doubt for a second that he deserved it. But they never came. “Thanks for… all of that.” you laughed awkwardly, “I mean it. You have no idea how much I needed to hear those words from you. I don’t think it’s possible for me to keep being mad at you after hearing all of that.” you smiled at him again, tongue between your teeth. You swallowed, before continuing, “I’m sorry too. I should’ve let you explain yourself sooner. I was just so angry! I mean- you left out of fucking nowhere, y’know? I was so pissed off I couldn't stand to look at you, because I knew I'd forgive you immediately. It sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud…” you paused, looking into his eyes. “I’m so sorr-” he cut you off,

“Don’t say that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His voice was low, truthful. Another beat of silence passed, before he started talking again. “Do you want to forgive me yet?” he asked, not doing anything to mask the pleading look on his face. His heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure whether it was nervousness or anticipation. Honestly, it was both. The thought of not forgiving him hadn’t crossed your mind once. You’ve waited way too long for this moment. With a smile, you pointed your finger to him.

“I forgive you. But, we won’t go right back to being friends. You have to earn that, okay?” your harsh words contradicted the happy expression on your face. He smiled wider than you’d seen in a while.

“Understood.”

Without saying another word, you pulled him into your arms; hugging him tightly. He stood there for a second, before wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours. He relished in the warmth of your embrace. God, he missed this.

“Thanks for giving me a chance.”

extra:

i have nothing to say except for how happy i am to get this chapter out god bless 🙏🙏THEY ARENT BEEFING ANYMORE!!!! HOORAY!!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @anianurst @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69 @thepurpleempath @theauthorunicorn @v1oletfury @iluvmang @slashkxe @theycallmenanamisgirl @dailyakira @loverlunaire @iovetooru @ryukumi @soupofmushrooms

reply to be added ^__^

[hotwaterandmilk]

Grabbed the latest issue of Sho-Comi because Mahou Shoujo Dandelion has been making waves on Twitter in advance of its release and I had to see how it actually turned out.

Mizuho Kaeru seemed a tad overwhelmed on socials about just how much anticipation the series was receiving based on concept and characters alone, but Mizuho should honestly be proud of how well they've lined up trending tropes in Dandelion.

You've got the nasty-cute monster dude (Shade) who would do anything for his bright ray of sunshine (Tanpopo). Throw in the nostalgic magical girl element and it's not hard to see why both Japanese and English-speaking fans have been anticipating this first chapter. So, does it live up to the hype?

I'd veture that yes, Dandelion is worthy of the excitement that has been building around it. It was good as a lunchtime read on my phone and while I'll probably have to re-read it to get everything I want from it, my initial impression is a positive one.

I'm not a fan of grumpy/sunshine type stuff but Tanpopo's strengths as a character really helped me enjoy what was on offer here. You can see why the Special Magic Warrior Management Organisation was interested in her, she's got a good heart and she's got gumption, even if Shade is the one who continually helps break her fall.

The complication here is of course that Shade, while obliging of Tanpopo in his own way, is also monstrous. He plays into this when he wants to, menacing Tanpopo herself at one point because he's A VILLAIN OK?? (Sure buddy.) With Tanpopo becoming Dandelion, how will their dynamic change? Can this uneasy relationship develop further when our leads are technically on opposite sides of a battle with life-altering stakes, despite a potential unspoken desire to present a united front?

What I like about Mizuho's approach in this first chapter is that the world these characters live in is already tinted with grey and what should be a black & white / good vs. evil situation is far more complex than this right out of the gate. The "monster of the week" that shows up here is grotesque and violent, hardly the sanitised version you'd see in childhood cartoons. However, the magic warrior org is quite willing to lop heads (literally) when they have to, showing that they are not all sparkles and rainbows either. Tanpopo and Shade are very much walking into unknown territory here and I'm interested to see how Mizuho handles things in chapter two.

I just have to add that I absolutely loved this moment where Dandelion, newly transformed, performs her first magical action -- restoring the umbrella she'd used defensively as Tanpopo. So much about her character expressed in this simple yet powerful action. LOVED ITTTTTT.

If the hype remains then I can see this one turning out to be a solid little series. There's definite potential here in both the characters and scenario. I highly recommend grabbing the magazine issue and supporting any other official releases that become available if you can. Mizuho is also happy for people to produce fan art, so maybe draw pic or share a tweet/post/etc. about it if you don't have the money to invest and help keep that hype train moving this way instead!

