#this wasn't meant to be this long of a ramble lmao

[star--anon]

normally I write sad things but there's enough sad in my life right now so have some Silly Boys Cooking

Thomas helps Frypan cook.

Gally watches them. Once a Builder, always a Builder, and he's constantly just walking about Paradise, scrutinizing each design for a way to improve it. He studies Frypan and Thomas' movements and interactions with each appliance, scribbling down notes like a maniac.

So far, he has:

rounded all corners of the counters and tables created a scrappy but workable induction stove because the fire of gas stoves made Minho uneasy built out an intrusion in the kitchen wall so the fridge slots into them and not jut out like an obstacle somehow managed to make nonstick pans

(that last one is specifically because Frypan once made a few younger kids cry when he violently cussed at the 6th egg to get stuck)

Thomas helps Frypan cook because he needs something to do with his hands, and because Gally and Frypan always hang out while cooking and he wants to be close to them. After the Trials, it's really difficult to ever feel safe. He's convinced that at any moment, he'll walk through a door/tent and find the Rat Man surrounded by the hanging bodies of the Immunes. So he sticks close.

Andif he can make himself useful while keeping his friends in sight? Win-win.

also because cooking is actually really fun and he's only burned himself twice!

on a slightly darker note, it's also a form of control. There are some ups and downs, but with some practice, Thomas can mostly control the outcome of his dishes. Control. It's a word Trial-Thomas would've laughed at. He couldn't even control his own body. But here he is now, making near-perfect omelets.

Frypan gives anyone who helps out with cooking a free pass from doing the dishes. Anyone who litters is automatically assigned dish-cleaning duty. He's very big on littering, and has contributed a lot to the design of trash cans.

He keeps nagging Gally for the secret of that Fire Drink, to which the Builder throws his pencil at him.

Frypan is also the first one to notice Minho's aversion to fire, and he gives lots of advice on how to avoid and treat them. He's got this funky, fish-smelling goop that helps get rid of burn scarring, which Minho uses religiously.

Thomas (who he shares a tent with) has never complained about the smell, although he does mysteriously disappear from the tent for hours every time Minho applies it.

He also has this massive book where he writes down each recipe he comes up with. It's full of little doodles and side notes and new additions in the margins. Brenda comes by at least twice a week to draw little pictures of what the final result should look like.

(Brenda and Frypan have also tried creating dyes and pigments so they can color in the drawings because almost nobody in Paradise understands what "golden brown" means in a cake apparently.)

Minho used to sit on the fridge before Gally made it so that the fridge slotted into the wall Now he sits on the countertop, and Thomas has gotten so used to it that he just puts plates on his lap.

Before, Minho's "job" was to open the fridge door and grab any ingredients Frypan needed. Now, sitting on the countertop, he's Mr. Conversationalist

as much as being together helps, it's also an aching reminder of all the Gladers they lost. Newt, Alby, Zart, Winston...

Thomas can't tell if it's worse to bear the guilt of not even knowing the names of half the Gladers that died, or being close to and grieving over lost friends.

Minho's not one for humor or laughs, but a Leader's gotta Leader, so he's up on the counter cracking joke after joke, tapping on Gally's shoulder then ducking behind a chair, blowing air into Frypan's face when the guy isn't look, using cattails to tickle the back of Thomas' neck...

He'd slip on a banana peel if they had one

Gally's ruined a lot of sketches from laughing and jerking the pencil around

and nobody says it out loud, or at least not to his face, but seeing him slowly become more laid back, regain his sarcastic humor, and get more comfortable around other Immunes was like tonic. Years of being in the Trials did nothing but harden him, turning his sarcasm into cynicism.

He's also slowly stopped flinching each time Frypan fires up the gas stove. He once made himself scrambled eggs on the induction stove. It was the best scrambled eggs he's ever eaten. Garnished with one massive Fuck You to WCKD

[piko-power]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. 😈 (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[owliellder]

All Pent Up

MDNI 18+

Puppy Hybrid! Leon Kennedy x afab! Reader

Word count: 3.85k

Warnings: Porn w/ plot, unprotected p in v (stay safe), no use of y/n, spanking, crying, slight ass-play.

Description: After a long night at work, you come home to a very pent up Leon. A trip to the park to help with that energy turns a little sour.

Tags: Submissive! Leon, neck biting/marking, begging, cunnilingus, knotting, mommy kink, fluff, near illegal amounts of praise AND aftercare, a lovely creampie to end the morning

Not proofread. I am once again sat here bored at work. More self indulgence since I work the same kind of job aforementioned in this lmao.

Also VERY much inspired by @abp0rns art of puppy Leon, specifically the two I put below the crop. Please check out their art they gotta be one of my favorite doodlers out there.

Edit: cross posted onto Ao3 if it's easier for you to read there (cause it is for me)

It had been an incredibly boring night at work for you. Working graveyard at a gatehouse meant you did practically nothing. Easy money, sure, but you can only watch so many movies and doodle so much before it becomes redundant.

The only thing keeping you going was making sure your puppy, Leon, stayed happy and comfortable. You'd found him at the shelter a few months back, and though you never considered yourself to be a hybrid kinda person, Leon was just too damn cute at that shelter.

After adopting the hybrid, you quickly fell into a nice afterwork routine; come home, get jumped by Leon, make breakfast while he asked a plethora of questions about your night and made sure you knew just how much he missed you by licking and slobbering all over you. He was the sweetest boy, but man was he excitable.

Some mornings, you'd come home a bit more awake than others. It was random and you're not sure what made that so, but today was apparently one of those days.

~

"-sosososo glad you're home, mommy! I've been so lonely and bored without you!" Leon happily talked on after you'd walked through the door, his golden fur covered tail thumping loudly against the back of the couch. You remained quiet as you let him ramble, reaching up to pet through his messy bedhead with a smile. "I chewed on my toys, broke one of the squeakers though, but you've gotten me plenty of other toys for me to play with!! I really like this fluffy red pig you got me-!"

He continued to talk loudly about everything he did after you left for work only 8 hours prior, running around to grab and show you his chewed up toy and his favorite toy, tail continuing to wag avidly all the while.

"Alright, alright.. settle down, Leon.." You spoke up, cutting off his talk about laying in your bed so you could take a moment to shed your work clothes in favor of some more comfortable lounge wear; an old, faded graphic tee and a pair of soft sweatpants.

The hybrid followed you throughout the apartment while continuing to ramble, albeit a lot quieter now. Clearly Leon had a lot of energy this morning, which wasn't unusual by any means, but since you weren't all that tired this morning you decided that a trip to the dog park would be a good way for him to get some much needed exercise and enrichment.

After making breakfast, you dressed your puppy in a cozy outfit since it was always little chilly in the mornings where you lived, damn cold desert. You only had to reach for the leash for him to start jumping and yapping enthusiastically, making it rather difficult to hook it onto his collar.

You decided to stay in your comfy clothes, seeing as it would keep you warm enough until the sun warmed the air outside.

"Do you think Chris will be there?! Can you text his owner?? Who else is gonna be there?! I can smell the park from here!-" Leon rambled excitedly as he tugged you along to the park, smelling every bush and tree the two of you passed thoroughly. His tail never stopped wagging, those soft floppy ears perked forwards as he moved his head every which way, focusing in on every movement and sound while beelining to the park. He knew the way there, the leash was just to make sure you didn't get lost.

The air was cool the, sun beginning to warm you up. It was starting to bring out your exhaustion, but you wanted Leon to get at least half an hour of playtime in so he wouldn't bug you while you slept later. The thought alone made it easy for you to power through that brain fog that threatened to settle in.

You and Leon walked across the street once the tall chainlink fence that bordered the dog park was in view, the Golden Retriever hybrid practically dragging you to the other side of the street as his excitement grew. There were always other hybrids out early in the morning, the cool mornings were nicer for walks compared to the hot afternoons, at least in your opinion.

Leon was rubbing himself along the side of the fence, sniffing with a large goofy smile on his face. He had playmates that were normally here around this time, namely Chris, a German Shepard hybrid. Though Chris was a little bigger than Leon, they always played nicely, never having gotten into any sort of scuffle.

Chris was quick to notice Leon, running up to the fence so he could sniff him. They rapidly got each other riled up, so the moment you made it to the gate you unhooked the leash from Leon's collar. This wasn't so he didn't get choked out when he launched into the park, no, it was because the last time you forgot to unhook his leash first, you were yanked face first into soggy grass and mud.

The second you unlatched the gate, Leon pushed it open. He sprinted into the grassy park, Chris not far behind before tackling the smaller hybrid with a playful growl. The two roughhoused, chased each other, and played tug-of-war with a stick Chris had found.

You decided to sit on a bench not too far from where the boys played, looking up from your phone every minute or so to make sure their play didn't turn ugly.

Only 30 minutes had gone by before- "Mommy! Mommy!" Leon shouted from across the park, prompting you to look up from your phone. It only took a moment for your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head when you spotted a now brown Leon. His tail wagged, slapping loudly against the thick puddle of mud he was laying sideways in. "Looklooklook! Chris and I found a ball!" he yelled with a grin, Chris holding up the muddy ball high in the air so you could see it.

You sat there dumbfounded for a brief moment before letting your head fall back, breathing in and letting out a deep sigh as your eyes closed. You tilted your head forwards again, letting your eyes open slowly as your annoyance showed clear on your face.

Your puppy could see your expression change even from where he was, his ears drooping more than they were as the mud had weighed them down a bit. Seems like playtime was over.

Chris' owner wasn't all that happy either, walking over to the filthy hybrids only a few seconds sooner than you did. You pulled Leon from the mud by the collar since he seemed a bit stuck, glaring weakly at the now cowering puppy.

"Leon is always getting Chris into some sort of mess." Chris' owner huffed out, clearly irritated with the situation. You frowned, running your free hand over your face with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Leon just seems to really like the mud lately. I can't help that Chris follows, but I'll try to keep Leon from the mud." You didn't really care for someone implying your Golden Retriever puppy was a bad dog, but the idea of confrontation mixed with your ever-growing exhaustion was enough to have you just let it go.

After apologizing again, you let Leon shake off the excess mud from his body before hooking the leash to his collar once more, beginning to pull him towards the gate. He was very resistant to leaving, whining and whimpering something fierce. "I'm sorry! ImsorryImsorry! Please I'll be good! Let me stay a little longer mommy! Please I'm sorry! Mommy!"

As pitiful as he sounded, you now had to squeeze a thorough bath in for the hybrid before you were even able to think about sleeping. You continued to drag him along as he fought against you, crying out softly as you finally got him through the gate, closing it before he could run back through.

Your exhaustion was making you irritable, and having to fight to get Leon back home was enough to make you angry. It got even worse when he growled at you.

You stopped walking, the entrance to your apartment building only a few feet away. Turning around to face him, he immediately shrunk down at your furious glare. "Bad boy, Leon." Your voice was harsh, yet also so calm, it scared him. He hated being a bad boy, he never wanted to hear those words together again.

After you started walking again, he followed obediently, staying silent all the way into your apartment. He stood stiffly by the front door once you closed it, watching you stomp away. The puppy was on the verge of tears, his muddy tail tucked between his legs and his ears flat against his head.

Leon's bottom lip trembled the longer he couldn't see you, his ears twitching a bit as he picked up on the sound of the bath faucet turning on. His hands were clasped in front of his legs, head down in shame.

"Leon!" You called out from the bathroom, your tone still laced with irritation, he could definitely tell that much. The hybrid quickly shuffled to the bathroom, trying his best not to get clumps of dried up mud on the carpet along the way.

Leon stood in the bathroom doorway before you gently dragged him in, making silent work of his clothes that were absolutely caked in mud. He knew what to do afterwards, quietly seating himself in the bath, shoulders slumped. The bath was silent except for Leon's weak attempts to apologize, his voice faltering every time once he looked at your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you just looked so disinterested.

After the bath, you shooed the puppy off with a towel draped over his shoulders, lazily washing off his collar in the dirty bath water before unplugging the tub.

Leon sat in the living room, drying himself off as best as he could with the towel. Even after, he shook himself off on instinct, the towel left discarded on the floor. He had sat himself on the couch, still slouched with a strong pout on his face.

He knew he was in trouble. His stomach sank when you walked out and stood in front of him with that same irritated look. You then walked and sat next to him on the left. "Lay across my lap, Leon."

The Golden Retriever hybrid whimpered, though he did as he was told, laying himself so his abdomen was laying on your lap, his tail still tucked between his legs. He yipped when you grabbed the base of his damp tail with your left hand, roughly untucking it so you could get a clear view of his ass. "Look at me, Leon."

He turned his head and tilted it back slightly so he could look up at you, his eyes sad and watery. He didn't have anything to say for himself. "You growled at me. You've never growled at me before." You sounded upset, and you were. You didn't want to punish your sweet boy, but him growling at you for something so insignificant deeply bothered you.

Sighing, you pulled his tail up away from his ass even further, grip tightening on it as you felt him try and tuck it back between his legs again. Wordlessly, you drew your other hand back, a sharp smack along with a cry from Leon ringing out in the quiet apartment. You hated having to do this, but he needed to learn.

A few harsh spanks later and the hybrid's ass was bright red and sore, tears spilling down his face as he sobbed out barely comprehensible apologizes in between loud cries every time you brought your hand down on his tender behind. His hands gripped the couch cushion tightly, those pitiful sobs of his tugging at your heart.

Once you feel Leon'd learned his lesson, you gently ran your hand along both his ass cheeks, soothing the hot and red skin while your other hand caressed the base of his tail. You waited until his crying quieted to talk to him again, listening to him sniffle wetly as you let go of his tail to wipe away his snot and tears.

"Okay, okay... there you go, sweet boy. All done. I'm all done..." you whispered to the whimpering puppy hybrid in your lap, shifting your body sideways so he could climb up and lay his head against your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other stroked the side of his face, clearing the few stray tears that continued to fall.

Leon buried his face into your chest, hiccuping out muffled apologies as he brought his hands up to wrap around you. "I'm sorry mommy. So-.. sososo sorry... Didn't mean to, mommy..."

As he trembled against you, you couldn't help but feel terrible for punishing him that way. He'd never been bad before, the punishment really shouldn't have been so harsh..

You waited until he quieted to speak up again, tilting your head to the side slightly so you could see his face a little better. "...you took that so well, Leon. Such a good boy for mommy, huh?" Despite the suggestive undertone, you made sure to talk softly, careful not to upset the delicate puppy on your chest.

He lifted his head up slightly, nodding weakly as his eyes turned glassy once more. "Please.. I'll-I'll be a good boy for you m-mommy. I'm sorry- I'm so so sorry mommy- I didn't mean to growl- ImsorryImsorryIm-"

You shushed him, running your hand from the side of his face up through his hair as he began to cry again. "You're a good boy, Leon. I forgive you, baby.."

