#so i'll just leave that little tidbit in the tags

[legobiwan]

1-the character everyone gets wrong for Gravity Falls and 16-you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc) for Star Wars ??

The character everyone gets wrong (Gravity Falls)

I want to preface this answer by saying that I think there are a plethora of fantastic Gravity Falls fics, comics, and metas out there that address and explore Stanley's possible mental health issues in light of everything we've learned about his backstory, which is pretty damn bleak. And yes, I do enjoy reading this angst.

The fandom tends to focus on this particular side of Stanley and with good reason - it is absolutely fertile ground for analysis and there is no doubt he is a tortured individual.

But there is a tendency to "blorbo-ize" Stan and his sympathetic history. While he was absolutely forced into some horrendous situations and had to make decisions based solely on survival probability, this is also a man who has a rap sheet a mile long, has outstanding warrants throughout the majority of the country, and is heavily, heavily implied to have been dealing in cartel business.

You don't get that far in these circles without having a backbone of steel and the capacity to do some seriously shady - and bloody - shit. Sure, Stan eventually bailed from the more hardcore aspects of his existence. And this isn't to say he's fundamentally a bad person or even liked everything he was doing - but he is a dangerous man, whether that danger comes at the end of a gun barrel or a marked ace of spades.

And I think this aspect of his character gets underplayed in a lot of fandom. (Interestingly enough, Ford is the one who is generally allocated this role, due to his dimensional hobo life on the run. And Ford is a badass, but Stan is equal to his brother in this, albeit in a different context). Stan maybe wants to forget that part of his life (understandable), but he didn't get as far as he did being a criminal (you don't get to rack up that kind of sheet and stay mostly clear of the law without some considerable feats) without developing certain skills and he'd be dead five times over if he weren't some kind of threat. Yes, by the time we meet him in the show, those instincts may have been dulled, likely intentionally, but this is the same man who admits to having 10 firearms in his household, even if his reasoning is (seemingly) ludicrous.

Runners-up: Mabel and the Flanderization of her zaniness. (Let's not forget she put the majority of the puzzle pieces together in Not What He Seems). Ford's seemingly god-like combat skills (the man gets his ass handed to him on multiple occasions in the show and is in constant need of rescue after he comes back from the Portal. Don't get me wrong - I love a badass Ford - but he wasn't exactly batting 1.000 after returning to Gravity Falls).

16. You can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc) (Star Wars)

I fully expect to get pilloried by certain factions of the fandom for this opinion, and to be honest, it's been a long-standing thorn in my side.

The Jedi were not 100% without fault and yes, some of decisions they made fed into their ultimate demise.

Was it deserved? No. Were they evil? No.

Were they a stagnant organization led by a creature who had lived long enough to distance himself from the day-to-day concerns of the majority of mortal beings under his care? Yes. Did they have an effective strategy to combat their massive, massive PR problem - a problem which ended up with them characterized as a baby-snatching cult of superbeings that could easily usurp the will of a (corrupt) Republic government? Nooooo, not at all.

They refused to play politics. Until they had to play politics. And they lost on all sides.

There was so much emphasis on tradition and purity of said tradition in the organization - even if the highest members of the Council didn't necessarily 100% agree with this - the mythology of it was present enough in the Jedi Temple, that constant, subtle pressure to do things in a certain way, to avoid wholly the Dark Side (even if the individual teachings of the Masters went against this). The Jedi wanted to change, but at the same time, couldn't budge the 1,000 ton boulder of their past until it was too late to avoid Palpatine's machinations.

The ultimate tragedy is that the Jedi meant well, but couldn't collectively nudge their organization towards change.

And they did make some baffling decisions - Anakin being allowed to train at all being peak among them. (And then letting Obi-wan - a grieving 25-year old being held hostage by a deathbed promise - to train Anakin, as per the "will of the Force..." This was not well-thought out by anyone involed.)

Dooku had legitimate criticisms of the Order, even if he ultimately expressed his grievances by betraying everyone and everything he loved and aligning himself with an ultimate evil that not even he could overcome. Qui-gon, for all of his many fault, had some great ideas for the Order and should have been on the Council - if for not other reason, than to upset the status quo (and yes, I know he turned it down, and that's another story altogether).

It feels, that in a certain way, the Jedi were crushed by their own mythology, and by the time that leviathan breached the surface, it was far too late for change.

Discussions of the Jedi have a tendency to polarize quickly, and I'd love for there to be more space for exploration of where they did fail without consigning the whole organization to the out-of-touch and evil-by-incompetence box.

(And caveat lector: post this fully admitting I haven't meditated on Star Wars lore in quite some time, so excuse some of the broader strokes of this analysis).

Ask me a spicy fandom question

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter Four

You realized then how delicate this all still was.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Masturbation, Blood, Body Horror, Animal Injury & Death

Notes: Heeeeey, guys. It's been a minute since I last posted, but here is chapter 4 (finally)! My summer has been more busy and stressful than I ever could have imagined, so I'm happy to finally be able to finish this chapter, which is the longest chapter of anything I've ever written at just over 14k words!!! I keep breaking my own personal record every time I write, it feels like lol. I also think this is some of the best writing I've ever done and I'm extremely proud of it! Not sure when chapter 5 will come out, as school is starting back up for me soon and a couple people I know irl are getting married this fall, so I'll be traveling a lot as well. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts! (And here's a little behind-the-scenes tidbit: the painting I describe at the beginning of this chapter is actually in RE4R in the grand hall!)

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You awoke before Leon, for once.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up on your air mattress and looking at his curled-up form, finally allowed to take in his appearance fully without having to sneak a glance or risk embarrassing yourself and him by getting caught staring.

You had yet to see him so at peace until this moment. He was laid atop his blankets, nearly in the fetal position, one long arm tucked under his pillow while the other was slung across his exposed midriff. His appendages were retracted again and his tail was hanging off the side of the bed, twitching slightly in his slumber. His breaths were deep and even, and his messy blond hair covered his closed eyes.

Never in your life did you think a literal monster could be so damn cute—so damn attractive in ways most humans hadn’t been to you before. Even the ones you dated. You wondered what that said about you.

As you gazed at Leon, you were reminded of the day before, a lovely warmth settling over you like that of the sun spilling in from the window above.

You could feel yourself blush as you recalled him carrying you across the bridge; how he had plucked a flower just to stick it into your hair; the fact he was willing to dance with you in the dilapidated ballroom simply because you asked; the way he played into your little game as you sat upon the throne, faces so near, you could brush your nose against his if you had just moved a little bit closer.

But then he had pulled away, leaving you breathless… and confused.

You weren’t sure why he would humor you with the flirting and the lingering glances and the gentle touches just to distance himself again—why he was holding himself back.

It was maddening, and you struggled to muster the courage to ask him about it or take matters into your own hands. Because, if you were honest with yourself, you were terrified of what it would mean if you did.

Worst case scenario, he would reject you and send you away. It would sting, but you had grown accustomed to the feeling; almost expected it by now. Besides, you were going to leave anyway, weren’t you?

Best case scenario, though? He would reciprocate and then… what? What could come of this? Would you still go home and let this remain as some passionate, short-lived fling? Would you work out how to stay and leave your entire life—friends and family—behind? Or would you come and visit him when you could manage it, living some kind of half-life split between your world and his?

Every outcome you could think of seemed to hurt, and you thought maybe it would be better to keep things as they were; tense but platonic.

However, being with him was so easy. Natural as breathing (when he wasn’t stealing your breath away, that is). Sure, there had been hiccups and misunderstandings. The both of you were stubborn and set in your ways, but you put your differences to rest so quickly. 

But god, were you different. The type of different that you thought before meeting him would never work. As a human, he was handsome. Devastatingly so. Could have been a model, had he chosen another career.

And, most notably, he could have had anyone he wanted.

You had come to love your body with all its curves and marks, but you doubted he would even look your way if you had crossed paths in another life.

You knew it wasn’t fair to yourself or to him to compare who he was to who he is now, considering how much he had gone through over the years and his transformation. However, you couldn’t help but think the attention you were getting from him came from loneliness and nothing more.

If anyone else had been just as stupid and nosy as you, he probably would have acted this way towards them in your stead.

Could you so easily be replaced?

Your chest clenched painfully at the thought and you forced yourself to look away from him, eyes bouncing around the room until they landed on the painting hung on the nearby wall.

It was a beautiful depiction of the castle—how it must have looked when it was occupied by people instead of dust and crumbling stone. The colors were vibrant, and a couple in the foreground were walking away from it, arm in arm. You admired it for a long while, feeling a sense of serenity overtake your anxious mind for a moment.

And then memories of the day prior flooded it instead, how you and Leon had spent the rest of the evening making crude wooden frames for the paintings you had “borrowed” from the castle, carefully finding the best places to hang the new pieces on his once empty walls.

Leon acted like he didn’t care, letting you decide for him, but you caught him glancing at the artwork from time to time, a gentle smile on his face at the way they brightened up his home.

You knew once you left he would be lonely again. You hoped if you could make these changes for him it might be enough to keep him content, even for just a little while. And, selfishly, you felt that if you couldn’t have him, you could at least inject remnants of yourself into his life. Maybe then he’d think of you the way you knew you’d think of him until your last breath.

Everything about it was unfair.

You heard a rustle and a quiet call of your name, your gaze meeting the half-lidded one of Leon as he sat up to look at you. He let out a yawn, his impossibly wide mouth gaping open in a way you once thought to be terrifying, those razor teeth glinting in the low light of the morning sun. Now, as he blinked the sleep from his red eyes, you found it more endearing, like the maw of a cat. Precious in all its sharp edges.

“Good morning,” you told him softly, a smile playing on your lips as if you hadn’t nearly worried your teeth through them moments ago.

