#And I hope you don't face as much adversity as I did.

[blackh0letempest]

To the kids currently going through abuse from their parents or other people in caretaker roles, keep pushing forward. You will get out. You will. It feels huge, it's a lot to think about. You will probably make mistakes. But there is not a single living independent adult that hasn't made mistakes in handling their finances, taking care of themselves, etc. The sooner you get out, the sooner you can start to learn who you are when you aren't being abused, and that self is deeply worth knowing. You are worth the effort.

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind. 

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president. 

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer. 

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works. 

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why. 

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain. 

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness. 

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human. 

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes. 

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition. 

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be. 

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers. 

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that! 

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now. 

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed. 

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk. 

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. —  He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows. 

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes. 

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words. 

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon. 

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before. 

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter. 

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.��

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s. 

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you. 

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face. 

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone. 

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment. 

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead? 

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her. 

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air. 

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you. 

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air. 

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest. 

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his. 

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception. 

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.” 

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body. 

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end. 

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him. 

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair. 

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it. 

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day? 

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax? 

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that. 

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus. 

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact,  you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out. 

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was. 

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it. 

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary. 

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body. 

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted. 

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up. 

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed. 

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced.  You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend. 

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying. 

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek –  you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it. 

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way. 

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago. 

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep. 

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.” 

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.” 

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.  

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love. 

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone. 

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside. 

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others. 

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off. 

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world. 

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe. 

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence. 

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs. 

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task. 

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist. 

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch. 

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length. 

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant. 

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace. 

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love. 

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs. 

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face. 

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax. 

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands. 

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while. 

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand. 

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side. 

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose. 

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny. 

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him. 

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him. 

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions. 

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.” 

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism. 

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there. 

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night. 

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture. 

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.” 

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now. 

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him. 

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat. 

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?” 

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on. 

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 1.6k - immortal!reader asks zhongli to tell tales abt guizhong (this is technically a small blurb linked to my fic Dragonfly, however i've tried to make this so you don't *need* to read it to understand this, but feel free to do so regardless! note-the reader was 'dead' during a period of the archon war)

"zhongli, do you have some time?" you, after having just returned home, pop your head into the tearoom on the second floor of your shared home with zhongli. it was on the cusp of evening, the last light of afternoon shifting into deeper colors that will soon give way to nightfall. your partner in which you hope you aren't bothering after his own long day at work sits comfortably at the small round table with a pot of tea. It must still be fresh since the amount in his clay cup still wafts high with steam.

"always for you," he hums. he turns his neck towards the doorway and jerks his chin inwardly in silent invitation. you make your way to the table across from him as he begins to pour new tea into the spare cup he always keeps along with his kettle in case you join him. he has discarded his long-tailed coat and sits in his buttoned collared shirt that has wrinkles of the day creased into it. still, he even makes disheveled clothing look elegant.

he pours your tea and slides it towards you, along with any additives that you may use. honey, sugar cubes and the like. he never used to keep such additions on hand since he was never fond of sweetened teas. but he always wants to accommodate your presence.

"today, the traveler and i made a trip up to cloud retainers abode."

"oh?" he hums, taking a sip of his warm tea. "that is quite the journey."

"it's not so bad with the traveler's ability to access teleport waypoints," you muse, but quickly catch yourself from going on a tangent since that was not the purpose of your attendance of his time. "while she spends more time among humans as xianyun, cloud retainer was very accepting of us having a meal together aside her home at mt. aozang."

"she's become much more hospitable to humans lately. it is a nice change to witness in her demeanor since she was particularly adverse to mortals for so long."

"she's also quite the story teller. she spoke about so many things over such a short meal. i don't think I've quite seen paimon more confused trying to keep up with everything." you chuckle at the recollection and the dizzing swirls that clouded the confused fairy's eyes. zhongli chuckled in tandem.

a comfortable silence falls over the room like a warm blanket. the sun had changed and evening had begun with it's golden hue. zhongli's focus was pointed outside, watching the day's stragglers dot the streets down below. you tap your fingertip on the tabletop softly, wondering if you could really ask about what you want to. just from hearing second hand, you didn't know if it would be a sensitive subject for zhongli if you breached it.

"you're awfully fidgety," he flicks his eyes towards you as you sigh. tearing his face from the direction of the window, he returns his full attention towards you. "is something on your mind, my dear?"

"here sits rex." zhongli's spine locks his posture. "here sits guizhong." you whisper both short phrases. the small table you shared with xianyun, the traveler, and paimon today was the very table she used to share with her rex lapis and guizhong many, many years ago.

maybe this wasn't a good idea.

zhongli's face did not show any anger or resentment, but the way the aura around him shifted? it made you feel guilty for even bringing it up. you sigh, clear your throat, and shake your head.

"i... nevermind. i apologize for bringing that up. please, forget I said anything at all."

silence returned, but it was less comfortable than before. you take a couple sips of your tea, swallowing hard but the liquid warming your chest all the same. zhongli has not lifted his cup, but he has redirected his gaze outside once again. maybe he really would drop the conversation as you insisted.

half way through your cup, your tea started tasting too bitter for your liking and you thought it would be a good time to leave the room altogether. just leave zhongli to his thoughts and maybe preparing some food as another apology for prying into a past that had nothing to do with you.

you set your cup further away from you, a clear sign that you were finished. your chair pushes back and zhongli looks across the table to you. with your downcase gaze to make sure you didn't trip over any of the table legs, you miss the hard swallow of zhongli's that bobbed his apples adam and the near desperate look he shot towards you. like he was pleading with you not to leave him just yet.

"dear, wait-"

"it's getting late, so i'll start dinner."

"hold on," he breathes. joining you by standing to his feet and rounding the table so quickly his hip brushes back the corner. "please, y/n, wait a moment," he steps in front of you. his arms come up to gently rest his hands on your forearms.

zhongli sighs seeing your dejected look. one of his hands come to hook under your chin to bring your gaze up to his. seeing the sliver of guilt in your eyes made his heart ache. his thumb brushes over your cheek and you lean into his touch, making a weak smile run across his lips.

"please don't misunderstand, i'm not angry." his hand slips down your neck. "I'm not angry" -he reiterates with a sigh- "but could you tell me why you're interested?" his palm rests on the crook of your neck now, thumb absentmindedly rubbing softly back and forth across your pulse point. he's always enjoyed feeling your life under his fingertips.

"i've always been interested," you tell him solemnly. "knowing about the god who was at your side when i wasn't, taking care of you. i've always wanted to know about her." you advert your gaze elsewhere with a small pout on your lips. the silence in the room that follows your reply gives you time to clock how you sounded... and you gasp. with a quick motion that zhongli wasn't expecting, you whip your gaze back up towards him and grasp his wrist in your hand firmly. "i'm not jealous or anything!"

"i didn't think you were," he chuckles, continuing his soft thumb stroke across your neck. he wasn't sure if you heard him though since you continue trying to save face that you haven't even sullied.

"really, im not at all. whether you had any romantic feelings for lady guizhong or not has nothing to do with me- or us? this us, of today i mean. or... i guess of the past? i mean during that time i was dead- so to speak anyway- so, i really don't mind if you two were intimate. she seemed like a wonderful god, and so it-"

"y/n," his voice cuts through your nervous rambles as his second hand comes to rest on the opposite side of your neck. you stop speaking and he chuckles at the flustered expression you wear. using the heels of his hands, he lifts your face up by the undersides of your chin to kiss your cheek. you can feel the smile of his lips on your skin. "calm down," he whispers.

your racing pulse does as commanded and soon you were relaxing in his hold.

"guizhong and i were never lovers," he tells you. "she was a dear friend of mine, but even back then, taking a romantic route with someone other than you was never an option for me, rest assured."

"i was never worried about it," you pout again. "if you two were lovers, at least i would've had the satisfaction of knowing you were being taken care of. according to cloud retainer, guizhong was quite the mother hen."

"she cared deeply for others, that's true. still, nothing between us romatically ever happened."

zhongli should've told you about guizhong long ago. he knows this, but still, sometimes talking about his dear lost friend still stings. such a pure and kind soul didn't deserve the ending she got.

your free hand that wasn't loosely wrapped around your lover's wrist, comes to gently place itself against his chest. your palm resting against the center of his torso.

"you truly do not need to tell me anything. i understand." and zhongli knows you do. you're so sincere that sometimes he truly believes you're too good for him. still, he wants to tell you. zhongli wants to tell you, his partner in this long life of his, all about the lord of dust guizhong; about his best friend from an age long past.

zhongli slides his hands off your neck and down your arms to soon lovingly encase your hands in his. without his gloves, you can see the golden veins running through him. sometimes you wonder if zhongli secretly had the sun inside him. the god of old brings your clasped hands to his chin and kisses the top of them, eyes shut gently to take in the warmth of them against his lips and skin.