All Leon wanted to do was make this right. He never wanted to be a bad boy again. He hated the way you spoke to him, the way you had looked at him. It was so scary, he wasn't a bad boy, no, he wasn't.

His mind was flooded with everything he could possibly do to make it up to you, tears falling onto your shirt as he pulled himself up off of you. He crawled backwards and sat back on his haunches, giving you a wary look as he tucked his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Oh, Leon, sweetheart, you don't have to-" "Please..." Leon's meek voice cut you off, making you pause for a moment before nodding with a smile. His hands trembled as he pulled your sweatpants down, taking your panties with them. The hybrid hiccuped again before bringing his head down between your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he cautiously placed his hands onto the points of your hips

It only took a second before he shoved his face into your cunt, whimpering at your smell and taste as he licked between your folds. You gasped, feeling his tongue eagerly lap up your slick as it leaked out of you, his low whimpers vibrating deliciously against you. "Leon~... oh~.. easy, boy..."

You reached a hand down to gently stroke his hair, attempting to get the puppy hybrid to calm down a bit still. He was obviously so eager to please, though he was still shaken up by the punishment; tears falling from his eyes, quiet sobs muffled by your pussy, eyes closed, and cheeks flushed a beautiful pink. His tail had started to wag again and you were relieved to see it sway slowly. You just wanted to see your puppy happy and excitable again like he always was.

Leon continued to lap at your cunt, keeping himself firmly buried in it. His breathing was a bit shaky but you just let him do what he needed to do, reaching your hand to the right a bit so you could stroke one of his soft floppy ears. He sighed at the feeling, his tail wagging a little faster.

"That's a good boy, Leon~... god- such a good boy for his mommy.." You praised the hybrid as he worked his mouth on you, the praise causing him to whine into your cunt. His eyes peaked open, looking up at you as small tears fell from them. "Good boy~..." You ran your hand down to stroke your thumb between his eyes, prompting him to close them again with a sigh.

Your words encouraged him further, sucking at your clit when his tongue wasn't buried inside of you. The puppy hybrid licked all around, making sure none of your sweet slick was left to waste. He eased his grip on your hips, partially worried he would hurt you, but mostly cause he adored the way you writhed when you drew close to your orgasm. He relished in how you pulled his head impossibly closer, practically grinding against his face, using him. What a good boy he was.

Leon was in heaven when you came, whimpering into your cunt as you gushed against his face. He made sure to lick up everything he could, even dipping down to your ass for a minute, tongue flat against the puckered hole. He'd be mad if he saw the couch got some of your juices.

After a moment, he pulled his head away, resting the side of his slick covered face against your thigh as he looked up at you with those puppy-dog eyes that you just couldn't resist. You knew what he wanted, and who were you to deny him?

"My good boy wanna fuck his mommy? Show his mommy what a good boy he is?" You whispered, to which he eagerly nodded in response, his ears perking up. You could hear his tail thump lazily against the back cushion of the couch, all the while watching him lick his lips. "I-I'll be a good boy for mommy. I'm a good boy-..good boy for mommy.." he mumbled quietly, hoisting himself up onto his haunches again after carefully laying your legs down off his shoulders. His thick cock was leaking pre-cum, flushed red at the tip while his knot was fully swollen. It was hard to look away.

Leon continued to mumble to himself, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he was a good boy. His breathing was still shaky as he watched you flip over, your ass up in the air while you rested your elbows on the armrest of the couch.

The poor thing was practically drooling at the sight of you, frozen in place, just staring at your glistening pussy. Your voice snapped him out of his trance, a hushed "Pretty boy..." causing him to lurch forward and mount you without further hesitation.

You cried out as he shoved his cock into you halfway, stopping only to grab the skin right above your collarbone with his teeth. He made sure he was positioned properly, shifting slightly before pushing his throbbing dick all the way. He whined at the way your slick walls gripped him, his knot pressed firmly against the outside of your cunt.

Leon's teeth broke skin as he began to piston in and out of you. He was drooling, whimpering, moaning, and his tail was wagging so fast. He loved the way his mommy felt, gripping his so tightly, sucking his thick cock in.

His let go of your skin to lick at gently, which was a stark contrast to his fast and rough thrusts. "So sorry mommy- sososo sorry.. never growl at you again- ah~..! I-I'll be mommy's good-.. good boy.."

The hybrid panted next to your ear, reaching his hands up and under your loose shirt to grip and massage your breasts. His fingers pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, causing you to moan loudly. You could feel every bit of his cock as he slammed it into you over and over again, the tip kissing your cervix which made you hiss at the slight pain it caused.

"Gonna- hnghh~.. gonna fill mommy up.. gonna be mommy's best boy again..." Leon whined, tilting his head to the side so he could nip at your neck, kissing and licking under your jaw. He sucked numerous hickeys down your neck, making quick work of the other side as well. He wanted you to remember how good he was for you, how much he was willing to do to make things better, what a good boy he was for you.

It didn't take long for him to near his own orgasm, his chin resting over your shoulder as his hands had worked their way back to your hips. He was so close; the sounds of your moans, the sinful way your pussy squelched with slick as he fucked into you, your smell, the lingering taste of you on his tongue, everything was just so overwhelming.

The puppy hybrid didn't have the words to give you warning, only a long drawn out whine as his hips stuttered forward, knot stretching you open. You came again from the feeling, barely being able to clench around his knot. It was just so big.

With his cum pumping into you, you could only groan pleasantly at the feeling of being so full, his knot having basically plugged you to the point that none of it could escape.

You could partially register Leon running his hands up and down your body, anywhere he could reach in his position, bunching up your shirt in the process. His large hands felt nice, helping you come down from your high. He was whispering something, you couldn't make out what, but it was probably the same thing he'd been spewing before.

~

After Leon was able to pull out of you, you made sure to reassure him over and over that he was your good boy, and he'd always be your good boy.

You made him a little snack once you'd cleaned yourself and him up, seeing as the park and your at-home playtime had influenced his appetite quite a bit. You loved to see him happy again; those beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile as that fluffy tail of his wagged.

Your body finally realized how tired it was once more, your brain catching up with that as well. You waved Leon, who was elated to follow you, into your room, practically bounding in like a deer. He begged to lay the way you two did on the couch, and again, who were you to deny him?

You laid back, head on your pillow as Leon nestled himself on top of you. He laid his head on your chest, turning his head to the left as he rested his arms on either side of you, his hands just barely tucked up under your pillow after pulling the blankets up over the both of you.

"You're the greatest boy anyone could ask for, Leon. Always taking such good care of me.." you whispered as his eyes closed, his tail going from a lazy wag to a stop as he fell asleep.

"I love you, my sweet boy.."

[kisses4kaia]

Charlie walker x reader smut where he’s very subby and unexpirienced

thank you 🧎🏻‍♀️

a/n; omgomg absolutely r u kidding me rn ? fem reader. obvi 17+ and intended for mature audiences .

movie night 💿 - c, walker ,,

it's crazy what an innocent movie night at kirby's can end up as.

you and charlie sat in opposite corners of the spacious living room, watching stab III (per charlie's insistence). it had just started and you were already bored. the movie wasn't bad, per se, you had just seen it so many times before.

and well, you had always found charlie walker more interesting.

you'd always thought of him as attractive, having spent many a night with your fingers deep inside of you, imagining they were his, imagining what he would sound like, whimpering for you and your touch.

you knew he felt the same, if not, similar, about you. from the way he insisted on walking up the stairs after you (iykyk), to the untrackable count of times you've caught him eyeing you up and down, as though he was praying he would be gifted by the gods with x-ray vision.

but every time you got too close, he'd shut it down with a friendly remark. every. damn. time.

"that's actually really nice of you, thanks y/n,"

"haha, you don't mean that. funny, though."

"i think you look pretty nice, too,"

it drove you crazy, just how oblivious he was to your advances. the way the tv screen lit up his blown pupils, fascinated as he watched one of his favorite movies for probably the 1,000th time, made you bite your lip to contain the anything-but-holy thoughts ravaging your mind.

you were tired of sitting around, doing nothing about this ever-growing crush.

whilst everybody had their eyes glued to the screen, watching some girl get chased through her home, you pulled out your small iphone and clicked on charlie's contact. you had to do something he couldn't ignore, something he couldn't look over.

you clicked on the option to attach a photo to the text message. you scrolled through your camera roll until you found it.

the photo was of you, in your bedroom, in your mirror, seemingly trying on lacy, dark purple, lingerie. there was no shot he was taking this with friendly intentions.

you to charlieee <33 : *(1) attachment*

you waited a few moments before texting him again

you to charlieee <33 : oops, wrong person . sry. 😊

you watched as he reached for his back pocket at the sound of a notification.

and how his face, once painted with curiosity, twisted into shock, sights forced on the device. you had to bite back a smirk as he looked up at you.

you pretended that you were watching the movie and gave no attention to the boy whose pants were getting tighter by the second.

he cleared his throat before settling back on the couch, typing out a reply.

charlie to y/n🤩 : it's okay haha

charlie to y/n🤩 : do you mind me asking who that was meant for?

you to charlieee <33 : why does that matter 2 u?

charlie to y/n🤩 : i just want to know if you're seeing someone, or if it was for jill or kirby, yk?

charlie to y/n🤩 : not that i care if you're seeing someone!! that's really one of my business, forget i said anything

you to charlieee <33 : lmao but char, its ok if u do

charlie to y/n🤩 : what do you mean by that?

you to charlieee <33 : follow me and find out ;)

you casually got up and exited the living room, successfully not turning any heads. you found the guest bathroom and entered.

it was actually very nice, the lights were bright and luminescent, and the shower, sink, and toilet were spotless.

you waited a few minutes, sitting on the sink counter, before the door opened, revealing the one and only.

"what took you so long?" you teased flashing a smile. "i was debating whether or not i actually wanted this, well i do want this, very much so, but i was just-" he was rambling.

"well, you're here now, aren't you, charlie?" you slightly whispered before pulling him towards you by his shirt, settling in between your legs.

he was stiff as a board, he didn't know what he could do. you noticed this and grabbed his hands from his sides and placed them lowly on your waist.

you placed your arms around his neck very lazily. "you want this?" you looked into his eyes, which were dazed and hazy, seemingly drowning in dopamine.

he nodded. "mhm, yeah," he was breathless, becoming so impatient, needing to feel your lips on his.

you chuckled softly to yourself before finally giving the boy what he wanted. the kiss started out slow but heated up quickly as you started to tangle your fingers in his hair.

you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip and his mouth fell open easily, allowing it in.

charlie gripped your hips tightly. "easy, tiger. i'm not going anywhere," you pulled away slightly to say. this did not make him let up. there were surely going to be bruises in the place of his hands by tomorrow.

you began kissing down his jaw and neck, exploring and searching for a sweet spot. he whimpered particularly needily at one area on his collarbone and you attacked it.

he began running his hands up and down your sides, underneath your shirt. you translated his wandering hands and helped throw your top off. he tried, truly, to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest but how could he? <33

"so, so, so beautiful," he whispered, leaning down slightly to knead your covered breasts. "too many clothes, baby. take 'em off for me, hm?" you more told him than asked.

like the good boy he wanted to be for you, charlie was quick to remove every garment on his body, save for his boxers.

you pulled your miniskirt off and were left in a laced, pale pinky-shade of matching bra and panties.

he took a small step back and stared at you intensely, like he wanted to say something. "spit it out, char." you almost scolded him.

"i-it's just, um, i've n-never done anything like this... before..." he looked down as though it was a shameful thing.

you smiled at his tenderness. "c'mere, love," you quietly uttered before pulling him in between your legs once again. you felt his hard length pressed against your middle but ignored the euphoria to focus on what mattered.

"look at me, char. that does not make me want you any less, it's actually kinda cute. listen, i'll guide you through it, if you wish to continue, that is. if you don't, we can get dressed and leave like nothing happened. what do you want to do, baby?" you reassured him as he stared into your eyes thoughtfully.

"i wanna keep going," he breathed out. "good," you hummed, drawing his lips to yours again. you hopped off of the counter, forcing your lips apart by the sheer height difference between you two.

you pushed him against the bathroom door and lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him. "w-what are you doing?!" he panicked slightly. "i'm gonna take real good care of you, m'kay, love? now, be a good boy for me and relax," you purred, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs.

the pet name turned his stomach and made him slip a small whimper. he unfroze his muscles and relaxed, per your request.

you kept your doe eyes on the flushed boy's face as your pulled his boxers down, making his dick spring out, hitting his stomach.

you tore your eyes from his face and focused your attention on his member.

he was big, huge. his slit crying with precum and veins ran up and down the length of it. your wide eyes softened when you heard a needy whine coming from the man above you.

you decided he's waited long enough, so you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. the moan/groan he let out, made you smile, and lock eyes with charlie once again.

"fuck, feels good," he said through half-lidded eyes as you began to suck on his angry, red, tip.

"so vulgar. bad boy," you teased with a grin. the sight of you beneath him, on your knees, a smile bigger than the whole sky plastered across your face as his dick leaned against your chin, could've caused him to release a load on your pretty face right there.

but he didn't. he wanted, needed, to be your good, good, boy <3.

"mmm, no. i'm good, i'm so good, only for you. just for you, mommy," the name merely slipped out, he swore, but it caused you to moan whilst his dick was down your throat, causing a very pleasurable vibration around his cock, causing him to involuntarily cum down your throat.

"sh-shit, 'm sorry," he was quick to apologize for cumming so quickly as you pull your jaw off of him. "say that again," you demanded with a scratchy voice, but needier undertones were detected. "w-what, i'm sorry?"

"no, before that,"

"m-mommy?" charlie squeaked.

"fuck."

from the cold tiles biting at the skin of your knees to shimmying off your panties and sitting back down on the counter, you knew you needed him, all of him. right here, right now.

this time, you didn't have to pull him toward you, he naturally gravitated to the comfort of the in-between of your plush thighs. "wanna fuck me? huh?" you asked, grabbing his cock and sliding the tip up and down your folds.

"more than anything, mommy," he whimpered, dreamily. "fuck, baby," you whined as you guided him inside of you.

the stretch was almost impossible. you both moan in synchrony. the tightness of your walls was far better than charlie could've ever imagined when he pumped his fist up and down his length on lonely nights.

"oh my god, momma. i've dreamed and dreamed about this," he whispered in your ear after you gave him the go-ahead to move. his thrusts started out slow and tame but sped up quickly.

the hold he had on your thighs was mighty as he chased his high. "gimme your hand," you managed to speak through the ecstasy. "w-why?" he slowed down, only slightly.