“Mornin’. You been up long?” he asked as he swept his hair from his face. You wished you could do it for him, but you pushed that thought deep down instead.

“Not long. Was just looking at the painting,” you replied, half-lying as you pointed at the artwork in question.

His gaze trailed up to it, a small grin alighting his bizarrely beautiful features. “It really was a great idea, bringing them back here. Makes the place a lot less depressing.”

“I have those, occasionally,” you joked, pulling yourself to your feet. “I’m gonna start breakfast if you’re interested in something other than fish.”

With a tilt of his head, he asked, “What’re you makin’?”

You smirked as you walked up to him. “You can find out for yourself if you get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, catching you off guard by leaning in close, so tall that even sitting down he was the same height as you were standing. “So demanding, bunny.”

You scoffed. “Forgive me. Please get dressed and meet me downstairs. Better?” 

“Baby steps.”

Splaying your hand against his chest, you teasingly shoved him, “Whatever. I’ll just cook without you.” 

He grabbed your wrist, clawed fingers cool against your skin, causing a shiver to run through you. “C’mon, you’re breaking my heart here.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, pulling slightly against his hold. “Then be good and do as you’re told.”

He sighed dramatically, releasing you from his grip. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned triumphantly, gently tapping your finger against the tip of his nose. It caused him to scrunch up his face in a way that made you laugh, and then you turned on your heels and strolled to the door.

You glanced back at him as he stood and stretched. “Bacon and eggs, by the way.”

“Now that’s something I can’t pass up.”

“Figured.” And with that, you were on your way.

You kickstarted your morning by brushing your teeth and washing your face in the sink, then quickly got dressed so you could begin working on breakfast.

Leon was swift to join you, staying out of your way as he would be little help with his claws but keeping you company regardless. You made sure to leave his eggs runny and his bacon undercooked to abide by his more primal eating habits.

Soon enough, the two of you were at the table, sitting across from each other as was becoming the norm. It all felt so… domestic.

“Got any plans I need to know about?” he inquired after emptying his plate.

You swallowed the bite you had been chewing, glancing out of the nearby window. “It’s a nice day out. Pretty warm for autumn. Would that lake trip I mentioned yesterday be out of the question?” 

“Don’t see why we can’t. And there’s lots to see. I think you’re going to have a good time.” 

“With you? Always.”

You could have sworn a faint pink rose to his face, but he was quick to stand and place his used dishes in the sink, so you couldn’t be certain.

After a quick prep for the trip, you headed down to the lake, Leon helping you get onto the boat, which rocked violently as you stepped onto it, to your dismay. He chuckled as you grappled his shoulders to steady yourself, slowly lowering onto the bench beneath you.

“Not too keen on a swim, huh?” he teased you.

“Not fully clothed, at least,” you muttered in reply.

He simply smirked at that but didn’t respond. 

Leon smoothly directed the loud motorboat to the first location you had agreed upon back at the house, which was a small cave that held a wooden shack inside. It was such a strange little place, but you liked to hear the echo of your voices bounce off the cave walls, as well as the sound of the boat gently slapping against the dock.

The headless statue with the dark stains on it—that looked an awful lot like old blood—made you uneasy, but you could see yourself camping out at a place like this.

After that, Leon said he was taking you to what he called “chicken island”, which made you laugh. 

“Can’t imagine why they’d call it that,” you mused.

“It had chickens there if you can believe it,” was his deadpan response. 

And he didn’t lie. Although the birds were no longer present, many rusted cages full of straw nests were stacked across the small area and worn feathers littered the ground. There wasn’t much to it, as he had warned, but you felt the need to at least say you had been to such a silly place.

He then took you into another cave, pulling up to a large dock with only your flashlight as a guide. You climbed up the ladder to the deck above—a place that you had passed through to get to the lake in the first place—to sit on a crate and eat your lunch.

Time was passing rather quickly while out on the water, and you worried if you spent too much time dawdling, you’d have to come back the next day and waste precious hours you could be doing other things.

The end of your visit here was coming up sooner than you’d like, after all. 

You were halfway through your sandwich, giving the room a more intense sweep, when your eyes fell upon the elevator in the corner. You had pointed it out before, but Leon wasn’t keen on using it, as the generator keeping the thing in service had long since lost fuel. 

Apparently, there had been a shooting range with moving targets on the floor below, to your bewilderment. There was also one inside the castle and another in the mines beneath it, though Leon told you it was too dangerous to trek the old shafts. 

You glanced at the counter next to the elevator and a thought came to your mind. “Hey, Leon, you said there were moving targets in the shooting range, right?”

He looked at you quizzically but nodded, mouth full of sliced ham.

You giggled at the sight, but continued your questioning, “So if they were moving, was someone controlling them?”

He swallowed thickly before answering, “Yeah... This guy I just referred to as ‘The Merchant’. He popped up all over the village while I was trying to save Ashley. Helped me a lot by selling me supplies. He was in charge of the shooting ranges around here.”

“How did he know where you’d end up in time to set up shop? And how did he avoid getting infected with the parasite?” 

Leon clicked his tongue. “Your guess is good as mine. He was… weird… but he did me a solid, so I figured it would be best not to ask questions. Even sold me some things to live on after I turned. He never came back after that.”

“Do you wish he did?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from prying. It was a bad habit, you knew, but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted to get to know Leon in every capacity, even though leaving would only hurt worse if you did. You must've been a masochist, then. 

He sighed wearily, crossing his arms. “If I’m being honest… every day I wished someone would come back. Didn’t matter who. Used to lay awake at night and think about Claire or Ashely or Ad—” he paused at that, and you were going to ask what name he was about to say when he continued, “Anyway, I used to imagine them coming to find me. Just to say hi, I guess. To see how I was doing. But they never did. Not that they should. I told Ashley not to come back for her safety, and to not tell anyone I was alive. Don’t know why I hoped she’d break her promise.”

“Well,” you started, reaching over and wrapping your fingers around his hand, “at least I’m here.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad for it, even if it's just for a week.” He was staring down at your knuckles and you wanted nothing more than to coil your arms around him, but you refrained.

You considered him for a long moment instead, all your overthinking from earlier being tossed out of your mind as you promptly made a decision, saying, “I could always come back. Make this a yearly trip or something.”

His gaze jumped up to your own, then, shock evident in his pale features. “And why would you do that?”

You let out a huff of laughter. Was he really that clueless? Well, you weren’t about to give him the full truth—that you were utterly infatuated with him—instead replying, “Because I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“Friend,” he repeated, voice low. Was there a hint of disappointment in his tone, or did you imagine it? “Yeah, I guess at this point, you really are. But I don’t know if it would be a good idea for you to come back.”

“Why?” You felt hurt by that, but you tried to hide it behind a nonchalant attitude, attempting to sound more curious than bitter.

“We’re wasting daylight,” he said instead of answering you, standing up from his crate. “We should keep moving.”

You stood up, too, confusion and frustration circling in your head like vultures. “Fine, but this conversation isn’t over, Leon.”

“Hm,” was all he replied, already making his way to the boat before you even finished zipping up your backpack. 

The short trip to the other side of the cave was one full of awkward silence. You didn’t want to show that you were annoyed, but it was difficult to mask it while he was giving you the cold shoulder.

You realized then how delicate this all still was. A few days together was not enough time for him to fully open up to you. You were upset, but he had a stormy history—one he wasn’t keen on sharing.

Whether it was to protect himself from the vulnerability or spare you from the weight of his past, you didn’t know. But you wanted nothing more than to assure him that he meant something to you. That he could trust you.

You kept your mouth shut.

Despite the change in attitude, Leon was still quick to help you out of the boat. It was something you appreciated, given your apparent lack of sea legs.

Your concerned thoughts were replaced with a renewed sense of awe, though, as you shone your flashlight over the cave walls and rushed forward. Leon simply followed behind you while you explored the place, as he made a habit of doing since your arrival.

You found another headless statue stained in dark brown, to your disgust, but not much else resided in the labyrinthine tunnels.

You went back to the boat, and as you were about to leave the area altogether, you pointed out another small dock nearby. “What’s over there? Can we go?”

He seemed hesitant, shoulders tensing, but he eventually nodded, pulling up alongside it.

Once on solid ground, you were swift in finding a painting on the cave wall, which was a large and very old map of the lake with what looked like a whale in the center.

“What is that?” You asked Leon, the uneasy silence from just before fading as your curiosity took root in its stead.

He grimaced as if remembering something terrible. “Del Lago. Giant fish monster in the lake. I killed it, though, so don’t worry.”

“Ah, a Spanish Nessie, then,” you teased despite your horror at such a concept. “Must have been old, if this painting is anything to go by.”

“Its body sank to the bottom of the lake pretty much as soon as I downed the thing,” he said, looking up at the depiction of the creature. “It’s almost a shame, what happened to it.”

“Why, cos you killed an ancient majestic beast?”

He turned to you with a smile. “No, cos I wasted all that meat.” 

You laughed and he chuckled in response, the awkward tension from earlier finally giving way to the easygoing banter you enjoyed so much.

“C’mon, there’s more to explore,” you urged, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.

Near the mural was a shrine with two large hands sticking up from the cave floor, a head sitting in either stone palm.

Well, that explains the headless statues, you mused.

You moved on quickly after that, the cave giving way to a forested path. You made a face as you skirted past a sacrificial altar, gripping Leon a little tighter.

After having to crawl underneath a tiny gap in a stone formation, you made it to a fork in the path, a small building to your right, and a winding trail to your left.

“What’s over there?” you asked Leon as you pointed to the trail, leaning down to wipe the dirt from your clothes. 