"please," he whipsers. "rejoin me for some tea? i'll tell you all about her." his eyes open and there's a shimmer of mirth behind their golden hue. he lowers your hands just enough to show off his mouth. his smiling warmly and nostaligically. "she'd surely give me quite the lecture if i did not tell my dearest lover all about her."

as he leads you back to the tea tables, he moves his chair to be beside yours so he can continue to hold your hand. entertwaining his fingers with yours, he strokes your knuckles as he weaves his words together as fluently and elgantly as possible.

telling you silly things, serious things, sad things, happy things. everything he could think about. he watches you laugh and your eyes mist over at her demise. he smiles as you listen to him so intivitely.

"guizhong would have adored you."

a/n pt.2: this was sitting in my drafts foreverrrr and i could never find a way to feel like it was written the way i wanted it to be?? but im tired of trying to fix it so into the wild it goes (i just really wanted to write about guizhong ;-; )

[munsonsmixtapes]

requesting finnick fluff pure FLUFF maybe he’s been crushing on reader for a while now but she just doesn’t get the hints and brushes him off as a really sweet friend so the poor guys trying to make his feelings clear and lowkey get out the friend zone

cw: hurt/comfort, miscommunication

Finnick had loved you from the very beginning. The moment he laid his eyes on you, he was convinced that he was a goner. You walked into the birthday party that Peeta and Katniss were throwing for him and he was done for. You smiled at him then pulled him in for a hug as if you were old friends, had even brought him a gift.

"It's a koi fish," you explained when he had opened the box. "It's a symbol for luck, prosperity, good fortune, and of perseverance in the face of adversity."

And the way you smiled, seeming so excited to explain, he couldn't help but smile as well, yours becoming so infectious. Finnick immediately put it on and had decided that it was the best gift he had ever received, even though he never would have admitted that to you.

"And I know that district four is known for fishing and I thought it'd be a nice reminder from where you came from." He didn't want to cry, but he almost felt like he was going to. You hadn't even known him and managed to get him something so meaningful.

And so, every moment after that, he found himself following you around like a lost puppy, seeming so obvious about his feelings for you, and everyone around understood, but you didn't. At least, that's what it looked like.

And he'd never admit it, but hearing you constantly tell him that he was a really good friend was nothing but painful. How didn't you see it? How did you not understand that he was doing all of those things because he was harboring such intense feelings for you? Since when did friends give other friends roses just because?

He did everything but pour his heart out to you and apparently that hadn't been enough. Apparently if he wanted you to know how he felt, he was going to have to come out and say it. To tell you exactly how he was feeling about you no matter how much that scared you.

But what Finnick didn't know was that you felt the exact same way. You loved him just as much, maybe even more than he loved you. It was just that you didn't believe that he felt the same way, convincing yourself that he hadn't expressed your feelings just to make yourself feel better. It was easier to deal with that way.

So you'd constantly refer to him as friend, not to create boundaries, but more to remind yourself that that was what you were to him. It was easier that way as opposed to trying to create something out of nothing.

But all that came to a stop when Finnick suddenly got fed up with keeping everything to himself. The two of you had been in his kitchen, washing and drying dishes, laughing and joking and once the dish in your hand was dry, he took you into his arms, but this time was different. He was looking at you differently. There was a sudden fire there and for once, you understood. You got what he was saying without any words leaving his mouth.

"Oh, I really am an idiot, aren't I?" You asked as your forehead fell to his shoulder and he was quick to take hold of your head, his thumbs rubbing along your cheeks gently.

"No," he shook his head. "I should have said something. And I guess I am now," he chuckled. "I love you. I love you more than you'll ever know. And I know I don't have much, but I hope that you could still love me despite that."

"You know I don't care about any of that," you replied, your arms wrapping around his waist. "I just want you. That's all I need because I love you too. I have for a long time and I'm sorry it took me so long to to realize that you loved me too."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, hon. Just give me some sugar and all will be forgiven." And you did, pressing your lips to his, your fingers finding their way into his hair as the both of you poured your feelings into the kiss.

You stayed like that for a while, sharing nothing but kisses, giggles, and "I love you's" in the dim kitchen lighting as the dishes were abandoned as he carried you to his room, nothing but laughs falling from your mouth as you did so. If that was going to be what your life was like, then you decided that you were going to be happy for the rest of your days.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You know what I've never understood?" "Oh, is it philosophy hour with [Name]?" "Not really... I just don't get how Santa could possibly know what children in the entire world are good or bad but would need to be told what kids want. Kids aren't exactly... quiet about their desires."

Pairing: Sebek Zigvolt x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff, Slight crack

TW: NA

It was a cold, silent night. Snow covered the ground like an oversized blanket, glittering under the soft silver light of the moon. Not a single critter made a noise, every soul fast asleep under the watchful and twinkling stars...

"THAT'S TOO MUCH FOOD COLORING, ACE!"

Well, almost every soul.

In the cozy warmth of the Ramshackle kitchen stood the six friends of the Ramshackle Prefect, decorating sugar cookies that they had baked earlier.

"It's fine," Ace dismissed Deuce's wide-eyed horror and Sebek's seething at the amount of food coloring he had dropped into the icing. It was an accident, but Ace was trying to play it off as an intentional action, mixing the red food coloring with a little tune on his lips.

Epel, Jack and Ortho worked together on their share of the cookies, icing them precisely and perfectly to look like little Christmas trees, while you stood at the stove, making hot chocolate for all of you to share.

"Isn't having too much food coloring bad?" Deuce asked, eyeing the way Sebek seemed to turn red with indignation at being ignored by Ace.

"Most food dyes do not cause any adverse effects, Deuce Spade-kun" Ortho answered, "though it is advised by medical professionals not to consume too much of them."

"This isn't too much. Besides, with the white icing, it'll balance out. Relax," Ace rolled his eyes.

Epel smiled as he continued decorating the cookies, while Jack helped him out silently.

The next few minutes were spent in relative peace. Mindful of the late hour, you all tried to keep your volumes down as you worked in the kitchen.

"You know what I've never understood about Christmas?" Deuce started, effectively getting everyone's attention. "Oh, is it philosophy hour with Deuce?" Jack huffed in amusement, used to Deuce's habit of asking questions that could put one in an existential crises due to their being clubmates.

"Not really... I just don't get how Santa could possibly know what children in the entire world are good or bad but would need to be told what kids want," Deuce said as he looked at the cookie he was decorating to look like a candy-cane. "Kids aren't exactly... quiet about their desires."

A silence descended onto the kitchen, as every first year looked at the blue haired boy in varying degrees of amusement, disbelief and curiosity.

"Uh, Deuce... you do know that Santa isn't real, right?" Epel asked kindly, his tone a stark contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at the taller boy. Deuce flushed and sputtered, "O-Of course I know! It's just-!"

Ace, ever the nuisance, jumped at the chance. "Aw, did little Deucey believe in good ol' Saint Nick all this time?" He teased. "How cute."

"That's not true!"

"There's no need to be embarrassed Deuce Spade-kun. Many young children believe in the myth of Santa Claus," Ortho tried to reassure him, but even he couldn't hide the slight amusement in his tone.

"Little Deucey, did you send your letter to the North Pole this year?" Ace laughed, poking Deuce in the side. "I hope you've been good this year. Wouldn't want you to end up on the naughty list, would you? That'd be bad for your goody two shoes record."

"Ace, you little-" Deuce began to chase the other boy around the kitchen, face flushed red with embarassment. The ginger-haired menace laughed as he weaved his way between the appliances and the people in the kitchen, using them as shields and obstacles to slow down the other boy.

He poked his tongue out at Deuce, slipping away through the kitchen door to the hallway. Deuce narrowed his eyes as he ran after him out of the kitchen, cookies and decorating forgotten.

"I'll go make sure they don't end up killing each other," Jack said, shaking his head as he followed after them. Epel skipped behind him, pulling along Ortho to see the entertaining show.

"Sebek, can you get me some cups from that cabinet over there?" You asked the only person remaining in the room. Sebek hummed in acknowledgement, getting out seven cups and placing them in front of you.

Preoccupied with pouring the steaming hot chocolate into seven cups, you missed the conflicted expression on Sebek's face. As you decorated the beverage with marshmallows and whipped cream according to each one's preferences, sounds of the boys rough-housing in the next room had you smiling in fond exasperation.

"Here, this one's yours," you said, handing Sebek his drink. Sebek thanked you, voice low and expression uncharacteristically serious. You poked his forehead with a finger, smiling as he startled and looked at you with a confused look on his face.

