#might make more of this if the brainrot persists

[ayzaart]

ff7 au where aerith meets sephiroth before zack.

.

this changes nothing in the main story, because by then the real sephiroth is already dead. it just makes everything that happens feel that much worse.

(an exploration of the earlier story concept with past aeriseph)

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / football / 768 words / @bellaxisworld i love you

--- here's a little kiss cam brainrot <3

"But I hate football, you know this," Regulus reiterated to a very persistent Remus over the phone.

“I know, but Sirius can’t make it and he doesn’t want the tickets to go to waste. It’s just one game,” Remus remarked with a hint of something that Regulus couldn’t quite place. 

That’s how he ended up at a Saturday sports match, hoping the players were hot; at least he would be entertained that way. He approached his seats and yelled Remus’ name, but someone else turned around: James.

“Reg? Why are you here? I thought I was meeting Siriu-” Regulus interrupted him, only a Potter could manage to insult him as he was greeting him.

“Nice to see you too James, well I thought I was meeting Remus. So you were also not who I expected to see.”

Before James could give a proper response, they both got a notification on their phone. Regulus looked at his screen to read Remus' quick text: Sorry, can’t make it. Have fun.

“I’m going to kill him,” Regulus mumbled. 

“Sirius just canceled on me. I’m guessing you got stood up too?” James asked kindly, but only received a mean glance in response.

In silence, they took their seats. Regulus was beyond pissed. How could Remus do this to him? He thought for a second that they might’ve been set up, but he thought this ruse was a bit dramatic even for Sirius’ standards.

“Do you like football?” James asked, breaking the silence.

“Detest it,” Regulus replied tersely, still too upset to entertain James’ attempt at conversation. When his brother’s best friend asked if he wanted anything to drink, he simply declined in a polite and quick manner.

But when James returned with his favorite treats and a wide smile to his seat, he couldn’t remember what he was upset about. Regulus felt a discreet blush work its way towards his cheeks as James handed him his favorite candy.

“Sirius mentioned you liked this, so I figured that if you were stuck with me and in a place you don’t want to be, you might as well get a sweet treat, no?” James said casually, as if remembering someone’s favorite candy was nothing.

To Regulus, it was such a significant gesture, but he couldn’t help but feel a little pathetic by how such a simple token could make him feel so warm. If he was honest, maybe it had more to do with who was giving him that attention than the piece of candy itself, but that was not the time to process that.

The game continued, and to Regulus's surprise, he found himself having more fun than he had expected. While Remus would have been good company, James was captivating in his own way. Despite not being a fan of football, Regulus made an effort to stay informed about the current games. A fact that he deliberately kept from James as the other man’s eyes lit up explaining everything. He never expected to be so absorbed in James’ words or thoughts or lips or eyes or arms or smile...

 Oh god, when did James Potter become so attractive?

“Regulus?” His name coming out James’ lips took him out his trace.

“Yes?”

"Kiss cam," James said, pointing at the screen in front of them. There they were, the two of them, with a crowd surrounding them, chanting for them to just kiss. Regulus felt as if seconds extended into hours as James's hand gently cupped his chin, his eyes silently asking for permission. An inaudible yes left Regulus's lips as the distance between them evaporated.

His hand instinctively reached for James' shirt, pulling him closer as if their lips touching was still too far a distance to bridge. He allowed himself this moment, the touch of an angel on a broken man. Every crevice of doubt within him was filled with warmth as James kept asking for more with his tongue. James parted slightly, and the absence of his lips made Regulus remember himself. Embarrassed, he started to pull away, but James held him tightly, his hands not leaving Regulus' face.

Regulus bravely opened his eyes to face the regret that was sure to be all over James’ face, but instead he found something else— something sweet and soft, something only honey eyes like James’ could convey. He was still light-headed from James’ touch, he couldn’t make sense of just how long he had been given access to heaven. 

But the reality remained: he had just kissed James Potter, who seemed just as delighted to have kissed Regulus Black.

Maybe football wasn’t that bad.

more microfics here

[dollarstorefern]

what level of brainrot is this guys.

anyway. i might make more for the other characters. might not. depends on how the horrors (school) persist. (PART 2 !!!)

here’s the blank version if you guys wanna make your own (if you do please share it in the replies because i wanna see what other people might make so badly and i really need one for thirteen)

btw. all of this started because i saw this… gregs supporting gregs i guess…

[hisui-dreamer]

a world without you

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Leona hears the Shroud brothers' plan, he thinks back to his herbivore, and how their existence has changed so much for him.

Tags: spoilers up to Ch 6!!!, established relationship, angst but fluff, drama, bot proofread

Word count: 878

Notes: this can be read as my view of leona's character, so please accept my leona brainrot <3 just some thoughts I had when I read ch 6. also leona might be a little ooc but it's his internal thoughts so I like to think he's more emotional :3

"It needs to reset before we can start a new game."

Shocked expressions were exchanged across the room as the implications of the younger Shroud's plan slowly settled on everyone's mind.

Leona couldn't help but think that, if the opportunity had been given to him a year ago, he'd likely have accepted whatever the robot kid was going for.

Leona always felt that he had been cheated in life. Ever since he was young, he was constantly compared to his older brother, who was seen as the epitome of success in their family, the perfect heir to the throne. Everyone would constantly praise his brother's achievements while dismissing his own accomplishments as trivial. It didn't matter that he was working hard to prove himself, that he could wield such powerful magic as a child.

He often wondered why he had to be born, if he was only meant to stay in another person's shadow to make them seem brighter in contrast.

No matter how hard he studied, how mature he acted, or how strong his magic was, it was all pointless. The ghostly whispers of the palace staff continued, and the judging remarks from the council intensified.

He was born as the second prince.

And he was destined to forever be just that—second.

When it finally clicked for him, he stopped trying. Why make an effort in anything, when time and time again, he had given his all only to end up with nothing? They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting different results. Despite what others might say, Leona was incredibly brilliant, with a sharp mind fit to be a wise ruler. He knew, without a doubt, that it was pointless to continue down the road of insanity.

Instead, he continued down the path of sloth, eventually finding everything, the entire world, pointless. He found himself skipping classes and taking naps whenever he could, hiding away from the world where he would never be able to stand under the sun, but at least comforted by the serene embrace of his dreams.

He had wanted to turn the world to sand and start over.

It had been a wild thought, but here the Shrouds were, proposing an entire reset of the world.

Leona's mind raced as he contemplated the consequences of such an ordeal. Indeed, he had always dreamed of a world where everyone had an equal chance to succeed, where people were not judged based on their social status, birth order, or magical ability. A world where he was no longer burdened by the expectations of his family, where he was free to be who he truly was, a world where everyone was given a fair chance to succeed, and where no one was left behind.

And yet, without realising it, the thought of starting over in a new world had left his mind ever since you came into his life. You were everything he had ever wished for but never deserved in a partner—kind, caring, and endlessly supportive, always by his side despite his crude demeanour and harsh words. You showed him that there was meaning to living, opening his eyes to the people around him. He had friends who cared about him, incredible talent that could bring great changes, and most importantly, you, his dearest herbivore who shone like a beacon in the shadowed depths of his heart.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly content with what he had, despite all the flaws and problems that persisted.

He had never cared about resetting the world and losing everything he had to start anew. But it was a different story now.

What would happen to the people he cared about in this new world? What if he never met you? What if everything he had ever known and loved was erased? And what of the memories that he made at NRC with you, with Savanaclaw, and everyone else?

Leona's thoughts drifted to his memories of you, your fierce eyes staring directly into his, determined to befriend him; the quiet evenings you had spent together under the starry sky sharing stories and enjoying each other's company; the way you would instinctively lean into him for comfort; the dazzling smile that graced your face when you spotted him in a crowd.

He made up his mind then.

He didn't want, no, he wouldn't risk losing you. Your presence had given him the joy he had never experienced, the hope for a better day tomorrow, and he wouldn't give that up for anything. He would continue to work towards a fairer world, but he would do so without resetting everything that he had come to cherish.

He had learned to appreciate the people in his life. He had found happiness, despite the unfairness of the world. He knew that he had found something precious in this unfair world—someone who cherished him wholeheartedly for whatever he may be.

No, he doesn't want to reset the world.

"I'll grant you one thing. The world totally sucks as it is. But I don't think your new one would be any more to my taste. So I'm going to stick with this one. It's less of a pain."

[shewolfofvilnius]

Wallavellan brainrot has consumed me once more while thinking about Dragon Age.

Because if you really think about it, Blackwall and Lavellan really do have inverted but mirroring stories.

He so utterly despised who he became that he took the persona of a better man, moulded himself to be like who he thought the real Blackwall was. Grafted the best parts of Thom Rainier on to this construction of Warden Blackwall and chose a new identity.

Contrast to Lavellan, who was just living her life with her clan, either as a scout, tracker, and hunter (rogue/warrior) or as the clan's First and thus future Keeper (mage). She's got an entire life and it's the world she's always known and as soon as the Conclave goes BOOM, that is over with. Now she's the Herald of Andraste, an idea that can easily be abhorrent to her. She's The Inquisitor. She's every other title in the game, but she's not Lavellan anymore, not really.

So Blackwall x Lavellan builds to a climax of "Who are we?" If you grant him his life as Rainier back, you're still you. Beneath the trappings of office and politics, it's still the elf who likely cared not for shem politics. And you can either reunite with your love, or let him go free while acknowleding the lie was a bridge too far. But either way, you're you. If you're cunning enough to remand him to the Wardens' custody, however, Lavellan starts to slip away in favor of The Inquisitor. Remanding someone into the Wardens' custody is a political move. An order from a leader. His lie sits on your heart enough to want retribution, oh so fitting. It might BE fitting, it might be suitable, but it's also not Dalish. It's an acknowledgement that part of the old you has slipped away for good (and the part of you that loved him will be silenced when he has to go).

And if you force him to pretend to be Blackwall? You're forcing him to fully take on his own faked identity while you yourself have completely and willingly subsumed yourself into this new you that you didn't even want at first. The power and authority to make a man be another man. To taunt him for his crimes. To in effect enslave Blackwall/Rainier into your control. (Maybe the old ways of the Evanuris persist still, that moment you get that first taste of true power).

For my Lavellan, Thom turning himself in solidified that even through the deception, that was absolutely the man she fell in love with. And if the nobles hated how she used the Inquisition's leverage to free him? They can all sod off, they all hated her anyway because she's an elf. She's an elf who loves Thom Rainier.

[recreationalfanfics]

Some Assassin's Creed x Genshin Brainrot I've been having:

1. A reader whose like Barbara. I have her and I would absolutely kill for her. Like, the reader is the daughter of a doctor who isn't necessarily an assassin but married one so they help when one of the assassin's get hurt and the reader sings as she works to help them and the assassin's can't help but smile. AND I MEAN THIS IN A PLATONIC WAY, LIKE, YOU ARE THE SAME AGE AS BARBARA but I just think it'd be a cute idea because you're a very good medic and doctor and the assassin's enjoy seeing you. Like if you're in Connor's time period, he will be silent as you sing but he does have the smallest smile on his face and if you ask him: "Are you feeling better, Mr. Ratonhnhaké:ton?" he's internally adopted you already- JACOB ABSOLUTELY ADORES YOU, the only child in London who HASN'T tried to rob him, and Evie definetly has a soft spot for you two. When you tell Evie that you really look up to her and that you want to be just as smart as her someday, she gets kinda shy and Jacob gets jealous BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO BE LIKE HER, HE'S SUPER COOL TOO- I can see some of the more crude assassin's trying to watch their language around you. EDWARD STRUGGLES SO HARD but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable so he TRIES HIS BEST. Arno is very gentlemanly so if he's ranting to someone while you're fixing him up, he'll politely tell you to cover your ears. And so on and so forth-

2. Childe x Ratonhnhaké:ton! Reader. Like in the sense that the reader has his personality and beliefs. This dynamic would be interesting to me in the sense that Childe fights because the Abyss gave him that need but the reader would fight because it is their duty. Also because of the dynamic that'd they'd both be unhinged in their own way. Childe is more obviously unhinged but let's not forget that Ratonhnhaké:ton ran through a city that was being BOMBED just to get to the man who he was after. So let's say the reader's target is Childe and they just run through an entire army. Normal people would be terrified by that kind of persistence, especially if that person wants them dead, but Childe just having the biggest grin on his face because he might be in love- However, Childe also loving the kind and compassionate side of the reader and how that kindness and compassion never falters. Not to mention that he'd definetly admire how honest the reader is and like how the reader does have some sympathy for Childe and his childhood but how they can't let that sympathy distract them from doing what's right.