He seemed to freeze before responding a little too quickly, “Not much. And that cabin just leads to another dock. We should head back to the boat.”

“Oh, c’mon, we’re already here! Might as well take a peek!” you chirped, marching onto the trail. 

Leon didn’t argue, but he was tense as he followed you up to the end of the path.

You were more than a little confused by what you found there.

“Graves?” you questioned aloud as you looked upon the two crosses made crudely of sticks, names carved into the wood. They weren’t next to each other like you’d expect, but spread apart and angled toward the center of the dead-end path. “How strange. The only other ones I’ve seen were in the church cemetery.”

“Yeah, strange,” Leon muttered behind you, sounding almost… nervous? You wondered why.

You leaned down to the cross on the left, barely able to make out the name “Luis Serra Novarro” on the wood. An old lighter was on the ground beside it. You wondered if it even worked anymore with how long it looked to be sitting there. 

You then crouched before the other cross, “Major Jack Krauser” etched messily upon the surface.

“Well, his name isn’t very local-sounding,” you joked of the latter.

Leon didn’t reply, but you were too distracted by what was dug into the ground in front of the cross to comment on it. It was a large knife with an engraving of a snake on its rusted blade.

“Wow, that’s cool,” you mused, reaching out to pull it from the dirt. It felt like a waste to leave such a well-crafted weapon just sitting there.

“Stop!” Leon barked, lunging forward and yanking your hand from where it brushed against the scales.

Shocked, you pulled away and stood up, taking a step back at the snarl on his face. “Whoa, what’s wrong? The thing booby-trapped or something?”

He sighed, his expression turning weary instead of angry. “No, just… would like to respect the dead.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Respect the dead? You piled up human corpses at the entrance to the village. Not sure how that’s exactly—” You stopped mid-sentence, realization hitting you as you took in the miserable look on Leon’s face. “You… you knew these guys, didn’t you?”

He grimaced at your words but slowly nodded in response.

“Who were they?”

Leon crossed his arms over his chest tightly, as if to hug himself, before jerking his head to the grave on the left. “Luis helped me and Ashley. He actually saved me from him, too,” he said, looking at the grave to the right. “He was killed by that very knife.”

“Why bury this guy next to your friend if he murdered him?” You were flabbergasted by this whole thing, desperate to make sense of Leon’s strange actions.

He winced at that. “He was my mentor. Trained me to be an agent in the first place. Without him, I don’t think I could have survived.”

“What caused him to change?”

Leon decided to plop onto the ground, his tail whipping in agitation along the dirt. You joined him, sitting cross-legged beside his slouched figure, waiting for him to say something.

“He was betrayed by the very country he fought to protect. His whole unit was wiped out and he was badly injured, unable to fight like he used to. He ended up going MIA and joined the cult. They infected him with the Plagas, too. I had to fight him. I had to—” he stopped to take a steadying breath, “I had to kill him. With that same blade. His blade.”

“I’m so sorry, Leon,” was all you could offer him, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. He closed his claws into a fist and squeezed back.

“I buried Luis first,” he began. “Had to go into the mines to retrieve his body, ferry it out here. Then I went to the island on the other side of the castle to find Krauser. The whole place had collapsed in on itself, but I had hoped I could get to him. Dug in the rubble for days, but… couldn’t find a body. The knife is all I had left of him, so now it’s here.”

“I see,” you said quietly, staring down at the muddled reflection of Leon’s dirt-covered leg in the rusted blade. “Why’d you place their graves so far out of the way?”

“It’s secluded. Quiet. Peaceful,” he replied, head tilting towards the sky and closing his eyes. “Figured I would bury Wolfie here, too, when he eventually dies. Just thought it would be a good place to…”

You saw him swallow back his words.

“A good place to what?”

He sighed and shook his head before looking at you, those red eyes so hauntingly melancholy, it made your heart ache. “A good place to rest.”

The two of you sat quietly in the dirt, simply holding hands and watching the breeze ripple through the foliage surrounding you.

He’s right, you thought, comforted by the shade of trees, yet still able to make out the blue of the sky above, it is a good place to rest.

You knew Leon grieved the life he once lived, so evident in the way he carried himself—the way he spoke. But this kind of loss was news to you. You never realized just how much weight he carried.

You were determined to lighten the burden in any way you could.

“Come on,” you told him, finally standing. “We have one last stop, don’t we?”

He didn’t need your help to get to his feet, but he still took your outstretched hand, giving you a small, grateful smile when he towered over you once more. “Yeah. We do.”

Before you knew it, you were back on the motorboat, heading straight to the center of the lake for your last location.

You had seen the old, half-sunk fishing vessel from the shore, but wanted to explore it last for the hell of it. You were glad you made that decision, hoping that spending more time on the calm waters might lift Leon’s spirits.

He came to a stop at the port of the large wooden boat, gracefully exiting onto the dilapidated vessel before reaching his hand out and pulling you onto the algae-slick deck with him.

“Careful,” he warned, releasing his hold on you. “The boards are pretty damaged. Wouldn’t want you to fall through.”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, but you took your time walking around, just in case. You heard him chuckle as you shuffled slowly forward, giving him a lighthearted glare in response. 

There really wasn’t much to see of the place, only able to access the front of it. 

You leaned against the railing of the bow after a brief sweep of the area, looking out onto the blue, blue water. It was beautiful, and you could see why Leon would spend hours fishing out here beyond catching a meal or two.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, finding him leaning against the front of the cockpit, his eyes already on you. You wished you knew what he was thinking when he looked at you like that. You hid your blush by turning back around.

You placed your hands on the railing, a light giggle escaping you as a thought crossed your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he questioned, and you knew he was smiling without needing to face him.

You tapped your fingers on the wood. “You ever see the movie Titanic?”

He scoffed but didn’t answer, instead stepping closer. Before you knew what was happening, he had gently tugged your arms up, holding them in the air as he leaned down to place his chin on your shoulder. Your breath was caught in your throat by the proximity, his own tickling your cheek.

“Was this what you had in mind, bunny?” he asked you, voice low and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip. You kept your arms up as he slid his hands down to rest on your waist and you wondered if you would pass out from your inability to pull oxygen into your lungs.

You needed to get yourself together, so you forced out a nervous laugh before saying, “If only we had Celine Dion playing in the background. I think we’d be dead ringers for the remake.”

Leon laughed heartily. “I can’t imagine they’d do a remake of such a nineties classic.”

You giggled, turning slightly to meet his eye. “They remake everything these days.”

“Well, I don’t think I have what it takes to play Jack, but you’re pretty enough to go on the big screen.”

Oh. 

That compliment made heat flood your whole body, though you didn’t want him to notice it. “What are you talking about? You’re practically Leo DiCaprio two-point-oh.”

“Mm, maybe ten years ago,” he mused, pulling away from you, to your chagrin. “C’mon, we should head back to the house.”

You pouted as you turned to face him. “But I don’t want to yet!”

“Well, there’s not much left to do out here,” he replied, as if coaxing you to follow his lead.

But that wasn’t exactly your style, now was it? 

Instead, you let your hair down from its messy bun, kicked off your shoes and socks, and yanked your shirt over your head.

Leon’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you stripped in front of him, pulling your jeans off and leaving yourself only in your underwear. You could tell he was trying not to stare, focusing solely on your face as he choked out, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Still, you saw his gaze drop to your bare skin. You felt utterly exposed, but you weren’t ashamed.

In fact, you felt good.

You felt free.

You sat on the railing of the boat, smiling wickedly at him as you flipped your legs over the edge. “I told you if I was going to have a swim, it wouldn’t be fully clothed, didn’t I?”

Before he could say anything else, you plunged into the water.

It was so cold, you locked up for a moment, your body shocked by the sudden change in temperature. You stayed under for a few seconds, willing yourself to adjust before breaching the surface.

You wiped the water from your eyes, blinking up at Leon as he hung off the bow of the boat. It looked like he was about to dive in after you, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come back up.

His concern for you warmed you right up.

“Are you serious?” he interrogated, breathing out a sigh of disbelief. “You said it was too cold to bathe out here, but you’ll take an afternoon swim?”

“Definitely too cold for a bath,” you replied, nodding sagely. “But you should still come join me!”

“Absolutely not. You’re crazy, you know that?”

You smiled, all teeth. “What was your first clue, sweetheart?”

He scoffed. “You showing up here in the first place, probably.” 

“So…” you began, “you should learn to expect the unexpected. And jump in. I know the cold doesn’t bother you, Leon.”

He sighed, staring over at the shore for a moment before turning to face you once more. “Fine.”

You whooped in victory as he stepped back from the railing, and then bit your lip as you watched him pull off his shirt, revealing his lean, taut upper body. His legs were obscured by the boat as he tore his pants from them, but you got a good look when he leapt onto the ledge of the bow. You had to crane your neck to take in all of him, grazing your eyes up his muscled form, covered only by boxer briefs.

Before you could stare for too long, he dove into the water behind you, and you covered your eyes as it splashed up in a small wave.

He quickly rose to the surface, flipping his blond hair from his face.

“See? Not so bad,” you told him, paddling closer to where he was treading.

“Guess not.”

You were about to speak again when you felt something large slither along your leg. You yelped, pulling your body away from the sensation. “Oh my god, something just touched me!” 

Leon shrugged. “Probably just a fish.”

“No, no, it was definitely a snake!” you told him, eyes staring down as if you could see into the dark water.

“It’s possible. There’re vipers in the area, I told you that before.” He seemed to be taking joy in your distress and you glared at him angrily for it.

“Leon, if that’s true, I need out RIGHT now.”

You began to swim towards the motorboat, suddenly very over this whole situation, when something touched your leg again. You screamed as it wrapped around your ankle, pulling you under the water.