[birchandspruce]

The Pack Initiative - 18

TPI Masterlist

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: this is quite spicy - sex is referenced to several times, but no actual sex takes place, but it’s alluded and referenced, so DNI if you’re not old enough to be near that.

My nose is permanently scrunched up, a gag rising in my throat. The aftermath of cleaning after a heat is never good, but I never knew that it could be this bad. I throw yet another sheet across the room - into the haphazard ‘to be cleaned ASAP’ pile - grumbling to myself as the piles only grow larger and larger.

I had originally started with three piles: clean, to be cleaned ASAP, and could wait to be laundered. Somehow, two more piles have appeared: to be burnt beyond the point of recognition and to be bleached, sanitised and then cleaned ASAP. Some of these need professional help, which I simply can’t provide: my bottom lip wobbling as I take in the state of one of my favourite throw blankets, completely stained and crusty.

“Omega?” Taehyung stands halfway down the stairs, peeking his head over the bannister. Joyfully, I stop what I’m doing, averting all of my attention on him (and those sinful grey sweatpants) and not the ruined piles of nesting materials.

“Hi.” I croon, smiling. His eyes flicker over the mountains, his mouth screwing up at the state of the ‘to be burnt beyond recognition’ pile and truly seeing the state of some of the things in it. Loudly, he descends down the stairs, his big feet stomping against the hardwood as he joins me in the midst of the chaos, unflatteringly plopping down next to me as our knees collide. I wince, smacking his muscular arm slightly in a huff, to which he throws his head back in a deep laugh, rubbing over the smacked skin.

“Is that…?” He trails off, glaring holes into the pillow resting near his legs. Before Jin’s heat, it was perfectly shaped and plump, but now it’s flat and ripped to shreds, covered in bodily fluids. I bite my lip to hold in my laugh as I watch his face run through the five stages of grief, eyes glazing over at the collection of crust and discoloured stains.

“Various fluids from various holes? Yes.” I answer truthfully, tossing the pillow over my shoulder into the to-be-burnt pile with a cringe. I grab the next blanket, precautionarily sniffing it for a few seconds before running my hands over it. “This one’s just got sex smell.”

That boxy smile of his appears on his face as he takes it from my hands, sinfully holding it up to his own nose and taking a deep inhale. His grip gets tighter on the fabric; the veins on his arms start to protrude slightly while the rest of his body goes rigid, his face stuffed deep into the blanket now. I lay a hand on his thigh and begin to shake him lightly to try and bring him out of the haze and back into the real world, but it doesn’t seem to work. I keep my eyes fixed on his musical build, watching every twitch of his thighs and shudder of his back while he breathes in the scents, sniffing desperately.

“Alpha?” I mutter, inching closer until I’m practically in his lap, my spare hand trying to tug the fabric away from his face, which I barely manage to succeed! I wrangle the blanket a few inches from his face, yanking it out of his grip and throwing it behind us, quickly taking his hands in mine.

His pupils are blown, eyelids drooping, and his mouth is shaped in a tired smile, intoxicated in the scents he was huffing in. I fully move onto his lap and try to get his attention on me, sliding my hands up to cup his face, rubbing his cheeks with my thumbs to try and bring him back down to this planet, and even pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. The smell of arousal is thick in the air and almost glued to the walls, most of it now radiating from the alpha in front of me and not the sex-covered sheets behind us.

His pupil size slowly starts to go back to normal, his hands sliding up to gently cup my hips as his regular scent starts to fill my nostrils instead of the pumped-up arousal version.

The deep base of oak fills my nose first before the chaser of smoke starts to hook me in, the twang of blackberry taking the final hit and almost knocking me on my ass when the forcefulness of his… excitement starts to filter out of the room, letting his regular scent fill the gaps.

It takes a few minutes before the room smells more like a bonfire than a berry orgy and by then, thankfully, his pupils have gone back to normal and his body has stopped twitching. Silently, I watch as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side, letting him reset his joints before a squeeze to my left hip lets me know he’s back on Earth.

“Y/N?” His whisper is barely heard. I nod, silently telling him to go on. “My sweats might need to join the laundry pile.”

