Bringing @avelera and I’s chat out here. Those aliens really did take care of that meatsuit they’re in. Sure they destroyed Newt’s mind, twisted the remains of his personality, turned him into the corporate douchebag he would viscerally hate and used his intellect to try to destroy the world but damn….those tailored suits…that skanky shirtless instagram selfie…. that was probably the first time in Newt’s life that he regularly exercised, wore nice clothes, and ate a vegetable
i was going into a sad spiral last night and this message just made me SO emotional so im gonna write it if youre cool…..
Newt’s warm, when he wakes up, which is not unwelcome, just…unexpected. Usually, he’s freezing no matter how many blankets he has piled up. Usually, he’s alone. Usually, he’s not in Hermann’s bed (because he is in Hermann’s bed, he remembers), and usually, he’s not curled with his back to Hermann’s side, and usually, he hasn’t just had amazing, incredible sex with Hermann that was so amazing and incredible he maybe cried a little bit because it was just so right, but it’s okay because Hermann was definitely crying too.
He’s all ready to be flirty about it–prop himself up with a hey, handsome, maybe, grope one of Hermann’s sexy strong biceps or kiss him awake or maybe drop a round two, hot stuff?, but Hermann’s already awake when Newt rolls onto his side to face him. And busy. He’s still shirtless (Hermann’s skinny and bony and hot, whole lot of perfect skin for Newt to mark up as he pleases, and he did please, so he marked it up plenty) and he’s got this amazingbedhead, but he’s also got his dorky little glasses perched on the end of his nose and he’s reading over something.
Avelera 