"just- just give it to me," you gasped as his tip pushed against your g-spot. he lifted his left hand and put it in your right.

you shaped it into a 'thumbs up' stance and moved in down onto your clit. "draw circles," you told him. he picked it up quickly and continued fucking you.

your nailed fingers tugged and pulled at his hair, making him into a moaning, whimpering, mess. "shit, fuck! i can't go for much longer. can i please do it inside? please, please, please, mommy?" he begged and you nodded. "i'm on the pill, doll. go ahead, fill me up." you couldn't say no to his beautiful, fucked out, face.

a few more sloppy thrusts into your cunt and soon, he had you loaded. he stared down at his cock going in and out of you, lubed by his sperm, and he could've came again at the sight.

it wasn't too long after that you felt your own earth-shattering release, clinging onto the broad shoulders of the man above you. it rippled through you like an ocean current.

you stayed intertwined with each other for a few more moments, catching your breath, before charlie spoke.

"if my calculations are correct, roman bridgers should be getting revealed as ghostface right now."

[improvapocalyps]

"Okay, yeah. If you kill a red name, killed a red name-" "I'll give you a life for that. That's the deal." "We'll be back together like buddies again, Bdubs."

In participation of Extreme Timed Challenge Gift Exchange hosted by @extremetimedchallengeexchange!

[gifs, full storyboard, behind-the-scene rambles under cut]

past 48h animatics: MCYTETC2023, ETC2023

[Red Lives-Suspicion; Prayer-Determination; Fireworks]

Fiddled with gradient maps this time for some additional colors :D I would have colored in the eyes as well, but I didn't have enough energy left when the event hit the 47th hour xD

Also played around with camera movements. Respect to people who do fan edits and other forms of video/ assets editing 'cause keyframes are so 😭

13 hours to draft storyboard this time! Last year I used 16 but with waaay more frames idk how I accomplished that. Probably bc this year I'm drawing more than three(3) characters lmao

Progress Timeline:

[13th hour] finished storyboard/ draft (plany off time...) [25th hour] lineart for the first 10 seconds (wuh oh) [36th hour] lineart for the first 25 seconds (oh shit oh fuck gotta shorten it) [45th hour] finished Bdubs' part (NOOO I DONT HAVE TIME FOR ETHO)

ngl kinda glad i cut it in half rn 'cause i'd have to spend time figuring out shadowDog's design /lh

Designs I used for Lizzie and Joel (old art from 2022 and 2021 respectively) (holy shit i've been here for 3 years???)

Joel *shakes fist* i hate u and ur stupid beard

[Lyrics vibe/scene planning; hours before disaster]

I think most of the drawn parts didn't deviate from the initial idea. Mostly timing adjustments and building upon the vibes. The parts that were changed the most was the "And you caused it (×3 combo)".

Went from "vague flashbacks" to "following Etho and co. out of the cave and back to Scott's base while implying who Etho blames with single character focus shots".

The first one is Scott because he suggested the idea. Like, obviously he's to blame. It's not like Etho went along and cemented the deal himself. Scott totally peer-pressured him into it.

The second one is Etho because... well the scene ends up kind of being like. The sight of the Snow Fortress triggering a flashback. (EthosLab the content creator deliberately turned his camera towards the Snow Fortress and holds it there for a second instead of looking at the huge lava pillar right in front of him. What is WRONG with him.)

But also like. Clocks are kind of special to Bdubs right. Whoever gave him a clock basically has his (temporary) loyalty or at the least earned a favor from him. So like. If he hadn't gifted Bdubs the clock, which signifies a closer(?) bond, maybe Bdubs wouldn't be so devoted to him (wrong). Also serves as a call-back/ reference to the "Prayer-Determination" shot ("pray with clock" in the scene planning screenshot). I like to think that Bdubs weighted his options and thought about "if he will kill/ who to kill" a lot while following the other Red Names. And in that scene he's like, convincing/ motivating himself. Remembering who/ what he's doing this for.

(It is also meant to be part of my giftee's other prompt: "an exploration of the doubt one or both of them felt during the heart transfer that didn’t happen after Bdubs killed Lizzie, and the following guilt Etho felt." The Etho section starting from "we're setting fire to our inside for fun" til the end of the animatic is based on that prompt.)

After a brief period of self-blame, it's time to shift it onto someone else! Because you're in denial! If Bdubs hadn't gone red, then Etho wouldn't have to offer the deal. If Bdubs hadn't want to stay as teammates, then he wouldn't agree to the deal. If Bdubs wasn't so devoted to Etho, then he wouldn't have attacked Lizzie and gotten himself killed.

Then the animatic ends with the end of the session :D

...That's longer than I expected but also not that long. If you read through all that, tysm :] Tell me your thoughts! Have a good day/ evening/ night :D

[slashthrashandcrash]

Okay, I had to go see what JedMEg was for myself and now I'm hooked. Can you talk more about them? Like does Meg ever find out the truth and how she reacts, for example?

I had to go digging for the last ask (here) about them just to remember where I left off in my insane ramblings lmao

So my original idea for this AU was that there is no fog, meaning once the Jed Olsen cover is purposely blown as per the lore, then it's totally game over, there's no Entity to whisk Danny away from the fall out. But that's part of the problem, isn't it? He's gone and gotten himself a little too attached to what was supposed to be a fake girlfriend, a girlfriend who's in love with a man that doesn't exist rather than the actor playing him.

Normally when he would snag himself a partner to accompany whatever persona he was putting on, Danny would kill them just before he skipped down. That satisfying moment of betrayal in their eyes, the soul crushing realization that everything was a facade, a convenience, that he never even liked them enough to give them a quick death no matter how many sweet "I love you"s he told them prior. As well as just another "fuck you" to the cops and community for how close under their noses he had been all along.

But he can't do that with Meg. He has no idea why, it was never this difficult before, but he's also never felt this way about any partner in general either. Fucking hell, he's really gone and gotten a crush on a pretty little redhead, huh? It doesn't matter, Jed Olsen was never someone who was meant to be around long term, and it's about high time he moves on since eyes are starting to shift towards him a bit. As much as it weirdly twists his heart to abandon Meg and leave her behind with the awful truth of who he really is to come out to the public afterwards, he knows it's for the best. Well...best for himself, anyways. And maybe for her, too, so that she's not entirely caught up in the shitstorm (of course, being the very public girlfriend of the now most wanted suspect in an ongoing murder case isn't going to be an easy ride...)

And Meg is beyond horrified to say the least. She still can't comprehend the entirety of the betrayal, that not only would her boyfriend leave her without a word, but that he would leave her because he was the very same murderer who had been harassing her for weeks! The one he was closely reporting on, the one whose ass Meg would try to kick every time he broke into her home, the one who used to threaten her "boyfriend" when they were in fact the same person. Everything she ever knew about him was a lie while she unfairly shared her whole heart to him. Not only that, but it's near impossible for her to try and imagine sweet, dorky, shy Jed being anything remotely close to a coldhearted killer. He couldn't even open a sauce jar half the time!! And you're telling her he can easily overpower multiple victims and haul their bodies around for sick poses???

Now Jed (?) is still out there, still on the loose, and Meg has no idea what to do. Reporters are hounding her for a statement. Police want to wring her dry for any clues or information that might help. People stare and spread rumors about just how "involved" she might have been from the start. And what if he decides to come back in the end, to tie up the loose end he left behind for whatever reason, is she even safe here anymore? Well, not for long, because that stupid ache in Danny's chest still hasn't subsided...it almost feels like it's gotten worse. It's not remorse or guilt, it's longing. He wants his bunny back, he liked how she felt sleeping in his bed and holding his hand and smiling so perfectly for a candid shot when she wasn't looking.

The dirty laundry has already been aired. They could start fresh, in theory. Whether she wanted to or not.

Although again, this was only the original idea I had when I first started making brainrot. There are so so so many new paths I've ended up concocting for them...if Meg found out Jed was a killer right before he left by catching him in the act or fitting in too many pieces herself...if Meg refused to believe Jed was the killer and was instead framed by Ghostface who she now has to hunt down for answers about Jed's real whereabouts...if they got taken into the fog shortly after that anyways per canon with Meg either not knowing or not believing that Jed is Danny/Ghostface while he keeps up the ruse to avoid her truly hating him (plus the outcome for when Meg does find out the truth while they're stuck in this hellhole)...if they were taken into the fog while he was still Jed and then him having to painfully confess why he was put into the killer camp and having to live with the heartbreak he's trapped her with...

[kivaember]

Not sure if anyone's asked you this yet but PLEASE drop the walt/mich essay!!!

OKAY i went crazy and did an actual essay. im not joking this fucker is long. i'd open the read more in another tab, just to warn you.

ALSO ALSO! This was just me sitting down and rambling about things. It's a summarisation of my thoughts, and I pared it down since it was hitting 5k (it's about 4.4k words long lmao). If this essay has you thinking of specific questions and the like, feel free to ask and I'll try to answer them!

Now without further ado, my ramblings below:

THE WALTER/MICHIGAN SHIP ESSAY!

INTRO

That's right baby, I'm giving this an intro and everything. Alright, this essay is all about exploring and explaining my version of the Walter/Michigan ship using the characterisation I gave them for the APV verse. First I'm going to drill down into the individual characters, what makes them tick, their backstory, etc, before finally going into detail about how they mesh together as a ship and why they're both good yet terrible for each other.

THE WORLD LORE

To understand Michigan and Walter, we need to understand the type of world they were born into. Furlong Dynamics is a major powerhouse on the Jupiter colonies, owning several shipyards and carving a specific niche for themselves as the weapon-dealer for interstellar craft. They may not be as well-known or successful as Arquebus or Balam in the defence industry in terms of MTs or ACs, but if you're arming an interstellar craft, you sure as shit are going to use Furlong Dynamics weaponry.

Problem is in post-Fires age, that corner of the market is stagnating due to a lack of new interstellar craft being built. Prior to the discovery of Coral as an energy source, humanity had to do long-stasis and slow-walking their way across the galaxy, which meant trade and the like was incredibly limited between extrasolar colonies. With Coral, however, they were able to make tremendous technological shortcuts to create what they called the "C-Wave Drive". It functions a lot like the hypothetical Alcubierre Drive, with Coral producing the insane amounts of energy required and running the equally insane amounts of calculations needed to ensure the craft doesn't crush itself into a singularity (also, Coral has a very strange relationship with spacetime, the scientists found...). An added bonus as well was that these "C-Wave Drives" required no refuelling.

The interstellar craft needed crude fuel for sublight travel and other functionalities on the ship, but as for long-distance travel? There was no need to make pitstops or set aside cargo space for fuel, so many ships got used to just carrying a small amount that would allow them to travel as needed locally, as it would be easy to refuel when arriving at their destination as and when was needed.

Post-Fires changed this landscape drastically. Overnight, the interstellar craft market was rocked by the realisation that the previously thought limitless and abundant miracle substance that made FTL travel easy and convenient was now extremely finite had them all scrambling. The UEG openly seized every single galactic store of Coral from the corporations, citing "galactic security", and all orders for new interstellar craft - amongst other Coral technologies - instantly halted.

By Young Jupiter time (ten years post-Fires), Furlong Dynamics is beginning to feel the strain. They built their empire on focusing predominantly on interstellar craft - their designs, their weaponry, their engines - and their frantic R&D into solving the energy problem the Coral had shortcutted wasn't going very well. All that could be done was continue to maintain the existing ships that existed, as theoretically the C-Wave Drives could run indefinitely until some sort of mechanical failure happened due to wear and tear. As for new ships, the only ones being built were those utilising the old "slow-walker" engines, which meant bigger, bulkier, slower ships, with less room for ammunition fabrication and storage, and more for stasis compartment and fuel storage. Corporations that had specialised mostly in stasis technologies enjoyed an unexpected windfall, while those like Furlong Dynamic began to languish.

But as they say, shit rolls downhill. With the Corporations struggling to adjust to the Coral shortage and the UEG viciously hording the few galactic stores that remained, the working class found their workload increasing - heavily.

Factories that had benefited from the automation of Coral technologies found themselves in the position where they needed heavy reliance of human productive power. Yet they didn't want their productivity to lower thanks to human limitations, and neither did they want their profits to dent by either hiring too many workers, or paying the few higher wages to make up for the harder work. The few worker protections that had been steadily built up over the past few decades were immediately torn down and rescinded, and the working class were forced to work to maintain the corporations' and the UEG's productivity in their factories and fabrication facilities on basically starvation wages.

So, we have a world that has suffered from a fatal blow to the comfortable status quo. Furlong Dynamics is desperate to try and stem the bleed from their profits that the Coral shortage had started, and the boot has never been heavier on the working class's neck. It's an atmosphere that creates considerable tension within the various stratas of society, and the Jupiter colonies especially - known as the industrial powerhouse of the solar system - have become a bubbling pot. Any socialist talk or gatherings are viciously cracked down on by the corporate and government forces, and the workers are becoming increasingly frustrated and antagonised.

So it makes sense why Walter and Michigan initially have a bit of a rocky start, coming from these polar opposites of society. Michigan, the son of a Furlong Dynamic's director, and Walter, a Rubiconian refugee clawing his way out of the slums.

But alright, world context has been laid down, it's time for the character context. First up:

MICHIGAN - THE PRINCE WHO WANTS TO BE A PAUPER

So, Michigan. G1. Hell On Four Legs. Where did he come from, and who is he? To answer that, we need to look at his family... and Furlong Dynamics' leadership.

Every corporation is unique in its structure and the way it handles leadership. For example, Balam is well-known for its unusual meritocratic selection process for its CEO, though that hasn't exactly escaped the nepotism that pervades the upper echeleons of corporate society. Those with advantageous beginnings normally win the meritocratic race: they just have to work a little harder than most. Furlong Dynamics, however, are upfront about their leadership roles being hereditary.

Five families sit on the board for Furlong with one presiding as a CEO, a role that rotates every five years in a set pattern between the five families. This is a system that has worked for almost as long as Furlong Dynamics had existed (almost 300 years by this point), and needless to say that those five families were old money. They're the equivalent of an aristocracy in a hypercapitalistic galaxy.

One of these families is Rivera, which Michigan was born into as Gabriel Rivera. It was expected of him to succeed his father and sit on Furlong Dynamics' board as a director, so from a very young age he was prepped for this eventuality. His father dictated everything in his life, from his hobbies to what he wore and right down to what he ate. He was drilled in everything to do with business, politics and the interstellar industry, as his father was keen for Michigan to be ready and prepped for when he succeeded him, especially as Furlong Dynamics was entering a critical slump for the first time in its long history due to the Coral shortage. He didn't want his son to be the weak link.

Michigan despised this. He hated the people his father forced him to interact with, he hated the two-faced communication and backstabbing schemes he was encouraged to learn and inflict on others, he hated how boring yet stressful this kind of life was. Contrary to his personality later in life, Michigan was reclusive and anti-social when he was young - a direct result of his father's overbearing and relentless micromanaging - and when possible would hole himself up in his room and escape by watching classical films.