My eyes flicker downwards before I can stop them, my entire body going rigid as the dark grey patch stares back. I wiggle a little, feeling the damp fabric against my shorts and desperately holding in a laugh while he looks away; his cheeks painted a blood-red shade.

“Alpha? Is that….?” I trail off and move my hips again - just to double-check.

“Shut up.” He groans, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving his neck exposed. I shove my face forward, kissing just under his Adam’s apple with a giggle.

“It’s kind of hot, y’know.” I mutter, kissing along his neck again, lavishing his scent patch with my tongue. A groan ripples through, the muscle underneath my tongue vibrating and the sweet tang of berries starting to swirl around me. One of his hands slowly eases me back by my hair, tilting my head back until our eyes meet and a growl ripples through his chest.

“Y/N?” The way my name leaves his mouth is sinful, arousal dripping from every motion of his mouth, my tongue beginning to feel as heavy as a pound of bricks. I blink at him, trying to bat my eyes like in one of those low-budget romance movies to try and reel him in further. Cockily, he grins and squeezes my ass, landing a slap.

“Taehyung?” I croon, moving my hands up and running them through his hair with a coy smile.

“Yes, omega?”

“Take your clothes off.” The words fall from my mouth, dripping with honey and sweetness. Swiftly, he pushes forward and I land backwards with a squeal, wrapping my every limb around him, really not expecting the sudden change in pace.

“Do you really think you’re the one calling the shots?” His deep timbre makes goosebumps appear across my body, my eyelids starting to droop as his scent takes over my every sense. “Silly omega.”

——

Daydreaming, I stare at the wall in front of me with a smile plastered on my face. My legs feel like they’re made of jelly and my mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton wool: my omega senses in some sort of haywire.

“Would you put that down?” Yoongi’s voice trickles in, sounding like he’s scolding a child. I lean back a little - trying to peep into the bathroom to see who he’s talking to - but I can’t see anybody with a big box in the way.

“Can you hand me the torx?”

“The… huh?” Ah, it’s Namjoon. I shuffle forward, sneaking into the doorway and watching as Namjoon shuffles through the toolbox, his head tilted to the side and his brows drawn together in a state of true, utter confusion. It almost makes me laugh, the way he’s dragging his hands along the different tools with a metaphorical question mark hovering above his head.

“The torx?” Yoongi says again, holding his hand out behind him and gripping two pieces of wood with the other. Namjoon still doesn’t move, eyes going haywire across the box. I shuffle a little further in with a smile.

“Hi alphas.” I coo, diverting the attention to me just long enough to slide the torx into Namjoon’s hand and Yoongi to turn around. Both alphas smile; Namjoon’s more in thanks and Yoongi quickly gets back to work.

“Thank you.” He whispers into my ear as I shuffle into his lap, dragging my fingers through the toolbox. Yoongi screws the two pieces of wood together before turning back around, flashing a gummy grin and tossing the screwdriver back into the box.

“What are you doing?” I relax against the apex’s chest, tilting my head as I look at the wooden pieces and screws littering the bathroom floor.

“I’m putting up some mini shelves for toiletries, seeing as the drawers don’t have enough room.” Yoongi informs, digging out another screw from the packet.

“Well, there are eight of us.” I shrug and try to hide my smile, laughing to myself at the absurd number of people that live in this house.

“How many different shampoos do we actually need, though?” He shoots back, scooping the pozidriv from the box and screwing some more pieces together. I pull a face at his smartass response, rolling my eyes.

“Ow!” I screech when Namjoon pinches my thigh, my bottom lip wobbling.

“Don’t be a brat, omega.” His lips brush against my ear in a soft whisper, soothingly rubbing his hand over the skin he pinched.

“Yoongi, Namjoon’s being mean.” I snitch, putting on my best damsel-in-distress look to try and hook him in onto my side. He glances over his shoulder, biting his lip to hide a smile when his eyes meet Namjoon’s over my head.

“You heard him. Don’t be a brat.”

“Wow. Being bullied in my own bathroom.” I set fully into the drama queen role, throwing the pout on and even starting to sulk like a child. Suddenly, Yoongi’s in front of me, clutching my chin in his hands with a growl forming in his throat. I freeze like a deer in the headlights, the consequences of my actions suddenly hitting me - oops.