"You're going to end up getting wrinkles way early if you scowl that much," you teased him, leaning against the counter as you spoke. "What are you thinking about so intently anyways?"

"It is not a matter of much importance, human."

"You're blushing though."

"I-I am not!" Sebek protested. His cheeks did nothing to help his case, turning even darker instead. You raised your arms in surrender, as you chuckled at his flustered state. "Fine, fine."

You started gathering up the bowls and spoons that had been used, placing them in the dishwasher to be cleaned. Your work was done in peaceful silence, and Sebek helped with what he could, ever the gentleman.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, he spoke.

"About what Deuce said, earlier..."

"Hm?"

"That is something... I have previously wondered as well... Not that I don't know that Santa Claus is a myth made for young children!" Sebek looked everywhere but at you, evidently embarrassed by his admission. "As Malleus-sama's guard, I cannot be misled by such childish and whimsical stories, of course! I-"

"You believed in Santa Claus too?" You asked, watching in amusement as the colour in his cheeks seemed to explode, climbing up his ears as well. "I JUST SAID I DIDN'T HUMAN, WHAT-"

"I think that's cute."

Sebek stopped, eyes wide as he stared at you. You continued, "It shows that you're innocent and pure-hearted. It's really cute." Sebek looked away and took a sip of his hot chocolate, wincing when he burned his tongue by drinking too fast. Before you could tease him any further, Ace called out, "If yall are done being sappy and disgusting, save me! Wait, shit-"

The sounds coming from the other room grew louder, taking your attention off of Sebek, allowing him to regain his composure somewhat. Deuce must have finally gotten hold of Ace, considering the loud and whiny complaints that could be heard. You turned back to Sebek, shaking your head. "Wanna save Ace from the fate that he oh so rightfully deserves?"

"I would rather have him bear the consequences of his actions," Sebek smiled, as Ace wailed in protest.

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[moodymisty]

Hey Misty, sorry for the incoming braindump. I read a theory on reddit that the primarchs were partly made from minor gods of the Warp and that the Loyalists were gods that Big E bargained with and who went willingly, while the Traitors were gods he subjugated/tricked somehow. I thought this was really cool and had it on my mind all day. Full-on neuron activation moment. But I don't have any friends who know about 40k to talk about it with so I suppose I will leave some thoughts here :) sorry if this is annoying/unwelcome.

This focuses on the Traitors mostly because I find them very interesting.

Like, what if reader is/was a devout and beloved high-priestess/follower of one of those gods(maybe it's a steadily declining religion, even?) And so when the specific primarch in question fleetingly lays eyes on her for the first time while taking over the world she lives on, there is just this instant feeling of desire/attachment/protectiveness that they don't understand. Maybe the primarch had some kind of silent subconscious urge to go to that planet specifically, because the god has/had worshippers there and it sort of calls out to them. Like divine homesickness lol.

For the Loyalists it would be mostly wholesome and cute tbh. It'd be like they found a piece of themselves that they didn't know was missing. Very meet-cute potential.

But for the Traitors it could be soooo spicy. You get snatched by Curze and it is just a shitshow. Mood swings galore and most of the time you have no idea what you even did to trigger them(your silent prayers for mercy made something in his head feel like it was crawling) I think your take on him being really obsessive and almost desperately clingy(in the most unnerving of ways) fits super well. Whatever entity got diced up and put in the Curze soup was probably a fucking scary one.

I think Perturabo would be really scary too. Although maybe finding someone like that would soothe him somehow? You'd definitely be walking on eggshells with him (at least at first) though. Another one with mood swings. Another scary god, but less "horrific torment to cleanse you of your sins" and more of a "You lesser creatures exist for worship and labor." Maybe that's why he's so pissy, the divine part of him was used to having constant praise and offerings and now he gets almost none.

Angron would be soo tragic. His whole thing was empathy so I think whatever god he has in him/was made from might have been a much more gentle one. He's got one side of him crying out desperately to be near you and the nails raking through him on the other.

Lorgar would be hilarious tbh. A guy made from the blended up remains of a minor Warp deity constantly crowing about you being a goddess (when you were just a humble priestess before lol). It's like this comedically backwards situation, the God worshipping the acolyte. Maybe the entity he was made from was literally a deity of worship? I dunno. Kinda stumped on this one lol.

I think Mortarion would be pretty normal tbh. Might even fight against the thing in his chest that tugs him towards your presence. Slow burn city. I think whatever god he was made from very much wanted to be left alone, but wasn't particularly scary. Just a bit cold, distant, and stern. Maybe something to do with resilience in the face of suffering/adversity?

Fulgrim is pretty obvious thematically. Another one that wouldn't be too scary. Whatever divine he was made from was some kind of god of perfection/pursuits (obvs). Something you'd pray to before you tried to paint a masterpiece, or maybe even as you tried to learn any skill at all. Praying in the hopes of becoming a master at whatever trade you do. As for why it didn't go willingly, maybe it saw the creations Big E intended to make as flawed, and found being placed in such a vessel as distasteful? Might be why he's so obsessed with achieving perfection, because that part of him is viscerally digusted by his imperfections.

Bonus: Guilliman was made from some kind of deity of order. Or even a god of plenty/growth? He always seems to leave places better than they were before he got there, after all. I know a lot of people see Sanguinius or Vulkan as Konrad's opposite, but I think maybe Guilliman is closer. Guilliman feels like true order. Curze feels like chaos grasping for stability (via his obsession with executing criminals) idk.

Apologies for how long this ended up being >_< I had a lot more thoughts than I'd expected lol. I hope your weekend goes well!

This is an interesting idea! I've not heard of this theory before but given the vagueness behind Emps dealings in creating the primarchs, anything is possible

[isa-ghost]

If you're still doing Philza headcannons, how about some specifically about Phil, Chayanne, and Tallulah? I miss the kiddos...

qPhil headcanons masterlist

(NOT) SINGLE DAD EDITION LETS GO

Those two are the light of his fucking life ok. If you were someone that had something against him, they're how you get to him. They're how you hurt him. He will do ANYTHING for them. He'll kill his friends, he'll fly on broken wings, he'll die for them. Nothing matters more than those two kids.

He's not typically a very physically affectionate person. But to the kids? Suddenly he's a cuddler. Suddenly he's head kisses and carrying them on his hip just because he can. Suddenly he's braiding hair and painting nails and playfully tormenting them with tickles. They flip a switch in his brain.

Nothing could ever make him waver on how proud of them he is. Both of them. Chayanne so brave and strong, stressed to the teeth like his dad but persevering like a true warrior. Lullah is so loving and open, even in the face of so much pain and adversity. She's been through so much, largely alone, and yet she still has the strength to smile and be silly after everything. Ideally he wishes they would've never experienced any pain at all, but Quesadilla says Damn You All

Chayanne & Lullah can make him laugh until his stomach hurts, and they can do it faster than friends he's known for YEARS. Lullah especially is the queen of comedic nonverbal timing. All it takes is a certain look with a slow turn after Phil says something stupid and he's Dying.

His favorite thing is when either of them fall to pieces emote bc smth stupid happened. Or whenever they Orange Justice after smth fucked happens.

Listen. LISTEN. Don't be fooled by this man. He LOVES adventures with the kids. He loves them. The reason he refuses to venture out with them or go dungeon raiding with them super often is because survivalist brain is like if the worst happens, the Feds do not have your back. If you lose the kids you have nothing much to live for on this island. Do not risk their lives, even if it sounds fun.

He fucking loves watching the kids talk to the other eggs. The constant taptaptaptaptap of signs being placed while they chat together makes him giggle. He also loves watching them just crouch and silently communicate.

Dude Rose's love for the two of them makes his heart so full. Like legit the first time she told him "they're under my protection" he nearly cried. And not just from relief that they'd be safe from EK.

And related: Oh my GOD does he fucking love the term "fledglings" for them. It's SO CUTE. Rose was so right for that. Something about it drives home the thought of "these are MY kids" even more. He just 🥺

Chayanne's mask reminds him of Techno's boar one sometimes and it makes him wanna cry /pos. If Chayanne ever mentions being guided by Techno's spirit to fight EK Phil will never recover

He loves this "new era" of Lullah, between her cutting her hair short a while back and now dying it + changing her hat. It feels like she's getting more independent despite everything and considering Phil used to have to Really hover around her to help her out, he's the world's proudest papa about it

He's told them stories about all the hardcore gods (that he knows of) at this point. Rose bc ofc he did. EK bc he kinda had to. The others bc at this point he's expecting them to poke their heads around at one point or another too. Chayanne loves Blaze. Lullah still loves Rose the most. She's gone on a rant about "Papa how the fuck is Ocean Overlord a god when he fumbles things so badly???" He wishes he knew, Lullah.