You weren’t under for very long, whatever it was almost immediately releasing you. You sputtered as you pushed your head above the surface, panicking.

But then you heard Leon laughing hysterically nearby, and the realization that he was just screwing with you hit you like a brick.

“Oh, you asshole!” you yelled, wading back over to him and shoving his chest in rage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to,” he told you between laughs.

“Yeah, you will be.” With that, you splashed his face with water, feeling smug that you got him before he could use his arm as a shield.

You splashed him a few more times until he lunged toward you, grabbing your arms, “Okay, we’re even now. Happy?”

He released you and you pretended to think about it for a moment, easing closer. Your faces were mere inches apart, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him. You weren’t sure how the action would even work, considering his protruding fangs, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to find out. 

He seemed to edge nearer, and you wondered if he had the same idea.

But your nerves got the better of you.

Instead, you jumped up and shoved his shoulders down, dunking him completely under the water.

It was your turn to laugh as he came back up, his wet hair covering his eyes. “Now I’d say we’re even.”

He pushed the strands from his face and shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

Before you could say something else, the sky seemed to darken suddenly. You still had a couple hours of daylight left, so you glanced up, confused. You saw that clouds had converged over the sun, looking awfully heavy.

Something splattered against your forehead, and you wiped it off, realizing it was a raindrop. Several more began to fall on and around you, and you knew it was time to head back to shore.

You and Leon quickly got dressed as the sprinkle of rain turned into a steady shower, dampening your once-dry clothes. Still, you made the time to glance at Leon’s cute butt as he leaned down to pull up his pants, and when you turned to put on your own, you could feel his eyes on you too.

Thankfully, Leon decided to head back to the cave, the rain only coming down harder as you finally entered it. Leon moored the boat, and the two of you hurried through to the quarry. 

A flash of light streaked across the sky as you reached the church, the echoing BOOM that followed it making you jump out of your skin. You must’ve looked like a wet chihuahua with how you shook, both from the sound and the cold rain seeping down to the bone.

Leon turned to face you, his expression concerned. He got close, placing his palms against your arms. “You’re freezing. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Despite your misery, you couldn’t help but feel warmed by his words.

Let’s get you home.

He said it like it was yours, too.

He grabbed your hand, tugging you along as you rushed back to his place, knowing it was still quite a trek.

You finally made it to the house, and you doubled over as soon as you crossed the threshold, panting heavily from practically jogging the whole way. You were shivering violently, your teeth chattering as you finally caught your breath, when you felt Leon lay his hand across your back.

“Hey, you should get changed. I’ll start a fire,” he urged, eyes soft as he looked at you.

You nodded, doing as he said, wringing your drenched clothes over the tub before hanging them on the sides of it.

Feeling slightly better, you went back into the main room, seeing that Leon had pushed the dining table over and moved the couch in front of the fireplace, where a stack of logs was piled in the hearth.

He was struggling with the matches again, so you gently took them from his hands, alighting the kindling yourself. He simply nodded at you before you sat down on the couch and reached your hands towards the slowly growing flames.

“You’re soaked,” you told him. “Go change. I’ll make dinner when we warm up.”

He smiled down at you as he stood, stroking the top of your head. You never wanted him to stop. “Be right back, then.”

You were finally losing the chill as he returned, sitting down beside you, his tail draped between you on the seat.

Another loud crash of lightning made you cry out, flinching.

“Whoa, there,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not… the biggest fan of storms. I like the rain when I’m cozied up inside, but thunder and lightning… I don’t know. It freaks me out.”

“So you’re afraid of heights, snakes, and storms. Anything else I should know about?” he asked lightheartedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not afraid of heights, just falling off a shoddy bridge, thank you very much. And snakes only scare me when they’re venomous and I think they’re slithering around my leg.”

His tail flicked up as you stared pointedly at it, the movement incredibly cute to you. He could really be just like a cat sometimes.

“I stand corrected. Just storms, then,” he teased.

The conversation flowed to other things, but looking around, you realized with sudden concern that Leon’s dog wasn’t nearby. “Hey, where’s Wolfie? Was he upstairs?”

Leon’s brows furrowed at that, standing and glancing around the room. “No… he wasn’t. He usually doesn’t stay out when it storms.” 

“Is he okay?” you questioned.

Leon crossed his arms. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe staying somewhere out of the rain.”

You nodded, though you worried for the poor dog’s safety.

As you promised, you made dinner—a roast, actually—and you had never seen Leon so excited by something you had cooked thus far (though he wouldn’t touch the potatoes, onions, and carrots that simmered alongside it).

As you worked on washing dishes, you saw Leon staring out of one of the windows, and you knew he was looking for Wolfie. You finished the chore, walking into the main room to stand beside him.

“He’s never been gone this long,” Leon stated with a frown.

You worried your bottom lip. “Maybe… Maybe we should go find him.”

Leon glanced at you, then, brow raised. “I’ll go find him. You should stay here.”

“No way,” you argued, already pulling on your hiking boots. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“You could catch a cold, and that bear is still around. Besides, you hate the thunder and lightning, and it's only getting worse.”

“Well, I’m worried about him too. I want to help.”

He sighed as you stood upright, seeing the determination in your eyes. “Fine, but dress warm.”

You nodded vigorously. “I have a raincoat and a jacket, don’t worry.” 

You quickly ran to your luggage, throwing on your hoodie, sliding the raincoat over it, and grabbing your flashlight from your backpack.

You met Leon at the door, the two of you heading out into the dark.

You kept your arm braced above your brows to block the rain from your eyes, the hoods of your jacket and coat pulled over your head still not enough to prevent the onslaught, raking your flashlight over the ground as you and Leon called Wolfie’s name.

You didn’t know how long you were in the storm, and although the clothes on your top half helped to keep you dry and warm, your legs were getting soaked through. You pushed past the discomfort, your concern for Leon’s animal companion taking precedence.

The look of worry on his face was compelling enough to keep moving forward on its own.

You were near the church again, calling out the dog’s name as loud as you could, getting desperate to find him safe, when you heard Leon gasp beside you.

“What?” you questioned.

“This way,” was all he responded, bounding through the woods at a speed you could barely keep up with.

Leon was taking you deep into the forest, and you could focus on little else but his darting form as you followed him, afraid to be left behind in the dark.

You thought you were gaining on him when you tripped over a root, cutting your knee as you fell to the ground, hard. You were quick to pick yourself back up, sprinting after him and gritting your teeth against the pain.

You lost him, though, the realization filling you with panic. You just continued running in the direction you saw him taking off, calling after him frantically.

The thunder rumbled deafeningly from above, making you cower in fright, but you knew you had to keep going. The darkness seemed to encroach upon you, the torrent of rain pelting against your whole body hard enough to hurt.

You don’t think you had ever felt this afraid.  

To your relief, you finally caught up to Leon, but it was short-lived when you took in what was ahead of you.

Leon was crouched over, and you could hear him muttering in distress. Before him was Wolfie, laying motionless on his side, four streaks of dark red seeping out of his white fur.

You rushed forward, dropping onto your injured knee, not caring how badly it stung as you assessed the animal in front of you. He was still breathing, thankfully, and letting out quiet little whimpers. The wounds looked deep as you appraised them, wondering what could have done this to him.

As if reading your mind, Leon growled, “It was that damn bear.”

You didn’t respond as he stripped his shirt off, easily ripping it into strips. They were soaked through with rain, but it was better than nothing.

“Here buddy,” Leon reassured Wolfie as he grabbed his own tail.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you, he gently pricked the barbed end into the dog’s side, who yelped and writhed at the feeling before near-instantly relaxing.

“Kills the pain,” is all he offered as you looked at him in shock. He then shoved the strips of cloth into your hands. “I’m gonna lift him up and I want you to wrap these around him, okay?”

He’d only ever been this serious when protecting you from that bear two days prior, and you swallowed before nodding in response.

You began to carefully slide the first strip over one of the gashes, about to tie it off, when Leon interjected, “Tight, but not too tight.”

“Got it,” you said, fingers shaking as you followed his direction for each wound. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the nerves but you managed it well enough.

When you were done, Leon stood. Wolfie was held in his arms, the dog’s blood smearing against his bare chest. It made your stomach twist with unease.

“I have bandages in my first-aid kit,” you told him as he began the trek back to the path, trying to keep up with his long, hurried gait.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Leon said. “We can change the bandages, but I don’t know if he’s… I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

You couldn’t reply, tears pricking your eyes at the thought.

Leon’s voice wavered as he continued, “I know he’s old. I knew I’d lose him eventually. But not like this. Not this soon…” 

You pushed back your tears, sadness giving way to conviction. “After we replace the bandages, I’m gonna take him to the vet, okay? You’ll have to carry him to my car, but I think if we’re fast, we can do this.” 

“What if he dies on the way there?” Leon asked miserably, “I don’t want to be away from him in his last moments.”

“I know it’s a risk, but we have a real chance of saving him, Leon. You told me to trust you yesterday, right? Well, now I need you to trust me.”

He seemed so conflicted but eventually nodded, his features solemn. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

You reached over and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

God, I hope I’m right about this.

+++

It had been a long time since Leon felt this afraid.

He had lost everything once, and was forced to spend a decade trying to survive the hole that loss gouged out of him. Just a void sitting inside his chest, the edges slowly creeping out to devour what was left.

Wolfie had been there for him in ways humans never were. Even when he wasn’t this grotesque monstrosity, he would rather die than burden someone else with his innate brokenness, preferring to mask it with his need to help or his oftentimes cynical sense of humor.

The truth of the matter? He didn’t know who he was when he wasn’t useful to someone. When he wasn’t a protector. He had never felt so unmoored, going without this self-imposed purpose to drive him forward.