Classical films being... war films and action movies.

Though plenty of media had been lost when Earth suffered from ecological devastation, many had been salvaged throughout the centuries. It had begun from Michigan pilfering from his father's collection, something to put on display and boast about possessing rather than watching, and found himself hooked.

Brave soldiers heroically saving their comrades, taking charge of their destinies, denying fate, overcoming the odds, starting from the gutter and rising to the top from their own merits, making fire-forged friends that were genuine and not shallow transactional facades... this type of fantasy entranced Michigan, giving him a craving that he couldn't quite itch with his luxurious yet empty life. He desperately wished he had been born as some poor bastard whose only option was to join one of the corporate militaries, and distinguish himself by commiting acts of heroism, have people awed by him because of his own merits, and not because he is a Rivera and surrounded by brown-nosing sychophants.

It was a delusional dream driven by an intense desire to escape and forge a genuine connection with anyone, and after years of burying himself deeper and deeper in the propaganda belched out by these old action films (the message of 'war is hell' from the more solemn ones flying miles above his head), Michigan decided: he was going to disown himself and become an MT pilot.

Which he managed. To cut a long story short, Gabriel Rivera became just Michigan, the Rivera name used sparingly and only for legal reasons. He left behind the comfortable executive life to start at the very bottom of the pilot ranks, working his way up with grit and determination, denying any advantages or opportunities that came his way due to his blood or name. He wanted to emulate those heroes that he had watched in those films, he wanted to start with nothing and become something, all with his own efforts, and leave behind the Rivera name and reputation for good.

He started acting more like those gunslinger heroes, loud voice, boisterous personality, easy-going nature and possessing a masculine charm. He's always seeking that big, heroic event, that euphoric moment of victory and achieving the impossible against the odds... but he never really found it. Even after abandoning Furlong Dynamics entirely to jump ship to Balam, he realised that it was just more of the same, his battles against downtrodden workers protesting against their inhumane treatment, or furthering corporate interests over some useless moon in the middle of nowhere. There was no glory or higher purpose - just the company's bottom line.

Michigan started his piloting career as a rich kid craving adventure, naive to the true gritty nature of the galaxy. After decades of piloting under his belt and with an intimiate insight on both sides of the corporate ladder - both at the bottom and the top - to say Michigan was jaded by the time he landed on Rubicon would be an understatement.

He learned that there's no such thing as big damn heroes in this shitty galaxy. All the titles and medals he earned were just window dressings to whatever shitty advertisement his corporate master touted to bolster its reputation or sales. He hated his "Hero of Jupiter" title, and he took great pleasure in launching his "medals" off a cliff and into the ocean like they were frisbees. He hated that in the end his father had been right, that becoming a pilot wouldn't let him run away from the corporate lifestyle, it'd just throw him down to the very bottom and get him trampled

In short, Michigan's a man who tried to forge his own destiny by following a childish dream. His naivety resulted in him being trapped in a life that only had one escape - crawling back to his father and retaking the name Gabriel Rivera - and he viewed that worse than being a corporate attack dog with no real freedom. He'd rather die in some shitty hole in a random ditch somewhere over some pointless resource that meant nothing to him. Was it pride by that point, or stubbornness? He really didn't know.

He just knew that he was just another guy suckered in by the corporations' glitzy and false promises.

WALTER - THE AVENGER WHO KNOWS HE'S DIGGING A GRAVE FOR MILLIONS

Walter, meanwhile, was born to a privileged family of a different sort.

A good few decades before the Fires, Rubicon had done the unthinkable in human history: it had broken away from the UEG and declared independence, becoming a self-sustaining colony with a distinct identity - and able to negotiate with the fuming UEG on equal footing due to its sole access to Coral and its development of the C-weapons. The UEG couldn't take Rubicon or its resources by force (though it surely contemplated it from time to time), and so begrudgingly dealt with them as a peer, legitimising Rubicon as an independent colony and allowing it to forge its own desinty on the galactic stage.

While UEG and its many colonies functioned as a hypercapitalist ogligarchy, Rubicon became a technocracy, with the Rubicon Research Institute having considerable sway over the Rubiconian central government - to the point where it was understood that despite the elected 'president', it really was the Institute that was in charge. This gave rise to the 'intellectual elite', the scientists and academics who ran the Institute - the class that Walter belonged to before the Fires.

His parents were both scientists that worked on the Xylem and lived on-site. They were passionate about their work with the Coral and highly respected within their community, but while they clearly loved Walter, he was always second priority to their research and ambitions. Walter was the only child growing up in the labs (at least, the only one that wasn't a test subject of some kind), and only ever interacted with adults - all of whom were scientists or the security staff. He had never left the Xylem either, his concept of the 'outside world' being the small, sanitised courtyard with the lone tree, and the street he could see past the bars of the labratory's secure and gated exit. While he had some freedom of movement within the facility, there were areas he was barred from entering due to sensitive experiments, or to minimise his interaction with detained test subjects.

As a result, Walter became scarily self-sufficient from a young age, and came across as taciturn or emotionally stunted. He spoke like an adult but struggled to navigate social situations in general, unable to sugarcoat his words and coming across as rude or abrasive when speaking to others. While he found himself occasionally curious about interacting with people who weren't harried scientists that barely tolerated his prolonged presence, Walter genuinely found himself unbothered about his isolation. He was lonely, yes, but he occupied himself well enough, and filled the long stretches of time in furthering his education - determined to become a scientist like his parents and continuing on their work, as what was expected of him.

Then his father began the augmentations and everything went terribly wrong.

His mother volunteered to be Gen Zero, the prototype used to present to the Institute to have the augmentation project greenlighted. Initially, things went well. His mother suffered no significant drawbacks, and demonstrated an incredible boost in mental acuity and calculation power that current neural implants couldn't even begin to compare to. Once the Gen Ones were well underway, however, with a significant death rate at that, his mother began to rapidly degrade, physically and mentally. Walter's last memory of his mother was her unable to recognise him and talking to people who weren't there, knowing that it was the Coral's fault somehow.

His father was driven to perfect the augmentations to ensure his wife's sacrifice wasn't in vain. In Walter's words, he began a carnival of horrors within his labs, killing and mutiliating hundreds within his labs in his pursuit of the refining the augmentation process, with the Institute pumping unlimited resources, funding and test subjects into the project. The glimpse of the future Gen Zero showed them had them eager to achieve that perfection, no matter how many bodies they had to stack up.

It disgusted Walter. While he had never been emotionally close with his parents, he had still respected them, and to see his mother reduced to a crazed husk of herself before dying and his father turning into a monster, destroyed the pedastal he'd put them on. Walter found himself fostering a near irrational hatred for the Coral, rationalising that none of this would've happened if Coral had never been discovered - if it had never existed. He wished, vehemently, for it to disappear.

He got his wish with the Fires.

While the augmentations had made Walter view the Coral with a negative lens, seeing the damage it could do in the wrong hands, the Fires cinched it as a traumatic avatar of destruction in Walter's mind. The Coral was too dangerous to exist in their galaxy, not with how greedy humans could be, and blind to the dangers in pursuit of power. But his motivations weren't noble: he absolutely despised the legacy it represented, how he couldn't hear the word 'Coral' without thinking of his father, his mother, and how everything was robbed from him. It seeded in him an obsession, a hateful, vengeful obsession, because focusing on that, on gunning for a tangible entity that you've vowed to destroy, is far easier to stomach than processing the fact that your life was utterly ruined by selfish ambitions and a freak accident.

Overnight Walter went from part of the very prestigious intellectual elite on Rubicon, to a penniless refugee on one of Jupiter's colonies: Ganymede. It was a shock to the system to find himself in a world where food wasn't simply there whenever he desired it, that shelter wasn't a given, and that clinical cleanliness was a privilege, not a right. He fortunately had Carla with him, though, and while the first few years were rocky, they managed to find their footing by creating a scrapping service in the Ganymede slums, Carla using her previous experience in R&D at the Institute, and Walter his education, to repurpose old tech and mechs or salvage somewhat valuable tech to sell on.

From there, they began to plot, to focus their shared hatred and distrust of the Coral to really make sure it was gone for good, that it wouldn't come back. In the filthy slums beneath Ganymede, with a promise made between two emotionally exhausted yet furious Rubiconian refugees, Overseer was born.

But that's its own story.

Walter's endless conga line of misfortune did well to harden him and make him adaptable to unpleasant surprises. He always expects shit to go wrong at the most inconvenient times, he doesn't trust a single person to do the right thing even if he's known them for years (Carla, who all but raised him, he only trusts to a certain extent), and he realised how hypocritical most people could be. Though he was born as one of the intellectual elite, witnessing and experiencing first hand the oppression and indignity the working class suffered in UEG territories genuinely sickened him - and cemented in his mind that this galaxy couldn't be trusted with the Coral at all.

He had to destroy it for good. He had to make sure it could never come back and hurt anyone else. He had to erase every drop of legacy his shit-for-brains father had built and let history bury him forever. Walter, for all of his outwardly cold and emotionless masks, feels deeply and intently, and all of it is bitter rage.

Walter just doesn't know how to process his emotions well - he was never taught, and he missed those vital milestones with his lonely childhood, locked away in an ivory tower filled with nothing but scientists and test subjects. He feels so much over his father, the Fires, the Coral, but has no idea how to sort through it all. So he stuffs it away. He keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon where his mission to destroy the Coral hangs. He tells himself that once he destroys it for good, it'll all go away: these incomprehensible, heavy and painful emotions. The source of them all will be gone.

Imagine that: condeming millions to death because of crippling, unaddressed daddy issues.

THE SHIP ITSELF

Right, with all that context given, onto the part people really care about: so, why does the Walter/Michigan ship pair well? Or at least, why does APV Walter/Michigan pair well.

Michigan's POV:

From Michigan's side, he's fascinated with Walter. Everything about him just doesn't make sense. He's a 'sewer rat', a working class drone that managed to claw their way out of the muck and elevate his social standing through stubborn grit and determination - but his demeanour belies that. Walter demonstrates a level of education and sophistication that the working class just don't have. Michigan has grown up on Ganymede, and despite the high-ranking executives living in their gated communities and busying themselves with the day-to-day running of their businesses, they do keep an eye on what the working class are up to.

The corporations have perfected subjugation and propaganda to an artform. They can only achieve this if they know their target audience. Michigan knows, as any self-respecting Rivera knows, how the working class tick, their current worries and desires, the statistical trends of their few purchases and which style of propaganda they're most receptive to. Walter fits none of the established norms for Ganymede working class - he doesn't even have a recognisable Jupiter colony accent - so he already presents himself as an interesting puzzle for Michigan to break down.

There's also some genuine respect there too. Michigan acknowledges that Water had to work hard to get where he was, and he appreciates that Walter doesn't mince his words or beat around the bush. He's blunt, direct and isn't in the business of brown-nosing or fawning to ingratiate himself. You always knew where you stood with Walter, or so Michigan felt, and admittedly, Walter reminded him a lot of a certain character achetype in his precious films: the underdog, the guy you ended up rooting for just because he worked so fucking hard for what he wanted.

So, to Michigan, Walter's interesting, he's mysterious, and he's a representation of what Michigan wanted for himself. He wants to be like Walter: a poor as shit refugee making something of himself, with a whole future to distinguish himself and build his own reputation, to forge himself in fire! Michigan is mildly envious, but thinks as well that if he sticks close to him, he'll be able to live vicariously through him, to get a taste of dream he really wanted to achieve...

And because he's so fascinated with Walter, he starts to learn all of his tics and mannerisms too. He begins to understand the minute shifts of Walter's expressions, what he leaves unsaid and knowing when Walter is feeling but just doesn't know how to express or word himself. Michigan is the more emotionally intelligent of the two, and very perceptive despite how he acts. Combined with his easy-going nature and his respect for Walter's hardworking nature and competency, this helped him break through a few of Walter's walls - despite Walter doing his best to rebuild them as fast as possible.

Not to say they don't butt heads: they butt heads a lot. Arguing is their favourite pasttime. They challenge each other, and Michigan knows that he can say whatever and Walter can dish it out right back. Walter doesn't give a shit about any potential ties Michigan may have to the Rivera family - he just gives a shit about Michigan waking him up at 6am and asking him to go running with him. He snaps at him, argues with him, insults him... he treats him as Michigan, and this is what Michigan cares about the most.

Walter's POV:

Meanwhile, Walter's feelings towards Michigan are very complicated. He's irritated by what he sees as Michigan's nosiness towards his private affairs, and he doesn't appreciate him trying to figure him out. Mostly because he doesn't want him figuring out his true identity. Walter wanted to sever any and all ties between him and his father's legacy, and he and Carla took great pains to have no one realise that he was the famous Dr Kohler's son. And the disowned heir of the Rivera family? Definitely in the best position to connect the dots.

But Michigan's also the first person to ever just... treat him normally and roll with his verbal punches. People are usually scared away by Walter's cold attitude and sharp words, but Michigan gave as good as he got, and always shrugged off Walter's meaner comments. It left Walter at a bit of a loss, and after a while he slowly desensitised to Michigan's presence. He rationalised that it's just pointless wasting energy trying to chase off Michigan, but the fact was he... ended up liking his company. He had no idea socialising could be so enjoyable, once you learned to tolerate their more aggravating parts.

There's also a colder and more pragmatic side too: Michigan is useful to him, as a son of an executive, disgraced or not. Walter is aware enough to acknowledge that a small chunk of his tolerance is proportional to Michigan's use for him, but in his mind he sees it as an expected part of their relationship. It's transactional, what they share (or so he tells himself). He offers entertainment to Michigan, who in turns offers the same - and lets Walter take advantage of the few perks being "friends" with an executive's son offers.

He tells himself he can't get attached - he has his mission after all - but by this point Walter's good at ignoring his feelings and burying himself under six feet of concrete denial. He clings to the rationalisation that they're just "friends with benefits" for years, that from the beginning they were only making use of each other - there wasn't really anything there. Even to him that sounded hollow when he finally cut ties and left, to pursue his hopeless and doomed mission. He never really stopped thinking about Michigan, the what-ifs.

He hated it.

...

Also they both share a hatred of their respective fathers, so they Get That. They're part of the Dads Suck club.

CONCLUSION

So basically........ they're gay, your honour.