He wants to take them on a flight so bad it hurts. Literally. He's more angry EK fucked up his wings maybe permanently bc he robbed them of that than he is that EK did it to spite him.

He really really really hopes they do hatch some day and become lil dragon hybrids bc then he can watch them fly and teach them how to do it well (the best he can while he's grounded) (he might get a little envious)

He fucking LOVES sparring with the kids. He goes easy bc he's insanely skilled and experienced compared to Two Literal Children but they catch on and improve So Quick and it makes him so unbelievably proud and excited to see them demonstrate their skills in a real (hopefully non-lethal) situation.

[strwberri-milk]

hi!

maybe love and deepspace guys (okay, rafayel) with an asexual reader? but, uh, hurt-comfort, you know. maybe them talking things out when reader reacts in a confusing way, gets too nervous... whatever, scared, and is kinda being called out

sorryineedreassurance hahaha. ty in advance whether you decide to write this or not!! wish you all the inspiration <3

i honestly think rafs somewhere on the spec too like. i dont see him being super super into casual hookups when you consider in his story how. absolutely whipped he is - also bc there wasnt really any specifications about reader's asexuality so im keeping it as general as possible

Rafayel feels very strongly about you. He adores everything about you and would be happy to do literally any and everything as long as it's with you. Sometimes, his feelings result in him seeking your presence in physical forms, clinging onto you desperately and trying to crawl under your skin.

Sometimes when things get a little too heated he has a tendency to get over excited. But once he feels you resisting against him he'll stop immediately and ask you what's wrong. He's being very careful trying not to overstep your boundaries but when you refuse his advances for the nth time he starts to worry that you don't actually like him as much as he thought you did.

He tries to talk to you about it but you don't seem to want to talk much. He'll let you get away with it for a while but one day he'll sit you down to seriously talk to you about why you're growing more adverse to him touching you. You start off by telling him that it's not that you're afraid of him touching you but it's a little more complicated than that.

He's concerned, trying to understand if he's done something to you. He's uncharacteristically serious for once, making you panic. You don't like the sombre look on his face, the quiet that's so against his normal nature that you start babbling and acting defensive in hopes that he'll drop it. It just makes him retreat even more, worried that he did accidentally do something wrong.

You can't handle how upset he looks, taking his hands in yours and promising him that you don't hate him. You slowly start to explain your feelings, that you love him more than anything but your sexual attraction/urges are a little different but it's not because you don't love him. He listens quietly as you tell him as much as you can, hoping your explanation is enough for him.

He understands better now that you're explaining it to him, nodding and taking things in slowly. He promises that it doesn't matter to him - all he wants is you, in whatever capacity you're willing to give him. He swears it, holding you tightly and reassuring you that he means it. He's waiting for you this long - all he wants is to make sure you're happy with him.

[lament4piligrim]

Frozen heart knows no pain

Part 1

Chapter 1

Bi Han knelt in front of his father, biting his tongue until it bled, not daring to oppose a single word he said. 'You are the heir to this great clan. You should understand better than anyone how important this alliance is to us. Cut this thread and everything we've ever held dear will disappear.'' Of course, Bi Han understood. But he didn't understand why he should commit his life to a woman he had no feelings for. There were enough noble families in their clan that were devoted to Lin Kuei with all their hearts - marrying one of them off to the daughter of a friendly clan was quite possible. Why him? He hadn't even seen this woman's face!

So many thoughts were running through his head that it was about to explode. His father would be happy that this unworthy son would die here with his head bowed in shame. Clenching his hands into fists, scratching his palms, Bi Han nodded in agreement. The Grandmaster wouldn't accept any other answer anyway.

Kuai Liang and Tomas stood outside the door, humbly waiting for their brother. They hoped that their brother would be able to persuade their father not to be so rash, and that he would in turn be sympathetic to his son's choice. After all, there was nothing wrong with Bi Han falling in love with a simple village girl; besides, Mingzhu was a Lin Kuei warrior with potential.

But from Bi Han's slumped and irritable look, they realised that the attempt had failed.

"Don't be upset, Bi Han. Maybe we can try to convince father?" Kuai Liang offered enthusiastically, patting his older brother on the back.

However, Bi Han ignored him and silently retired to his quarters.

How naive they are…

Their father had easily fooled his brothers. He showered them with love and care and let them do whatever they wanted, thus creating the false image of a father they needed. If Bi Han had told them that they had given their hearts to a hypocrite, neither Kuai Liang nor Thomas would have believed it. They would simply conclude that Bi Han was just overheated and not thinking clearly, or that he was simply exaggerating.

Bi Han closed himself in his room without lighting the candles, walked to his bed and heavily collapsed face down on the soft pillows. He was too irritated and tired for any further training. Little did he need to injure someone else out of a fit of rage.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Bi Han heard a knock on his door. The first time, he ignored it. The second time, he ignored it… For the third time, the visitor had no more patience and raised his voice:

"Bi Han? It's me. Are you there?"

Mingzhu.

How would he face her? How would he say he had to agree to this mayhem?

"I'm coming in."

It looked like Bi Han had lain in his chambers for a very long time, since Mingzhu was in her casual clothes that she wore after training. She had a smile lighting up her face that made it seem as if she had never known adversity. The fresh fragrance of the oils on her skin pleasantly hit his nose. Bi Han slowly turned his head towards her, admiring her.

He didn't want to hurt her.

"Bi Han, I… understand. You couldn't resist Grandmaster," Mingzhu had a guilty look on her face.

Why did she feel guilty? It's not her fault at all that he's being tried to marry an unknown person! She shouldn't have to carry that burden on her.

"If I am a nuisance…"

"No."

Bi Han stood up abruptly and approached Mingzhu.

"Don't dare," he gently took her face with his palms and showered her with light kisses, "Let that old man do what he wants. But there's no way I'm giving up on you. As soon as I become Grandmaster, I will break this marriage."

"Bi Han…"

"I won't give up on you. If only you don't refuse, if only you don't want me to be a part of your life anymore, I will never accept this marriage. I don't care what anyone else thinks."

"I won't give up on you, Bi Han."

Cryomancer felt relieved. As long as they have each other, they can overcome this together. His brothers understand him and will accept any choice he makes. Mingzhu is by his side and won't give up on him, even if she has to be as a lover in everyone else's eyes. The rumours will be disgusting, but it will be his father's fault for dragging him into his games. Bi Han will be able to protect Mingzhu from evil looks and cruel sneers. All they have to do is wait until the power is in his hands. Then he can make things right.

Evenings in Harbin had never been warm. For those who once chose a life of luxury in a developed infrastructure, that did not seem to be a problem. But others who followed tradition faithfully, continuing to live as clans among the deserts, mountains and forests, coped with the cold in all sorts of ways. There were times when there was a catastrophic lack of resources for heating, and some clan warriors had to work tirelessly in the nearest towns to earn good money for firewood and coals.

As it happened, this year's winter was even harsher and more ruthless. Everyone in the small village felt its power, not risking to go outside.

Only one person was too insensitive to this weather. She didn't feel the frost that cut through her skin with sharp blades. Her heart and soul had long ago been covered with a thick layer of unbreakable ice.

Xuehua watched the woods from the balcony of her chambers, trying to digest what had happened in the past few days. As a result, they had decided to marry her off. So that she wouldn't feel "hurt" by her younger sister's gross misdemeanour. Both of them would marry worthy young men, but Xuehua would bring great benefits to their clan.

She had never experienced such an insult before. And for some reason, everyone in the clan supported her mother's decision, not caring that the victim should have gone into seclusion, come to her senses and find peace in her soul, rather than going into the arms of a strange man. And worse for the Lin Kuei Grandmaster's son.

Indeed, fate favours her.

It seemed that no one was going to stand up for her. Just hearing that a favourable candidate was coming from Lin Kuei, everyone seemed to lose their heads at the future gains. Her mother glowed with pride that her eldest daughter would be the future mistress of such an esteemed and powerful clan; some only encouraged and supported her enthusiasm. The younger sister might have opposed it, thinking it was too cruel to her. But under the pressure of the adults, she chose to remain silent, holding her fiancé's hand tightly.

'It's too late, sweetheart. There's no need to fake play. You got what you wanted,' Xuehua thought bitterly, clenching her icy hands on the railing.

"You haven't left your room in a while, jiejie. I was worried," the girl behind heard her younger brother's voice.

"It's not necessary,"

"Grandmaster was here. They have discussed things,"

"Of course they did," Xuehua snorted.

Sure enough, they had already decided everything, ignoring her existence. Mother is probably already jumping with joy.

"Maybe it's best for you, A-Hua? Away from A-Lu? It won't make you feel any better that she's staying here with that jerk. She intends to move your lab as well…"

"If she goes in there, she can't expect any good from me."