“What did we just say?” He grits out, his eyes dropping into slits as he glares at me. I don’t say anything, just nervously swallowing and trying to shuffle impossibly closer into the apex’s chest behind me.

“Omega, when we ask a question, we expect an answer.” Namjoon chimes in from behind me, squeezing my thighs harshly. My head starts swimming again and my mouth starts to feel like I’m chewing on a cloud, my body swimming in the smell of alpha dominance.

“You… you told me not to be a brat.” I whisper, the omega part of my brain wanting to show how submissive and good we can be.

“Louder.” Namjoon commands, my spine suddenly tingling and I sit up straight, breathing in heavily.

“You told me not to be a brat, alphas.”

They share a look over my head again, one I can’t determine what it means, and I suddenly feel very nervous. Turned on, but nervous.

“Do you know what bratty omegas get, Y/N?” Namjoon’s rumbling chest makes my body vibrate, nearly every thought and brain cell dying off the more this goes on.

“Lots of love and kisses?” I try to dig myself out of the hole, flashing a cute smile.

“Cute, but no.” Yoongi pipes up, squeezing my chin harder until my lips are formed into a pucker.

“Try again.” Namjoon’s lips circle my ear again, pressing a hot kiss behind it.

“They get punished, alphas.”

“Good omega.” They both purr, Yoongi pressing a hot kiss to my lips while Namjoon continues to press them behind my ear and make their way down my neck.

My vision blurs as the scent of my arousal fills the small room, bouncing off the tiles. Yoongi pushes the toolbox aside to get closer, eyes boring into mine as his lips embrace mine once again; tongue teasing mine. My body turns to mush, the jelly-feeling in my legs returning as my centre starts to warm and the thick smell of slick fills the space.

“Baby?” Namjoon’s whisper sends a tingle up my spine.

“Yes, Alpha?” I break away from Yoongi’s lips to answer, the Alpha taking over Namjoon’s job of sucking and kissing my neck.

“Present.”

——

“I could kiss you for hours.” Jimin’s voice is dreamy, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“Hours?” I repeat, slightly out of breath, “I think we’d die.”

“Gosh, how romantic. Dying in each other's arms, kissing the other’s breath away.” He seals the sentiment with another kiss, his hand sliding up my cheek and caressing my hair. I move my hands upwards, sliding them up his chest and gently squeezing the skin beneath. His bare skin is red hot under my touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips when I give it another squeeze and softly kiss the corner of his mouth, dragging against his plump lips.

I pause for a second, just looking over his face, taking in every feature. My eyes fall to those gorgeous lips again, my left hand slowly sliding upwards, caressing his throat before brushing my thumb against his bottom lip, letting it twang back into place.

“Who gave you permission to look this good?” I whisper and drag my hand down again, watching his Adam’s apple bob when he thickly swallows. “Who let you be this… tempting?”

“Stop…” Jimin’s high-pitched laugh fills the room, throwing himself around in a fit of giggles, nearly tossing us off the couch.

“You’re so gorgeous, Jiminie. So pretty.” I choke on my own laugh, clinging onto the arm of the couch desperately. I watch in slow motion as he rolls off of the couch, hitting the floor in a gaggle of limbs and a mix of a guffaw and chuckle. “Oh damn. Rest in peace, Omega.”

“Help!” He shrieks, throwing his arms and smacking them against the side of the couch, one of them managing to hit my arm a few times too.

“He was such a delight too. Will be missed.” I say to myself, rolling back over onto my back and staring at the ceiling, pretending to ignore his offended guffaws and shrieks from a few inches away.

“Pack meeting in five minutes!” Namjoon’s voice booms through the house, loud as a megaphone. We both jump up in surprise, letting out high-pitched screams like alley cats seeing a human for the first time in forever and sitting up straight.

“What did you do?” Jimin and I ask at the same time, furrowing our brows at the other. “Me? No, you!”

I drop my eyes into a glare and lightly smack his shoulder, shoving my head forward in a playful threat. He drops one eye into an overexaggerated wink, upturning the corner of his mouth into a cocky smirk. His head burrows close to the edge of the sofa, leaning against it while still looking up at me with those eyes.

“Did Joon say where the pack meeting was gonna be held?”

“I wasn’t paying attention if he did.”

“…Do you wanna kiss again?” His answer is wordless; yanking me down by my shirt and smashing our lips together.