- OKAY SO YOU KNOW THOSE SAGAU GENSHIN STORIES? Maybe something like that where the reader is an ISU hybrid so they have the golden blood and skin markings that light up but because of how the ISU act in the Assassin's Creed verse, THEY ARE HELLA DISTRUSTING OF THE ARCHONS AND THE ARCHONS ARE SO HURT BC WHAT DID THEY DO-

- Just an Assassin's Creed reader in general somehow getting into the Genshin universe PURELY BECAUSE I think it would be funny how they would absolutely outclimb everyone. Like, I have a hard time with climbing in Genshin because I always forget the stamina bat but in AC, most of the game play is just climbing really tall things so the reader just escaping everyone by climbing taller than them. Or like, they're constantly found brooding on some sort of high ground. Also because imagine they get a vision and one of the characters is all: "Okay, now we'll teach you how to use Elemental Vision-" and the reader is all: "Oh, is it like Eagle vision?" and they're all: "Wtf is eagle vision-"

- THE ASSASSIN CREED READER HAVING AN EAGLE SIDEKICK, IDK, I JUST THINK THAT'D BE COOL.

- Diluc would actually be a good member of the Brotherhood, like, I don't have the creativity to write it but someone give that man a hidden blade.

[yestrnight]

slime brainrot anon, back again with another, shorter rot for ya. bc the first one got too long

shrinking yourself to tag along with alhaitham to work! cw for: dubcon, exhibitionism, kink discovery, i do not know how his job works so i just guessed lol

at first, you simply chill in his belt-pouch thing (it's a fanny pack but mihoyo won't admit it), sit on his shoulder or head, or roll around on his desk until you eventually get bored and slide down into his pants.

he tries his best to get you out, but sticky and slippery as you are, you persist, so he eventually resigns himself to his fate. it's going to be a long day when each step of his makes you shift around his cock. at least his belts and sashes cover up the evidence.

in an unfortunate turn of events, alhaitham is forced to walk much more than usual that shift. while he usually sits at his desk, he now has to pace laps around the archives sorting and organizing tomes.

and to make matters worse, you've escalated from simply wrapping yourself around him, to actually moving and teasing him.

the poor scribe is trying his best to keep the shaking of his legs, and the noises that threaten to slip out to a minimum. but after some time, he's stumbling as he walks, using the walls and shelves for support.

eventually, he gets oh so close, having to stop and lean up against a bookshelf, gripping the shelves while he tries in vain not to buck his hips into nothing. and alhaitham bites his lip, breathes in, and out, tries to keep level, but he can't help the quiet, low, breathy moans that slip out, and the way his head tips back and his eyes roll up into his skull.

luckily, the archives are usually quiet. unluckily, one of his superiors has ambled in, looking for a specific file.

and alhaitham can't decide if it's luck or unlucky that you've slowed your pace, but not stopped.

his self control is almost, almost strong enough to keep from breaking. hey, he made it pretty far into the ordeal, you have to give him that.

alhaitham's not exactly the religious type- far from it, but he thanks all of celestia that the unknowing sage is turned away, absorbed in the sound of their own one sided conversation. and that he's able to keep quiet enough when he cums in his pants, only letting out one, hitching intake of breath as he grips the shelves so hard he almost dents them, mouth open in a silent moan, convulsing, nearly collapsing.

for a sage, his superior is pretty stupid. chalking up the scribe's somewhat debauched appearance- his flushed face, labored breath, and slight tremble to fatigue, recommending him a cup of tea and a break before sauntering out.

he does end up taking a break, watching you gurgle happily in slime form while you bounce around his office, and he just doesn't have it in him at the moment to discipline you.

because he's too busy thinking about why in the hell being secretly fucked in front of one of his bosses felt so good.

extras!! cw for: implied dom character (but it's vague enough,) mild objectification, slime cum, aphrodisiac

letting one (or several) of your masters actually be in control for once, by using you as a fleshlight

it's obvious that fucking them brought you some level of enjoyment, but were slimes actually capable of bona fide sexual pleasure?

apparently, they are. and your masters are drinking up your adorable reactions to having your slime gspot? prostate? erogenous zone??? massaged by their cocks.

and apparently, slimes can also cum. if this sweet smelling, viscous material you're gushing counts.

in a moment of poor impulse control (some might claim scientific curiosity), they find out that it tastes as sweet as it smells. and- ah, they'd be regretting that decision if their minds weren't clouded by an almost unbearable desire for more.

their judgement may be a bit skewed right now, but perhaps a few more rounds wouldn't hurt... actually, fuck it. they need more.

it's bound to be a long day, and night, for the both of you.

isn't it always though? hey, at least this time, they might actually be able to keep up with you.

super excited for part two of the series :)

actually feeling really horny for slime reader so i'm gonna satiate myself with this masterpoece in my inbox <3

ahhh haitham being fucked wide open in front of his boss <33 and subby slime reader being used as a pocket pussy for their masters :(( they're so cute fr

[ziorite]

buckle up lads— i’ve played cello since before kindergarten and even if i’m no virtuoso, i’m about to unleash my thoughts on the scheherazade job upon the world anyways.

look, if hardison was good enough to play the scheherzade solo at fourteen there’s just no way he sounds that shit even if he hasn’t touched the instrument for ten years. he’s supposed to have been the most promising violinist in the city which has to be stiff competition because most classically trained string players start playing young. like three to five years old young. and we know hardison was a foster kid so he almost certainly started later than most. obviously he was talented, but now he can’t even play a scale? it just doesn’t make sense to me from what i know. i’ve gone a month without touching my cello and pretty much hopped straight back into the stuff i was practicing before after fifteen minutes of warm up. the knowledge of how to hold a bow and pull it across the string and make quality sound is the kind that doesn’t leave you— for anyone of teenage hardison’s supposed skill, that instinct is part of you for LIFE. so no, the persistent portrayal of present day hardison as completely incompetent just doesn’t sit right with me.

but that doesn’t mean i think he could pull off scheherazade’s solo without nate’s rather convenient hypnosis. so i googled around and here’s the sheet music:

to be honest i thought it would be absolute batshit crazy the way they treated it in the show. the shifts are kind of crazy but i can see a very dedicated fourteen year old who practiced the shit out of this solo being able to play it. not to say it’s not still hard! there are some SERIOUS high notes that you’d be hard pressed to hit perfectly every time even with weeks of practice under your belt. shit makes me sweat and i don’t even play that instrument.

it’s a damn impressive solo for a teenager to be playing and an absolutely deranged one to try and perform on such little notice. that’s why i need someone to rewrite the scheherazade job with more focus on hardison and his violin dammit! i feel like hardison would be able to bluff his way through the other parts of the piece with enough practice in the time he has before the job, but there’s just no way he’d be able to play that solo on his own after ten years of not touching the violin. he might not even be able to practice during all the time he has— his calluses would be gone!! that’s a whole other story!!

string instruments strings are vicious y’all. and a VAST majority of the scheherazade solo is on the teeny tiny e string that basically slices through raw fingertips. i can barely make it through five minutes of dedicated practice shifting around on my thinnest string and i’ve had my calluses built up for years; i can file these babies with a nail file and poke a hot pan with them— they get pretty damn thick, and hardison’s working with nuthin y’all. you can only go so far before you give yourself an actual blister you physically cannot play on.

as a result, i feel like hardison would’ve let nate hypnotize him if ONLY the oily little slime ball (with hate and love) had told him. i really don’t understand why nate didn’t say anything until the first place. aren’t they supposed to have learned that you’re not supposed to con your own crew already?? (not that i think nate would ever really take that to heart.)

anyways, that’s my hardison-should-be-better-at-violin propaganda as well as my why-the-scheherazade-job-needs-to-be-rewritten manifesto. maybe i’ll write it myself one of these days— leverage brainrot is real and it is a sickness. hope this 2 am rant didn’t disrupt anyone’s dashes too much!

[nishnormp]

thinking way too hard about things that probably do not need this much thought

In lieu of tfc merc brainrot, I have decided to do some historical research and character workshopping to shape out the details of everything needed in ficwriting. I have nothing else to post (my art is not going well) so I might as well scream about this

P1: TF2 alternate history bullshit

Abraham Lincoln inventing rocket jumping before the existence of stairs, the entire thing with Australium, so on. Despite TFC having modern kevlar (as opposed to looney toons weapons, but a bit about that later) and a more serious/gritty tone, the setting is still within the TF2 universe; which means having a weird fusion of irl history and vaguely reasonable fantasy absurdities.

To clarify, I am not a bona fide history nut who knows absolutely everything (ffs my own country's history doesn't even play much in western incidents). I've just been doing research thru online articles, videos, and talking to other ppl who know more than me, so my brain can lack a bit for certain things; do correct me if I get anything wrong.

By the 1850s (estimation) Australia became a tech giant due to discovering Australium, making insane progress in basically every field (and also making their population very jacked). Newfound inventions also require raw resources, and this page confirms that australians pick their leader mostly based on pure strength, which begs the question; are they still connected to Britain? Would there still be a benefit for them to be linked to Britian the way they are?

There are many cases where nations plunder other nations just for natural resources; Britian is one particularly infamous force with many colonies, which makes me wonder if Australia ever resorted to snatching them just to afford all the material components that their tech requires. Australia was part of the British Empire up until 1901 irl (not too far from 1890), but the question about resources and sovereignty(even if symbolic) still remain (Britain likely wouldn't like a territory growing at terrifying and eventually unmanageable rates, and at that rate I doubt Australia would settle for middling trade margins)

(Well, apparently Saxton owns England. But that was when he discovered the internet)

There's also the ensemble of first gen mercs. RED and BLU recruit progressively less important mercs as time goes on, starting from important historical/media figures, to modern militant professional-lookin dudes, and finally to the current crop of crackheaded TF2 mercs we know and love. The Original mercs I mostly want to focus on are Abraham Lincoln and John Henry.

I'm not exactly sure if John Henry is even a real person, but he was a symbol for labor movements and the civil rights movement; the fact that he IS a real person in TF2 lore is p vital methinks, especially since him and Lincoln seem to be on the same team. Mercs are paid a lot, even the "bottom of the barrel" tf2 ones: scout has his merch collection to show for it, medic has his exotic animal parts, heavy has his gun ammo (and also casually gave a child 7k dollars), etc; could John Henry have spearheaded civil rights movements not just in America but also other territories (like africa) with the bread and merits he got for the job? Does he have a legacy with rouge merc groups (armed unions?) that fight against imperialism? Maybe even effect/radicalize Lincoln about some things??? Unethical business practices still persist even in Saxton's era (hell, he's an example) but maybe the (hypothetical) challenges to Britain's grasp on its colonies and evolution of munitions would give the people an edge.

I have no idea how a drastically colony-less Britain would affect the timeline of WW1 (esp in less popular side-wars like in South Africa where Britain was very much involved, which may be problematic since my interp of cmedic is FROM there but anyways) (btw they only won that bc they out-attritioned Germany, but by that point maybe the dutch or the americans would take over), but surprisingly enough WW2 ends at around the same time it does irl, despite my initial thought that a roided-out Allied Australia would be more than capable of turning the Axis Powers into a skidmark. The likely explanation for that is that the finer details were just not important for the tf2 comics that took place AFTER (fair enough), but as someone planning to write the 1930s mercs . Pain . My working explanation is that seemingly unaligned private contractors can get ahold of weapons easier than Certain governments, which makes mercs more popular than national soldiers for carrying out certain missions (plausible employer deniability baybeeee).

P2: Conflicting class meta - CHeavy edition

Onto something less heavy, another part of ficwriting is figuring out how characters are...characterized. The TFC mercs dont have much canonical info (I've already turned two of them into straight up ocs because I am NOT going to write p3dos from start to finish of a longfic) so I settle for looking at other things, like gameplay and ingame roles.

The first I focused on was cheavy, the leader of the group. Grouchy, but a surprisingly tolerant team player.

This IS reused from a previous post (im lazy) but the first bullet basically says "otherwise, offensive heavies are frequently looked down on and the power of the other team's defense will have you dead in no time". Gameplay-wise, CHeavy is considered the simplest class and the easiest one to master; most tfc gamers think its a common noob pick. His total health is pretty good, he occupies a big space so he can block narrow paths, and the way he attacks is simple; but he's slow even when b-hopping (grenades cant boost him either) so he can be outrun/picked apart by other classes, which really shows in tfc's most popular game format: capture the flag.