"Jiejie, I will do my best to make sure she is punished later," my brother took her cold hands in his palms, "Though I'm against mother's decision, but I think you'll do better in Lin Kuei. A-Lu gave them all sweet talk, now they're eager to get you out of here as soon as possible. Maybe they'll treat you better there. Think about it."

Brother's words didn't make it any easier. It was unlikely that she would be treated better in Lin Kuei. After all, this was a warrior clan that recognised power. And she was just a healer, albeit the best one currently living in all the clans.

Well, if there's nowhere else for her to go, she'll try to find her niche there. Maybe there'll be someone she'll feel comfortable with.

Maybe she should try to give herself and her future husband a chance.

P.S. Xuěhuā - "Snowflake", Míngzhū - "Pearl"

In the art below Xuehua's appearance close to my imagination. Art is from Pinterest, user @xichdiemcotich

[sacred-coffin]

Rubbing my grubby little hands together. It's time to bipolar Terzo.

And, one thing for the record, I'm bipolar! So I know what I'm talking about and I'm projecting a little and that's valid

I tried to rewrite my bullet points from my google doc to sound... nicer and more professional, but it didn't feel right. So y'all are getting the raw unfiltered version from when I infodumped about this in a discord chat, hope you like it :)

ONE . He has big overarching aspirations, but also mad depressive episodes. These get in the way of him completing his goals and also make things fuzzy along the way.

He's got this big city, big social change, all of these huge goals and life paths he wants to follow. And there are times where he's really set and driven on working on it! Especially when people are egging him on, like when he was a cardinal. I imagine he had a lot of sustained manic or hypomanic episodes while he was a cardinal.

Being very dead set on a goal, possibly losing sleep over it, putting all of your time and effort on it...Also however you want to interpret the cream pies comment (sexual or food) it both lines up with something a manic person would do. SO.

I think once he's in the ministry again / papa his depressive episodes started getting harder & his manic episodes more. Erratic.

He had less people pushing & supporting him towards his goals / what he was really passionate about, so he was just . Really bitter and pulled away from people. You see a lot more of his irritable and generally temperamental side come out during this time bc like. When he has manic episodes he has so much energy to use up but nowhere for it to go! Sometimes being really angry with something can trigger a manic episode, and I think he might be prone to doing things really excessive/extreme all of a sudden to spite people. If that makes sense. Like the decision to ditch the papa robes, things like that.

Also iirc, when he was a cardinal he was really over indulgent. That is very common for manic episodes; it's very common to  develop substance abuse issues as well. I think he could be a borderline alcoholic, but he's pretty good at hiding it. Definitely better at hiding it than when he was younger, but the habit is worse when he's older

I kinda wanna talk about Terzo possibly being like, a pretty angry person. And this is definitely projection LMAO. He very much presents himself as a guy who probably doesn't have angry outbursts and such, but I think that. Well. If he's bipolar that is NOT true ok. When I thought about this the first time I was like "would he punch walls? No. His mom raised him better than that. But God does he want to break stuff"

I feel like part of his reclusiveness is to keep up this image he has to everyone-- you can't judge him or form an opinion of him in his off time if you don't see it. So you don't see him getting drunk, you don't see him being depressed, you don't see him getting mad, but god it is happening all the time

I just feel like, like, you could argue he has this sudden shift in personality at a certain point. Or maybe at multiple points. In regards to how he felt about his goals at least. Esp bc I resonate so hard with the thought that he didn't want to be the machine-man (from Metropolis, 1927), but he had to, and I feel like being bipolar explains that so so well. Facing adversity he'd get so pissed about it, but he would only let that stop him for a little bit. But he'd also wouldn't be able to make the kind of progress he did before (like drawing up blueprints or plans) because he doesn't have that same well of outside energy & support to tap into

God also. He is so delusional. He is so so so delusional.

I think being Papa ruined his mind .

No offense but like. His goals are impossible. He's chasing them so hard anyways. He's insane. Like. Like.

I don't know I can only compare this in my mind rn to my mom looking at me when I was like, 5 years old or something and telling me she was going to become an archeologist and move to Egypt. Like she was so so sure of herself that it was going to happen. Obviously it fuckin didn't,

Also also. I feel like he's not diagnosed bc I feel like it's more likely to be missed in men. Also I want to give him migraines even though it's less common in men but slightly more common with people who are bipolar and also bc it is GENUINE projection but I think the idea of Omega walking in and seeing Terzo hidden in a bundle of blankets with all the lights off like "is this a depression cocoon or a migraine cocoon" and Terzo just kinda shifts the blanket around and you see him wearing this funny as fuck eye mask. And Omega is like "migraine cocoon, got it" and just fucking leaves

Did he shave his head once and regret it? Yes. Did he get addicted to cocaine? Probably. Did he spend all of his money on model city pieces? At least twice.

I think in the end it's entirely possible he bought into everyone's ideas that maybe he is the one who should be worshiped

I feel like a lot of manic episodes & things can be so warped by the people you surround yourself with and like. Idk. Being the face of a devil worshiping cult can give a normal guy a God complex.

But a guy who's already prone to delusion and God complex??? Oh honey he's FUCKED.

[cinamun]

I love reeading comments on the story and it makes me wonder how much time do I spend reading this story cus I see some reduce all that DJ did was the "cheating " Incident (even tho he himself regrets it says it wasn't worth it) and moaning different girls name and feel bad for him and I'm like.. are we forgetting he repeatedly kept going to Amaya's school and was acting entitled that she can atleast say hello or get a sandwich with him and couldn't take no for an answer for a bit? Cus Amaya says, and I quote, "You don't even go here Darren! Why are you always here?" (Italics included) Ooorrr?? He even said he was mad with Jay for helping her transfer (so she wasn't in a place where she felt miserable.) As if his brother in law owes him not helping her! And then his solution to some shit Isa did was go scream at his momma as if this is her fault he can't just say a 3 letter name! DJ is a growing young adult making mistakes, and that's what makes him a good written character. We're seeing him actively fuck up and getting called out for it. It shows how carefully crafted he is and the work put into him. Darren is gonna make him realize where he fucked up. And he recognizes where he did a little bit but now has to face it. He's growing. And that's a damn good thing!! Idk maybe it's me. I don't feel bad for him, especially if he's actively recognizing where he fucked up. I'm more so intrigued how he's gonna figure himself out, and see him grow.

Damn nonny, no lies told! Even went back to UBrite with it!! There are layers to this and lets keep it a buck: this is our first real introduction to DJ going through some shit. Right?

Some call it ✨character development✨, but haven't we seen how Hope deals with adversity? What about Dira? DJ not so much, until the gawk heard 'round the simblrverse and bro still hasn't replaced that couch.

Anyway....

Y'all want part 2 of Sr. vs Jr. tomorrow or Sunday?

[batsplat]

Tysm for your deep dives into MotoGP I LOVE your posts no matter how long or short, you have such a keen eye and pen for weaving history with narrative and the psychological patterns of the sport. 

I was hoping to hear your take on the decline of the Japanese manufacturers in MotoGP. I’ve only been into the sport since the end of 2023 so still super new!! And I’ve learned so much from ur blog 🙏🏽

Ive been seeing some takes on here about how a lot of prominent MotoGP podcasts present the decline of Yamaha and Honda as a result of the Japanese “culture”. Idk if you’re an avid podcaster so basically there’s this narrative of the Japanese as an isolationist developer which refuses to bring in/poach European engineers and copy off Ducati bc of national pride + historical dominance . Also that they’re too risk adverse and slow to develop and test new parts on the bike.

I Totally agree with the tumblrinas that this  seems very one-note (and racist) analysis to say a “cultural difference” is the ONLY thing influencing the Japanese teams decline over the last decade. Would you know/could guess of any other factors that could’ve led to this decline in performance? Sorry for the long ask <3

never apologise for a long ask, and that's very kind!!