[firefly--bright]

peeks and blinders (you know me)

jean kirstein x gender neutral! reader, modern au

summary : being loved required patience and time and hope. luckily, jean provided all of them, without hesitation.

warnings : feelings of being deeply alone, heavy, hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, reader might sort of have depression

a/n : aha. lol. lmao. uhmmm yeah this is incredibly self indulgent and a projection. if you relate to this please PLEASE know that you're a) not alone and also b) I'm here if you ever need anyone to talk to. i wrote this with an unhappy ending in mind but with the poll results (and let's be honest, the aot finale) I decided to make it a happy ending instead. don't worry, everything works out in the end. this fic might just be terrible if you're already sad, so reader discretion is advised! i dont expect anyone to read the whole thing!!! but if you do read it, I hope you like it because I spent way too long on it. the ending might've been a little rushed only because I wanted to get this out as soon as possible so I could move on with a new fic idea ;)

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody @holding-infinity-and-a-book @jeanscremebrulee (side note- thank you for the kind words in my taglist form's criticism/comments question. i truly, deeply appreciate it :) )

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ requests are open! ✿ likes and reblogs are appreciated! ✿ join my taglist ✿

✿ recommended playlist to listen to while reading ✿

living with someone meant showing yourself, something you weren't afraid of. well, not afraid, more just apprehensive. there was too much of a potential to fucking up a relationship; showing yourself too much in the one place you're allowed to be yourself without restrictions and limitations. you love your friends, you love jean, but sometimes the quietness of being alone was more than welcome because it had to be.

so when jean asked you with eyes that didn't meet your own if you wanted to move in with him, you didn't answer. quiet literally, you paused from eating the slice of pizza in your hand. he continued on with his nervous 'making-up-for-the-lack-of-response' ramble, explaining how you technically already lived together, how he liked finding your toothbrush next to his, and reluctantly admitted that he sometimes used your soap when he wanted to have a good day. a speech that warmed you despite your answer.

because no matter how comfortable you'd be with anyone, sharing the same space with them was a different kind quiet, unrelenting vulnerability. the fact that you existed and let someone percieve you without hinderance was...too much to think about. you had been alone your whole life, not in a pitiable way, but in a way where you didn't have a childhood best friend. you didn't have people stick around, like you were only at a corssroad of people's lives and greeted them with familiarity and comfort that they'd craved, despite your want and desire for it yourself. they'd continue on with their path while you would sit there, patiently, passing time.

jean admitted it to you. indirectly, he had confessed that he wanted to see you vulnerable and bare open in a way that people wouldn't know you normally. in a way where you were simply a locked window that noone had the key to. but there wasn't anything special to hide, no great overview of the city or the sea or rolling hills and valleys and large fields. no, just an unimpressive view of an unmowed backyard. untamed and messy - again, nothing special. just years of neglect while also being looked at. nothing special.

you didn't want him to see it. and technically, he asked you. you stopped spiralling just as he started his own, realising the effect your non verbal answer had on him, you simply said "I'll think about it." and tried to crack jokes along until the end of the night. because if nothing, then jean deserved some peace to balance out the turbulence that came with loving you.

in all honesty, you didn't know what you did. how you comitted the monsterous feat of getting him to love you. how he loved you in your entirety (or lack of it), how he woke up everyday and chose to love you despite everything that you took from him, drawing out his grumbling patience and gentleness because loving you meant waiting. loving you always, somehow, meant not loving you, because there was no way someone would know you, all your stories and opinions and ideas and still choose to love you.

living with you meant knowing your anatomy. not of your physical, breathing body, but the inside of your organs. it meant knowing that your stomach was filled with guilt, that your mouth could only utter whispers of people who once loved you and 'im sorries' to someone who won't know. it meant knowing that your hands were always aching to be held, that your skin was only ever warm when it was loved. it meant knowing that your chest was always heaving, yearning for a breath of relief that would never arrive. it meant knowing that your eyes always wandered off to the weighing scale kept at the back of your closet, always wandered off to find another pair of eyes that would look similar to yours. it meant knowing that your hair was always knotted with the doubts your mouth would never ask. it meant knowing so much about you, about the grey matter in your brain and about what flowed through your veins was nothing but pure doubt and discomfort with the unholy temple that was your body, the temple without a god, the temple that noone went back to. a body without a home.

he wouldn't want to know. he shouldn't want to know, and more importantly, he wouldn't like finding out. it would either be too much or too little, and his fingers would cramp up with the effort it took for him to pry you open, only for no prize to be met with. besides, you were okay just talking to yourself, no matter how insane it sounded. you got through so many years being self-sufficient, right? you didn't know how to handle it, handle someone actually loving you without doubt. you had lived long enough without it. someone loving you was new, something you didn't have a map for, something you didn't have any precautions against.

you and jean slept together that night. in the same bed, breathing the same air, under the same covers. you didn't share the same sleep, however, as his mind made dreams and yours went on like an unfinished painting - a list of unfullfilled answers, no meanings, trying and failing to come together. you found yourself watching him breathe; just his chest moving up and down and up and down, your hands twiching to rest on top of his but you didn't know if that's where they'd belong. if his body would wake itself up because of your touch - everyone was always surprised by how cold your fingers were. you were used to it.

maybe living with him wouldn't be that bad, right? as he said, you already shared the same space to a point where the pair of you felt comfortable enough to not care if your hair was groomed perfectly or if the colours and patterns of your outfit were clashing. but would he like it? would he like just how much more comfortable you could get? just how much you could ask for? just how long you could lock yourself up in the bathroom and try to cry? would he like to know just how long you sometimes spent on your bed, refusing to get up because your heart felt too heavy for your chest? for when your heart felt like it could fall through your back, punch a hole through the ground and bury itself in the earth until it could somehow bonify and fossilize and archeologists would recognise, instantly, that it didn't belong there.

he'd leave. that was something you knew for a fact. your love wouldn't be wasted, ofcourse not, neither would the time, but maybe he'd leave feeling like he'd wasted himself at your expense. or maybe he wouldn't think about you at all.

your night was spent with your brain spiralling - thoughts about how you didn't know how to handle being loved the way he loved you, about how you probably never had a childhood best friend that was still in your life because the phases of your life weren't meant for anyone but yourself to see, about how much your hair fell due to the stress of distracting yourself from overwhelming sadness by studying and creating while also being only slightly average at it. you fell asleep thinking about how the abundance of being alone, to you, meant being not alone at all, because there was no differenciation of company and lonlieness because there hadnt been any company to remind you of the lonliness at all- your eyes had fluttered closed and breathing evened.

jean always wondered if you were hiding something from him. not in a bad way, not in the way where he couldn't say he loves you, but in the way where you'd hesitate. and if he didn't love you as much, he probably wouldn't have even noticed. but fortunately, he did know you. a little too well.

he knew how much you loved the crunchy autumn leaves, so much so that you would alter your paths just to crunch one under your boot, a smile of satisfaction gracing your face after hearing the noise it made. he knew how much your fingers would reach out for his. he knew how much you tried - with everything. he knew of your unsaid struggles, knew when and what made your mood sour. and he loved it, he loved the fact that he knew all of those thing but more importantly, loved that he loved them.

loving you felt like it was a built-in feature.

but despite all of this, he didn't know why. he didn't know why you were the way you were. he knew you tried, but he didn't know why. he knew you struggled, but didn't know why. and it was driving him crazy, especially after last night. he couldn't help himself, even if he could see you, again, trying to diffuse the situation with lighthearted jokes, he couldn't help but think a little too much.

did you not want to? jean had always been honest about how much he struggled with being either too much or too little, about how much the words hurled by his friends when he was young hurt him, about how much his love proved to be uncomfortable and silent and resigned. maybe his honesty was too much for you. maybe you didn't like the burdens he came with, maybe you didn't like knowing how much his father's absence had affected him, or about how much his previous partner altered the way he saw himself to a miserable extent. you hadn't asked for all of this, all of him, all of his parts. maybe you were getting sick of it.

or maybe, if Jean's knowledge about you served right, you were being hesitant again.

he swears he doesn't mind it. you not wanting to move in with him wasn't a problem, but he just wished he knew why. the whole day, the only thing on his mind was how he could feel less hesitant towards him, god, anyone but him. he knew, firsthand, how it felt being so overwhelmed by inconsequencial doubt where he was left with so many regrettable unanswered questions engraved into the palm of his hands because he kept them hidden in his fist for too long, where he wishes, prays, and hopes for an answer that he knows will never arrive even if he doesn't look for it.

there are many things jean wishes and prays and hopes for. you're not one of them. but only because you're here. he doesn't need any other wish to be fulfilled or prayer to be answered or hope to sparkle. you are, inadvertently, all of them. a love without doubt, a wish without a cost, a prayer without a sacrifice, a hope without desperation. you're all of them. you're everything.

but he knows that if he's hesitant this time, if he doesn't reach out to grab you, if he doesn't do something, no matter how desperate, he will most ceratinly feel a deeper regret than he has ever felt before. and yes he may be exxagerating it, but he doesn't care. he'd learnt not to care when he was with you - he's learnt to be comfortable with you and around you. he wants to tell you that it's okay if you don't want to move in with him because his home is wherever you would be, his home is his hand on your thigh, his home is watching you blink in thought, his home is the sound of your footsteps. his home is anywhere with you. you are the only person who has the right to know that.

he makes his familiar way over to your apartment. you're not home yet, sasha informs him with a sleepy voice and messed up hair, "but you can wait in their room." she says because everyone knows that you wouldn't mind him waiting in your room. including him.

he does your routine - the one he's seen you do countless of times when you enter your room - take off his coat and hang it on the back of your door where one of the hooks is kept empty for him, shoulder his bag off and put it down on the spot next to your desk, turn on the desk lamp and the night lamp because you refused to turn the overhead lights on, because "they are so hideous why would I want to turn them on," according to you, and then finally occupy the space on your bed, laying his back down and his hands resting on his stomach as he waited for you.

staring at the cracking paint on the ceiling of your bedroom, jean thinks. from his pending homework that he's mentally figuring out how to schedule to how he's going to conduct this new group project with people he has never talked to before to how is it already the second last year of University because it felt like the first day was yesterday, until finally his thoughts landed on you. of course it would always lead to you.

it started from him thinking about University, then about how he met you on the second day, seeing you in one of his classes, sitting diagonaly across him, how you conducted yourself, slipping your bag off and checking your phone. then it turned to him seeing you at the freshers party where he saw his now ex-partner with someone he knew he shouldve questioned more. how he stormed off of the party with half tears of sadness and half of anger, catching a glimpse of you in the corner of the room, looking kind of lost. he saw you multiple times after that but never talked to you. he saw you at an ice-cream parlor once. he wanted to talk to you, but Connie had loudly confirmed the tickets to this new concert, which took away Jean's attention from you. but then he was introduced to you by Marco, because of course it would be Marco who had the pleasure to befriend amazing people. he met you then, properly, when you introduced yourself, and he nodded at you with little regard.

jean shook his head with a little smile. he had been so stupid, that day. he barely looked in your direction as you got acquainted with Marco, Connie and sasha, but he didn't disregard the fact that you looked less lost than you were at the party.

you had a way of sticking around, jean found out after that. he didn't realise when you had slipped into his life, hiding in plain sight. one night he found himself awake the same time as you and the next, he found himself saving a seat for you in the class you shared with him. soon enough, you knew him as well as he knew you, and there was softness in the recognition your eyes held when they met with his. the same appreciation of his existence, something he hadn't felt before. he couldn't say that he knew you as well as the back of his hand, because really, he knew you like the back of your hand, because he'd looked at your hands more than he'd ever looked at his, noticing all the little creases and scars and veins and hairs. he knew what warmth they held, he'd felt it after your hands made their way into his while walking back to your dorm on a cold night. a night jean would never forget because he had frantically knocked on your door right after leaving you there, because his senses had finally worked and he had finally found out that he wanted to kiss you. and he did, and you kissed back, and jean swore he had never been happier even while he could hear sasha and Connie and Marco cheering for the both of you. he kissed your forehead as a goodnight that night. you were in his shirt.

you were his home before he even knew what his home was, before he could find out for himself. you became an answer with a question.

he sighed, hearing your footsteps make their way through the tiny apartment, saying a small "hi," to sasha who was sleeping on the couch. the door to your room swung open just as jean sat up, his weight resting on his forearms on your mattress. you didn't seem surprised that he was there, just flashing a smile at him before removing your bag and placing it down, and jean felt his heart flutter with comfort as your presence filled the room.

his eyes trailed you as you did the same thing he did a few moments ago, plopping yourself down right next to him. your breathing evened out with his as the two of you lay in silent comfort before jean spoke.

his voice was a low hum. the words were barely different, but you understood them anyway. "yknow you can talk to me about anything, right? even if it's sad or not funny or not...I don't know, not remarkable. you can say it. i won't laugh unless you want me to." he says. it's a flimsy promise, but you know his words hold a meaning that you can't quiet grasp.

his palm lays on top of the back of your hand.

he's warm. scarily so, because why would someone hold so much warmth towards you? more importantly, jean extended his hand without even meaning to, like muscle memory, which was, again, terrifying, because loving you as habitual purpose was scarier than you having to prove yourself for it.

your shoulders relax almost instantly; habitually and with purpose. was the purpose of it to not have a purpose at all? was the meaning of your being to not have any meaning at all? was it just to love despite it?

you wanted to do good. not in a special or overly remarkable way, because you knew you would never reach that mark because you never had, but in the way where you'd be recognized. in crowded rooms, you'd be sought out for because of your "goodness" - be it reliability, comfort, all the things you usually associated with jean. which was ironic, because noone who didn't know him like you did would ever think of jean in that way.

"i.." you say, trailing off. you want to say that you know, but it'd be a lie. it'd be a false promise, and jean didn't need that any more than he needed you. so you say, "I'll keep that in mind."

jean doesn't buy it. his hand squeezes yours, stubbornly. "no, i don't want you to keep that in mind, I want you to want to do it." he says. his head turns towards you, watching the side of your face with an expression you know better than anything. the slight furrow of his brows, slightest scowl on his face that was masked by a layer of genuine concern.

"what I mean is.... you don't have to be so hesitant with me." he says. you want to blink back surprise, except that it's not really surprising. he's seen you, more so than anyone ever has, so it's not surprising that he'd see if one day was affecting you worse than the other days. it makes you want to scream because you don't know how to deal with it.

you close your eyes as if that would help. it wasn't like you were good at running away from affection, mostly because you never needed to. if anything, you were used to running towards it, desperately, just trying. but here it was, now, the resolution of it all, of all of the aches and creakings of your deepest yearnings, yet you couldn't seem to look at it. look at him - at jean, your best friend, someone you'd do anything for - with eyes that matched his.

you sigh. there's a deep silence, and jean isn't anticipating anything. his hand is still on yours and he feels you squeeze it tightly, but he isn't going anywhere for you to hold on to him. even if he wasn't tethered to you, he'd want to stay by your side, without any precautions or promise of a fruitful result. he'd stay with you regardless.

he isn't waiting for you to say anything, because being with you feels more than adequate, like it's instinct, like his shoulders relaxing when it's just the two of you, or like that tingly feeling in his chest when you kiss his cheek after a long day.

but when you do speak, it's with resignation and certain grief. "i dont think you'll like me. if I... if we move in together, I think, realistically, you won't like it."