In a movie: it’d be romantic and dramatic.

In real life: a terrible idea. He put too much force into the pull, and I went careening off the couch, smashing into him and the floor with a wheeze. His head first pops into my vision, then his hand which waves from side-to-side. He breathes out deeply when he sees me alive.

“You look fresh, like a salad.”

“WHAT?!”

——

Jimin and I arrive seven minutes late to the pack meeting, speeding into the bedroom determined. Several of the men are tutting, shaking their heads in mock shame. I roll my eyes, falling backwards onto the bed and crossing my legs. I scooch up a bit, resting my head on whoever’s legs are nearest, and wait for Namjoon to start. I lightly sniff, the puzzle pieces sliding into place when the sharp smell of coffee fills my nose. I let my nose guide me through the Yoongi experience: the top and overpowering note of expensive coffee, then the sudden citrussy drop, with the final barely-there twinge of mint.

Namjoon clears his throat, thrashing his arms round to get everybody’s attention. “We’re gathered here today-“

“Okay, Mr Officiant…” Jimin sasses under his breath, interrupting the pack alpha. Namjoon eerily turns his head to face him, glaring for a few seconds before snapping his head back to normal and grinning from ear to ear.

“Does anybody else want to interrupt?” Jungkook slowly raises his hand with a childish grin, his chest shaking in withheld laughter: Namjoon sighs like a stressed parent. “Well?”

“I have a question.”

A few seconds pass. We all look to the youngest alpha, waiting for him to speak up. A sick grin takes over his face, chaos written in his eyes; I inwardly sigh, tilting my head up to look away from the gremlin and instead stare at Yoongi. If living with Jungkook for three years has taught me anything, it’s that he’s batshit. The alpha has two working brain cells that constantly go on vacation and leave his knot to make all the decisions.

“What’s your question, Kook?”

More silence - and his shit-eating grin grows.

“JK…” Taehyung pipes up, levelling his fellow alpha with a chaotic twinkle in his eye.

“Jungkook.” Yoongi admonishes, already starting to regret turning up to the meeting.

“Alpha. What’s your question?” Jin intervenes from next to Hoseok, a bored look in the eldest’s eye. He still looks a little tired from his heat three days ago; yet his tone still says he’s awake enough to whip us all into shape.

“What’s that?” The alpha finally asks, pointing to an envelope in Namjoon’s hand, to which the apex sighs loudly and rubs at his brow. A few of us hide our laughter in reply, shaking our heads at Jungkook.

“If you would’ve waited, I could’ve explained this much quicker.” Namjoon grunts.

“Yeah, Kook. Shut up.” I say without any aggression, tapping my foot against his knee in a fake kick. He howls loudly, faking pain, and grips his knee to his chest. Hoseok nearly goes flying in the process, which causes a sort of domino effect in the circle. Hoseokie’s flailing limbs crash into Jin, whose entire body leans and falls into Taehyung, whose elbows collide into Yoongi’s - which smash into the side of my head!

Grunts and whimpers of pain now fill the room, my hand rubbing the tender area of my skull where Yoongi had accidentally hit, my bottom lip wobbling.

“JUNGKOOK!” Namjoon is quick to scold, putting on his (sexy) booming apex alpha voice and a withering glare. It’s the kind a mother or father would give their pup to stop them misbehaving, and it definitely works to rein the younger alpha in.

Loudly, apologies begin to fill the room, along with a lot of surprise at the number of injuries already blooming. Most of Taehyung’s bicep is already turning red: Jin’s entire neck has turned a blotchy red colour, the startings of a bruise forming along his throat!

Yoongi winces as he rolls his shoulders, rubbing his elbow.

“What’s the damage?” Jimin shuffles to Jin’s side, running his hand down the elder’s throat and circling the forming bruise. My eyes widen as Jimin’s small hands drag against Jin’s scent patch - an intoxicating cloud of salty ocean air tickling my taste buds. I clamber onto my knees, scooting along to join the duo and to get a more upfront taste of the omega’s scent - that is until I’m dragged backwards into the apex’s arms!

“Hey!” I screech, pouting. My shout draws enough attention for the other two omegas to be dragged away too - Jin into Hoseok’s arms and Jimin lifted like a sack of potatoes onto Yoongi’s lap.