I haven't seen the tumblr takes but I do listen to the podcasts - and yup, some of the discussions of the japanese manufacturers make me pretty uncomfortable. on a semi-related note, sometimes feels like motogp for an individual sport is oddly preoccupied with questions of national character and broad strokes generalisations of entire countries/linguistic groupings/continents? idk, I can't articulate it well, but I do think it's a thing... in any case, the cultural essentialism when it is directed at japan often threatens to take on quite a condescending, patronising tone. essentially propagating a narrative that the wise europeans need to go over to japan to teach them their ways etc etc... it's really not great

now, the problem we're faced with here is that like a lot of people, I get most of my motogp news from the guys who are also doing the podcasts. which means that I am inevitably pretty reliant on them in forming my own opinions on this sport - like,, I'm not going to know all these other factors for the current struggles of the japanese manufacturers if they don't tell me about them. that being said, sometimes it's an issue of framing more than it is of the actual content of the reporting. to the best of my knowledge, it does seem true that japanese manufacturers have stagnated in part because they haven't hired widely enough, including probably from the europeans. this isn't because europeans are inherently better at designing bikes - the japanese manufacturers did dominate the sport for decades, after all - but that's just how things go sometimes... centres of knowledge shift, it's easy to fall behind. right now, for the current formula of the sport, getting yourself dall'igna or a dall'igna protege seems like the way to go. it's not some uniquely japanese national pride or intransigence that has made them so sluggish in embracing the new era... it's mostly just human nature that you're going to be resistant to change if your way has been the right way for a long time, right

worth pointing out that plenty of manufacturers can be arrogant about this kind of thing, including the italians. look at ducati's complacency after winning the 2007 title that sent them on a bit of a downward spiral until around 2014 - not helped by how they didn't rate their star rider and only had a wake up call when they gave their national idol an unrideable trash can for two years. which brings us to another reason for why the japanese manufacturers are doing so badly: the margins being so small nowadays. like, in absolute terms, honda/yamaha aren't dramatically further away from ducati than ducati was to honda/yamaha in circa 2012, but everything is just a lot closer now and you've got a million ducatis plus an assortment of aprilias and ktms to reliably slot into that gap. doesn't help!! so suddenly you're finishing p14 rather than p7 in the championship... a related factor is how strong satellite teams are nowadays; in the alien era, riders not on a factory bike were generally at way more of a disadvantage than they are now. that era specifically also featured quite a 'weak' grid for various reasons related to the impact of the financial crisis, teams lacking resources and dorna making up the numbers with crt bikes, etc... the point is that while on paper ducati's wilderness years look considerably less catastrophic than what's happening now, the strength of the current grid has made honda/yamaha's situation look even worse than it otherwise would. what's happened to the two traditional powerhouses in the series is pretty unprecedented, but not entirely so

that being said, obviously honda and yamaha are in serious trouble - and have been for a while now. you can kinda get into the weeds with both of them about how their competitive situations have developed... honda's overreliance on marc, for instance, their willingness to build a bike nobody else could ride - or how yamaha traditionally treated their satellite teams as customers rather than partners, plus how they never really managed to respond to long-standing rider concerns about the bike that went all the way back to when they had valentino/jorge on their team. (yamaha being chronically underpowered is something that does actually crop up in the mid noughties and never quite went away - there's something kinda fascinating about how motogp bikes in some respects seem to have quite an immutable character.) I wrote a short 'how did we get here' post for honda specifically - and as mentioned in that post, setting aside fabio's 2021 title, the decline for yamaha basically started when the switch to michelins and ecu happened in 2016. on the flip side, you can also focus on the ducati side of the equation and figure out how they've gotten so good, from how they've pushed the sport on in their technical developments with the wings and infernal ride height devices and all of that... how aprilia and ktm have been more willing to just straight up copy them, while the established powerhouses have been more reluctant to change their ways. you can point to how the pandemic (plus the war in ukraine) impacted different manufacturers to differing extents - including of course in making the third japanese manufacturer leave the grid entirely

which is all well and good, but it would still be interesting to get a bit more insight into why it's the japanese manufacturers specifically that have been flagging so badly. it feels like there's a pretty obvious next step here - get some takes from japanese people themselves. this does feel like something english language reporting on motogp in general is woefully short on given how big a role japan plays in the sport... journalists seem far more likely to discuss what has been reported in italian or spanish or german or whatever sources than drawing from japanese publications. which feels like a problem!! I have a twitter list with a few japanese accounts that talk about motogp, and I've tried to poke about to figure out some answers to this issue before. one bloke who seems to be quite well-respected and established in the paddock is akira nishimura, who writes for this japanese site and also occasionally publishes columns in the japanese version of motorsport dot com. now, I'm aware that getting one japanese perspective and drawing conclusions solely on the basis of that isn't ideal, but I reckon getting one japanese perspective is still better than getting none at all. so let's get some of his thoughts!

firstly, here is an article about the transfer of 'brainpower' between suzuki and honda after suzuki left the sport. I thought this was really interesting in terms of discussing some of the structural factors at play here that can help explain why there haven't been more outside hires:

isn't this helpful? cut out all the essentialising bullshit, and here we have some actually useful context. even namechecks the dall'igna move from aprilia to ducati as something that wouldn't really happen with japanese manufacturers - and yes, that does feel like it would be a problem if it means you're trying to figure out this aero business with no outside help. also helps contextualise how the big name hires made by yamaha and very recently honda are pretty significant, given how relatively unprecedented they are. and here is another article about how japanese companies are structured, in the context of poorly timed reshuffles at honda. again, it's not about the japanese needing to be 'shown the way' or some such crap... it's just that right now, the people best equipped to figure out the current formula of bikes are probably being employed by some european manufacturer or other and you probably want to get them on board. you hire their guys and copy their tricks, tale as old as time

then there's this column from last year about ducati's current dominance, which is useful in both giving us some insight about what some of the japanese discourse looks like as well as in providing explanations for the current malaise

that's really the main takeaway, isn't it - it's all part of the competitive cycle. sometimes it's european manufacturers who have had the upper hand, sometimes it's the japanese ones. there'll always be some competitive paranoia and mudslinging going on, as well as heavy criticism of those who are currently losing out - and at times people will get pretty racist about it. also makes sense that a more closed-off approach to knowledge sharing would help you when you're the ones currently winning, right, whereas it'd hurt you when you need to have some knowledge shared with you... ducati is doing really well because they happened to crack the code for how to build the best bikes for this current era in motogp, and the japanese manufacturers probably should have been faster in copying them. that's how it goes sometimes

also - while I haven't differentiated between english language reporters in this post, it is worth pointing out that the bloke I've been citing has been published on the motomatters website and was on an episode of the paddock pass podcast when news first broke of suzuki's withdrawal back in 2022. that one's obviously primarily just focused on suzuki - but it's still interesting, not least because suzuki was at least doing better than honda when they withdrew from the sport. the episode also discusses some historical context surrounding the last time the sport was in crisis in the late noughties with the financial crisis and kawasaki's withdrawal. then there's a thursday paddock notes episode from motegi last year, which included this exchange:

Q: Akira, is it enough to change personnel in Japan, or do you think there also needs to be some harder implementation of a program in Europe? I mean, we see Cal Crutchlow is doing a wildcard appearance this weekend for Yamaha, he was talking a little bit about Yamaha's processes and it does seem that there needs to be kind of a harder effort on both sides of the world for the Japanese to make some big strides quickly. Nishimura: I think only changing personnel doesn't change anything. Probably they will - it's my personal impression but probably they have changed their engineering philosophy, or their organisational structure itself. And [I would say] changing, or fixing. [...] Even if they bring some more from Europe to Japan, that guy cannot work how they want to. So the problem is down to structure itself or their management in engineering.

look. it's a complicated topic and we're not going to get into all the nuances in one tumblr post. obviously you'd want to get a bunch more sources than this from inside japan to get a better sense of what's going on. I am not an expert on the japanese labour market and kind of just have to take this reporting at face value, which isn't ideal. but let's just finish this post off with a list of plausible-ish-sounding reasons for why the japanese manufacturers been struggling so badly (x, x, x):

smaller margins between bikes, more competitive european manufacturers, and the strength of satellite teams exaggerating how far behind honda/yamaha have fallen

ducati bringing in dall'igna, the subsequent aero revolution, and the fact that the other european manufacturers have been more willing to copy ducati than the japanese manufacturers have been

japanese manufacturers being less willing to employ outside hires in their important roles, limiting the extent to which they can make use of ideas already developed elsewhere

a more sluggish development rate, leading to a bike that isn't changing fast enough to deal with the scale of the problem they're facing

somewhat nebulously characterised differences between european and japanese manufacturers, criticising the working process of the latter - in particular their conservatism in making changes to the bikes

the delayed impact of cost cutting measures implemented after the 2008 financial crisis, which has forced manufacturers to rethink their approach to testing. having to operate from both a japanese and european base - in particular in the context of the pandemic - has hindered the japanese manufacturers

a more substantial language barrier between test riders and engineers than in european manufacturers - paired with a conservatism in not letting enough race weekend testing happen. there has been a post-dall'igna cultural shift away from that conservatism in european manufacturers that has helped them progress faster

ducati making better use of their satellite teams, partly by running more bikes and partly just by treating them better (cf yamaha scaring off their satellite teams)

so yeah, I agree with the distaste for some of the english language reporting on this issue - though my issue primarily isn't with the actual content of the reporting as much as it is with how it's being framed, how the problem is being diagnosed. you can say that the current approach to testing probably isn't ideal and also that they need to be poaching more brainpower without talking about how all this reflects the japanese national character or whatever. just... dial down the condescension, guys. and maybe tell us what japanese sources themselves are saying now and again