"how can you be so sure?" he asks. it's not a serious question, but he thinks it's a start. you're doing it, you're being less hesitant, and atleast that's somewhere to begin.

"i just am." you say, shrugging. but it's not a fact, atleast, it shouldn't be. it isn't to jean. he's rolling his eyes now, but he's not annoyed or digusted. "how?" he presses, because he knows there's more, there always had been with you.

"i get too much. and then too little. like none of it is ever just right. and I'm scared that you'll see it and...I don't know, get frustrated at my lack of everything." you say. there's truth in every word even though you desperately wish there wasn't. you're still hesitating, but it's less so. your hand is still in his, still squeezing it. it was predictable - something you found yourself relying on - the warmth of his palm and the way his hand would also engulf yours with the same echoing softness it always had. even if his fingers were calloused and a little rough, it didn't matter. they still held you the same.

he's clinging onto every word you're saying, every small explanation, every twitch of your eyebrows. he knows what's going to come, he knows there's going to be an admission of guilt coming on soon enough but he also knows, more importantly, that he'll be there to tell you that no, he does not regret loving you, and yes, he will keep doing it over and over and over again.

"I've never been... wanted like this. or like anything, I guess. and I'm so scared," you breathe in deeply, keeping your tears at bay. jean pushed himself onto his forearm, looking at you in a way you've never been looked at before. "I'm so scared of disappointing you because I think that's all I've ever done. that's all I know how to do." the box is open now, and it's not forced or pried with effort. jean has always known how to open it, you think, you just didn't let him. he does it now, with the same hands you find comfort in, the same gentleness that his eyes have always held for you.

you're crying. you don't have anything else to add to your statements, and they hang in the air as if waiting for you to complete them, expecting you to do something. but you don't and you can't and jean is holding you, his hands are at your sides and your nose is buried into his shoulder and you think the words and the expectations can wait for now, or for however long jean is willing to take care of you.

your shoulders shake. jean is whispering into your ear, asking you to breathe. he's saying it so kindly that you feel the need to comply, and when your lungs finally calm, he rewards you with a kiss on your forehead.

you think if how much of a liability all of this is. about how much you weigh in emotions when you're this open and vulnerable. not even like an open, unhealing wound, but more like that feeling you get when you finally decide to read an unread text message that had been sitting there for a month, but you're the person who both sent the text and also the one replying to it and also the one who was watching it unfold. you caused this, you were the only one who was replying, and you were also the witness to all of this.

but now jean was here. it was unusal and strange - someone being there, actually, physically and mentally present instead of those placating "you'll get over its" that were repeated to you by the few people you decided to open up to.

the two of you are silent now, only broken up by deep, almost heaving breaths from you, something you wish you would stop doing. instead of you digging your nails into your palms like all the other times, your nails are clinging onto jeans clothes, and he doesn't seem to mind. instead of it being your blankets like all the other times, it was Jean's soft heat wrapped around you, moving with each breath you took until your chest didn't feel as heavy anymore.

"i know." he says, finally. he doesn't expect you to answer, ofcourse, but he knows you're listening because you shift slightly in his arms. "i know...too well, what it's like. i know that moving in means more to you than it means to people in general. i know that it's not even about moving in together. i.." he's being hesitant. finding the right words, but for once, Jean's happy about this trait of his. he's glad he rethinks decisions and the next time when he tries again, he's more sure of it. hes sure that he loves you, hes sure that he wasn't made to love you but he grew into it because there's that choosing again, the fact that yes, he did probably have a choice, but he would never even consider it. he doesn't want to consider it and maybe that's more important than there even being a choice. he wishes he could put it into words that would make sense.

instead, he opts to say, "I am so sorry you had to think all of this all alone for so long. but I'm...I'm here now. i know that won't solve everything instantly, ofcourse it won't, but I will be here until it will. i will wait."

there's promise in his voice, a conviction that you hadn't heard before. you trust him, you always have, but you don't know if you trust yourself with this. you don't trust yourself to be someone he loves. he's quick to quiet your concerns after yet another peck on your forehead.

"but don't you think I take too much?" you ask. its doubtful, the steps you're taking on the usually thick ice that has turned too thin too fast. you're afraid you're going to offend him, but you stand no chance against Jean's all-knowing sigh. it's not a tired sound, not one anyone gives before they're about to give up. you're not sure what kind of sigh it is, but jean doesn't let you figure it out for yourself because he's answering.

the ice turns into concrete. he's become your footing, the reason you're still standing and not under numerous feet of cold water. "i dont think you're taking. your....your love doesn't ask to take. you love despite everything, not because of it. everyone, including me, focuses on how to be loved, on how to be a perfect image that probably won't last for too long, but you..... you focus on shaping your love, the love you give. i dont know if you've noticed it, but you do. you don't take too much, you give without expectations. you give with hope. it's beautiful." he pauses. "you're beautiful." he says. he's not looking anywhere else but your eyes that are welling up with familiar tears.

you suck in a breath. "im not used to sweet words, jean," you say, the breath you held releasing with a bittersweet smile. "i dont know how to handle all of this love you're giving me. i think... i think you love me too much." another tear down your cheek and onto the mattress. jean wipes away it's remnants.

"i dont love you nearly enough." he says with the same laugh you had given him, "but you'll grow into it. just like how you grew into everything else, you'll grow into being loved. i grew into it too," he says. his forehead touches yours. the proximity makes you shiver. "i grew into just how much you love me. and I wanna keep growing into it because I love loving you. i love you loving me, as selfish as it sounds."

you take a moment to register his words. yes, you weren't used to being so vehemently and stubbornly loved and taken care of, but you could. you could get used to it, get used to crying in your beloved's arms, being fed spoonfuls of carefully heated up soup that would settle into your belly, being looked at for more than a split second. you couldn't fathom it now, sure, only because you could've never believed it before, but that could change. you could grow into loving love, into accepting it just as freely as you had given it.

jean wasn't holding you with a death grip because he knew that you wouldn't leave, atleast, he didn'tanymore. he would've done it, he had all the reasons to. if he were still fifeteen, he would've thought that he had to come beg and cling on to love to make it stay. he had to do something spectacular, something entirely not himself in order to prove that he was atleast worth giving a try but with you...he didn't have to beg. he didn't even have to ask. for a while it felt undeserved, all of this care you were giving his somehow beating heart, all of this ointment you were providing to his broken bones, but he somehow, miraculously, grew into it, because he let you in. he let you see him with the eyes that would rival the ones he was sure the gods had, he let you see him and all his unknown and unsaid sins and let you love him anyway because you wanted to, because you didn't see something in him - a potential of something greater - but you saw him as he was. as he is. and nothing in your smile changed. and if you could do that, then he'd be damned if he didn't love you the same.

no words were said after that, only Jean's heartbeat mingling with your own in your ear. both of your eyes were closed, his hands relaxed on your back, your chest no longer heaving, commanding you to pay attention to it.

you fell asleep in the silence of promise.

---

the promise continued even a week later, turning into two, turning into four, wherein jean kept loving you despite and because of, unafraid and unwavering and for the first time, without any hesitance.

you were keeping up on your promise too. trying to accept it - all of this affection, his affection - without hesitance. it was hard but mundane things usually are and you continued to grow and mend and try, above all else, which was more than jean hoped for.

he's passing you the brush he had slathered the perfect amount of toothpaste on, slipping into the comfort of the cool night warmed by the heat of your previously taken shower in your bathroom. you smile at him as a thanks, and he nods as a welcome, and no words are spoken. no words need to be spoken, and his right hand makes its way to the small of your back, his left brushing his teeth as you start brushing yours and you think that maybe everything is uncertain. everything always has been and always will be, and loving someone has always been uncertain, too. being loved has always come with doubt and guilt and shame. but the only difference was that now, both of you hoped. you hoped that everything would be alright in the end, jean hoped that he'd get to share the same bed as you in the end.

hope was flimsy and hopeless, too optimistic, but now it served as something you both shared. the shared sentiment of hoping that you'd have eachother till the end was more important than the uncertainty. it meant that both of you would keep trying. you don't need to be sitting, waiting patiently and hopelessly at the same crossroad now, because Jean's hand is on the small of your back, the watch on his wrist is still and unticking, and you're walking down the same road with the same landmarks and the same gravel because you want to. you've moved from your old spot on the pavement because you want to. you're learning how to love the sound of your own footsteps, how to love the action of one foot infront of the other, and the best part is, Jean's learning too.

loving isn't a reciprocal or a transaction or a grand 'aha!' it's an act of hope. hoping they'll see you the same. hoping they'll have the same hopes as you. hoping they'll want to be loved by you, because hope doesn't require anything grand, hoping doesn't require a god to pray to or a cost to pay. it requires soft, undettered, unsaid patience. something jean, persistently, had. something you, stubbornly, held.

you paused from brushing your teeth to look at your love. you were wearing his old t-shirt that had faint stains of ink and old paint on it, and he was donning the headband you had owned for years to keep his hair out of his face. he glances at you through the mirror, then turns to you, nodding to you, eyebrows arching in a question.

you spit out the toothpaste into the sink. looking back to him, you say, with all the conviction and hope you can muster up, "I want to move in with you."

jeans mouth turns upwards, still full of toothpaste. he doesn't say anything. he doesn't need to say anything.

everything's already been said, already been understood.

because he knows you. and he couldn't be more happier to.

(when you pick the curtains for your new home, you are held up by jean, who's hands grasp the ladder you're on. you're looking down on him after the work is done and he's smiling, and you're smiling, and at night you're using the same stove to make the same dinner that the two of you will share along with some old wine and old stories. he holds you when you fall asleep, and your arms are around his torso as he snores softly. your love is stored in the blood of his veins. his love is stored in the palm of your hands, and even if you don't hold it, it still stays there, unmoving, growing, attached.)

✿

[kafus]

i know at the moment the episode with dot and her mom hasn't aired but i'm losing my mind over the direct contrast of her and liko's family dynamics. i'm reading a lot into the episode preview right now so my thoughts might change later but like, it is itching at my brain and i need to ramble about it

(i watch the subtitled version so spoilers ahead for episodes that haven't been released dubbed yet!!)

liko has pretty distant family, her grandma is usually off doing god knows what adventuring (she wasn't even going to tell liko that she was leaving the brave asagi and liko & co only threw the surprise party because liko overheard her talking with friede about it!!), and while she speaks positively of her parents, it's odd that her mom isn't home at all when she's with her dad in one episode, and that her mom doesn't come to see her off - her mom said herself that she wants liko to make her own choices and her teaching style is pretty hands off, but it's still a pretty bold move, even with the threat of the explorers around. i don't think this is an unintentional side effect of the curse upon all pokemon parents where they have to be okay with the child protagonist going on a wild adventure either, because horizons has an honestly large focus on family dynamics (including the found family on the brave asagi), and hell even delia expressed more concern for ash's wellbeing. and like... that one shot of her family walking away in the op?? in direct contrast to roy sitting happily reading the ancient adventurer book with his grandfather?? lol

not to say that liko's family don't care about her btw, they do, they're just incredibly hands off and there's a huge focus on liko figuring out what she wants to do on her own terms. (this wasn't meant to be a liko family psychology post sorry LMAO i could get into this way for way longer some other time)

on the other hand, murdock is already implied to be very attached to dot, he just respects her boundaries and doesn't want to push her past her limits too quickly. he lives on the brave asagi with her and is shown to fret about her, so that's already a pretty big difference, though not suuper substantial or anything. but then the episode 41 preview, the implication that dot has an overprotective and overbearing mother who she's uncomfortable with because she is trying to tell her what to do is in DIRECT contrast to liko's situation. liko has had so much choice handed to her and it seems implied that dot's mom is doing the exact opposite for her daughter.

again we have very limited snippets of this episode and the wait is UNBEARABLY LONG BTW... LIKE... MARCH 1ST... I'M DYING... but i'm really interested to see how this plays out (especially because it implies that dot fights her mother maybe at the end?? her lycanroc??) and i hope it goes a little hard on the contrasting family energy so i can make something out of that between liko and dot. because there's a dynamic to be had there where liko is able to understand closer familial connection through like, dot and murdock, while liko is able to show dot she can make her own choices and be more confident in herself - WHICH THEY'RE ALREADY DOING BTW, the rising volteccers r just one big found family that are giving liko a ton of guidance and love, including murdock, and liko and roy have dragged dot out of her shell and she's been able to stand on her own lately, IT WOULD JUST... REALLY HIT IT HOME FOR THOSE THEMES TO CONTINUE HERE...

[lazzarella]

Okay, I wanted to note down basically every single moment because there was just SO MUCH goodness, ahhhhh. Anyway, here's some rambling from me:

- Noooooo, technical issues?? Whyyyyy? My life is meaningless D:

- ...oh, here we go! Yes!

- Oh no! :( Poor Yak! (I figured his mum was dead but oof)

- Wandee hugging Yoryak! And taking his hand! Ahhhh, opening strong with Dee looking after Yak <3

- Is Ter jealous because he like likes Dee? (A question I kept asking throughout this ep—I think he’s mostly just put out to no longer be the centre of attention)

- "You should know he moves on fast" then Ter said something about "too fast this time" ??? Curious about this??? Maybe just about his dating history?

- Lol @ Yak and Dee dropping each other's hands when they spot Kwan and Ter!!!

- "They have really good chemistry" You're so right, Doctor Kwan

- TER LIVES IN 666!!! Lmaooooooooo. Nice work, set folk!

- that whole conversation over breakfast about Yak being jealous and then already having someone he likes was soooo delicious to me

- TEACHING HIM TO FLIRT!!!!! Oh dee, what have you done, you silly boy? XD he really played himself

- THEY WERE GONNA KISS! God, I want them to kiss already but I also loooove the almost kiss moments so much. Just... the LONGING ugh

- "Did you like that?" Oh, he very much did, Yak

- The whole talk between Yak and Cher... Aside from the content, I love their interactions because it's just nice seeing them established as family I guess?? Like, that Cher isn't just his brother's boyfriend

- Yak saying he's not someone who changes his mind easily is interesting to me! Not just because he obviously does for Dee, but I wonder if that's partly why he's clinging to liking Taem? I mean, I'm not saying he doesn't still have feelings. Just spitballing

- The training scene killed me! Yak getting horny and flustered watching Dee do situps! Dee immediately jumping to Yak being sick and wanting to make sure he's okay! Yak calling Dee cute and *Dee* getting flustered! Taem coming in and seeing them horse around!! Dee getting jealous!!!!!!!!!!!!