Wolfie had renewed that purpose a month after his transformation, when Leon was at his lowest. He limped up to him with a swollen leg after being bit by a viper, clearly recognizing him despite his mutated features. He had done all he could to nurse the poor dog back to health, and Wolfie hadn’t left his side since.

He sometimes wondered if it was fate that brought them together again—if he allowed himself to believe in something beyond the mundane—but he had renounced god and any other spiritual bullshit ages ago.

He looked down at the dog in his arms, no longer in pain due to his venom’s painkilling properties, but his breaths were still concerningly shallow. He wanted nothing more than to sprint full speed back to the house but worried the movement would only exacerbate Wolfie’s injuries.

He wasn’t completely sure he was okay with letting you take his dog from him—not wanting to miss any precious time he might have left—but he agreed that it was worth a shot to bring him to the vet clinic, even if he couldn’t join you.

He glanced over at you, your teeth gnawing into your bottom lip as you silently walked beside him, and was at least glad you were here with him in this nightmare. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to do this alone.

Eventually, you made it to the house, and he moved aside to let you open the door for him. You both rushed into the building, you grabbing your first-aid kit and a pair of scissors.

You were quick to find the proper bandages, and Leon just held Wolfie’s body out so you could cut off the bloodied strips of his shirt and re-wrap the wounds. Your hands were shaking, but you were careful and methodical, so he didn’t comment on it.

When you finished, you grabbed a blanket and a towel, laying them on the dining table so Leon could bundle the dog tightly inside to protect him from the rain. It was a bit of a walk to the hunting lodge, after all.

You moved away to wash your hands and find your car keys, but Leon could only stare down at your leg as you came back into the room. There were mud and grass stains, which he expected, though he was caught off guard by the knee of your jeans being torn, bright red trickling down your shin in a small but steady stream.

“What happened to your leg?” he questioned, unable to recall when you could have gotten the injury.

“Oh, it's nothing. I just tripped when I was chasing after you. Nearly lost you completely because of it, but I found you pretty fast,” you told him nonchalantly as you packed your bag.

He felt his stomach drop at your words, realizing that he hadn’t once looked back to check on you during his mad dash to find Wolfie. The thought that you were hurt and lost in the middle of the woods during a storm that scared you, and he just left you there, making bile rise to his throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should have waited for you… I didn’t even know you weren’t behind me anymore…”

You shook your head, smiling at him, but the expression couldn’t hide the exhaustion in your eyes. “It’s okay, I promise. You were worried about Wolfie. I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not okay,” he seethed, his own self-hatred pooling into his chest. “I left you alone in a storm! In the dark! What if that bear was still around, huh? It could have killed you and I left you there, with nothing to defend yourself with!”

“Leon, I’m fine. Nothing happened beyond this little cut.” Your voice was calm and he wished he could hate it. Hate you for how you could talk him into or out of almost anything.

It had been mere days. He didn’t know you, and yet he trusted you implicitly. Trusted you with the life of his only companion.

And then, when he asked you to trust in him, he had sabotaged it in an instant.

He didn’t respond, knowing he might say something he’d regret, so he only watched as you quickly rolled up your pant leg to blot and disinfect the cut. He disliked seeing you in pain, witnessing the way your face screwed up as you used peroxide on the small wound—heard the hiss you made as it bubbled up on your broken skin.

You were wrapping one of the extra bandages over it when Leon looked out the window, the storm only hitting harder as the hours passed. “Maybe we should wait it out. You shouldn’t be driving in this.”

You sighed as you unrolled the leg of your jeans, walking over to stare into the dark with him. “Under normal circumstances, you couldn’t pay me to go out in this weather. But I don’t think we have time to waste, Leon.”

You both glanced over at Wolfie on the table, wrapped up and hopefully comfortable in the blanket. Leon had no choice in this if he didn’t want to lose his dog.

He was meant to protect him and now he was sending him off with someone most people would call a stranger.

Any quality of his that could be halfway useful in this situation, and he wasn’t even there when Wolfie was attacked. And now his only companion was bleeding out on his dining table and he could do nothing to stop it but put him in someone else’s care and hope he lived.  

Leon had all this strength, all these heightened senses. His entire body was deemed a weapon. And yet he couldn’t even save his dog.

What was the point of any of it, then?

And what would he have done if you weren’t there to help him? Watch Wolfie slowly die, helpless to prevent it?

Worse still, what if it was you who had been attacked?

He imagined your lifeless body lying in his arms, frightened eyes wide and staring off into nothing, drenched in blood that wouldn’t stop pouring out of you, and he could do absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

“Come on, Leon. We have to go,” came your gentle voice, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. 

He only nodded in response, grabbing Wolfie and heading back out into the downpour, beyond the safety of his home.

The two of you trudged in silence through the village, the storm raging above your heads. He could practically sense your anxiety coming off of you in waves, but you were doing your best to remain stoic. He didn’t know if it was to calm yourself or him, but he appreciated the attempt.  

Finally, you made it to the hunter’s lodge, and you spoke up as soon as the door shut out the torrent. “I was wondering, how did you know where Wolfie was? Back there in the forest?”

“The storm dampened it, but I could hear him whimpering from the path. When I got close enough, I could smell the blood.”

“Right, super senses. Thank god for ‘em.”

He glanced at you sharply. “I’d rather have stopped him from getting hurt in the first place.”

“Hey, I know this sucks, but he’s alive and he’s going to stay that way if I have a say in it.”

He really took you in at that. Your face was wet, strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, but the fire in your eyes…

He had no way to know if things would work out the way you wanted, but your conviction—your unyielding, infectious hope—quelled the needling fear, if only for a moment. 

He might not believe in god, but angels must be real if you were standing beside him.

You made it to the car shortly after, Leon gently placing Wolfie into the backseat as you threw your bag into the passenger side and sat behind the wheel.

You turned the ignition, the vehicle roaring to life as Leon looked down at you, urging, “Please be careful. I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

“I will be. I promise.” Before you closed the door, you glanced back up at him, asking, “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”

He clenched his clawed hands into fists, feeling the sharp edges dig into his skin as he grated out, “I’m going to kill that fucking bear.”

You looked shocked by his words but nodded in agreement. “Okay. Good luck.”

And with that, you closed the door.

Leon stepped back to let you drive off, knowing that the fate of his companion was out of his hands.

He exhaled harshly and turned on his heels, ready for the hunt.

Now this is what he was good for.

Shifting onto all fours, Leon was quick to shed his more human qualities for the sake of the kill, sprinting faster than he ever had on his legs alone. He focused solely on his senses to direct him through the downpour and to his prey, feeling his claws digging into the wet earth below.

As he had told you earlier, the storm dampened his abilities, but that wouldn’t stop him from reaching his objective.

In fact, it only made him more hellbent on completing it. 

It took him nearly an hour to find where the massive animal was lurking: a cave not far from where he had found Wolfie bleeding into the mud.

Despite its size, there was not much of a fight as Leon latched those deadly teeth of his around its throat and ripped. It barely had time to even register him launching at it before it was wheezing and choking on its own blood.

In this form, Leon was too proficient at killing. A part of him—deep, deep down—wanted to take his time tearing the beast limb from limb, listen to it roar and whine in agony before he finally put it out of its misery.

When its jilted movements eventually stilled, blood coating the cave floor and Leon from his mouth to the knees of his dirty pants, he stumbled back into the wall and closed his eyes tightly.

Vengeance. It was something he understood, but he didn’t see the point of it. Blood for blood’s sake never sat right with him. He only sought to kill out of necessity—to survive.

And yet, here he was, bloodlust finally fading as the bear’s large corpse laid before his weary gaze.

He could pretend all he wanted that this was an act of protection, a means to prevent further attacks in the future, but the sadistic glee he felt when his teeth sunk into warm flesh… there was nothing to excuse that.

This bear was simply living as it was born to do, even in its aggression.

Maybe Leon really was losing his humanity. Not a descent into a mindless killing machine, but a dissipation of self—fully aware of his own cruelty, but basking in it instead of rebuking it. 

He wasn’t sure which version scared him most.

He had to make this worth it, then. He had to alleviate this burning shame and break apart the guilt sitting heavy in his gut like a stone.

And so, with care, he carved up the carcass of the once dignified beast and devoured it, leaving only bones and fur in his wake.

It was the only form of reverence he could convey.

He dug a shallow hole in the mud beside the cave, laying the gory remains inside before covering it once more.

The storm had finally started to clear as he finished the task, the scent of petrichor not quite able to hide that of blood. 

Unsure of how long it would take for you to return with news of Wolfie’s condition, he rushed over to the hunter’s lodge to wait out the hours.

They passed slowly. Agonizingly. All he could do was curl in on himself and sit just inside the door of the old building, wet with rain and blood and mud. 

He once thought his initial transformation was the worst he had ever felt, that it was rock bottom. Before that, it had been what transpired in this village. And before that, it had been the disaster of Raccoon City.

He realized bitterly there was always further to fall.

He wasn’t sure why you were so adamant to befriend him like this. To help him. Was this pity? Was Leon some charity case for you? 

But then he thought of the way you smiled at him, the look on your face as he joined you in the cold water of the lake, the way you drifted to him like you were caught in his orbit and couldn’t fight the pull. 

The thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the way he did… it was a jolt across his slumped form.

However, nothing could change what he was. His nature, it was a vicious one. And someday, you might not survive the animal that unfurled inside of him—through him.

Whatever happened after tonight, he knew one thing: his only escape was death.

He would simply wait out the end of your trip, selfishly wanting to wring out any joy he might find in your company, and if Wolfie survived the night, he would send him home with you to live out the rest of his days. He was certain you would take good care of him, provide for him better than Leon could ever hope.