“Omegas.” The beefy apex rumbles; really not helping the situation currently unfolding inside of me. I turn my head and flutter my eyelashes at him, snuggling closer and trying to push the innocent omega act. “That’s not going to work. I had you on your knees earlier, remember?”

“You had me on my back too,” I coo, “and on all fours if I remember correctly.”

His large hand slaps down on my thigh, quieting me immediately as the smell of arousal and lust fills the room.

“Now. The letter.” We fall silent. “The Initiative government advisors want mating marks. They’re giving the packs until the rest of the week for everyone to be bitten, or they’ll start to reassign members. So the question is-“

“Are we happy together, or would we be happier apart?” Hoseok interrupts. The lust drains out of my body as I take in what’s been said, my mind racing and jumping hurdles while my brain works to full capacity.

“Well, I personally think this works.” Jungkook pipes up with no regard to anyone else, shrugging carelessly while stretching out his limbs. Everyone stares at the muscled bunny, heads tilted in confusion and awe. The alpha even has the gall to stretch his arms above his head, showing off his muscled stomach and happy trail leading to the treasure beneath…

“Me too.” I feel the words leave my mouth before they appear in my head. I feel the pack’s gaze fly to me now, looking at me like I have a second head. “What? Kookie and I share the brain cell that controls love. And lust.”

“Mostly lust.” He reiterates, winking at me.

“Yes. We’re on some kind of synced circadian rhythm about feelings and sex and pack and-“ Namjoon hushes me in a deep timbre, running his hand up and down my back.

“I like this arrangement too.”

I grin like a Cheshire Cat back at Namjoon, whose smile reaches from ear to ear. Jungkook whoops loudly and punches the air, throwing himself across the circle and clinging to one of my legs like a chameleon on a branch.

“You’re all nice, I guess.” Yoongi shrugs, trying to keep up his non-bothered persona; Jimin slaps his leg with a grumpy look on his face.

“He loves it here. So do I.” The omega says, laughing when Yoongi throws him a stink-eye.

An unusually sad look appears on Hoseok’s face, something deep swimming in those brown eyes. “I can’t think of being with anyone else; I don’t want to. This is it for me.”

Instinctually, I begin to well up: a hard lump forming in my throat, and my eyes start glazing over. My wet eyes flicker across the room to notice I’m not the only one - all eyes are wet, and some bottom lips are wobbling, desperately holding the floodgates closed. I look to the only one that hasn’t said anything yet: the eldest of our ragtag pack of misfits, but his gaze is locked on his hands fiddling in his lap.

“Jin?” Jimin’s voice is unusually small and a little high-pitched; he sounds like an anxious teenager waiting for their first date. Apprehensively, I gnaw on my bottom lip - why’s he taking such a long time to answer?

“Jinnie?” I pipe up, but his gaze doesn’t falter. I sink further back into Namjoon: my omega senses going haywire at all of the nervous energy in the room.

Jimin’s usual tooth-aching whipped cream and peaches sweet shop smell is slowly starting to smell rotten and curdled, anxiety coursing through every note. I can feel my own scent starting to sharpen and curdle, a nauseous feeling washing over me as the room starts to stink of an upset pack.

“I like this pack too.” It seems like hours have passed until the eldest finally speaks, happy sighs spilling out of everyone’s mouths. “I’m just worried. If we change our minds after mating marks - we’re screwed.”

“The only thing a mating mark will change for me is how horny I’m going to be. Gosh, it’ll be seven days a week.” Jungkook sighs out, a familiar look beginning to glaze over his eyes, one of his hands slowly rubbing shapes into my thigh. Horny ass.

“For once, I agree with the maknae. My knot will probably end up falling off.” Taehyung speaks up, a cocky smirk gracing that stupidly attractive face of his.

“Damn. It’ll be missed.” The words tumble out of my mouth as I eye him appreciatively.

“Oh, it definitely will.” Jimin tacks on, tacking on a wink at the end and a deep chuckle.

“Still, there’ll be more where that came from.” Jin’s mood seems to be lifted slightly, his windshield wiper laugh finally making an appearance.

“Ah, it’s okay. What you can’t do with a knot, you can do with a tongue.” Yoongi adds semi-helpfully, patting Tae on the back sort of soothingly.

“Or your fingers.” Hoseok interrupts, smacking Taehyung’s other shoulder in comfort.