I've seen about a handful video of tfc gameplay that WASN'T ctf (or the slightly diff gamemode with a defense system), and even if the 4th bullet point is right, those two classes are usually doing more important things during ctf. My main point is that despite being the leader, he isn't the type of class to lead the charge.

The most reasonable thing I can think of is that he's just . Really good at strategy and can keep track of his team while reliably holding down a position. That, and his superior bulk makes him shine more outside of the gravel pits. Whatever it is, it does make more sense to me now that I revisit the comic panels where he is VERY spiteful that his teammates got killed (rather than calling them weak, they fr matter to him bc otherwise, he isn't getting shit done)

(Ik the reason hes the boss is bc big scary dude and karmic ass-handing via other heavy who actually respects his doctor but shh the fic demands reasons)

P3: Conflicting class meta - Cmedic edition

The contradiction I can immediately clock is the fact that cmedic never gets mentioned despite his omnipresence in his original game. Most hc's I've seen interpret him as the exact opposite of the current medic, which is a dedicated doctor who also happens to be a sweetheart (with very rare exceptions), but may I propose the theory that all mannco medic mercs are bastards? I'm 99% sure that the original medic was sigmund freud. TF2 medic is just a menace. Post WW1 most moral and noble medics would bust their asses at hospitals rather than sign up to a contract tying them down to just healing 8 other people and killing other people over and over, but that's just my hc (we're all making shit up, might as well have fun with it).

The most common citing for cmed's hidden menace energy is his virus weaponry, but I think his ingame role also shows it pretty well. Practically taking the scout's niche and making it less punishing by having straight upgrades of his two weapons, giving healing utility AND also being able to sniff out spies like a cscout (he can't diffuse bombs or trail caltrops, but he's already powerful as is). Imagine being cscout, having to compete for flag capture points with this guy who practically has everything you have but better (instead of leaving behind super visible spikes he has a college degree). This isn't even like the modern sniper vs spy debate where it can still be debated that spy has a unique niche with his mindgames, cmedic just straight up took copied his homework, 98% percent matching on the plagiarism bot.

Cscout and cmedic beef is very likely, but if cscout is a literal god at what he does then there won't be much issue, since the best cscout is ultimately better at flagrunning than cmedic. Its likely that cscout is simply human tho, so that's some drama that can happen.

Funnily enough the tfc class that gets the most weight and hate on its shoulders is sniper. This is because servers have a limit on how many snipers can join, and if a shitty sniper took up the slots, the rest of the team would be pretty pissed. Meanwhile, a competent sniper is the bane of every player's existence; a missed shot can still slow someone down until a medic cures them.

P4: cmedic backstory building hell - barely organized nonsense

Last one I swear. My drawings of cmedic explicitly portray him as a person of color- more specifically a cape malay, from the cape territory in South Africa; he even curses in malay in one of the posts. Ig I wanted the cast to be more diverse, but it did make his backstory somewhat harder to write.

Mann co is situated in New Mexico, far from SA. How and why did he get all the way there? With the fanon worldbuilding I set, what is stopping him from simply joining a nearer merc group? Probably heard of it through the grapevine, and travelled for fat stacks; wouldn't be uncommon for doctors (or mercs) to be highly motivated due to money. I wondered of what would set him apart from all the other hypothetical medic applicants that probably graduated from upstanding colleges like harvard, then I recall all those common hcs.

1)Most applicants assumed that the job would consist of primarily healing, without considering how bloodthirsty their company would be, and/or 2)the BLU team has been getting genuine medics and chewing them up like gum (and spitting them out utterly mangled, I suppose). There's also the possibility that some margin of these medics actually had some weapon training, but at that point a lot of time has been spent (also some conflicting motives there, I can't imagine the perks that a deadly merc job has over a hospital job unless the guy got a kick out of it).

My next idea was to make him a ww1 vet on the side of the British (australian? american?) colonies of SA, having joined midway after finishing his education. However this would clock his age during the current 1970s timeline to be around 81, pretty old; most of the tfc mercs would be 70s max around that time. Cmedic is visually the youngest of the mercs too, you can compare his smooth eyes to the more sunken cspy's eyes and there is a notable difference. This is really just an issue of me being on the fence about fully oc-fying him (a friend of him suggested making him a vampire, I am almost tempted to make it so).

In the case that particular hurdle is overcome, there are more details I have to iron out. I figured that his motives either come from wanting to financially help out his family after the war's sheer devastation, or just . a general resentment for the way things unfolded, and he swapped to merc work in the states to get properly paid for his work and (attempt to) fill the void in his soul. Maybe a mix of the two. An outlier in his community for being a godless man and having very material and tangible masters (science and money), he abandons the lofty ideals of nationalism and sides himself with the highest bidder in the private market. Also developed an insane immune system (trenches and exposure are no joke).

(Certain classes have shared characteristics across gens, like the demos' deranged smiles and engies' wholesome vibes. With sigmund freud, tf2 medic as the archetypal mad doctor, and tfc medic as the archetypal capitalist doctor, there are now three gens of doctors with dubious machinations.)

He'd probably be a great medic, respecting merc code and all (funfact tf2 medic mentions tfc demo by name, implying that he knows his real name and putting a dent in my theory that being on a first-name basis is a big deal actually , my countertheory to that is that grey mann gave him the team's files and tf2 medic wants to spite them). Cmedic also reverse-engineered the medkit and made a new version for non-gravel war missions, since the usual has several hard drugs (heals to full instantly and gives adrenaline boost, sounds sus especially if you read jarate's side effects) since he ended up somewhat caring about his pack of rabid animals

[chibishortdeath]

General Simon brainrot sketch page :3, as per usual, explanations under a cut. Apologies if my posts tend to be kinda huge and difficult to scroll past, I try to do the cuts to make sure they do the least inconvenience to anyone! (>-< ;)

Just the whole page in full ft. My thumb lol

Expression practice! Simon is feeling the weight of his situation rn alas :(. I’ve always imagined him being panicked the whole game; the overarching entire game timer really gives a pretty good feeling of dread imo. The two doodles at the bottom were attempts at multiple ideas I’ve seen floating around about the curse, but they’re kinda bad in execution looking at them no tbh. But the first one is based on the idea that the curse gives some vampire traits like sharp teeth and would probably lead to proper vampirism if he were to die from it. The second was general attempt at like skull practice and comparing facial features to skull structure, but oh my god the page kept smudging and I tried making it look ok with some random blood on there but it just made it look even sillier 💀.

These next two are based on two random like liminal space images I ran into on Pinterest and I drew them mostly because I suck at backgrounds and idk Simon’s Quest itself is like Castlevania: Liminal Space Edition a lot of the time, so it fits X,,,,D. The first one I really liked the composition of the path on the far side contrasted to the trees. Imagine the water is the purple cursed swamp :3. Hopefully Simon has laurels just standin around in there.

This second liminal space for Simon to be in was this neat nighttime photo of a graveyard! Trees are HARD TO DRAW, especially just in pencil and a solid black background. There’s blood on the ground and stuff cause he was just fighting some monsters, probably those two headed lizard guys. It’s the awkward stillness after clearing out an area of enemies.

The pose for this one is based on the LOL~lots of laugh Miku figure lmao 💀💀💀

Simon is very fun to put in exaggerated poses! Especially cause you have to exaggerate them more to get the same ratio of pose to negative space because muscles and armor. I had no idea how to make metal belt armor thingies sit in a like legs up floating sort of pose like this so they kinda bend a little weird but eh he looks cute otherwise. The other doodles present are one that says “brainrot” which is kinda making fun of my own dedication to an NES character 💀 and also cause haha rot like the curse. Also, teeny tiny Simon with a heart!!! :3

Yippie! Simon posing again! I think the first pose was inspired by this like random old anime style angel figure??? Idk I think she was just an original character figure and the pose was pretty different, I just used the reference mostly for the arm position. Anyway, he’s vibin, just sitting curled up and momentarily comfy. Alas, the horrors persist in the second doodle that was an attempt at showing how the curse kinda deteriorates him but he just kinda ended up having a scarily snatched waist and it looks more stylized than like sick. Also the armor kinda bends around him in a way that makes it look like it shrunk with him which is so dumb lmaooooo (XwX). I’ll have to revisit the concept eventually idk, just look at his face for this one XD. Hahaha tiny doodle based on Larval Rin on the left there, nothing to see here—

The main doodle is just Simon looking into the distance bewildered and holding the whip, standard stuff. There’s also a side profile doodle and an attempt at drawing crying again cause I was getting kinda rusty at both of those things.

Simon Belmont but if he was 2000s anime lol. A fun little style experiment, I might keep this as like another secondary art style. There’s also some doodles of a hanged man skeleton, the eyes of Vlad, a skeleton hand, and a couple little chibi Simon’s of various expressions.

More 2000s anime Simon, but in a more silly way like the art style change for joke sections. One is him just goofily holding up Dracula’s head, but it’s contrasted immediately with a more gritty usual art style doodle of him with harsh shading lol. Get you a man who can do both I guess 💀

I gotta practice more on backgrounds and composition and stuff, probably also get some curse effects consistent augh. Lately I’ve been on and off working on random things or just staring into space tired, getting back to using social media is hard and an exhausting uphill battle unfortunately (_ _ ;). Sometimes I feel like I should probably split these up into multiple posts to make things more visible and to put more focus on specific drawings, but idk I don’t really want to, it just feels weird to me breaking up a doodle page like that, if that makes sense??? Eh idk.

[rainbow-okapi]

Pokémon Scarlet/Violet headcannons w/MC who has Disabilities

Just me projecting, thought I’d share. Typed very hastily lol pls excuse the errors

Minor Game Spoilers | SFW

It’s is past my bedtime buuuuuuuut… Courtesy of the Arven Brainrot.

- Since Uva/Naranja Academy praises it’s diversity, I think to think they have decent accommodations for students

- There’s alternate routes around Mesagoza with accessible ramps and elevators. There’s no implied rules that students can’t ride a Pokémon up the main stairs of death to get to school either. (As someone with Cerebral Palsy, those stairs… they scare me. I would trip and die instantly if the embarrassment didn’t get me first)

- People don’t really ‘talk’ about the elevators and ramps tho so the faculty usually tell the students when they enroll

- Professors are mindful of students who need to keep snacks on them and will let most Pokémon sit with their trainers during classes for anxiety or other medical reasons

- Ya know the whole extra time on tests and all that. Extra time to get between classes for students with mobility issues.

- Ms. Dendra is a wonderful Battle Studies teacher and I liked to think she also does General PE classes on the side. You think she’s just gonna let children roam around without helping build up a bit of strength for all those hills and mountains they gotta climb??? No, she’s gonna make you run laps.

- She’ll hella nice about it tho. Just send her an email or talk to her before classes and she’ll hit you up with modified workouts so you can still participate with the class on your own preferred level.

- When Director Clavell showed up at the MC’s house at the start of the game and the mom was talking with him, I like to think he was making sure the student file was accurate

- Just so he had all the information to make sure the student would have all the support they needed during their time there at the academy since the MC was staying in the dorms

MOVING ON! Crater Squad GO

- I used to wear Ankle-Foot Orhtotics and had to use a walker for a bit soooo

Nemona:

- Nemona doesn’t even bat an eye at whatever aids you have

- Doesn’t outright ask questions but pays attention if you ever talk about it

- It helps open her world view

- If anything, if you customized them to feel more stylish/comfortable, she’d think it was hella neat! Would probably give you stickers and stuff to add to them

- She’ll probably gift you some of those cool compression sleeves like the one that she wears. Gets excited about what colors you might want and gets very happy if you wear the same color as hers.

- This girl looked at you and adopted you as her freshman rival in a heartbeat

- If anyone messes with you or starts rumors she is on. Their. Asses.

- Immediately reported to the nearest faculty member and will write a full report if the issue persists.

- She knows you can handle yourself though. Even if she worries, she tries not to hover. Will check in with you often tho

- If you have an odd gate (walking pattern) she might forget sometimes when she sees you and freak out that you’re limping from a Pokémon injury or something. A very brief second of panic.