But, he was reminded, Wolfie might not survive.

And it was Leon’s neglect that was to blame.

Useless, useless, useless, he repeated like a mantra in his head. 

He never imagined he’d have more to lose than he already did. More to ruin.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, the dawn breaking up the night. The sun’s warmth upon his skin did little to lighten his mood—as it burned more than soothed—but then he thought of the way your soft flesh felt against his and he nearly fell into a dream, eyes drifting shut.

He shot up suddenly at the sound of an approaching vehicle, though, his misery morphing into an all-consuming apprehension.

Was he prepared to grieve?

Your car finally pulled up near the lodge, and he rushed to the side of it, his heart palpitating as he stared into the backseat window.

He saw Wolfie laying there, breathing slow and steady.

He was alive.

Leon had never felt so relieved. 

He turned to face you as you opened the door, looking up at him with tired eyes.

Your expression turned to full-blown concern when you took in his appearance, reaching out to touch the blood staining his bare chest. “Are you okay?”

Leon placed his fingers over your hand, holding it close to him, the warmth of it more of a balm than the sun ever was. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.” 

You sighed, eased by his words. “You found the bear, I take it?”

He nodded solemnly. “It won’t bother us anymore.” You didn’t reply and he looked back at Wolfie’s unconscious form once more. “How did everything go? Will he be alright?”

“It went great. He got stitches and a blood transfusion, and they kept him overnight for observation. Went ahead and got him a few shots when they said he was in the clear this morning. He took it all like a champ.” You dropped your hand, to Leon’s chagrin, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. “They told me to change his bandages every few hours and monitor for any infection. Gave me antibiotics and a few days' worth of painkillers. He should be just fine.”

“What did you tell them about the injury?” he questioned, suddenly concerned by what information you might have let slip in your distress.

“Don’t worry, I told them he got attacked while I was out camping. No specifics, I promise.” A look of realization then dawned on your features, to his confusion, before you began sifting through your bag.

You then pulled out a blue collar from its depths. It jingled as you held it up to Leon, shot tags dangling behind a bone-shaped one at the front, sporting the dog’s name and what he assumed was your number. 

“Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it,” you said, shrugging as you stood from the car.

A flood of emotions washed over Leon, then, namely an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what you had done for him. It went deeper than the collar in your hand, deeper than even saving his dog. 

You had faced a storm for him, soaked to the bone and afraid. You suffered being lost in darkness with an injured knee, even if it was only briefly. You drove through a torrent and stayed up all night to make sure his companion would live. You witnessed him covered in blood and filth and you reached out…

You were always reaching out.

Before he could think it through, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. He felt your plush body pressed against his hard edges—heard the way you gasped in shock. You almost immediately settled into it, though, holding him in turn despite the drying grime flaking onto your clothes.

“Thank you, for everything,” he murmured, face buried into your neck, the natural smell of you drifting to his nose. It was all at once sweet and grounding.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but this would have to suffice, the words caught in his throat.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” you whispered, your small hands sliding across his back soothingly.

The warmth of you made him ache, made his eyes burn, never wanting to let you go.

He knew he must.

The walk back to the house was a silent one, the only sounds the rainwater dripping onto the ground and the squelching of mud underfoot, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The two of you were just exhausted and still reeling from how the night had spiraled to near tragedy. 

Leon glanced down at Wolfie’s sleeping form in his arms, so drugged up on pain meds he likely wouldn’t wake for anything. He gave the dog’s head a gentle stroke, beyond relieved that, for now, it wouldn’t be the last time. 

The three of you entered Leon’s home, deciding that you would bring Wolfie’s bed and blankets downstairs, nestling them beside the fireplace to keep him comfortable and prevent him from exerting himself more than necessary once he was up and moving again. 

Once the dog was settled in, Leon could only stand and stare, worried that if he took his eyes off of him for a moment, he might die in his absence.

“I’ll make you up a bath, Leon,” you said quietly from the kitchen, already bringing a large pot to boil on the stove. “You could really use one.”

He sighed, finally dragging his gaze from Wolfie so that he could level it on you. “Don’t worry about that. I can just clean up at the lake.”

You huffed indignantly, approaching him and taking him in—in all his filthy, monstrous glory. “No way. You need a nice hot bath, and that’s that.”

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he replied, scoffing good-naturedly. In truth, the thought of you caring for him like this made his heart beat a little faster. 

“Oh, I know,” you said with a smile, one that was so sweet, he would hold on to the sight of it for the rest of his life, “but it’s what you like about me.”

He found himself chuckling for the first time since last night, always so surprised by your ability to pull him out of his misery.

“Not the only thing,” he said lowly, fingers twitching at his sides to reach out and touch you again. 

Your cheeks flushed pink at his words, but you shook your head and laughed. “Go on, sit down for a bit while I finish what I started.”

He wanted to argue—to assist you in your task—because being waited on like this was something he had never been used to. Instead, he did as he was told, plopping down next to Wolfie on the floor and petting him to pass the time. 

He had almost fallen asleep again, unable to fight his eyes from drooping closed, when you called to him, informing him his bath was ready. He stood and stretched, yawning as he met you at the entrance of the side room. 

“Here,” you told him, a pile of his clothes, a towel, and a washcloth in your arms, “knock yourself out. Well, don’t really.” 

He took them gratefully, smiling at your ridiculous comment as he thanked you and disappeared behind the corner. 

He quickly shed what was left of his tattered clothes, dropping them haphazardly onto the floor before stepping into the tub and lowering himself in the water.

It was hot, but it didn’t burn. In fact, it was rather soothing as it lapped at his skin. The tub was almost too small for him, however, his knees peeking out of the water from having to fold his long legs.

It was cramped but not completely uncomfortable. He sunk in a little further, letting out a pleased sigh. 

This was definitely better than the lake, that was for sure. 

Before he could relax fully, he caught sight of something on the side table next to him. He turned his head and instantly regretted it.

It was a makeup mirror you had brought, and it was angled in a way he could stare directly at his own reflection.

It made him flinch.

He didn’t look away, however, gritting his teeth against the image of himself he had loathed from the moment he transformed. But not only was he faced with his monstrous visage once more, he could now see the blood and dirt caked onto his skin, exposing him for what he truly was.

Something that was meant to kill.  

He fought the urge to shatter the glass, not wanting to destroy something that belonged to you, instead leaning over and turning it away.

As he laid back in the water and began scrubbing the grime from his body with the rag you had provided for him, a barrage of thoughts overtook his tired mind, all of them relating to you. 

He couldn’t bear to look at himself, yet you rarely took your eyes off of him.

He was disgusted by his own existence and the form he was forced to live in, yet you treated him like he was normal. Like he was a person. 

He quickly finished bathing, the water starting to cool, but he was in no rush to leave, allowing himself this moment of peace and to think. 

He rested his clawed hand against his chest and could still feel where your small palm had been placed there, could still feel the way your flesh gave under his tight hold when had embraced you. The warmth that radiated from your very being.

His hand lowered mindlessly as he lingered on the image of you stripping bare to him on that boat, offering him your impish little smirk and batted lashes over twinkling eyes. 

It lowered further as he thought of your lips, wondered how they’d feel against his skin—how soft they would be.

He hissed as his hand gently wrapped around the base of his cock, almost shocked to feel it was already achingly hard.

Leon couldn’t remember the last time he had touched himself like this.

In the beginning, he worried he would hurt himself, what with the small daggers that were his new fingers. Eventually, he dared to wander—carefully, of course—and soon it was one of the few things human left of him, to have this libido to relieve. But as the years passed and his body changed, he hardly had the urge.

And now here he was, fisting his cock at the thought of you. 

He held back a groan as he slid his thumb across his slit, imagining it was your tongue instead.

He could picture your pretty eyes looking up at him as you took him into your mouth, how you’d tease him with kitten licks and the gentle scrape of your teeth until he was begging you for more, how you’d pull away just to level him with that mischievous smirk you wore so well before you’d cave and take him to the hilt.

Leon gasped as he picked up the speed of his pumping fist, lifting his hips above the cooled water, trying to avoid sloshing it onto the floor with the motion. 

He then thought of your cunt, how sweet it would taste as he laved it with his tongue—mused about what precious little sounds he could pull from those plush, kissable lips of yours. He could almost feel how your fingers would card through his hair, yank it to get him closer to where you wanted him; how he’d tease you the way you did him before finally conceding, your desperation for him almost more delicious than the very essence of you that he fed upon.

He grit his teeth as he neared the edge, fighting to hold back.

Too soon. It was too soon.

He paused his movements, taking in a slow deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, letting the wave of pleasure that nearly crested over him fade to a lapping tide.

His mind slipped back into his fantasy, then, needing to finish what he started before he was driven mad with desire.

He imagined you underneath him now, bodies flush together, the head of his cock sliding against you—not a taunt but a preparation for what was to come.

He wondered how tight you’d be as he pushed inside, how warm and wet and inviting, squeezing his hand as he emulated the scene from his head.

How well would you take him?

Although much of his body had changed over the years—grown—what sat beneath his belt had not. This was not a concern for him, however, having been well-endowed even for a human man of his former stature. In fact, he almost seemed more… proportionate… now.

Would he be too much?

Or would you plead for him to go harder and faster? Deeper?

Leon couldn’t stop the near growl that escaped him as he imagined the way you’d cry out into the crook of his neck, his name like a breathless prayer against his skin. He could feel you wrap your legs around him, scraping your nails across his spine hard enough to draw blood. 

He was on the precipice once more, but this time he didn’t hold back.

He thought of you looking into his eyes as you came undone beneath him, wide and full of unshed tears, overwhelmed by the euphoria coursing through you. His body shuttered at the idea of your walls tightening impossibly around him, pulsing and wet.