“Is sex all you ever think about?” Namjoon admonishes, shaking his head scoldingly.

I roll my eyes at the hypocrisy, “I’m sitting on your lap. I can literally feel how hard you are right now.”

“Are you being a brat again?” He pinches the skin of my thigh. I shake my head - he doesn’t believe me.

“She’s always a brat.” Jungkook pipes up unhelpfully, tilting his head back to flash a devastating smile my way. I flick his forehead in retaliation, whining when he turns his head and nips at the skin on my leg.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry to break up… whatever this is,” Hoseok motions with his hands, a handsome smile on his face, “But we’re getting naked. Are you planning to join?”

Three seconds later, Jungkook’s shirt is tossed at my head.

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 16: tear / word count: 724 cw: needles

Bets are James' speciality, so it comes as a big surprise when the Stars don't win the Stanley Cup Final. The thing is, now Remus and Sirius have to decide where on his body James will have to get his first piercing ever, and to say he's nervous is an understatement. That's how the three of them end up in the waiting room of a tattoo and piercing shop with an appointment for him to get his belly button pierced. 

James is a generally daring and risk-taking person, not that he's terrified of needles but he does feel a little uneasy knowing that in a couple of minutes one will be piercing his skin. Despite having informed himself about the risks and having taken all the precautions beforehand (cleaning the area well, making sure he has the right anatomy for the jewel and wearing a cropped shirt to avoid friction afterwards), he still can't help the thin layer of cold sweat that is building up on his neck.

"Relax, Prongs, you're in good hands," Remus says, patting him on the back. Oh, and the other detail that makes him the least bit uncomfortable is that his ex is the one doing the piercing, isn't that funny? James knows Regulus will do a phenomenal job, he's been doing this for almost eight years so it should be effortless.

They were a couple when they were 16 and 17 respectively, and it's not that they had a bad break-up or completely lost touch, it was just the right person at the wrong time given their respective family circumstances. So if James is nervous about being at the younger man's mercy six years after they broke up, no one can blame him.  

"James, you can come in," Pandora tells him from the reception desk.

The thing about Regulus is that every time James sees him, he looks more beautiful than the last. This time the new snake tattoo circling his entire left forearm in red ink is messing with his mind exquisitely, and when he finally turns around subtly smiling James is gone.

"Look who we have here, James Potter. To be honest, I never thought I'd see you here," he says in the soft, slow voice he reserves for him. "So, belly button piercing, Sirius told me about the challenge. Poor you."

All James can do is nod and chuckle slightly, shocked by the sparkle on his ex's tongue when he speaks. Everything that happens after Regulus asks him to select a piece of jewellery he likes and to lie down on the stretcher happens in slow motion. Regulus putting on a new pair of latex gloves, Regulus sanitising the area where he's going to pierce, Regulus marking where the piercing will be, Regulus tearing off the envelope that holds the sterile needle... James doesn't know much about the world of piercings, but he doesn't think Regulus should be straddling his legs during the process. 

Of course he won't be making any complaints. 

The light on Regulus's tongue appears again as he says something he can't quite process.

"... understood? Oh, no, James tell me you're not about to faint," he says with a hint of concern.

"No, I'm fine, I swear!" he hurries to say. "But can I hold on to your thigh while you do it?" 

"Sure you can," he replies with a smirk.

That's how James doesn't even notice the moment the jewel is installed in his navel, concentrating on the way the tattooed man frowns in concentration.

"You're all set." is all the piercer says but there's no sign that he'll be getting off him any time soon.

The new piercing being forgotten and in a moment of courage, James intertwines both index fingers in the silver eyed man's trouser belt.

"Got something to do after work?" and the question is all it takes for Regulus to lean in and kiss him deeply but slowly. A tongue piercing shouldn't make him feel this good.

"I've got the whole afternoon available if it means continuing to see you in that crop top." he murmurs against his lips then bites down slightly on the bottom one. 

In short, he lost a bet, won the scolding of his best friends for taking so long and got his right person back at the right time this time.