- Catches herself wondering if a task might be too hard for you only to be proven wrong seconds later

- She’s just thinks you’re the coolest

- Doesn’t mind at all if you need to sit down for a bit after battling or on the treasure hunt

- She forgets that some people need breaks often and you asking for one reminds her to take a breather herself

- She has the stamina to battle for two whole hours but even then, she will not get between you and a snack

- Love love Loves how down to earth and practical you are about certain things but you still became a Champion despite everything. She won’t tell you, but the whole Pokémon League is impressed by you

- You’re a beacon of strength to her, even on your bad pain days if you get them

Penny:

- Penny overlaps a bit with Nemona

- Doesn’t bat an eye but will passively look up information

- Prefers to ask you questions tho, sometimes in person, usually over txt

- I like that her room is so dim, if a bit cluttered

- If you chill there for a bit, you will always have at least one Veevee in your lap or next to you

- Penny thinks it’s the cutest and she has a photo of you in a complete pile of Veevee’s

- You fell asleep on her bed and they all just collectively decided to pile on top of you. It was very cozy.

- Penny probably has a weighted blanket or a plush she’ll let you use

- She might even put on some Lo-Fi music if you asked her to, or she’ll play heavy electronic music at a low volume

- She just likes your company, she doesn’t feel pressured around you and she hopes you feel comfortable around her as well

- Worries more vocally than Nemona, and will find herself saying “that seems like a bit much”

- *catches you doing the very thing out of spite*

- “tHAT WASN’T A CHALLENGE?! STOP BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF?!?”

- Always has a snack on her and will share. Only with you tho

Arven ooooh Arven Big Brother Arven:

- Even if he was defensive to you at first, he immediately had a ping of concern when he met you

- Got so worried when you went to take down titans, especially the Open Sky Titan

- Openly asks questions about your disability and DIGS into research about it in his own time

- He wants to know everything and anything he can help with

- You’re convinced that some of that nurturing caregiving he gave to Mabostiff bled over to how he is with you

- Got genuinely curious if the Herba Mystica actually helped you (Especially the Salty Herba Mystica in my case lol)

- He’s always racing to your side to check on you when you actually fight the titans

- Always checks in when walking anywhere

- If the group wants to travel someplace he’s always the first to turn to you and ask if you’re up for it

- Will totally carry you if you just asked. If he’s not wearing his big hiking bag, he will give a piggyback ride. Even in between classes.

- Always reaching out a hand to steady you. Will let you hold onto him for support down/up stairs or slopes

- Cuddles. He can hardly initiate them at first but will never complain if you happen to lean on his shoulder or flop into his lap.

- The off-time he does initiate the cuddles at first, it’s usually to make you stop pushing yourself so hard.

- Oh, look at that, you’re in his lap now… guess you can’t go training like your body is telling you Not To Do But You Decided To Anyway.

- Gets pretty comfortable with Cuddles with you quickly tho. Once he’s gotten off the ‘Oh, Affection for once in my life’ shock

- I imagine he likes to hold hands too.

- He gives you little hand massages if you get fatigue from throwing pokeballs or writing too many notes. He doesn’t realize he does it it sometimes, it just happens if he’s holding your hand at the time.

- Memorizes your favorite comfort foods to make when everything gets too much. Uses your favorite color bowls/plates and everything. It’s perfect.

- Mabostiff declares himself your personal heater. No one has the heart to tell him he’s not quite a lap dog anymore.

Misc. Group ideas:

- all of them subconsciously bracket around you. Arven and Penny are always glaring at anyone who gives you looks

- Nemona also likes to hold hands. She’s always looking for an excuse to pull you around.

- Arven has to tell her to slow down often

- Penny may or may not have gushed to Team Star about you and you are on all of their ‘protect at all costs’ list

- Even if you did wipe the floor with them

- If the group stops by a store but you want to sit outside and wait, Penny will always sit with you to keep you company. She and Arven send each other memes and she’ll show them to you.

- Nemona is the queen of ‘I saw this thing and it reminded me of you’

- Tbh, that happens so often with everyone tho

- If it’s raining and it makes your bones ache and your chronic pain worse, the group will be there at your dorm. They refuse. Absolutely refuse to let you suffer alone.

- You cannot stop them, they just all collectively bee-line straight to you eventually.

- *rain starts pouring down*

- Arven: huh, guess we’re having dinner at my place tonight…

- Group cuddles after dinner. Cuddles and a TV marathon with Pokémon. It’s bliss

[missallanea-a]

additional mini Eda headcanons because the brainrot persists:

Eda can see remarkably well in the dark, but in turn has a more difficult time seeing in well lit situations. Bright lights ( ie spotlights ) can practically blind her. The night vision is particularly handy when catching students who tried to sneak out in the dead of night, or furry sons when they try to sneak into the kitchen. Eda can sit in complete darkness and see what's happening around her fairly well.

Yes, she molts. Once a year, and she hates every dang second of it. For about a week, she sheds feathers consistently and is just unbearably itchy. As one might expect, she becomes utterly pitiful during this time. Take pity on the big bird lady, she itchy.

Eda uses the same hand cream as Dell, a heavy duty sort that is good for people who work with their hands. It was something of a habit to buy the same one, because she used it when she would carve with him as a girl.

Eda's primary love language is physical touch. Despite the fact that she wasn't much of a hugger before Luz, she's always been particularly prone to touching the people she cares about : a hand on the shoulder, rubbing their back, ruffling their hair. This only gets worse if she's romantically involved with the other party. In that case, she doesn't seem to be happy if she isn't making contact with them in some way.

Raine kissed Eda first, but Eda said I love you first.

( ...okay, Raine may have kissed Eda first, but she did outright tell them they could before they did. )

Eda takes up space, and encourages the people around her to do so as well. By this, I mean physically. She's always been a taller lady, and while there was a very brief time in her teen years where she was insecure about this, she got over it when she realized that pretending to be small made her feel small. So, she sits with her legs spread on her couch. Holds her hands behind her head, elbows out, when walking through the market. She has zero qualms with making people get out of her way.

Relating to the above, however, she always gets down on someone's level when she's speaking to them, even if she has to outright crouch in order to do so.

Eda absolutely used the body swap spell on the Hagside squad. She managed to rope Lilith, Raine, Alador, and Darius in on it as well. It was... an interesting day, to say the least.

Eda runs hot. Like, hot hot. She's practically a space heater for her partners.

[marvellousstawler]

Mon 9 Oct

Welcome to the special post-PAXAus edition of...my journal, I guess? I'm going to start with one of my takeaways from a panel I attended featuring Erika Ishii. I was struck with the honesty of their advice to the audience, a sort of honesty usually eschewed in panels like these in favour of a pristine optimism to inspire hope in the audience. She outlined it this way: getting to do the thing you love as a career is a fusion of hard work/persistent effort toward that thing, and right-place-right-time-right-person opportunity. So, no matter what career you have (or do not have), ALWAYS do the thing you love whenever you get a chance. Because you need to be ready for when those opportunities present themselves, even if they never will. I personally found that very inspiring, given how much of my time and energy I now have to spend on my Big Girl Job(tm).

But, to add to her advice, I think there was something Ishii missed an opportunity to address in their panel; your passion shouldn't come at the cost of you. If you have a job or something else that takes all the energy out of you, it's no good putting even more pressure on yourself to get art/writing/whatever done if it's just going to burn you out. One thing that I'm very happy that she emphasised is this: it's more than okay, to be JUST ok at things! More people should let themselves be just ok at things.

Art My past self was right in her prediction of my current self -- I am indeed the owner of a wonderfully shitty Flame Emperor Mask, and I'm pleased to report that it is just as janky, creepy and inconvenient to both wear and carry as could be expected of a first-time cosplay-maker. I met many extremely talented cosplayers at PAX; it ain't easy and it ain't cheap; mad respect. It was a surreal experience, taking (as they say in D&D) a level of exhaustion, just to complete an item to wear for one day (in case you're wondering what inspired me to provide the soapbox paragraph above this one). Even so, it is now proudly displayed on my bookshelf, well worth doing just to try something new and do something fun. Let me know in the replies if you'd like to see it. I *might* still have some time this evening to work on my cool D&D characters picture (working title is 'Sisters In Moons') now that I've completed the mask, but actually my priority this evening is to catch up on rest. PAXing is taxing.

Writing So much Mittelfranks brainrot I literally opened Google Docs on my phone to work on it during my lunchbreak, which given I usually need a nice quiet comfy space with a desk and computer to do any work, is very unlike me. Where's all this motivation for my other projects! Still, only writing for 5 minutes at a time whenever I get a chance to open my phone, while perfectly respectable, hasn't actually yielded a great many words, this week. The only other thing I worked on was one of two D&D-related projects (one for each character/campaign I'm in atm), where I attempt to make notes about every NPC we've met and their factions, using the style and cadence of the character I'm playing. I don't believe I'll be able to write either of them as quickly as new NPCs get introduced, but gosh darn if I ain't gonna try.

Reading I have not had much opportunity to read this week. I usually read on the train, and these past days I have just been too tired to do anything but stare out the window. I did, however, on the way home from the end of PAX, get the sudden resolve to purge my room of the "excess" books I've accrued throughout my life, either from gift-givers who wished plenty but knew little, or a Past Self trying to shape herself into something that she would never be. I have no issue keeping books of childhood significance in this room, with the expectation that they will remain here when I move out, but everything that is no longer providing positive energy, even if it's just neutral energy, should be brought to a better home. It would be unethical to let those books remain here, where they can't be at their most loved!

Thaaaaaaaat said I'm not likely to get a free weekend any time soon...

Don't forget to vote.

[catfuyus]

Wolf Hybrid Baji !

Tags: hybrids, mild wounds, little blood, fem bodied reader, I made Mikey blonde cuz why not, mentions of fated pairs, dubcon, noncon (reader is down but mentally fighting), oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, marking (hickeys), scratching, squirting, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unsafe sex, finishing inside (if that’s called something I can’t remember)

A/N: my brain just kept going and I ended up trying to cut it short to spare everyone the pain lol, the brainrot was too strong, hybrid alternative universe, no gangs and everyone’s an adult at this point, also i suck at tagging things lol let me know if anything needs to be added, minors dni, 18+

Summary: You’re not this person. You’re not someone that falls fast or falls hard, preferring a silent independence to anything that could be as emotionally involving as friendship or even romance. But after stumbling into a persistent and injured hybrid in the woods, you’re met face to face with an overwhelming temptation you do little to resist.

Who you stumble into on a long hike through the woods. It’s a rare chance that you’d actually commit yourself to some outdoor exercise, but the smell of rain and damp earth lured you out of bed and into the tree line.

You don’t see him at first. You feel the overbearing, looming presence of something dangerous. Something big. Your steps fall slower. You move more quietly. The damp leaves help conceal your presence as you step further and further away from the abandoned trail.

Until you suddenly meet his golden, glowing eyes. Shrouded by darkness where the light doesn’t break through the green.

Despite their glowing nature and despite the fact that you can’t see very far into the deeper part of the woods, you’re drawn to him. Your eyes fall to the forest floor, ensuring you don’t trip on your slow way over to him. You assume he’ll just run if he doesn’t want you near. His eyes never leave your face.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize he can’t run. One large, leather boot is trapped by the metal jaws of a bear trap. The sharpened points digging deeply into the leather.

When your eyes meet his face again, you realize the largeness is due to his own surprise. Not the predatory glare you took it for.

He looks rather calm for a hybrid caught in a trap. Sitting patiently in the cold mud with one long leg sticking out far. He’s dressed well enough for the hike. A fitted black shirt and grey cargo pants. No outer gear to protect him from the rain though. And long, flowing black hair that falls past his shoulders. The sharp pointed ears of a wolf hybrid unmistakable atop that crown of midnight hair.

He’s beautiful. Intimidating, but beautiful. Even the masculine features of his face are easy on your eyes.

You step closer, and he doesn’t growl. “Want me to get you out of here?” Your voice is light and airy to your own ears. You worry it sounds too much like an animal of prey, but his gaze just falls back to his trapped boot.

After a few clumsy failed attempts, you finally find a discarded metal pole that used to belong to a fence to pry the jaws open. He slowly takes his leg out, careful not to scratch along the pointed edges.

You watch cautiously as he pulls himself to his feet. Testing his weight on the previously trapped leg, and wincing slightly as he adjusts.

You frown. While he seems to be able to stand and put some weight on it, the injuries might be worse than he’s making them out to be. “Do you have an owner? Is there somewhere I can take you?” You slowly step closer and reach for the choker thats around his neck.

Your fingers graze the black leather, gently examining it for a name. An address. Anything. He’s patient as you search him. Almost chest to chest. He’s so well behaved for a wild animal, you’re sure he has to have an owner.