- (speaking of horses, I don't understand all the sound effects yet, so I'm not sure what the horse neighing is meant to signify??)

- Have some thoughts about how I love how much of this ep is circling their developing feelings for each other via their feelings for others' (or Yak's anyway)

- the music changes between soft and romantic when the camera is on Yak and Dee vs fighty and upbeat when it's on Dee watching them is too funny lmao

- this situation is getting very 'you love her, but she loves him, and he loves somebody eeeeeelse' (Dee and Yak and Taem and Ter and Kwan and Ohm!!! That's a love hexagon???)

- Taem clocked the necklace 😏

- "Why do you complicate the thing that's already complicated?" Ouch. Kao doesn't know it but he totally called me out there lol

- Isn't their 'fake' dating going to put Taem off though??? I mean, IDT she likes Yak that way at all, but still

- loving the complicated feelings this show is going into! Because Yak does probably still like Taem while he's falling for Dee, and Dee still must feel something for Ter while he's falling for Yak and mmmm. Just delicious!

- and they NEARLY KISSED AGAIN! And then Dee pushed Yak and splashed him lol

- they are SO unconvincing (their reasons for Dee sleeping over)

- love the dinner scene with Dee, Yak, Cher and Yei <3 I love that Cher and Yei are so welcoming to him, even while they let Yak sort out his feelings

- Aww, I had a feeling he was finishing uni for his mum! And I love that he tells Dee that while he wasn't comfortable telling Yei

- Dr Kwan deserves better

- Dee cheering for Yak!!! <3

- Okay, of all the ways they end up tiger/bunny roleplaying, Kao getting them to do it was NOT on my radar lol except Dee is a leopard not a tiger

- Yak sulking! Dee coaxing him with a hug and a cheek sniff kiss!!! Yesssssssss

- ...and now it's a HPV vaccine PSA? Cool! I personally don't really need shows to give me sex ed but, you know what, good on 'em, anyway! I know sex ed, especially on queer sex, is pretty dire…probably most places? So yeah

- Sigh. And the countdown to next week begins again!

[atrophiedemotion]

hey Cast! uh so this ask is about. alien stage. but imma send you another about some random shit because why not. anyways

the tags that you had on that previous post with me and plip (the one about ivan and till and how they show honesty differently and how we know about their characters a different amount because of how forthcoming or not they are) and my question for you is, how many of Ivan's actions do you think are representative of his true emotions? I don't think his body language, in general, is very forthcoming but I do agree that his actions can be pretty revealing (he strikes me as an acts of service person especially with trying to escape with Till) but uh yeah I'm wondering if there are any specific examples that you think of as being revealing of his actual thoughts or specific examples of him pretending to be someone else?

thanks for listening to me yap uh I hope you're doing well and that you have an awesome day!

rock... oh boy... this is gonna be a long one. wonderful question. thank you for the ask, i hope you have a great day as well!!

so, i didn't fully explain in the tags because i didn't want to write a full length essay on plip's post (ty plip for dealing w the rambling)(i was also very tired so i wasn't fully articulate lmao) but i meant that ivan shows his emotions through the outcomes/projected outcomes of his actions. he certainly isn't very forthcoming in the way he acts and portrays himself, but there is undeniable truth in the intent and meaning behind everything he does, even things that seem counterproductive.

i think that since ivan genuinely cannot fully be upfront and honest (due to trauma, his lack of self worth, and his decided survival strategy) his main truths show in the deeper meaning of the things he does for other people and himself. with ivan, it is all about intent. i've said before that the only way to understand ivan is to dig deeper and this is very much true here. he uses a lot of subterfuge to throw people off from his actual intentions, but they're there.

ivan often uses unconventional, roundabout ways to achieve his goals/get what he wants- especially when they mean something to him. he is a guy who is caked in layers upon layers of meaning only if you pull back the acres of curtains he's covered them with. he doesn't want people to know what goes on in his head, so he covers it up valiantly. this is due to his low self esteem of course, but also full on survival. in order for his plans to work, no one can be in on it. no one can know what he's thinking. all of his true feelings and thoughts need to be hidden in order to achieve success, but in the end it's fucking hard to not leave a trace of your true feelings.

with all that being said, examples!

the biggest and most obvious examples are mainly related to till (of course they are) and i also feel like they're the most telling. ivan's teachers specifically pointed out that he was only childish around till (they were relieved by it, too, because he was so damn serious the rest of the time and didn't behave like a child should). ivan has the hardest time hiding his true emotions around till, which makes sense, because till makes him feel the most emotion when his are always dulled. that doesn't stop him from going the 'i must hide my crush by pulling his pigtails' route but, y'know.

since most of these are talked about frequently and i dont want to keep beating a dead horse in an already long post, here's a (hopefully) brief list:

-the biggest one, the meteor shower. going through all of that to escape with till, specifically during a meteor shower that it seemed ivan was desperate to show till (to introduce his shooting stars to each other or smth im sure). ivan offered till freedom and denied himself of it when till turned around and he followed him back without question.

-his good behavior can arguably be considered to be due, in part, to the perks an obedient pet gets. this isn't just a till thing but ivan's obedience is very telling of his need and drive for survival, which considering his uhh,, track record is likely largely so he can protect till. gaining perks and learning insider information, like how to take collars off and gain access to isolation cells, assist him in assisting and caring for till.

-the sometimes silent companionship they share. the way ivan will poke at him to get his outright attention but is still at times satisfied with just existing in till's space and enjoying his presence says a lot about his genuine adoration and admiration of till

-his sacrifice. i don't think i need to say much about this as it's pretty self explanatory lmao but it is a Great example of what im trying to convey. ivan does honest things and has to cover them up at the same time. the 'violence' was to end the round of course, but it was also kind of like a familiar bandaid over the painfully honest feelings he conveyed with the kiss. even if he didn't really hurt him he couldn't just be honest

there are definitely more (most everything he does in regards to till tbh) but i wanted to talk about some others too

the comic conversation with sua about her sacrifice! such a big one. ivan's feelings about sua are very complicated, but to me i feel like he cares about her to an extent, almost pitying in a way. he's horribly jealous of her and the love she has, but he sees so much of himself in her that what he says in that conversation is probably at least half projection, even if he's not aware of it.

the way he looks at her without trying to hide his distaste feels like the way he would look down on himself. the whole thing shows not only his disgust with himself, but his anger towards someone who is so similar to him that she makes the same plans in her head even though she has something he believes he'll never have. it's envy, tried and true, and he doesn't even hide it at the time. he hides the self loathing behind it, but still. that might be the most honest we've seen ivan aside from the end of r6.

that conversation also does kind of show the fact that he cares for sua and mizi. sua in a way he acknowledges less to himself, but certainly mizi.

and speaking of mizi, my last example for right now is the way he watched round 5 like he was barely holding it together and sort of did his own recreation of it in round 6. the strangling was reminiscent of the way mizi lunged at luka and he almost certainly got the idea for his method of sacrifice from what she did. it kind of feels like an ode to her, in a way. an ode to mizi while offering himself up for till, which. is very sad but almost a little sweet, that he had a piece of mizi in what he was doing for till.

okay okay im sure i could keep talking about this but ive been writing for. a long time LMAO so i will stop here but! yeah. ivan shows his emotions inadvertently through his actions and about fifty levels of subterfuge. but it's all we get, so...

thank you for the ask again my dude, i really enjoyed answering it!

[centurieslove]

wip word game

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

I was tagged by @adhd-merlin thanks legend I always love these wip tag games sm the word I was given was FATE✨ 'E' was suprisingly hard? I also tried to pick an 'A' sentence that wasn't just 'Arthur' lmao (do my disir fic excerpts make sense out of context? probably not. enjoy)

F (from my morgwen fic)

"Frankly, the only good that can come of them sitting astride a horse is…” the Lord’s eyes slunk again around Morgana’s waist, up her neck and settled back on her face, which was flushed and twitching. “…for practise.”

“You—” Morgana flew up from her seat, “—disgusting pig—”

Gwen surged forward, almost close enough to reach her lady’s chair, then—

“Hey,” slurred a bristly faced advisor, his hand flying out to clamp down on her wrist. “My cup is almost dry.”

She flicked her eyes back to Morgana; her fists were clenched, the tendons in her pale neck flexing as her breaths huffed out of her. Gwen bit the inside of her cheek. A rough yank on her arm wrenched her gaze back, hauling her down, close to the man's face. His breath stunk like the sickly glaze of hot ham. He had a piece of gristle dangling from his beard.

Gwen blinked, shook herself. “Y-yes,” she stammered, “Forgive me, my lord," and refilled his goblet, watching as the inky red liquid rippled as she struggled to stop her hands from shaking.

A (from my morgwen fic)

Another stood out; Valiant. Looked like he was up against Arthur next. Gwen scoffed to herself. Best of luck.

“Are you cold?”

Gwen turned her head - Morgana was sliding into the seat next to her, her face still turned towards the arena. There was an inch or so gap between them on the wooden bench. Gwen pressed her knees together.

“Me?” Gwen asked, rather pointlessly. There wasn't anyone else close to them. “No, I'm fine.”

“You've only that tiny, thin thing on,” Morgana scolded. “You're shivering, I can see it.”

Gwen huffed, and pulled her arms in close to her body. “I'm fine,” she insisted, feeling her eyebrows pull together as she looked across the stalls down to the arena. The next two fighters were preparing, picking their weapon, and from the murmurs and bustle that crept across the crowd, it appeared to be a contentious match.

“Arthur's up,” Morgana answered the question she didn't voice.

T (from my disir fic)

The pathetic, pleading tone in his words; hopefully it wasn’t discernible. Arthur didn’t speak. A faint murmur of crowd rose from over the castle walls that swayed ever closer.

“How will the people react?”

Arthur didn't respond; so he pushed again,

“You can’t expect them to welcome back magic overnight—” Merlin was rambling, “—it’ll be dangerous, you, you have to cons—”

“I know!” Arthur yelled, suddenly glowing with rage. “You think me incapable of running my own kingdom?"

Merlin held firm, his eyes burning.

"That’s not what I meant,” he grit out, but he bit his lip, and Arthur’s eyes flicked down at the movement.

E (from my disir fic)

Either way, he’d ignored the inevitable for as long as he could. He'd foolishly allowed himself to swim inside the hazy dream of Arthur's words, but it was all about to turn cold. He hid as long as he could, as if staying in this one spot could stop time itself from passing; but cruelly enough, it did, indifferent to Merlin's plight. The air cooled, and the sun curved in orange lines around his chambers, and finally, someone knocked on his door. He curled his body tighter, clenching his muscles as if it would stop himself flying apart.

Another knock, louder this time, and a voice:

“I know you’re in there.”

He opened his eyes a crack, glaring at the bolt until it slid itself across to lock his door.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice grew more impatient. His door rattled, “where have you—” rattled again, “—did you lock— what are you, five summers old?”

“Go away.”

“Come out here and tell me yourself.”

Merlin pulled his sheet up and over his head.

I don't know if any of you have wips but hello have a tag anyways: @emryses @knight-gwaine @kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick @godmerlin @poisonedfate @elvain @auldsusie

word: GRAIL 🏆

[t00nyah]

If you could make your own video game (think of an idea l and it just snaps into existence somehow) what would it be about and what mechanics would it consist of? What platforms would it be available for? Who's the target demographic? Or anything else you want to ramble about... I like to think of creating my own games sometimes.

haha they dont know i have a joke rpg game i made in a day to test my abilities.

in all seriousness though, i actually did have bigger projects that i never finished... so, just gonna drop that i'm a big fan of RPG maker games, horror ones, PSYCHOLOGICAL horror ones for even better score. and i am kind of a liiiittle experienced with rpg maker.

warning!!

this answer ended up containing a lot of sensitive topics(in my opinion??) and i tried my best to make sure to include them in tags AND before each idea's explanation, please check the tags and not proceed if those topics are sensitive to you personally!!

i had a project that i started making as a vent. that's the closest i had to actually making something. it was called zepphire's lair. zepphire is my sona from 2015 that had very bright neon colours that were probably UNBEARABLE to look at, then i tried redesigning her years later into something pastel. and then, umm... in 2022 i had issues with my style because i used to be VERY caught in 'oh,,,this one line is weird,,,how do people even like my art there's a stray pixel there...god.' and decided to do something about it. this 'something about it' was changing my art style to PURPOSEFULLY unpleasant to look at, messy and annoying. it was bright, i didnt care, and honestly i think it helped with being that critical to myself. anyways. sorry im rambling but it is important

so in 2022, when i had a giant relief of drawing in the most unbearable(and stunning at the same time) art style, i reused zepphire. FUCK PASTEL said me. NEONS ARE GOOD. it was a great decision.

so zepphire's lair was meant to be an rpg game where you play as zepphire. who in her head is still her young self that doesn't have to think about what happened. but in reality, her magical world she was meant to become a god of was destroyed and ruined because she wasn't responsible enough with powers granted to her. she is now the only resident of the Forbidden Location, an alternative world that people could get into by just clipping randomly. like you know when you find a spot in a videogame that doesn't have an invisible wall and you go OH. that. i wasn't sure how to continue working on it because it lacked story to tell as present. it had a past story to unfold, but i had no idea what would happen now. i had a thought of someone getting into FL somehow after long time and zepphire trying to solve this because they're clearly not meant to be there while in her head she's still stuck struggling with herself.

i want to put a little bit of assets i made for zepphire's lair, but since it's all very bright toxic neon i think i'm gonna place them at the veeeery end so you don't have to look at them if you can't stand it.

CW: cartoon blood!! a little bit of it!!

next up is my cool idea of a fangame! so, purrfect apawcalypse is one of my favourite game series. and i've been following it since first one and i have a LARGE fanmade setting set in the same universe! (in fact, two! i also made a reference for kitsune high which is set to be in an agricultural town inhabitated by foxes! it was a cool project)

the game idea was to make an rpg (because, again, that's all i know, lmao) that follows the Chatting club - a school interest club literally dedicated to rumors and just having a good time - as they unveil the secrets their school holds. cats and dogs disappearance cases? rumors of ghost around? who the heck lives in the garden and what're they up to? what is up with the Detective club's president Seraphima? there are many mysteries. it would have an overall vibe of the original novellas' series - a cutesy game about very cute furries and weird magic stuff happening, while also having a little bit...darker tone. like i was actually going to explore a very dark topic with this one but honestly? right now i really don't like the way i wrote it back then. if i were to pick up the idea again i deffo would try to rewrite it and make more sense into it. i like the detective vibe it had going though!

here are some references of the characters that are important to the plot! a lot of twists were planned for this story and i'm not going to tell them all because it's a secret tee-hee.

also as i searched for the refs i found that the working title of the game was 'purrfect meowting'

another concept for a game i had...which is a lot.