He managed to bite back the whine that clawed up his throat as his cock twitched, his seed spurting across his chest and stomach.

He collapsed back into the tub, his mind so gloriously blank and full of fuzzy warmth as he caught his breath.

And then the realization hit him.

He had just masturbated. To you. While you were just on the other side of the wall, without even a door to fully separate the room. 

He was flooded with remorse, then, wondering if he had managed to keep quiet enough so that you wouldn’t hear or suspect his reckless sin against you.

He stilled, listening intently to any sounds in the house, his inhuman ears able to pick out the overlapping breaths of you and Wolfie over the whistling wind outside, right there in the dining room. 

He swallowed the lump of shame that formed in his throat and roughly wiped the spend from his flesh, the harsh scrape of coarse fabric a small punishment for his transgression.

As he dried himself and changed into sleepwear, he wondered how disgusted you’d be with him if you knew just what he was thinking.

Surely, you’d never look at him the same.

He wanted to blame his exhaustion from a sleepless night, but he knew deep down this was bound to happen eventually. Your very existence was a temptation to him, after all. 

He took a steadying breath before he finally turned the corner to face you, pleasantly surprised and more than a little relieved that you were fast asleep, curled up on his couch with a blanket draped across your legs.

He smiled softly as he approached you, all worry forgotten as a swell of affection replaced it.

You looked so sweet laying there, head resting upon the pillow you must have brought from upstairs and your pressed hands, your breaths puffing out a strand of hair hanging over your mouth. Leon quietly chuckled as he tucked it behind your ear and pulled the blanket up and around your shoulders to keep you warm before standing upright once more.

He knew as he gazed upon you that regardless of whether you returned his feelings or not, his own might never leave him. He would have to make his peace with that.

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly before opening them once more, deciding that was a problem for later.

He then sat beside Wolfie, checking on him briefly before laying down right there on the floor, exhaustion overtaking any real need for comfort. Not like he hadn’t done it the first night of your arrival, anyway.

As he drifted into a deep slumber…

He couldn’t help but dream of you.

+++

The night had been a long one.

You had sat in the emergency room of the vet clinic with Wolfie for hours, watching as they tried to keep him alive.

You would never get the image of his terrified eyes out of your head, looking to you for help or for comfort as people he didn’t know surrounded him while he couldn’t even move.

You didn’t let your tears escape until they told you he was stable, locking yourself in their bathroom across the hall and sobbing into your hands, the events of the night finally catching up to you.

He would live.

You weren’t sure you could forgive yourself if he didn’t. You wondered if Leon would have.

Oh, Leon, you thought worriedly, I hope you’re okay.

You wished you could get ahold of him somehow to let him know Wolfie was alive, aware of the fact that even if he owned a cell phone, the village had no service anyway. You were half tempted to drive out to see him and tell him the news, but you didn’t want to leave Wolfie alone for that long.

You then recalled the bear and Leon’s promise to kill it, hoping desperately it didn’t hurt him. You didn’t know what you’d do if you drove back just to find him bleeding out in the mud like he had found Wolfie, the thought piercing your heart like a bullet.

To calm yourself, you replayed the day in your head, focusing only on all the good parts.

You thought of how he opened up to you at his friends’ graves, how he held your hand as you sat in the dirt together. 

You thought of how he slipped his palms across your waist on the boat, how he spoke so lowly in your ear, how your faces got so close in the water. 

You thought of how he stroked your hair while you sat by the fireplace, the affection so freely given it was as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

You thought about how concerned he was for you when you returned to the house after finding Wolfie, how he was upset you had gotten hurt and lost in the woods and blamed himself. 

And then you thought of what he said before you left for town:

“I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

Those words were looping in your brain over and over.

You knew he was just concerned with your safety, that he’d probably feel guilty if something happened to you while you were trying to save his dog, but the way he said it… The way he looked at you…

“I can’t lose you.”

It was like he meant it.

Despite your anxiety, you managed to nap a bit on the bench outside of the observation room, asking the veterinarian to wake you when Wolfie came to.

In the morning, while he was still out cold, you took a brief stroll outside of the clinic, making your way into the neighboring pet shop to bide the time. 

As you passed the shelves of toys and supplies, your eyes caught on a large blue collar, realizing that it was about Wolfie’s size. You held it aloft as you considered buying it, thinking it was almost silly to put a collar on a half-feral dog.

But then you thought of the other outsiders that might appear in the village every so often. You worried they might dog-nap Wolfie for his friendliness or kill him for his intimidating appearance, deciding it may be worth the purchase, just in case.

Besides, Leon seemed drawn to the color blue, if the majority of his shirts and his preference regarding the castle’s art was anything to go by. It was oddly endearing imagining the scorpion man and his wolf-dog matching in such a way.

After buying it and getting an engraved name tag, you returned to the clinic, petting Wolfie and offering him soft words of encouragement as the vet gave him some much-needed shots.

The rain finally subsided as you made your way back to the village, your nerves still alight despite Wolfie’s improved condition. 

When you finally pulled up to the dirt road near the lodge, you were overjoyed to see Leon appear beside the car.

Your heart was in your throat, however, when got a good look at him, his face and still-shirtless torso covered in dirt and so much blood.

You couldn’t stop the instinctual need to touch him, reaching out and placing your hand against his stained chest. “Are you okay?”

He gently laid his clawed fingers across your knuckles, pressing your palm into his skin, as if your very being was a solace to him. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.” 

Your relief at that was palpable, beyond overjoyed that he was perfectly safe. Though, the blood had to come from somewhere, and it wasn’t all Wolfie’s. “You found the bear, I take it?”

Leon’s eyes seemed to darken, but he nodded, replying, “It won’t bother us anymore.”

The answer was jarringly cryptic, and Leon seemed more upset to admit he killed the bear than you would have thought, considering how eager he was to do it before you left.

You shook away your thoughts as he asked you questions, the conversation turning to Wolfie’s health.

You then recalled your purchase at the pet store, pulling it out of your bag and waving it in front of Leon. “Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it.”

You stood from the car, ready to get back to the house and take a nice, long nap, when Leon wrapped his arms around you, to your utter shock. 

He held you close to him, the strength of it enough to feel your bodies meld together, but not enough to hurt you.

It took you a moment to register it all, short-circuiting at the feeling of him against you, but you eventually hugged him in return, shivering as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck and let his breath fan across your skin.

“Thank you. For everything.” His voice was tight in his throat and it made your heart ache to hear it. 

It was the least you could do, a part of you deep down blaming yourself for what happened to Wolfie, because you had kept Leon out longer than he wanted. What if Wolfie had only been in the woods waiting for the two of you to come back? Maybe if you had agreed to return to the house before the storm hit, none of this would have happened to begin with. 

Instead of saying that, you only replied, “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

It was still the truth, as you would do anything to protect this half-man and his dog—willing to suffer more than just a nasty cut and a sleepless night if it meant they were safe.

Leon pulled away, to your despair, and grabbed Wolfie, the three of you heading back to the house.

As you set up Wolfie near the fireplace, you couldn’t help but notice the way Leon wouldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping dog, and although you understood it, he needed to wash the blood and grime from his body and get some much-needed rest.

If your night had been rough, you couldn’t imagine what his had been like.

He argued against you making him up a hot bath, but you wouldn’t hear it, telling him your decision was final. 

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he said in faux annoyance.  

You replied, smiling, “Oh, I know, but it’s what you like about me.”

“Not the only thing.” The words and the way he said them made a tingle run up your spine, but you were quick to shoo him off, taking a deep breath as you went about your task of filling the tub.

You changed quickly into your pajamas before sending Leon to his bath, flopping onto the couch with a quiet groan after fetching your pillow and a blanket from upstairs.

You thought that maybe you could sleep forever as you shifted, getting comfortable on the old piece of furniture. You wanted to wait for Leon, though, staring up at the ceiling in quiet cogitation.

Despite your fear that you were the reason Wolfie was out in the storm in the first place, you couldn’t understate your role in saving his life. Had you not been there, Leon wouldn’t have been able to do anything, and you could sense the distress that caused him at the realization.

You worried deeply about what might happen after you leave.

A stray tear escaped your eye and you battled the awful thought of one or both of them dying out here in this village, all alone, with no one to call for. 

Wolfie was old and this place was dangerous. And even if Leon ended up being fine physically, you knew his loneliness would eat him alive, especially with the inevitable loss of his dog an ever-looming threat.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wiping them to stop you from crying.

You thought about Leon’s smile instead. Thought of his voice and his laugh and the way he looked at you. Like you were normal. Like you were important.

You could still feel the way his arms wrapped around you, how safe you felt. How cherished.

You sighed deeply, turning over to stare at Wolfie, watching the slow rise and fall of his side as he breathed. You reached out your hand to him, gently stroking his head, his fur soft and warm.

You wondered as your eyes drooped shut and your mind began to fade to unconsciousness, your fingers slowly falling away from Wolfie’s form:

How could you leave them now?

--------------------

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[flowerscarlethe]

☀️tease tidbit tuesday🌙

I've spent the last three weeks writting this au sort of thing and i like it a lot so i hope you all like it too!

...

[i've called this one «sunshine and moonlight:insomnia»]

...