You notice, just barely, as his neck catches what little light is in your cascade of trees, that he has a name messily etched into the leather. “Baji. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

A slow smile breaks out on his face, displaying a pair of large fangs you hadn’t noticed before. You look back up to meet his eyes and realize the depth, the brown that you had mistaken for gold before.

A sudden warmth creeps over your face. Standing so close to him wouldn’t feel so awkward if hybrids weren’t so damn human looking.

“Okay,” you take a step back, “I’m gonna take you to an animal hospital or something. Get you checked out and then we’ll find your owner, okay?”

He frowns. Shoving his hands into his pockets. You’re not entirely sure what that means.

“You’re gonna follow me, okay?” You’re not even sure how much of your words he understands. What his human to wolf ratio even is.

He shrugs, nonchalant. As if he has another option and is humoring you.

“Alright, c’mon Baji.” As you turn away to lead him back to the trail through the forest, you hear his deep chuckle behind you.

You turn back to him immediately. Surprised. Shocked? You examine the plains of his smirking face, little fang poking out. You glare. Hybrids with a high wolf ratio shouldn’t be able to understand most human speech, let alone laugh. He must be more human that you had originally given him credit for. You examine the midnight ears atop is head. Unmistakably wolf. And decide to let it go for now. Either way, he was injured and needed medical attention.

You slowly weave your way back through the forest. Once on the trail, a few passers by glare at you for your unleashed hybrid, but there’s not much you can do about it.

Back to the beginning of the trail, you realize there isn’t a little medic tent perched up for you the way you were kinda expecting. Eyes darting around the dirt entrance as a few people parked their cars or entered the trail.

You turn to face him. Your heart skips, just for a second, as you get a good look at him in the light. He’s staring off at something in the distance. Brows furrowed and serious. Towering over you, muscular and fit. Dark hair catching the light. Black enough to absorb it into nothing. Absorb your attention as his amber eyes fall back to you.

He smiles.

“Uh,” you stutter, hand bashfully rubbing the back of your head. “Do you see your owner anywhere?”

He immediately shakes his head.

You hum in thought. Leaving him felt wrong, for more reasons other than his injury, though you didn’t want to delve into why just yet. “Okay, if I take you home to patch you up, that would be okay, right?”

His smile brightens, little fang, before a short nod. He seems a little too eager for your taste, making you mildly suspicious. What if he’s one of those people eating wolves?

You narrow your eyes at him just as his stance shifts. He winces in pain as he looks away, folding his arms over his chest as he places his weight back on his good leg.

“Okay. We’ll go back to my place and then we’ll concentrate on finding your owner.”

It’s a long drive back into the city, made short by your curiosity in him. He mostly acts like a man, joining you in the passenger seat for the ride. But his silence is baffling. Made even more complicated by his little chuckle earlier.

You admittedly don’t know a whole lot about hybrids. You do know, however, that you need a special license and need to meet certain living requirements to even own one. Neither of which you have. You mentally compile a list of needs and a flexible plan as you drive along the empty road. Baji is so well behaved that you just know his owner misses him. He’ll be out of your hair in no time.

It’s dark by the time you arrive. Your apartment is a small, cheap little room that is almost too small even for you. You make an honest living at a job that lets you balance your work life and your hobbies evenly enough though. Never having been too invested in living for a job, it’s enough to keep you happy.

You usher him into the small apartment, locking the door behind you. His size never fails to surprise you as you turn around and he’s right at your back. Dwarfing the things in your room as you have something to put him to scale.

“The bathroom’s this way.”

You have him sit on the lid of the toilet as you pull your first aid kit out from the top cabinet. He pulls his hiking boot off on his own. And you realize, belatedly, that you might’ve tracked mud into your home.

The wounds aren’t as bad as you expected. A few puncture and scratch marks that gave up on leaking fresh blood. You carefully clean his skin, scrubbing the dried blood off and taking the time to examine them. Nothing needs stitches. Wrapping his leg in gauze, you seal everything with medical tape.

“Well, now that you’re not dying,” you smile down at him from where you’re leaning against the sink. There’s a little pout pulling at his lips, his eyes heavily lidded, and you realize the hike and long drive might’ve tired him out. “C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”

You whip up something quick, unsure of how long it’s been since he’s eaten. Making more than sure to overfeed him in case he decides to devour you in the night. Zipping around the kitchen, keeping plates in motion, you pick at this or that as you go along. Retreating to your room for a moment to dig into your back closet. A big box of your ex’s old stuff. Your friend had begged you to throw it out, but it seems your sentimentality has finally come in handy.

Once Baji starts refusing food, you bring a few clothes and spare blankets into the living room. He follows you. Leaning one broad shoulder against the wall with an indecipherable expression.

“You can dress yourself, right?” You toss a casual glance his way while you make up the couch. He’s pouting. Even after eating all that food. Little fang poking out of his frown. You wonder if it’s sinking in for him that he won’t be making it home tonight.

You approach him gently, cooing at him with a sweet voice. “You wanna go home, don’t you?” You can’t help the urge to coddle him. “I know, but we’ll find them soon enough.” Reaching up on your tip toes, you pull one hand up with the intention of gently ruffling his soft looking ears.

Only for him to catch your arm in one large, firm palm.

You freeze. He brings your wrist to his face, a gentle sniff, before he closes his eyes and presses the palm of your hand into his cheek. Nudging it softly.

“Oh,” you sigh, rubbing your thumb along his cheek as you bring up your other hand to cup his face with both. “You’re so sweet, aren’t you?”

He opens his eyes. The amber in them is smoldering. You freeze once again, but his hands trap yours in place. You whisper his name, an unsure call you know he can hear. “Can you…how…um…” you’re not even sure what you’re trying to stay. Captivated by the hybrid in front of you. He leans in and presses his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes in contentment once again. His black hair wraps you both in a blanket of darkness. Enveloping you in the scent of pine and fresh rain. His breathing is a steady rhythm like the pattering of rain on a solid roof.

It’s a moment so peaceful, uniquely intimate, that once he pulls away to make for a change of clothes, the loss of contact almost pulls you to tears.

Your hands fall to your sides as Baji pulls the tight black shirt off his back, exposing the woven muscles there. You immediately decide to retreat to your room to give him some privacy.

You lock the door. He seems friendly. Too friendly. But you won’t risk getting mauled by an unfamiliar wolf hybrid you found wounded in the woods.

But he wasn’t dressed like a stray. And he doesn’t act like a stray. In fact, you have half a suspicion that he’s more human than he’s letting on. Possibly choosing not to speak so you keep treating him like an animal. Whatever the case may be, you decide to change into some comfy clothes and finally call it a night.

You awake suddenly, throat dry and breathing hard. It was a strange nightmare. One you don’t remember but managed to spike your heart rate anyway. Rolling over to check your phone beside you, you realize it’s 2am. Desperate for a drink of water and to shake the lingering haze of your nightmare, you pull yourself to your feet and into the kitchen.

The short path is memorized, having lived at your tiny place for over a year now. The neon glow of your little coffee machine aids you in finding the water bottle you left on the counter earlier. You finish what’s left before scrounging around for a cold one in the fridge.

You take a few sips of the freezing water before capping it and heading back to your room.

The bedsheets have faint traces of your warmth as you slide back in and allow yourself to slowly submerge back into unconsciousness. The heavy fog of sleep wafts over you. Dipping you down and raising you up as your body naturally comes to rest.

You don’t even hear the sound of the doorknob slowly turning, the door gently creaking as your guest invites himself into your bedroom.

The bed dips as he places his full weight onto the mattress. You don’t even notice until your blanket is slightly lifted and a heavy arm is wrapped around your waist.

You jolt. Trying to pull yourself away, but his grip tightens. His chest is firm against your back.

“Hey—no! Bad wolf boy!”

He snuggles into you. Caging you in with his chin resting atop your head. You know he’s stronger than you. Most likely faster than you. The odds of you summoning the strength to get him off you was unlikely. And frankly, you just wanted to sleep.

With a frustrated puff, you give up. “Okay…” you sigh, relaxing your stiff posture. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, and you wonder vaguely if his owner usually lets him sleep in their bed. If this hybrid is just used to snuggling into their human at night. “This one time, it’s okay,” you mumble. “But if you try to eat me I will literally kick you. I mean it.”

In an unexpected gesture of affection, his face brushes down the back of your head. Hot breath against you. Gently breathing in the scent of your hair before one of his hands brushes the hair away so he can lick up your neck and suck at the flesh there.

The heat shoots through you. Sending shivers down your spine. You shudder. “That’s—“ your breath comes out heavy, “not okay.” You try to move away from his face, but he has you trapped. His lips press a tender kiss just behind your ear before he nuzzles back into you comfortably.

Your heart is still racing. Body tingling with an unwanted electricity you try to will away. You don’t understand hybrids at all.

It’s a warm glow of light that shines through the thin fabric of your curtains, bathing your room in a warm golden bronze. The world is at peace as your subconscious meets slow waking awareness, moving in and out reluctantly.

Your mind isn’t awake yet, but your body stretches slowly. Grazing the soft sheets as it seeks some form of comfort. Hips moving in slow circles. Thighs rubbing together for what little relief your mind doesn’t know it’s seeking yet.

A hand runs over the crest of your hip, squeezing delicately, moving over the meat of your thigh. You push back into the feeling. The hand slips between your thighs, settling into the warmth there with another gentle squeeze.

Your back arches into the touch. Wanting more. Your eyes peek open as you allow your hand to travel down where you feel the need most, only to bump into a hand that’s definitely not yours.

“What the—“ you jolt. Sitting up right so fast the room spins. Catching yourself on your forearm. Kicking away from whatever is going on.

Right next you. His massive shape. The wolf hybrid you had picked up earlier. His morning hair is a little crazy. The swirling black mass of hair strewn about him, and wolfish ears tucked down with such large brown eyes that you could only take for an attempt at apology. A little whine escapes his chest.

He reaches for you.

“No! No…” You grab a pillow and launch it at him, throwing yourself from the bed to sprint across the room.

Last night’s events come to you fresh now. The hike. Finding him in the woods. Making the horrible decision of letting him into your home when you know absolutely nothing about hybrids.

He sprawls out on his back, taking up the entire bed. Nestling comfortably before closing his eyes again.

“I hate hybrids,” you decide out loud. His ears twitch in response.

Carefully walking along the walls of your bedroom, you open the door and leave it open for your exit. Wandering back into the living room.

The blankets on the couch have barely moved. Still spread across the couch and sparsely wrinkled. The clothes he was wearing the day before lay in a pile at the foot of the couch, and you notice for the first time that his collar sits on top of the pile.

With the intention of folding his clothes, you pick up the collar and examine it once again. Running your fingers over the grooves that spell out “Baji.” And this time, you notice another inscription on the soft interior.

A phone number!

“Oh my god,” you think out loud before frantically looking for your phone. Oh shit. It’s still in your room. Along with that animal.

It probably wouldn’t kill you to have a cup of coffee first before dealing with him.

The pot bubbles and hisses as it begins brewing its bitter elixir. The only familiar and comforting routine you have going for you this morning. Aroma slowly strengthening you away from your former drowsiness. The hardwood floor beneath your toes is freezing, and you deeply wish you would’ve been able to grab a hoodie before rushing out.

You excitedly wait for the pot to fill. Pulling down your favorite mug in anticipation. As you lift the handle to begin your first pour, you feel his heavy arms wrapping around your waist again. Chin resting atop your head.

“No! No…” you can only verbally scold him, lest risk spilling your precious coffee. “No!”

Setting down the scalding jug, your hands fly to his forearms and try moving him off you. Spinning against the counter to end with your face to his chest.

He’s so warm. With the blanket from your bed hanging over him. He’s wrapping you in his little ghost hug, and maybe if you weren’t complaining about being so cold earlier, you’d be more annoyed.

You grumble, but don’t move. He smells nice, you realize for the second time. Like pine needles and fresh rain. But that doesn’t mean anything.

You decide to pull the blanket off him, and only after you’ve started to wrap it around yourself does he move back into the living room. With the blanket around your shoulders and hybrid removed, you get the creamer from the fridge and mix the coffee to your liking.

The next step is to call.

While Baji occupies himself with finding more of your ex’s clothes to change into (you’re happy to discover getting him into new clothes won’t be an issue), you retrieve your phone and head back into the kitchen to make the call.

It rings a few times. Pick up. Please pick up. Rings a few more. Before you’re greeted with a sleepy “Hello?”

“Hi! Yes! I’m so sorry to be calling you this early, but I found your hybrid wounded in the woods. He’s okay now, I think, but I’d really like to return him.” You hope that doesn’t sound too weird, rushing to get the words out in your nervous excitement.