CW: contains themes of child neglect, probably abuse, general cat mistreatment, probably a bit of ableism(im unsure about this one) and maybe a bit of weird racism because one of mc's character's parent is weird and very stupid and we are allowed to hate her for that...i hope i mentioned it all.

i have a little ocs setting with three main characters that i refer as 'kitty girls' this story is tragic and is based on idea i had about making a story...about girls...but put them into life situations that would reflect what cats sometimes have to go through bc some humans are trash, but put it through a human lens, although not exactly. it also ended up a story that portrays children who've lost their childhoods for various reasons. idk how to explain.

these are Snowwhite, Rouge and Patches. their names were meant to be reflecting what another one's kitty sona is, but i fucked up, lol.

Showwhite is a picture perfect girl for her parents who's mostly been treated as a prize all her life, making her feel sick of herself. Rouge was neglected by her mom because 'she wasn't born red'(as in orange...like a cat...i used cat allegories every time i explained it but i think the implications are clear enough - her mother wanted her to look different.) and she lived a happy life with her grandparents. and Patches...is a deaf girl whose parents just couldn't take care of her properly so she ended up in an orphanage. she has awful attachment issues.

i won't explain the whole plot but their stories were meant to be kind of a portrayal of how some people treat animals as just objects, things they can just get rid of. a cat of specific breed, bred for specific traits which may be hurtful to it, a cat whose owner just threw it away after it not meeting the expectations, and a general theme of people not wanting to take in cats with injuries that make them 'not pretty' for them. i don't know why im tearing up right now but these make me so upset and i smh wanted to portray these issues though human characters, and while adapting them i realized that those awful stories ended up overlapping with how neglectful parents end up treating their children.

in the end they end up in cat heaven, where they all meet and get to be happy and be themselves. snowwhite learns to love herself for who she is and find out hobbies there, rouge just finally gets friends she lacked. also patches doesn't magically start hearing in cat heaven, she was given an option to but she felt overwhelmed a lot and ended up sticking to being deaf but not treating it as a bad thing, just a different thing.

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BONUS SECTION

i also have this unused character and concept art that i just made bc i finally felt like i could do something back in the day

her working name was 'vogel'

so. returning to zepphire's lair. one thing i forgot to mention earlier is that i also even made OST for it (didn't feel like it would fit the text above). this one is just the theme that plays in the first playable area

main menu theme...is too heavy for tumblr apparently. huh. it's a very simple tune it just goes on for very long (bc there's an easter egg if you listen to it for too long!!!)

next section contains bright images that im gonna put even deeper below!!

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title screen!

intro cutscene! small baby zepphire, and then zepphire acquiring her godmode key, and then ending up becoming a photoshooter!! the camera is important .

here she is!!! the cat herself!!!

a photo that she has in her inventory!! it's mewtona, her sister!

gameplay-wise i was gonna make it so you can collect random photos zepphire made and have to learn the implications of that and what it has to do with 'the photoshooting incident'. it would be somewhat close to omori - part of story is in reality and parts of it in headspace that explains the story.

I THINK that's all. sorry this took so long that was a lot of yapping!!!

[yonpote]

no that’s the thing you’re so right ab rpf because like it’s not that people don’t find it weird but it has also a) existed for SO long and b) is actually sometimes socially acceptable depending on who is doing it and about whom. like many old wives tales or stories based on kings of past were all written by people who were far removed from the subjects of their story they just wrote what they believed to be true or interesting ab those people - it wasn’t like hard hitting fact reporting. they’re “stories” for a reason yknow? and i totally get that in the modern age the fact that people can be confronted by rpf is what actually makes people so upset about it - because the degrees of separation are far lesser - but the act itself isn’t more or less strange than it ever was. it’s totally based on like how close the shipping is to the people being shipped. like the question is can their relationship actually be affected by it? even i went through this on a small scale when i was 11 and my best friend’s new guy friends started teasing him about how much time he always spent with me and saying we liked each other and it made us super uncomfortable to the point that we kinda stopped being friends! which sucked! or like when moms want their kids to end up together so they constantly talk about how they’re going to be sisters in law one day when their kids get together and put on that pressure. those circumstances are not okay bc it’s like crossing clear boundaries by trying to tell people directly what their relationship to each other should be. but when it’s like a niche little community that’s (hopefully) minding their business removed from the person they’re making rpf about it’s like entirely a non-issue in my opinion. like the very existence of rps and rpf are kinda natural human inclinations i think. okay rant over lmao sorry i rambled

youre absolutely right! like personally i can't really get into any other rpf because like, it HAS hurt online creators / modern celebs in and it would be foolish to act like it doesn't have that power ykwim? but bc dnp have stated that they're fine with it and have even embraced it on some level, and especially because we all have much better established boundaries (as in both dnp AND we as an audience have set boundaries wrt fan content), and because dnp are actually queer, i do feel a lot better about rpfing them lol. but that's not to say rpfers that don't have explicit consent from creators are evil like dont worry yall i still believe in "rpf is fine!" i think it really is about having the understanding that rpf is meant to be separate from the real people being written about. i mean if you really think about it, it's not like it was all fic writers themselves tweeting at dnp to read their smut. it was people who saw this insane crack fic about dnp having gory bloody sex involving a hamster, and being like "omg this shit is so weird and gross and horrible dan and phil have to see it and react to it." (but that fic is maybe a bad example because it was MEANT to be shocking and horrible and not like. an earnest exploration of a taboo sexual experience or some shit.)

like, rpf's modern reputation is BECAUSE the primary fics that have garnered any attention are the ones that are meant to be shocking and weird and freak people out. and there's exceptions to everything i say and i wasn't involved in 2012-2016 phandom culture so i'm sure there were plenty of people being like hey dnp read my relatively wholesome 20k fluff smut fic that makes references to that video that you want everyone to pretend doesnt exist, but just based on being friends with a lot of people who were involved in the phandom at that time, that definitely was not the case with every or even most fic authora or fanartists.

i mean, one of the reasons dnp became the tag and acronym people used was to separate the community from the phan tag because people knew that dnp were well aware of that tag. and now they know about dnp so it's kind of a moot point, but i think it's important to establish that, while we are better at respecting their boundaries nowadays, THEY also respect OUR boundaries. they don't go diving into tags intentionally unless they are making content about it, and even then it is an opt-in process where WE can send them stuff that we do want them to see! and that's an extremely important part of this audience-creator relationship that we do have this mutual respect of each other, and mutual understanding of bants toward each other (they can mock us for being giddy about them touching, but we can also be like "damn yall are really obsessed with touching each other thats crazy...." and there's, for the most part, an understanding that we're just teasing and being silly like it's cute that they touch and they like being close but we can joke about it)

[zrllosyn]

oooooooooo tell us more about BB LEO AU 👀👀👀

[wip game ask]

OH BUDDY. BUDDY.... YOU CHOSE A GOOD ONE I LOVE BB LEO AU (kekkai sensen)

Mayhabs its obvious from the title but its an AU where Leo's a blood breed. Leo's kinda the same though!! He's here in helsalem's lot desperately looking for a way to 'cure' his sister's eyes. Blood breed or not, the 'gods' are beings beyond comprehension.

Story mainly takes place during volume 10 (s2 ep 11 and 12) and just. Leo caught between revealing he's a blood breed, his sister, Libra, and Gamimotz. Events are pretty close to canon but like, the stakes are completely different lmao

I LIKE IT A LOT. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. ITS LITERALLY COMPLETELY WRITTEN i just need to edit it. But editing. Hard.

Im gonna stop there before i keep rambling for like. Another 12 paragraphs about leo characterization n stuff in this one HSDJGHJGH

Have!! a pretty long snippet under the cut!

Snippet of intro:

His sister, however, he did care for. His sister was the only one who bothered to really bond with him, care for him. The only one he had truly grown to care.  And it was between him and his sister that space and time tore, the very air itself sparking into prismatic light so bright it seemed to invert the world. It was between him and his sister that Riga appeared.  And curse his luck it had to be him and his sister. And it had to be Riga, the one who could see through everything and anything.  The one that could see what he truly was. The one that knew who he was.  The one that contracted those thrice damned eyes that would see what he was.  "Choose." Riga's voice is flat of inflection, indifferent like he was inquiring about the weather. But Leo heard something else, mixed in with the demanding glisten voice.  "So this is where you were, progenitor of the cursed kin." If Riga's presence wasn't enough to make his blood turn cold, that statement, spoken in elder tongue and overlaying the English definitely did. He felt his cold sweat form on his palms as his entire body grew stiff, terror filling his every fiber.  The higher being sounded amused. That was never a good sign not to mention that Riga's presence meant one thing.  "Which will witness?" "This is most curious." His voice caught in his throat. If he accepted the eyes, Michella would be blind. Chair-bound and blind. If he refused, she would see. See who he was. See that he wasn't her brother, but a monster wearing his skin. And then he would lose her. But at least she would still see-- "If you must take from something, then take it from me." Michella is straight backed and unbowing, not an ounce of fear in her voice as she knowingly sacrifices her vision for him, and his conflicting emotions drain away into horror.  She had no hesitation in protecting him, and yet here he was debating his course of action.  "Michella--!!" "If you must take something, take it from me!!" Her voice is firm, and his body finally responds as he lunges forward, as if grabbing her would negate the contract.  "Understood." The echoing elder tongue sounded amused, and in a moment of startling clarity he sees Riga reaching forward with the glowing eyes and his sister, a faint smile on her face as she looks to him. He knows that look.  She was happy. Happy she protected him.  Happy, that she protected the beast that needed it least, under the guise of her brother.  He feels sick.  The world goes white.

[entering--hyperspace]

Its 2am, quick! Ramble some preliminary thoughts about Rytlock and Leo's relationship, spoiler alert! Its complicated!

I'm currently "going through" the personal story, and I was thinking about how...complicated Rytlock and Leo's relationship becomes especially as Rytlock Puts Himself Into Situations and that affecting a whole lot later into the story. I was talking to my friend about this. Heres the thing about these two,

They are not perfect for each other. This isn't a fairytale relationship, they arent destined lovers, they will never get a true domestic happy life together, and they could probably find people to fit them both better in the long run.

But, they were perfect for each other when they met.

Rytlock, punished for ambition, losing someone he cared about because of this, gaining a literal physical reminder of it, after he had just lost Destiny's edge. Blinded by glory, torn apart by loss, failure. He grew distant from his warband because the warmth of a flame was more enticing than the bonds of his past. He had no one, he was ignorant to the repeated life lessons, he was bored.

Leo, on the other hand, was a coiled snake ready to strike. He had ambitions of his own, he grew tired of constant death, reckless fighting. Spirits lamented over lost opportunity, of being playthings in wars fought by higher powers. He grew up in a land that was a physical cautionary tell of how single individuals could ruin the very souls and doom entire nations. Souls that cant rest, souls that cant return. It was Ascalon that inspired him to become a necromancer, to commune with spirits, to treat the dead with reverance, and thus respecting life before its final march. It did outcast him from his warband, save for a single individual.

When his warband died fighting due to carelessness on behalf of his legionnare, he still chose mercy, even in grief and anger he would not throw away lives as his people were so readily to do. He would show them all, he would show them there was a different way, that the road harder to travel on was a road worth walking if it meant preserving life. Others would see him as weak for this, but he had the confidence and skill to back it up his claims.

Perhaps it was the sharpness, the same cleverness that Rytlock admired in Crecia that drew him to Leo. I like that, honestly. Its a bit selfish, but Rytlock is a very selfish character for a while.

So he chose him, he could see his potential, he was amused, if anything, by someone with beliefs so different than anything they were raised to believe and was ready to challenge the very foundation they stood on. Speaking of, Leo challenged him in ways that surprised him, in ways that if Rytlock were anyone else Leo would have surely been deranked or snapped at for his boldness. He made him stop and consider, a unique viewpoint a fire that had lived for so long it became too strong to be snuffed out, that alone was impressive. Lmao, It's Leo constsntly challenging rytlock that draws him to Leo as well I think. Someone who will truthfully grab him by the ear and snap him back to his senses. On the other hand:

Leo wasn't ignorant of Rytlocks many prior transgressions and the blood most higher ranked charr spill to stand as tall as they do. He didn't think too highly of him before, but desperate times call for desperate measures. They were also, both, lonely. Rytlock appreciated having someone who he slowly crept into being a bit more of himself around, and Leo appreciated the opportunity of gaining his favor, as well as the acceptance of his beliefs. Rytlock understood climbing a steep hill with the people around pouring water down waiting for a slip. He's loyal above all else, he's similarly ambitious. Maybe Rytlock didnt necessarily Follow him exactly, but he didnt turn away or laugh in his face when Leo one night truthfully shared his plans. He simply told him it would be hard, but challenged him to pursue it. And, if anything, Leo's words actually affected him, he could see it slowly, that was enough for him, They were friends.

Physical attraction was there too, of course, that is admittedly a constant even before they become romantic. I see it at this point of maybe not being a thing of romantic bond, but rather of trust. But this is also normal and expected of charr. Friends with benefits, nothing more. But that more would come in later.

A chain is harder to break than a string, much harder. It weighs heavy, its cumbersome at times, but it holds things together quite well despite everything, despite "everything"

They are not a red string of fate, rather a forged red chain. Charr care a lot about loyalty, they care about loyalty in a way that I feel is hard to describe other than something deeply rooted in their culture thus hard to shake. During the time Leo and Rytlock spent together as Leo climbed the ranks and together they took on Ascalonian missions, sharing nights, swapping stories, sparring, challenging, they forged that bond. A bond between two people with no other options. They chose each other.

My memory of path of fire is, muddled, I'll get there when I get there. But what I know for sure is that what began of a romantic relationship would become quickly strained as the story goes on and it is revealed that everything occuring is due to Rytlock's recklessness.

Leo isn't the commander, Connie is, this almost makes it worse for them in a funny way. Leo would probably be more forgiving over his own death, but instead he is made to watch someone else die, he watches countless others die, all while knowing at night he shares a bed with the person at the root of it. But he doesnt leave, because theres always that chain, its backs turned to each other but still comforted by the warmth of another, even if their presence is denied. Im sure when i learn the details of it i can share more thoughts on them but ough.

When Leo does take on more commander-like duties and rytlock is still at his side, it becomes even more apparent how their relationship isnt as ideal as it could be in a perfect life. In a perfect life leo wouldve left everything to be with the olmakhan, to live a peaceful existence, to raise a family. Rytlock thinks of his cubs in a similar regard, Leo and Rytlock cant give that to each other, the world will not allow that of them both, especially leo, But they leave together with that knowledge.

Does this make sense? Idk, i hope so. The love is there, but there is an acceptance of the fact that there will always be a void that cant be filled. Perhaps there is a gentleness to them both that they treat each other with because of that fact and thats just how it is.