[narcissistcookbook]

I mean this in the best way possible, but you strike me as a capital W Weird person. Yet you seem well connected where you live (iirc you host a pub quiz among other things?). How do you build a community when other people might find you off-putting? I'm asking this as a fellow weird person who feels super isolated where I live, and most of my friends live in my phone

Yeah I'm pretty weird. I think my approach isn't super replicable - I put a lot of energy into becoming a decent performer / host, and then kinda hung around events long enough to just become the host of them by default. The downside of that is I have no idea how to handle myself if I'm not in some sort of performer role 🙃

Making friends is very difficult. I know a lot of people but have a very small circle of friends. The default advice is good advice I think. Find societies or clubs nears you which have people with similar interests and go along. As counterproductive as this sounds, try not to be too keen to make friends because that can alienate people. In my experience the less you radiate I Need People energy the more people will want to get to know you. Be courteous and curious without being overbearing. Respect boundaries, and if you're like me and are unsure what is okay and what is an unspoken boundary err on the side of caution.

It's hard and scary, and by putting yourself out there you're going to find some people who don't like you, but by being yourself (or a slightly sanitised version of yourself) you'll find that the people who stick around are more often than not friend material 💜

[h-worksrambles]

Ok, so Episode Aigis dropped, they changed some dialogue and now people are pissed and saying P3 Reload ruined The Answer.

If you want my TLDR, Atlus’ changes (both writing and mechanical) for the DLC are overall small, some good some bad, but they’re ultimately band aids that fail to address the much wider flaws of The Answer as a story.

I think there’s a genuine intent to try and better get across the character’s motivations. And for some characters it works well. I think the new dialogue for Mitsuru is a genuine improvement. I’ve seen some criticise it for focusing more on Mituru’s thoughts towards the protagonist then her (rather queer coded) loyalty to Yukari. But as much as I love my SEES lesbians, I genuinely think giving Mitsuru multiple reasons to side with Yukari rather than just blind loyalty, is much more in character for her than FES’ approach (where she comes across uncharacteristically stupid). But I think by only changing minutia like this it just ends up highlighting the bigger problem.

A lot of people hyper focus on Yukari’s role and talk about how irrational she is here. And now you’ve got people complaining that Reload softens and sanitises her character and makes her storyline weaker. But I feel it’s a case of identifying something doesn’t work but being incorrect as to why.

The thing about the SEES group fight is that it’s fundamentally a really poorly done conflict. It sucked in FES and it sucks here too. There’s not enough meaningful disagreement between the group to make it feel earned. The only one acting out and taking the MC’s death badly, is Yukari. When really if this is the climax they wanted to build to, everyone should have been grieving badly and constantly at each other’s throats. It could have been this building frustration and animosity, until they’re all at odds over what to do with the key and a fight breaks out.

What we get is everyone…mostly being pretty chill, aside from Yukari being kind of petty and jealous at Aigis. And I think the reason people react badly to her (misogyny notwithstanding) is that it’s really weird when she’s the only one having this extreme reaction. Instead of everyone dealing with the MCs death in their own distinct way, it’s only explored with Aigis and Yukari and only somewhat. Hell if you didn’t have such a jarring disconnect, and there was a better variety of reactions and thoughts from across the cast, I think more people would praise Yukari’s writing here. As it stands, when everyone else is almost ridiculously reasonable, it looks very jarring.

And then when the group do fight it feels completely out of nowhere precisely because of how agreeable everyone’s been. Everyone willingly jumps into a pointless fight that could get them all killed, one that only one member of the group even wants. All for a very contrived plot point that was set up five minutes ago. It’s executed in such a sloppy way that it makes the genuinely good scene of Yukari’s breakdown ring hollow. You get the sense that the writers weren’t really interested in exploring Yukari’s grief beyond using it as a plot device to make a dumb, unnecessary punch up scene happen.

I can see what they’re trying to do in Reload. They wanted to make Yukari stick out like less of a sore thumb compared to the rest of the group. But if they were gonna do that, they kinda needed to dial everyone else up, not dial her down. Build the tension between the party further rather than decrease it. Because now, if Yukari, and by extension the rest of the party are way more reasonable, it just begs the question even more of ‘they why are you fighting in the first place?’ It’s slapping on a band aid in a way that just exposes the whole scenario’s weaknesses

I genuinely think Episode Aigis needed to either keep the Answer entirely as is, or overhaul it completely. Making little changes like this won’t win over people who hated The Answer the first time, and will just annoy people who liked it as is. As it stands, The Answer is still a mess of good ideas mired by poor execution and Reload’s take only makes a handful of small changes that are ultimately different, not better.