“Uh, what hybrid?”

Oh my god. Your heart plummets. This can’t be his owner. “Um, his name is Baji. Kinda wolfish with long hair.”

The voice chuckles. “Oh, that hybrid. Sorry about that. I’m his emergency contact. Yeah if you could bring him up here we would really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you’d do anything to get rid of him at this point. What’s one more drive? “What’s the address?”

You put his voice on speaker while you tap out the address into the notes on your phone. It seems to catch Baji’s attention, as he walks into the kitchen and leans against the wall. A small frown adorns his face as he crosses his arms.

“Perfect! I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you smile down at the glass.

“Thanks again, and my name is Sano. Shinichiro Sano.”

Halfway through the drive, you realize you’re headed back into the forest you had been hiking in earlier. Shinichiro had mentioned it would be a bit of a walk to get to his place after parking the car, but you didn’t expect for his home to end somewhere near the trail.

“Seriously, Baji?” You asked the tall hybrid hiking beside you. “We were this close to your home and you let me drag you so far away?”

A smirk was his only response, one of his fangs poking out. You were beginning to recognize it as one of his familiar characteristics.

He turned to face you as you continued along the path. You watched as the sun turned the bronze of his eyes into a golden hue, shifting from darkness to silken honey with each passing shadow of the trees.

Yeah that, and his smoldering eyes.

The GPS lead you to a small trail that branched away from the main road. Weaving through a thicket of encompassing trees, finding a break in the line that lead to a much more comfortable dirt path that the two of you followed.

The ears on top of Baji’s head were becoming more alert the closer you got. Swiveling at every sound. Nose crinkling as he tasted the air. He was setting you on edge, memories of having found him in a bear trap flashing through your mind. He walked closer to you too, occasionally bumping shoulders as you walked down the path.

When a large house came into view, relief flooded you.

An old fashioned Japanese style home with a large porch circling the building. Baji had kept trying to place a hand on your waist the rest of the way there. And each time you smacked his hand away, he would seemingly forget and try again.

You cautiously stepped up the wooden stairs, finding most of the paper sliding barriers wide open. Baji trailed behind you a few steps, eyes searching back at the tree line rather than focusing on the entrance of his home.

“Hello?” You called out. Leaning forward to peek in but not wanting to enter without permission.

You could hear the loud sound of running water and clattering dishes. A few voices not clear enough to understand. You took it as an invitation and slipped off your shoes before entering.

You’re immediately greeted with the familiar scents of basil and spearmint. The aromatic scent of herbs wafting through the air only heightened by the fresh air of the pines just outside the open doors. It’s a welcoming home in a beautiful forest. Chimes are gently echoing out of eyesight.

As you turn to your right, following the busy sounds of the kitchen, you’re immediately face to face with another hybrid.

But this one is different. He’s golden like the sun and small. Hair messy and frazzled, sleepy little eyes barely keeping open as he clutches a towel in his fist. The ears on top of his head look velvety soft, floppy and gentle.

“Awww,” the sound escapes your mouth before you can help it.

He rubs his tired eyes and blinks a few times. Sniffs gently at the air before approaching you with open arms. You let out an excited little squeak as you welcome him into a hug. He’s so cute and cuddly. You had no idea hybrids could be so soft !

“You are soooo cute. What’s your name, baby?” You try asking him while rubbing his back gently. A few seconds longer into the hug, and you’re suddenly jolted by the ferocious snarling of another hybrid.

The small hybrid doesn’t let go, even after you gently push at his arms. It’s scary. How strong he is. Despite his seemingly soft demeanor.

But the growling deepens. And for a second, you wonder if it’s really a bear. If the little blonde hybrid and the bear are working together to trap you and eat you whole. This is how you die. You’ll never help a stranger again.

When a strong arm rips you free from the other’s clutches. Shoving him back from the chest and stumbling a few steps.

He wraps his arms around you, circling around your neck as his head leans on the top of your head. Caging you in with his body. You immediately recognize Baji’s arms. The hair that drifts into your vision. Your ex’s clothes that you had fitted him in. Only the unfamiliarity of the rumbling in his chest vibrating against your back set you off.

“What’s going on?” Walking in from the kitchen, a lean man with a shiny pot in one hand and a rag in the other called after you. He was probably Shinichiro Sano. The voice matched the one you heard on the phone.

His eyes fell on Baji first. Then followed the path down to your startled face. He himself seemed quite alarmed. Confused.

Baji narrows his eyes at his friend. One hand falling down to grip at your hip. You clutch at his forearm and try to hide your embarrassment by looking away.

“Mine.” He says definitively. And it’s the first time you’ve ever heard his voice.

“H-he can talk?” You squeak out. Still squirming in his grasp.

“He hasn’t been talking?” Sano asks back, still baffled by his possessiveness. His eyes catch the blonde hybrid’s pout. The features of his face relaxing as he goes over some mental figures.

“I’m…just trying to return him,” he grips you tighter, “he was injured in the woods and I—“

“Let her go, Baji. You’re scaring her.” Sano tries to reason with him.

Baji looks back over to where the other hybrid is standing. Seemingly fully awake now. He smiles at you with a little wave. “If Mikey even thinks…” Baji begins, and you immediately shiver. He’s standing too close to you. Pressed up against you. And now that you’re hearing his voice, your own body is responding in a way you’re not familiar with. You find yourself gripping his forearm tighter. His heart rate erratic behind you.

“Mikey won’t do anything. Right, Mikey?” He shoots him glare.

The cute hybrid, Mikey, draws a little cross over his heart with a smile. “I promise.” But the smile is something mischievous. Something flirty. And it doesn’t do much to convince Baji.

“I won’t let him do anything. Let’s settle down and have breakfast, huh?”

On first appearance and even at first phone call, you didn’t take him for someone that would have a lot of authority. Despite initial appearances, both hybrids seemed to wind down after Shinichiro Sano turned his back and made his way to the kitchen. Mikey was the first to follow, stomach growling loudly, and Baji released you shortly after. Sparing you a concerned, sideways glance before following them in.

He waited until after the meal to fill you in on all your burning questions. With full tummies and claims apparently staked, Mikey and Baji ran outside and began occupying themselves with what you hoped was playful fighting.

“Mikey’s actually my half brother,” Shin started, “that’s the main reason why he’s hybrid and I’m not.”

“So they both can talk? Sorry, I don’t know a lot about all this.”

“No worries. They both have a pretty small hybrid to human ratio. Went to a normal school and everything.” Apparently Shin and Mikey had another sibling, Emma, a non-hybrid, but she decided to move out into the city with her boyfriend after graduating high school. Mikey and Baji agreed to move out to this house after they graduated. It belonged to Shin’s grandad that never came up anymore since it was too much of a hike for his aging knees. They all spent summers at the large house with an even larger mix of friends, finding the isolation of the trees and the spread of fresh air to allow them to be fully themselves without judgment.

“You should stay up here for the weekend,” Shin intoned, “it’s a long drive back into the city, and it can actually be really nice if you give it a chance.”

You took another sip of the warm coffee wrapped around your fingers. Perfectly sweet yet perfectly bitter. It was a large black mug with a golden manji symbol. You took it as a token of good luck.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “It’s a long weekend anyway.”

The first day went by quickly. Spent mostly learning about your new surroundings and the typical behaviors of Mikey and Baji. Mikey’s a handful, but he also keeps the air lighthearted with his playfulness, and you find yourself grateful for it.

Baji likes to be perceived as intimidating. He likes roughhousing with Mikey and constantly tries to beat him in fights, but from what you’ve seen, hasn’t won any yet. But when no ones watching, when he thinks he has a moment alone to himself, you find him surrounded by the animals in the garden. Birds perched on his arms as he feeds them with the seeds in his palm. An impossibly gentle touch as he moves the butterfly on his fingers to a perch on the garden leaf.

He’s good with animals, and they gravitate toward him. Despite his ferocity and proficiency in violence, you think he makes them feel safe. Makes you feel safe. A sword that protects and defends, not strike aimlessly.

And for a moment, you think it’s nice. A peaceful world filled with people that you get along with. You dare to dream, just for a moment, that you could have a life like that. Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, letting the soft light hit you from you spot in front of the window, leaning against the sink in the kitchen.

There are a few moments when you meet his gaze through the clear window. And you think he interacts with you differently from his friends at the house. The amber in his eyes is softer. Burning. The wolfish grin gracing his features enticing. Alluring. But you resist. He’s too playful. Too forward. And you don’t want to step over whatever is going on.

Shin showed you a few of the empty spare bedrooms for you to choose from, lending you some of Emma’s clothes for you to change into as well. A brisk shower after a long day was all you needed. And after lathering you hair with the stranger’s soap, shifting into the clothes of a girl you’ve never met, you forgo drying your hair to pad slowly back to your bedroom.

The weekend would eventually come to an end, and with it, so would your new friendships you expected. While a part of you knew you would miss them, especially one hybrid in particular, you knew the ache would eventually fade and you would fall back into the normalcy you were so comfortable with.

Stopping only at the corner, the entrance to the kitchen, when you overhear two familiar voices.

“Just drop it, Keisuke. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s my fated pair. I know it.”

“That’s not a thing for hybrids. You’re getting fairytales and stories mixed up with reality. She’s just a girl.”

“I know it.” He sounded stubborn. Voices coming to a pause as you held your breath from behind the corner. “My dad said ma was his fated pair. He said he knew she was the one, back before…I’m not letting this slip away.”

“Keisuke…” Shin sighed loudly, letting his voice drift off thick with worry.

You silently padded back to the bathroom. Opting to dry your hair or at least bide your time to give them some more privacy. When you padded back down the hall, you’d do it louder, loud enough so that they would know you’re coming. Enough to make it seem like you hadn’t heard a word.

After waiting a few minutes, you wandered back out. No one in the kitchen as you continued your way to the guest bedroom.

You felt off. Heart still thrumming erratically as you flipped on the light switch to enter the room. Maybe it was the coffee from earlier. Maybe it was the excitement of eavesdropping. You smoothed your fingers over the white bedspread. What’s a fated pair? Like a soulmate? You shook your head. Plugging your phone into the spare charger they gave you. You could google it, you realized, but the thought of finding something you didn’t want to know put you off.

You didn’t want to know if he was wrong.

It was dumb. But you could feel it. Feel something in the way he looks at you. But who wouldn’t feel something, you reasoned, fluffing your pillow rather aggressively. Who wouldn’t want to think that way when Keisuke Baji was obviously handsome?

Before you could get up from the bed to switch off the lights, Baji’s large frame entered the room. He was pouting a little, corners of his lips just slightly pulled down. Shutting the door behind him, he pressed his back against it and stared at the ground between you.

He’s cute. Little wolf ears pouty and floppy. You wonder if Shin managed to talk some sense into him after all.

It was the first night you would spend in their house. You knew he had a room of his own, but your thoughts couldn’t help but drift to how he had snuck into your room last night.

Being around him made you feel comfortable. Happy. And you had gotten close to him. Close enough to create a dull ache when you thought about leaving forever.

“Kei..?” You quietly began. He looked up at you with soft brown eyes, and you second guessed yourself before continuing. “Do you wanna sleep in my room tonight?”

Whatever had been making him pout earlier quickly dissolved. He stepped further into the room, sat down on the bed beside you, and nodded. Resting his chin on your shoulder, a subtle arm wrapping around your hip. You laughed lightly, reminding him to get up to turn off the light, before pulling up the sheets and waiting for him to join you.

With your face pressed into his chest, breathing in nothing but the scent of his fabric softener and the subtle smell that was uniquely him. Clenching his shirt in both fists, your brows just slightly furrowed as you fought this growing ache.

His fingers slipped down the front of your waistband. You let his fingers slip down. Spreading your slick folds, pressing into the bundle of nerves there. “But you’re already so wet for me,” his chest rumbles with the vibrations of his deep voice.

“That,” your breath is airy and light, barely there, each inhale of him intoxicating you even further,“doesn’t meant anything…”

His fingers squelch as he runs them over your entrance, gathering the pooling moisture to bring them back and rub pressurized circles against your clit. “I think we both know what it means.”

Your hips buck against his hand, grinding in a feeble attempt to feel more. “It’s nothing…”

“Nothing, huh?” He adjusts his hand to slip two fingers, slowly, prodding at your entrance, pushing past and deep into your tight little cunt. Curling as your mouth falls open to let a soft moan escape. “You’re so tight.”