[thequietkid-moonie]

Running away with their darling

[ SCENARIO ] [ Finis, Satou, Rozenmarine ]

[ Lost Song ] [ Happy Sugar Life ] [ Little goody two shoes ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

⚠️ This contain little bit of spoiler

This prompt have being stuck in my mind for a while now, good thing im finally writing it 🩷 and with some cutieeeees!!! Moonie loves cute girls

hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it

Finis

Despite the fact that Finis' feelings are way too intense those feelings are incredibly innocent too, she may be clingy and somewhat dependent but what she truly want is the love of her darling more than anything

Finis can't understand if you dont reciprocate her feeling, so even if you do the only thing that change for her is that now you are more affectionate, wich makes her incredibly happy

Finis is so innocent that she can't even hide the inmense love she has for her darling, she clings at your side everytime she can and always express her love, directly and indirectly, wich can lead you to have a lot of problems if she is already engaged in marriage or even just by the fact that she holds way too much value for the war, her affection towards you can easily make you a target for those who want to get their hands on her power

Finis can't understand the danger you two are facing by simply loving each other until something really bad happen, even so she refuses to accept that is her love what is bringing you troubles, she just can't stop loving you and isn't willing to be without you, even without noticing she became more desperate and possesive because she doesn't want to lose you, she is giving her life in those songs but she is singing for you, she refuses to lose you, without you she won't even be able to find the motivation to sing again!

But no matter how much Finis refuses to let you go at the end she will have to face the reality of what she is causing wich will only lead her to have a mental breakdown. At the end, the decision of running away it has to be either yours or even a suggestion of Corte, it has to be explained a little further to Finis for how innocent she is but even when she had never thought on something like that she is imediatly accepting, she want nothing more than to be with you and if with this she can make sure you two are never apart she doesn't even have to think twice

You have to either run away in the same instant or explain with details why it is important to make a plan first, otherwise Finis will not stay calm and probably will end up making your plan obvious because she can hold back herself

If you manage to run away together Finis will have a hard time adapting since she had always had others doing things for her due her great value, but if it means that she can be with you she will put her body and mind to work to learn how to actually do everything herself, with you at her side she feels like can do anything and everything!

Its more likely she become a house wife in an attempt to hide her from those who still want her power, but it isn't something that she mind at all, at the end for Finis it doesn't matter how things go or what she has to learn to do, as long as you are at her side for the rest of her life she will be happy to face whatever adversity life put in her way

Satou Matsuzaka

For Satou her darling is the greatest representation of love itself, you are what she wanted the most, what she have being searching for so long so of course there is nothing she won't be willing to do for you, to protect your relasionship

For Satou her darling is the most important thing in the world, your love is the only thing she needs and cravess, as long as you two are together nothing else in the world matters, nothing can't hurt her if you are at her side. When she is sure that you reciprocate her feelings her life become a perfect love story, its like if the rest of the world just dissapear and now is just the two of you and your love, nothing can't nor will ruin this for her

However, to protect her precious fairy tale she is more than willing to do anything to make sure no one will ruin it, she has not limits nor reasons to stop, to don't rip apart anything that threaten her precious love story, for her as long as you don't stop loving her in the most beautiful way then she can live in peace for the terrible things she have done to protect her paradise

Just as Satou does everything to protect her precious fairy tale she also is willing to do everything to protect you from everything and anything, she treat you as if you were the most delicate and beautiful flower, thats why, even if she had thought about running away at your side she never commented out loud her idea because she want to believe that she will be able to protect you and what you two have, so it is up to you to propose it

She would be devastated if you ever found out what she have done and start hating her, but if instead you propose to run away together so you two can start over again Satou can feel herself falling in love all over again, as much as she wants to be the one taking care of everything she can't deny the fact that she feels flustered because you want to protect her and what you two have too

Satou doesn't even have to think twice in your proposal before eagerly accepting, somehow it takes Satou just some little time to make the whole plan of how and where to go for you two to start your new life, you just have to help her take the indispensable and you two would be already on your way to your new start

It is until you are already on your way that Satou can breath calmly again, just because she wants everything to be perfect, so its that when she can finally let go of a breath she didn't even knew she was holding back and smile widely. Satou won't let go of your hand nor stop smiling the whole way, even if it take days to reach your new home she will still be excited and happy, even if the start is difficult your love is what make her keep going

Even if this is a new start Satou wants nothing more than give you the life she knows you deserve, she is fascinanted by the idea of you two having a beautiful and peaceful life, so she is going to make it happen at all costs, but she will learn from her past and will become better at protecting her paradise

Rozenmarine

Rozenmarine's grandmother have taught her everything she knows and the way she lives her own life, she happily follow what her beloved grandmother taught her almost with a blind trust, so she is completely sure that destiny have lead her towards you, her beloved darling

Rozenmarine is devoted to you, her time, her efforts, her everything is for you because she firmly believe that you are her purpose and destiny, you are the reason why she was born in the first place so is only right for her to give you her body and soul

Rozenmarine happily does whatever you ask her to do without a second thought, however, even when she think she doesn't need it she wishes for you to reciprocate her feelings, even if it isn't in the same intensity if you love her, at least a little, that is more than enough for her

She is actually more aware than how she gives her credit for, so if you have troubles or even have being contacted by him she somehow knows, but, then again, she won't see anything bad on it unless it gets on the way of your relationship. Rozenmarine want to be useful for you, if she can she would solve your problems no matter how big or small your problems are she is always there to offer you a smile and help (even when she may just make things worst by her innocence and her bluntness)

Rozenmarine wouldn't really think about running away, she believes that destiny will offer you the solution, so it has to be you who end up proposing it, even if it was just as a joke she imediatly think on it as something serious, and, honeslty, Rozenmarine couldn't feel happier because you want to run away with her, that you are contemplating her in something so important on your life and will even accept without a second thought, reasuring you that you have nothing to worry about because together you two will manage to find a solution

Then again, you have to be the one who makes the plan because Rozenmarine doesn't really have a good idea of how to do it, however she is more than willing to do everything in her power to make it happen, she follow your instructions without a doubt, getting everything ready for you two to go. At the end, more than stress or worried Rozenmarine is incredibly happy that you two are leaving to start a life together, she wants nothing more than being with you, even if that means having a whole new start, away from him and the village that were searching for a witch

You two can spend days traveling and camping outside before reaching another place to life in and Rozenmarine's smile will never leave her lips, she just can't shut up about how happy she is and even holds your hand the whole time, she just can't contain herself. And, at the end, running away with her it is actually a good thing since now that, for her is just the two of you in the world she will try her hardest to learn and find a job as quick as posible because she wants to give you the best life posible as a thanks for being in her life (and she actually learns quickly, so she will manage to do it in no time)

[doumadono]

Emergency Request!

Hi! I've followed your blog for a while now and I always really love your writing style. I have been hesitant to submit an emergency request because it's hard for me to think of something like this as an emergency just because I have to deal with it so often, but I've read a lot of your other emergency requests and I was hoping that maybe it might help me too.. I'm a trans man (he/him pronouns) and a lot of things have just felt so much harder to deal with than normal lately and I feel like most people are only attracted to me because I "look" like a girl and they are always so disappointed/disgusted when they find out that I'm a trans man..

That being said, I really love Akaza's character and unfortunately he's canonically primarily attracted to women/feminine people, and I was curious if you could possibly write something for him where he's with a trans man reader and the reader is extremely insecure about his identity and he is always afraid Akaza doesn't actually like him because of the fact that he's trans but Akaza is there to help calm his anxieties surrounding the topic? I'm sorry this was so long-winded and I completely understand if it's not something you feel comfortable doing. Thank you regardless, and I love your work and your page as always!!

A/N: Dear Nonnie, I want you to know that you are valid and deserving of love and acceptance just as you are! It's natural to have moments of doubt, but remember that your identity doesn't define your worth. The right people will appreciate and cherish you for who you truly are. Keep being your authentic self, and you'll find those who see your inner beauty and strength. I did my best to create this blurb for you, but please understand if it's not entirely accurate - it was challenging for me to capture the reader's perspective

MASTERLIST

In a small, secluded village nestled deep within the forest, he lived in an old, wooden house. It was a place where the tranquility of nature cocooned the world, but for him, it was also a sanctuary from the doubts that clouded his heart.

One moonlit night, as the stars painted the sky with their delicate glow, Akaza appeared as he had been doing for weeks. His pink hair seemed to ignite in the pale moonlight as he stepped into the cozy home his partner had made for himself. Akaza's presence alone was both thrilling and terrifying for the young man, who had become hopelessly enamored with the demon.