“Baji—“ you gasp as he begins pumping them in and out of you. Head throughly fucked as he worked you towards your high.

“Tell me it’s nothing,” he calls your name softly, lips brushing against the top of your head. The sound of your soft moans and squelching pussy echoing in the room. “Tell me it’s nothing…one more time,” he teases.

“Baji—“ you moan again as he begins scissoring his fingers inside of you, pushing against your tight walls to stretch you out. Grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please.”

With his other arm behind your head cradling you, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head. Exposing your neck. Exposing your blissed out, conflicted face, before crashing his lips onto yours.

Hungry and passionate. His tongue pushes into your mouth as you kiss him back. Desperate and needy. The final intrusion before his fingers work you up, work you hard until that tight coil in your stomach pops, releasing you in the mind numbing waves of your orgasm.

Your legs are shaking as you’re quickly driven into overstimulation, hand quickly darting to still his movements. You open your eyes as his fingers pull out, catching that mischievous glint in his eyes as he pops both of them in his mouth. Sucking your juices off his fingers.

You try pushing him away. Tiny fists against his broad chest. But he rolls on top of you, dipping down to wrap your lips back into a kiss. Tasting the sweetness of your own taste on his tongue. Moaning into his mouth as his fingers dip into the sides of your waistband and pull.

Goosebumps rising as the fabric is tugged over your thighs, past your legs and onto the floor. Exposing your naked half to his prying eyes. He pulls his own shirt off his chest before crawling back over you, pecking your lips. Kissing your chin. Licking a thick stripe over your neck as his hand slips under your shirt to grope at your breast.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he moans into your ear, rolling your hardened nipple over his thumb. He captures the skin of your neck into his mouth and sucks harshly.

He sucks until you know, inevitably, that there will be a bright red mark there. Moving his lips, again, to place another large claim on the center of your neck. Adjusting his hips, he grinds his clothed erection over your naked center, growling as he leaves another mark.

You shudder. “Kei, we…we have to stop…” you whisper lightheaded. The pressure has you building again. Lifting your legs to wrap around his waist, even as you mentally battle your desire.

His mouth leaves your skin with a pop just long enough for him to lean back, pulling your shirt over your head and leaving you finally, fully exposed. He comes back down to lick your nipple, playfully, before meeting your gaze. “I have to taste you first.”

He captures your nipple in his mouth, sucking as you rock your hips against his. Groping the other with his hand, pinching the puckered flesh harshly as you let out a loud gasp.

He chuckles, kissing the space between your breasts before venturing lower. Peppering your stomach with kisses and licks. Making his way down between your thighs. Spreading them with his large palms and settling between them.

“Look at me,” he grumbles, eyes fixed on your face.

“I-i can’t…” you hadn’t realized when your eyes squeezed shut. But everything felt so good, you were filtering out senses.

He nipped at your inner thigh. And again when you didn’t immediately listen. Leaving as many harsh hickeys on your thighs until you ultimately gave in. Opening your eyes to see his burning irises, pupils blown as he brushed his lips against your skin, waiting for the moment you would obey.

And then he brought his tongue to your clit. Made ravenous by the taste. Opening his mouth wide as he explored your cunt. Slurping like a madman at your juices as you moaned and squirmed around him. Pressing his tongue deep into your hole, pushing his nose up against your mound. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, letting your voice take you where it wanted. He held you down with his hands. Nipping and sucking. You watched as he ate you out. Watched as be became drunk on your taste. Canines dragging against your clit. Slipping his fingers lazily inside of you. Filling your cunt. Building you up into your second orgasm.

Your hands threaded through his dark hair. Between the wolf ears so soft on his head. Pushing his face further against you. Grinding on his lips in waves of pleasure. Subsiding only in a drowsy haze. Lids heavy as Keisuke came back into view, leaning over you to press a tender kiss into your lips.

Both your hands cradling his face, kissing him gently without reservation. The bittersweet taste of your essence sharp on his tongue.

When you feel the head of his naked cock tap lightly at your clit, your body spasms. The bundle of nerves worked into over intensity.

Keisuke comes down to lean over you on his forearms, one hand cradling your face, thumb rubbing gently against your cheek as he kisses you. The other guiding his hardened dick through your folds, gathering the slick, and then pressing. Sliding through that first wall of muscle, pushing deep into your cunt, stretching you out on his fat cock. “Squeezing me so tight…” he shudders.

Your back arches, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he slowly bottoms out, pressing his hips flush against yours, balls laying flat against your ass.

You’re whining. So incredibly full. He’s deep enough that you feel the pressure in your stomach. Can almost taste the tip of his dick on your tongue. Grinding your hips against his. He’s deep, but he’s not moving. You think you’ll go crazy from it. Muscles spasming. Tightening around him.

“Fuuuck…” he moans, takes a steadying breath, “stop squeezin’ me like that…”

“P-please…” is all you can moan out, half fucked out since he gave you head, “please fuck me…”

He growls. Deep and guttural, body shaking as he begins to pull out and fucks you hard. Hips slamming back into you as he lets himself go. Pulling back to grab your legs and press them into your chest. Gripping the back of your knees tightly as he let himself go. Fucking you hard and fast, your tits bouncing from the speed and lips drooling from the pleasure. Fingernails scratching down his forearms, trying to find something of his to hold on to.

The slapping sounds of his hips against your ass are echoing through the room. Mixed with your loud moans and strangled gasps. There’s a tight coil in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter with each rut of his cock inside of you. The pleasure mounting to the point of tears. Moaning and babbling uncontrollably as he takes you how he’s always wanted. How he’s thought of since first seeing you in the woods.

The coil deep in your stomach tightens, constricting as your pussy grips him, until the intense sensation becomes unfamiliar. Bubbling around you to the point of panic. “I-I’m gonna…” you want to warn him, that his orgasm feels different. Feels too strong…

He lets your legs fall around his waist, keeping his pace deep inside you. He comes closer to kiss your lips, cradle your face as he moans “I’ve got you…I’m right here…” into your ear. “Cum for for me, baby…Cum on my cock…”

With a shudder, arching your back into him, gripping and clawing your nails down his back, the tight coil pops with a scream. Releases you in mind numbing waves of pleasure. Clear liquid gushing out of you and between your bodies. Still seeing sparks as his hips stutter. Mouth finding yours and crashing around you and he collides with his own high. Fills you with his seed. Soaking your walls in white hot cum. Fucking it into you to ride out your own orgasm, milking each other for all you’re worth. The high you come down from envelops you in a peaceful postcoital bliss. Body still tingling from every pore with pleasure as your mind meets a beautiful darkness.

You’re clean when you wake in the morning. Cleaner than you would’ve expected, anyway. Dressed in Keisuke’s night shirt, and the passed out hybrid sleeping soundly beside you.

He’s shirtless and smells like you. You can’t help but smile as you brush your nose against the hollow of his neck. His arm instinctively wraps tighter around you.

A fated pair, you think to yourself. You still don’t know much of anything about hybrids. If that’s a convenient excuse you want to use to name this attraction, or if it’s a genuine feeling that Keisuke’s described.

But you have a long weekend to figure it out.

©️bajisfist | please do not plagiarize, repost, or redistribute in any way without permission.

[piecksz]

prove it | (m)

pairings: modern!jean kirstein x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, mirror sex, penetrative sex, saliva, fingering, finger sucking, handjob, slight mentions of breeding, explicit language

words: 3k+

summary: your jealousy sparks a bitter argument between you and jean, but he shows in more ways than one, that you’re the only person he’s infatuated with. 

a/n: as always, if you wanna fully immerse yourself in the smut hehe you can listen to the songs i looped incessantly while writing: girls need love too by summer walker and excitement by trippie redd and PARTYNEXTDOOR (you cannot tell me that jean wouldn’t listen to either he’s so sexy omg pls free me from my brainrot)

You gripped the fabric of your dress, hiking it up above your ankles to make sure the material didn’t get caught under the sharp heels of your shoes while you stormed into the house. Seething with outrage, you swung the front door shut behind you, savoring the few seconds of solitude you had before Jean trailed behind you clamorously.

“I already told you, and I’m telling you—again—I didn’t know she was going to be there!” Jean was insistent, his footfall demanding on your tail as he followed you into the kitchen. His fingers were carelessly twined in his hair, an overt demonstration of his stress.

You hastily tossed your purse onto the counter, paying no mind to the way it slid across the granite and almost toppled over its edge onto the floor. “Bullshit Jean. It was your fucking event, how did you not know she was gonna be there?” You spared him an irate glance, it was the first time you’d looked at him since the two of you left the venue.

The entire ride home, Jean had attempted to make conversation, asking you if you’d enjoyed yourself and trying to solicit your opinion on how he’d done coordinating his company’s milestone event. Following the successful closing of a large venture deal and the expansion of the corporation, his boss had entrusted him to organize a company soirée to celebrate, and if Jean’s event had managed to go off without a hitch, a possible promotion was in the cards for him. However, much to Jean’s confusion you were quiet in your responses, mainly giving one word answers and little praise.

After relentless prodding, you snapped, admitting you were irritated after seeing Jean talking to Mikasa, an old coworker and friend of his. You’d disappeared for only a moment to use the bathroom, but when you returned, the two were engrossed in what seemed like interesting chatter. Seeing the way Jean laughed after everything she said prompted the agitation in your lower stomach to boil up into your throat. Nothing was that funny.

“Maybe I overlooked her name on the guest list.” Jean’s fingers left his hair and wrapped around his tie, tugging to loosen it.

“Oh, you sure looked over her while you two were talking and laughing.” You stood on your toes to grab a mug from the cabinet before slamming its wooden door shut. “What was so funny? The fact that you used to fawn over her like an idiot?”

You shuffled back over to the sink, flipping the faucet and watching as the mug filled with water before bringing the cup to your lips to take a long drink. You sighed as the liquid quenched your dry throat, raw from yelling. You peered over the top of the mug at Jean, eyes following him as he made his way over to the selection of hard liquor against the kitchen wall.

“There you go. Name calling like a fucking child.” He poured himself a generous glass of booze, chuckling wryly and taking a sip.

You pulled the mug away from your mouth. “You—are so—,” you started, but your words disbanded into a loud and frustrated groan.

“I’m so what?” Jean swirled the auburn liquid around in his glass, pretending to look more interested in the way it moved than in the conversation you two were having.

“You don’t want me to finish that sentence, Jean. You really don’t.” You set your cup down loudly, so forcefully it might have shattered with just another ounce of force. “Stop acting like I’m overreacting. You know I’m not the jealous type, you fucking know that. I wouldn’t care, but you know you guys have history together.”

“Yeah, history means that it was in the past,” Jean retorted. “It was in the fucking past.”

You leaned forward on the counter, dipping your head low as if to question the validity of your boyfriend’s reply. “You’re telling me you’d be okay seeing me with an old flame?” You laughed humourlessly.  “You complained for ten minutes after a waiter called me sweetheart.”

Jean took another long sip, then exhaled. “Because he clearly couldn’t tell the difference between horny and hospitality. Now you’re blaming me because you couldn’t see that?”

You nodded sardonically, a disbelieving smile shadowing on your lips while you reached behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. “And how’s that any different from this?”

“Mikasa never liked me back, what’s the problem? Did you just pick a topic out of a hat to bitch about?” Jean downed the rest of his alcohol, and then returned the short glass to the display. He wiped at his lips with his thumb and started back toward the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Jean.”

He let out a low chuckle while he rounded the length of the counter, sauntering in long strides until he was behind you with his large hands planted on the curve of your hips. He dipped his head, letting his mouth ghost by your ear. “You know, you’re kind of hot when you’re mad.” His palms began roaming, first gliding across your stomach before moving to your backside and cupping your ass in the curve of his hand. “Especially in that dress. You look really fucking good, baby.”

You barely cracked a smile. “Yeah?”

Jean’s low voice rumbled against your back. “Hell yeah.”

You turned around to face him, gazing up at him from behind sultry lids. “Then how about…,” you started, teasing him by fiddling around with the loose buttons on his shirt. “You sleep dreaming about all the things you wish you could do to me tonight. Because you’re not getting any.” Your seductive expression fell, and you pushed him backwards so you could slide out of the space between his body and the counter.

As you retired into your bedroom, you heard Jean’s weary voice echo from outside. “You’re cold.”

“Good,” you responded back resoundingly. “Maybe Mikasa’s free.”

“Maybe she is!” he retaliated, and although he wasn’t in front of you, you could nearly see the way he rolled his eyes at your spiteful jab.

You rolled your eyes back. “Shitforbrains.”

You removed your earrings, throwing them onto the dresser with your necklace before slipping out of your heels and stepping out of your dress. You struggled to make haste, trying to get ready for bed as quickly as you could before Jean entered the bedroom and had a chance to say anything that would incite another feud. Lazy and clad in your undergarments, you hauled yourself into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror lethargically while you brushed your teeth and removed your makeup with halfhearted effort.

“Do I need to prove it to you?”

You removed the cold wipe from your lids, opening your eyes and watching as Jean wandered into the bathroom. He continued walking until he met you at the sink, and he wrapped his long arms around your frame again.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into him until the space between your bodies waned. You gave him an unamused glare through your reflection in the mirror, and resumed rubbing away at your persistent eyeliner.

“Should I mark up that pretty neck of yours?” Jean nestled his face into the curve of your neck, pressing messy, carnal kisses along the side of your throat until his lips met the dip underneath your jawline. He lightly brushed over it, knowing it was your sweet spot. Every time he wanted to turn you into a frenzy of moans, that spot was the easiest way he knew how.

“Or maybe I should have you carry our child.” His hands were hot against your stomach, the soft pad of his finger drawing a delicate circle around your navel. You were glad it didn’t tickle enough to make you laugh.

“You’re pissing me off,” you said, simply.

Jean released a husky groan that vibrated against the hollow of your throat. “You’re turning me on.” He hummed. “You feel that?”

You did. Against your ass, you could feel the prominence of Jean’s hardened cock through his pants, digging eagerly into your backside, and he did nothing but continue to fuel his lust by rubbing his erection against you.

“You’re the only one that can get me hard like this,” he strained, grunting at the discomfort in his briefs.

“Look how pretty you are.” Jean took your chin in his hand and prompted you to look at yourself in the mirror. He hovered over your shoulder and looked on, like he was only spectating. “Do you think anyone compares to you?”

His eyebrows creased while amber eyes fixated on your skeptical face. After a lack of response, he jerked your chin, forcing your attention back to yourself. “Answer me.”

“No,” you said quickly.

“Exactly. Good answer.” Jean’s thumb swept gently across your chin while he withdrew his hand.

Your timid eyes drifted over to him, observing as he slid two digits into his mouth, glazing them generously with saliva before lolling his tongue and pulling his fingers out. A thick string of spit lingered until his hand dipped and slid itself into your underwear.

You choked back a desperate cry once you felt Jean part your folds, using his wet fingers to pet the sensitive swell of your clit. Instinctively, you wrapped a sweaty, tremulous hand around his wrist, but it did nothing to quell his painfully tender ministrations.

“Jean,” you murmured. Your voice was breathy, just barely above a whisper while you gave in and rolled your hips against his hand. “Fuck, wait—Jean—”

“I love the way you say my name.” He placed his free hand on your breast. His fingers hooked onto the delicate fabric of your bra and tugged the material down, freeing your nipple. “Say it louder.”

“Jean,” you mewled loudly as he began flicking the hardening peak of your chest with a ginger touch. His movements were delicate and sensual, as though he wanted to kindle an impatient desire within you.

Jean’s fingers continued to rub slow, tortured circles into your clit and he eased into you every few seconds to make sure he was keeping his fingers slick. Once he heard your whimpers begin to ebb, he would stop and switch the direction of his motion, sending you into another flurry of moans and taking pleasure in the filthy-wet mess he was creating in your panties. “Louder.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes until the darkness of your eyelids melted into white heat. The familiar torrent of quivers shook your body, and the surface of your skin tingled with the onset of your orgasm. You dug your nails into Jean’s forearm, and in the haze of your high you forgot about all of your concerns.  

“Jean!” You cried his name again, your wail echoing off of the bathroom walls while you writhed against his hold. You moved restlessly, looking for absolutely anything to cling to in an attempt to steady yourself until your climax subsided.

After you came to and regained your soundness, you scrutinized yourself in the mirror through misty tears, chagrined at how easily you’d submitted to him. You were situated limply in Jean’s arms, bottom lip swollen from persistent biting in your best efforts to veil how good he was truly making you feel, but from the sickeningly-smug simper on his face it was obvious that now Jean knew his fingers were more fruitful than an apology. Which meant this episode surely wouldn’t be the last of its kind.

He slotted his fingers into his mouth for the last time, sucking the silken coat of your arousal off of them before releasing them with a quiet pop, then Jean’s other hand crept up your neck until his thumb drove itself to part your closed lips, just wide enough so he could stick his lubricous fingers inside.

“Mhm,” he encouraged, nodding at the way you meekly looked to him for direction.

Jean’s fingers were warm and sloppy in your mouth as you sucked and he watched you intently, undoubtedly wishing that his cock could receive the same treatment. He sighed heavily as you wreathed your hot tongue around his knuckles.

“Good girl,” he breathed, pulling his digits from your jaws before his urge to stick them down your throat and watched as you gagged through tears became insatiable.

Jean worked one hand against his belt, unbuckling it skillfully before impatiently forgoing his buttons and tugging on his zipper instead. His breathing grew labored while you watched from the mirror as he shuffled behind you, and you canted yourself to the side to provide yourself with a clear view of Jean’s cock in the surface’s reflection.

His thick length pulsated, convulsing even without contact, and every time it did so, a fresh stream of precum dribbled from the swollen, red crown of his tip. With a light hand, Jean tapped his cock against the side of your thigh, prompting you to take him in your palm, and when you obeyed, it elicited a lengthy groan from him.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You weighed his hot and heavy cock in your hand before beginning to move slowly, flicking your wrist and evoking the jerking of Jean’s hips when you did. His head hung forward and loose strands of his neatly tucked hair billowed around his face while he watched as your hand worked against his throbbing heat.

Jean delivered another set of kisses to your neck, kissing along your jawline until he stopped at the corner of your mouth to take a brief second to acknowledge his own pleasure. “Shit,” he grunted, his fleshly pants now becoming uncontrollable. “Okay, that’s enough.”

You loosened your grip around Jean’s cock while he curled his fingers around the cloth of your thin underwear, pulling it down until he stopped midway past your thighs, then his large hand settled between your shoulder blades to bend you over.

His palm collided with the pert curve of your ass, delivering a mild spank, and then he ghosted his touch over the stinging pain, blithely enjoying the way you whimpered his name ever so quietly. Jean positioned himself at your dripping entrance, prodding the tight hole with his tip over and over again just to taunt you until you glowered uncomfortably at him through the mirror.

“Stop it,” you heaved, your longing now turning into an unbearable itch.

Normally, you knew Jean would have loved to tease you, disregarding your begging and instead working even harder to rouse you, but you could tell by the sweat that beaded around his hairline that he needed relief too. So Jean spared you, grip tightening on your hips, and he pushed himself into you with a husky and guttural moan that overwhelmed your delicate whines.

He wasted no time and began moving, gradually picking up his pace until he decided on a moderate speed, not too rough, but just forceful enough that your breasts jounced and your body lurched against the sink whenever he thrusted into you.

“I always tell you how good you feel, do you need to hear it again?” Jean murmured, watching as his cock disappeared inside you and whenever he pulled back to rock his hips forward again, it glistened with a new layer of your arousal. “Your pretty pussy always takes me so well.”

He leaned into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing his hand on your shoulder, holding you in place while he fucked himself into you, over and over again. You tugged at Jean from deep inside your well, tightening your walls around his cock and causing his jaw to go slack with bliss.

“The way you fucking milk me, I could cum right now.” His balls slapped ceaselessly against your skin, and the sound of two sweaty bodies married together saturated the thick sex-tainted air. You struggled to watch yourself in the mirror, mouth wide open and eyes bloodshot from your tiredness and tears. Jean’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear and sent a ripple of goosebumps down the expanse of your back.

“I wish I could take a picture of you right now and keep it for later.” He panted into your ear. “You’re the only thing I can think of when I jerk off, it would be nice to have a visual.” When you said nothing he smiled, tugging at the softness of your lobe with his teeth. “Maybe next time, yeah?”

You could only give a weak and disoriented nod, and when you felt Jean’s cock twitch inside you, coupled with the way his muscles tensed underneath his skin, you knew he was close. You wrapped your hands around the arm curved about your waist and nodded at him again, cueing that you wanted to feel his release inside you.

Jean arched an eyebrow, his thrusts becoming sloppier, but he made no efforts to slow his cadence. “Yeah, you’re gonna let me cum inside you?”

You nodded silently for a third time.

Jean delivered a few more generous jerks before the small of his back tightened and he came inside you, amply flooding your chafed walls with his hot seed until you overflowed, and the creamy, white liquid seeped past the girth of his cock and began dribbling down the inside of your thigh.

Jean pulled his now limp cock out, wiping his essence gently on your folds before pulling you into another doting embrace. His clinch was tight, warm cheeks pressed against each other while he looked at you in the mirror with complete and unadulterated adoration.

“I love you,” he affirmed before flipping you over in his arms to face him. He bent down to press a salty and clammy kiss to your mouth, his lips stalling for a few moments longer before he pulled away and then delivered another kiss to your forehead. “Alright, stupid?”

You bobbed your head briefly, now embarrassed at your earlier outburst. You sunk into Jean’s torso, head against his chest, and mumbled sheepishly. “I love you too.”

The two of you stood together, arms encircling each other until Jean carefully broke his caress and began tugging you in the direction of the shower.

“Come on baby.” He grinned. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[forgwater]

Victorian Savanaclaw Headcanons:

warning: I'm here to brainrot not to be completely historically accurate. None of this is planned so I'm writing this as it comes to me.

Victorian AU

Feel free to send requests and asks about the au.

characters are aged up.

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Welcome to the Savanaclaw Villa!

Here you have to earn your keep. Most of the residents here are also the help, ah but do not worry, they are well recompensed for their time and effort. The Villa is welcoming to those who want to make a name for themselves, regardless of where they come from. One must be persistent to be able to serve under the King of Beasts, after all.

...Hopefully you can hold your own here.

The Residents:

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was a prince. The second born one to be precise, his older brother, Falena, became king while he was still a teenager and after his nephews birth, Leona received the title of duke.

Although, not particularly fond of children, his nephew, Cheka, can't seem to be able to keep away from his beloved uncle. Much to Leona's chagrin.

Leona prefers sleeping the days away, so you should count yourself lucky to meet him. Or at least that's what he'll tell you.

Rumor has it that he's moved to the Villa in an attempt to escape something... or someone. No one really know the true answer as to why he lives here now. Has he been sent away? Exiled? Good luck finding out since he isn't exactly friendly.

Some even say he's moved in order to avoid an engagement. Wherever he goes, he just can't seem to catch a break when it comes to rumors like this.

Everybody seems to want something from him, and it's getting on his nerves more and more as time passes. But, he'll humor you if you can do something for him in return.

Ruggie Bucchi

Having lived his whole life in the slums, having only his grandmother and the street urchins as family, Ruggie tries to make the most of everything.

He's worked numerous jobs, both legal and illegal, starting as a petty thief at a very young age, pocketing everything he could get his hands on and fit in his clothes. He's mainly worked alone, joining hands with others only for bigger jobs.

Ruggie knows the back alleys like the palm of his hand. No policeman has ever managed to apprehend him and he's got a bit of a reputation from it as a slippery one.

He's always thinking of how to get a better deal, a master haggler is what he is... though, Ruggie would like to get a taste of the finer things in life.

And luck seems to be on his side when he hears from the friendly owner of the curio shop that someone living at the Savanclaw Villa is in need of someone to do a job for them.

Now, what was the name of the guy? Leona, or something, right? He'll need to make his way to the meeting place before someone else does.

Jack Howl

Coming from a moderately big family, Jack thought it might be a good idea to move somewhere on his own. And with his parents approval and encouragement he started looking for places to rent.

Jack moved to the Savanaclaw Villa in an attempt to make a name for himself and to prepare himself for the future.

Although he may look tough and scary, he's quite a softie under that rough exterior.

Jack's a reliable one and will own up to any mistakes he might make. He's also a decent kind of guy and he'll stand up for what he believes is right. So, hopefully your ideals align.

Jack won't mince his words no matter you status. He would be upfront even with a king. Many would say that his honesty is foolish, but Jack doesn't care about that. He cares about becoming a respectable person not only in his social circles, but also in society as a whole.

If one is ever in need, then Jack is a good person to go to. He'll try his best to help a friend or someone he respects. Though, you should expect to hear his disappointed words if your predicament was brought upon you by your own bad choices. Mind you, he'll still lend a hand.

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