As Akaza entered, he could already sense his partner's unease. He took a moment to let his eyes roam the rustic interior, admiring the room the man had created. But his focus soon returned to the one who had captured his attention. "Is something troubling you, darling?" Akaza asked softly, his voice like a soothing melody.

The man hesitated before finally finding the courage to speak. "I can't help but worry. I feel like you're only attracted to me because I… I look like a girl."

Akaza's expression remained calm, his eyes filled with understanding. He approached his partner and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You underestimate yourself," the yellow eyed demon chuckled briefly.

"But I'm someone else, Akaza. I'm not like the women you usually spend time with. What if you finally realize that and decide you don't want to be with me anymore?" Tears started gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not drawn to appearances alone. I come here because of the person you are. Your strength, your resilience in the face of adversity I witnessed during our very first meeting — all of these qualities are what captivate me," the demon replied.

The young man's heart fluttered at Akaza's words, a glimmer of hope breaking through his insecurities.

Akaza smiled, his eyes reflecting the moon's soft light. "No two people are alike, darling. I cherish our time together because it's unique. Your identity doesn't change how I feel about you. You are worthy of love and acceptance just as you are."

"Are you sure, Akaza? Because I've been hurt before, and I'm afraid of getting hurt again…"

Akaza leaned in, brushing his lips against his boy's forehead, a tender gesture meant to reassure. "I promise, I'm here for you. I won't let anything come between us. I'll remind you every night of how much you mean to me. And just tell me who hurt you, and I'll make them pay."

As Akaza's words sank in, the young man felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. The anxieties that had plagued him for so long began to dissipate. In that moment, he understood that his connection with the demon was built on something deeper than appearances or gender.

"Demon's love is eternal and unyielding, my dear," Akaza quipped with a playful grin, "so good luck trying to shake me off."

Over time, Akaza continued to visit his partner, and their bond grew stronger.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Birds of a Foreign Land Must Fly.

...

*Shuichi, hiding out in Branch 2's Head Office, curls up into a ball and rests against the wall, burying his head in his arms and contemplating everything that happened...

Dammit...why...just...Why...?

'Cause life sucks buddy boy. Especially for omniversal immigrants like us.

GAH!?

*He almost falls over as a voice sounds out from near his desk.

K-Kokichi!? When and how did you get in here?

Well, considering you were devoting your eyes and ears to sobbing and crying, I doubt even your detective instincts could have noticed me when I just walked through the door.

...Are you here to cheer me up...?

Hah! Who do you take me for? That is NOT my thing!

Hehe...I guess not...

But even still. I'm DEFINITELY super curious. Whatcha crying about?

We won! Zetsubou are gone, Shirogane's toast, and the world gets to live on another day! So why the soppy face?

The way you ask that implies to me you know EXACTLY why I'm crying. Don't toy with me; now is not the time for your sick ideas of jokes...!

Yeah...Yeah, I figured...I heard about what happened.

*Kokichi runs his fingers across the desk.

Rantaro is permanently dead with no hope of being resurrected...Himiko is stuck as a mechanical-humanoid puppet and has to live out the rest of her life like that...and Tenko's such self-loathing moron that she ran away with her hair twirls between her legs...

That is three additional piles of shitness on top of everything else that you don't deserve to be burdened with.

It's nothing I can't handle...or at least...nothing I can't handle if I sit on it for a bit...

Aw, poor Shuichi...He's doing a ME!

Wh-What? Doing a...What?

What I always do to stay upbeat, positive, and strong in the face of adversity:

Lie to myself and say that everything is gonna be okay, even though I know it's not.

I told you I don't want to hear it! Rrgh!

Okay, I'll shut up now! Promise!

...*sigh*

Kokichi...This is probably a really stupid question that you're gonna get mad at me for, but I have to ask...

Do you think...mngh...Do you think it would have been better for everyone if we'd returned to the universe we came from?

...Why are you asking this...?

Lately, I've had a lot of thoughts on my mind, but throughout all of them, just one as been really prevalent. And that's the thought that no matter what I do, or how much I think I've done, our existence in this world only makes things worse...

This world was perfectly safe and peaceful until WE showed up...! The Future Foundation had everything covered, but the moment we arrived here...The moment Uchui dragged us into this world and out of our own...THAT'S when things started to go wrong.

So...I've been stuck thinking lately that maybe I'm the problem. That our arrival here was some kind of mistake, and now...now I've just let Shirogane go free! I know as much as Uchui wants to believe it that she's gone for good, but I KNOW she's not dead!

She's still out there, and she's going to hurt so many more people! And because I didn't kill her when I had the chance-!

[cosmicjoke]

hi! hope you're well :) im not sure if my ask went through or not bc my wifi was being glitchy and it didn't seem like it sent so pls disregard this if the ask happened to go through lol during the acwnr arc, we see isabel and furlan interacting with the scouts and it seems like they're genuinely engaging in conversations with them. both of them open up about their pasts and connections to levi, although im not sure whether it's a manipulation tactic to gain trust or if they truly felt comfortable opening up to these people they've gotten to know over the course of several months, according to the manga. my question is: aside erwin and that one interaction with hange, do you think levi interacted with other members of the scouts as well? obviously, levi isn't very approachable and is a pretty blunt guy. but if someone were to be friendly with him and treat him like everyone else, would he engage in a conversation, even if it's a small one, or just remove himself from it all-together?

im really curious to hear your thoughts on this as i always love hearing your analysis on levi <3

Hi there, and thanks for the ask! I don't think your first attempt went through, so no worries about sending it again!

First, about Isabel and Furlan, I can't see Isabel being manipulative, really. Her personality just doesn't seem naturally geared that way at all. She's a lot like Levi in that way, in that she's really honest with her emotions and thoughts, only obviously, a lot more outgoing and friendly than Levi. So I think her interactions with the other scouts was probably genuine. Furlan on the other might have been trying to cozy up to them to give them better cover and make their presence there seem less suspicious. Though given the way Furlan relates the story about Levi, I think he was being pretty genuine too. You can tell how much it meant to him, that Levi saved his life.

With Levi, I kind of doubt he interacted much with anyone, for one thing, as you said, because Levi sort of exudes an unapproachable vibe. Not intentionally, he's just a very introverted and quiet person and also, yes, very blunt, which no doubt rubbed plenty of people the wrong way. If Levi doesn't like you for any reason, he's probably going to tell you so. Most people would pretend just to make their own social interactions easier, but Levi doesn't do that. Like his interactions with Flagon, we see him basically unable to pretend to like the guy, even as it's making his, Furlan's and Isabel's situation more difficult. Or his unmoved attitude when Shadis gets in his face and tries to intimidate him. Levi's not too good at ingratiating himself to people or placating them. So I think that probably had a pretty adverse affect on his ability to get along with people at first, and find any, real social interaction. There's also the fact that Levi was reluctant to get close to any of the scouts, because he knew if he did, he would start to feel responsible for them and want to protect them. When Hange asks him if he would be willing to teach some of them his fighting techniques, Levi turns her down, and when Furlan asks him why, he says he doesn't want to be responsible for anyone else. That's Levi's fear talking. He doesn't want to get close to them or try to teach them anything to protect themselves, only for them to then get killed, because he knows it will weigh heavily on him. He knows he cares too much about people to keep a really detached or unaffected attitude about them and their well being. The difficulty for Levi is, even in trying to keep his distance so he doesn't end up caring about these people, he still does. Like the soldier who he saved at the beginning from impaling himself on a dummy titan, or the soldiers he had to watch die when the first abnormal titan appeared. Levi felt guilty that he learned from watching that happen how to approach killing the titan himself. He'd already developed a protective instinct toward all of them, despite not being close. I think that's why Furlan gets so worried when Isabel starts talking about understanding why the scouts do what they do. He knows Levi, and he knows Levi has a bleeding heart, and that he's already starting to feel an attachment to the soldiers around them. We see this demonstrated again later when we see part of the reasoning Levi leaves Furlan and Isabel behind is because he wants them to help protect Flagon and the rest of his squad.

So I think, if someone were to try and approach Levi and be friendly with him, for one, he'd be pretty surprised, as he was when Hange approached him and the others, but he'd also probably be reluctant to try and engage back, again because of that fear he has of growing close and then losing them. But I think if someone really, genuinely tried with Levi to be his friend, he would eventually reciprocate. Levi's never going to be some effusive, gregarious person. He's never going to be super talkative or outgoing or enthusiastic in his expressions. He's always going to appear very reserved and introverted and flat. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy being with someone else. I think you couldn't wish for a better friend in the world than Levi. he's always going to be there when it really counts. When things are hard. He'll always be loyal. He'll always do his best to protect you and support you.

Basically, if someone just has the patience to keep trying with Levi, eventually you'll end up finding in him someone worth every ounce of effort.