Buck's snoring next to him and Eddie can't fall asleep. Funnily enough, the snoring is not the direct cause of his insomnia. Yes, it is loud and a little bit annoying —and he recalls Chris through the years often saying he couldn't sleep well because of it, bullying Buck till he's begging for forgiveness and understanding while shooting his adorable, sad puppy look at Eddie— but Eddie is used to it after so many nights hearing it just a few inches away from him. At this point, for Eddie the snoring it's nothing but a constant reminder that Buck is besides him pretty much alive and healthy, having some crazy dream he will share with him and their kid —'I'm almost nineteen years old, dad, come on!'— over some hotcakes in the morining. Eddie needs this, needs to know that Buck is right here, that he didn't stay dead after being struck by a lightening eight years ago, that he didn't die in a fire he recklessly ran into or drown in a fucking tsunami, crushed by a firetruck or asphyxiated by blood clots. It's soothing —Buck's presence, the peaceful heaving of his chest and his breath against the naked skin of Eddie's shoulder, the snores so close to his ear and the warmth his body radiates— and it's somehow frightening at the same time because he's terrified of how easy is to be with this man, to have him around, to lean on him; it terrifies him how easy is to love Buck, to be married to him and to raise Chris together and to have his back and– and how unbearable it would be to lose him, how broken and hopeless and sorrowful he would be. And that's why he can't fall asleep. Deeply-asleep-Buck seems to decide that's the perfect moment to take over the whole fucking blanket while shifting in bed, removing his right arm and leg off Eddie's chest and hip respectively, and letting his partner to freeze his ass off in this colder than usual december dawn. Eddie snorts, determined not to allow this betrayal, turns to his right side and ends up facing Buck's gorgeous, broad back full of scars —Eddie's got a fair amount of scars on his skin too. That's what being a firefighter for the last twelve years would do to you— and little freckles. He wants to kiss them, so he does while his left hand finds its way to Buck's belly. And maybe a bit lower, too. “Hey” says Buck a moment later, voice raspy and calmly spoken words. Eddie can almost see the gears of his brain starting to run very, very slowly. “What are you doing, exactly?” “My husband stole the blanket and I'm cold” Eddie answers in that famous irritating, snarky tone of his while still spreading kisses all over Buck's skin. He won't stop loving the fact that both of them are used to sleeping in their underwear anytime soon. “So I'm looking for an alternative way to get all my warmth back.” Buck chuckles and turns around, wrapping his body —and the blanket— on Eddie's again. Buck is twirling his beard between his fingers and pressing the softest, sweetest kisses on his face and Eddie can't not think that this is happiness, that this is the paradise everyone talk about. “You know what? I think i have some ideas to accomplish that mission of yours” Buck mutters, his lips on Eddie's and their legs interwined. They're right where they belong. “Of course you do.” And Eddie can admit that the sound of his husband's giggles is even better than his snoring.

...

I'll be bringing you some more context later this week ♡ thank for reading!

...

[no one tagged me to share this and i don't really know anyone i would be comfortable tagging. so maybe you could reblog or leave a comment if you want me to tag you next time!]

[alienoresimagines]

First line analysis

Rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on AO3 or your WIPs and try to draw some conclusions.

Thank you @blixabargelds @amiserableseriesofevents @majorbuckyegan @joeyalohadream for the tag ❤️

Drag Me Under

Buck’s always been quiet by nature, he doesn’t particularly like being the center of attention. 

Of Safe Places and Kisses

"Do you need anything ? Blanket ? Water ?" His hands hover over Gale's shivering form but the other weakly bats his hand away when John reaches out to check his fever.

Gale And His feelings for Bucky, in four Acts

He's coming down with something. 

Your Heart Will Always Be Known To Me

With the end of May near, the weather had finally cleared to blue sky and warm sun - the perfect weather to fly and Gale knew Bucky wanted to take full advantage of that with his cadets.

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine)

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful.

And so the weed of sorrow springs at the four cross ways

Leaving the interrogation hut, Chick steps into the foggy English morning and heaves a weary sigh, the puff of air that leaves his mouth immediately becoming one with the gray mist covering the ground like a blanket. 

I'd rather be in hell with you (Than in Heaven with somebody else)

"You won't get rid of me that easily," the teasing falls flat despite his best attempt but his lips curl in a soft smile as he looks up, though it falls too when he takes in the state of the other man.

Driving In Your Car (I've Never Felt Safer)

Buck has too much to do and too little sleep, or alternatively, coffee, in his veins to be an amiable company. 

Every inch of your skin is a Holy Grail I've got to find

Gale likes simple pleasures in life; petting animals, sleeping in a comfy bed, eating ice cream, and taking his time doing all of these things.

Keep Me Here With You (WIP)

There’s not much to do in Stalag Luft III, Buck finds upon his second day in the camp- the first spent dead to the world on a mattress so thin it barely could be called that, with Benny and the camp’s resident doctor, a flight surgeon, hovering at his side.

I'm really bad at drawing conclusions lmao but I'd say that for lil blurbs and fics under 1.5k, I like to open with dialogue otherwise I'll spend plenty of paragraphs to set the scene. I also start a lot with Buck, even though all of my fics aren't from his POV so that's interesting to note :)

I think everyone I know has been tagged already but in case they haven't been, @onyxsboxes @anachilles @butdaddyilovehim99 and @rambleonwaywardson if they'd like to ❤️

[kittick-art]

Wahoo, time for another Animatic Deep Dive!

I did this on twitter after my jeanmarco animatic came out last year, and I wanted to do something similar for the Royai animatic! This post will include HD stills from the animatic, as well as some nerdy insight into some shot choices and such, bc I need an outlet to geek out about it. Everything is under the ‘keep reading’ break! :]

Ok to start off, I wanted to show some behind-the-scenes stuff, including my first thumbnails I drew in my sketchbook, as well as part of the shot sheet that kept me organized (and sane) throughout the animatic.

Also, fun fact is that I'm primarily a 3D animator, so I used that knowledge to sculpt a rough version of Mustang's office for the final shot :]

Ok so now for actual stills...starting with one of my FAVORITE sequences to draw, which I have dubbed 'the scrolling bit.'

And a fun little composition tidbit about this sequence is that I tried to show the passage of time through Roy & Riza's placement in the shots. So in order, they progressively go from the right of the screen to the left. It was actually a really last-minute decision, bc originally I had two different shots (see below) which got scrapped in order to do that silly compositional thing. I think it was a worthy sacrifice because that drawing of Black Hayate on Mustang's head was just so fun to draw.

OKAY, now I want to move onto my favorite part of any animatic, which is the pretentious stuff about 'character placement' and "the deeper meaning." Blah blah, all that art-school kind of stuff that you'd hear in some film analysis class.

It's not intentional whatsoever, but I realized after the animatic was finished that Hawkeye is almost always on Mustang's righthand side, other than a select few times when he's the one supporting her. Feel free to look into that if you'd like, but just know it was not intentional and isn't consistent 100% of the time.

What was intentional, however, were these 4 shots, and specifically the placement of Mustang & Hawkeye within them:

These 2 sequences are meant to be direct parallels to each other, in everything including how Mustang turns to Hawkeye, and Hawkeye is already facing him. They were also my favorite shots to animate, especially with Riza coming out of her salute. Seeing them in the final animatic almost made me tear up, ngl. They're just so dang in love!

Finally, the last part that holds some artsy deeper meaning is a sequence I actually shared a long long time ago. I've dubbed it the 'spotlight section' bc idk how else to describe it.

Back when I teased this sequence, I alluded to some "deeper meaning" behind the use of red in the tags. And while the use of red is a pivotal thing throughout the entire animatic, it's most important here. It starts on Hawkeye's back, then transfers to Mustang's glove, and finally goes back to Hawkeye as her blood. Basically what I was trying to get at was something about consequences, and where flame alchemy has led them. In some way or another, Riza's decision to show Roy her tattoo ended up leading to her own (near) demise. So the red was supposed to show that transfer of consequence, if that makes sense.

ANYWAYS. Enough of me rambling. Thank you for reading if you somehow made it this far. All the love on this animatic - even since I first started teasing it back in November - has been insane to me. I still feel like I can't wrap my head around it. I'll leave you all with one last sketch from when I first started making the animatic. Have a good night, everyone!

[vaya-writes]

Hello! :D

I am unfortunately so bad at leaving comments in a timely manner, (mainly because oh my god I want to talk about every detail and the day does not have enough hours for me to sit down and write a comment I'm satisfied with so procrastination hits pretty badly on that regard gdjsgsjsv) but! I wanted to come and say that Serving the Serpent has me absolutely captivated and I'm so excited to see where the story is going!

Briar is such a great protagonist and (while I don't have selective mutism) I relate a lot to her quieter nature, and can sympathize a lot with all her thought processes. What we know so far of her backstory really aligns with how she behaves and her fear of stepping out of line, but seeing how she thinks it's clear she has that spark in her that wants to take those small moments of silent rebellion in whatever ways she can have them. Nothing that could get her in trouble, but there are those hints of a strength she has that want to shine through now and again. I really feel for her and love her as a character!

And Isen! He's very charming and friendly, and seems to care so much about what he does and who he takes care of. I can definitely see how he can get on people's nerves with the teasing sometimes haha, but clearly he takes people's levels of comfort seriously when interacting with them. It broke my heart a little learning how much he had to strain himself to meet expectations and it's interesting how despite coming from wildly different backgrounds and levels of privilege, it's something that both him and Briar can relate to.

Not to mention the other characters so far! They might not appear as much as the main protagonists, but each feel really unique and consistent and I love learning the little tidbits we can about their lives and personalities.

Also, also the world you have created so far is so interesting and I'm really interested to see how it develops even more as the story progresses.

Aaagh, I know I want to say so much more, but this is already so long. I promise I'll eventually get to commenting on the specifics of each chapter! (I don't know if the story is in AO3 as well, or just on tumblr, so I don't know if you would prefer those comments this same way through asks, or maybe through a reblog, because I know the comment section of a post has a very small character limit and as you can see, I talk too much XD) But yeah! Amazing work and I'm excited to read what comes next! ^-^

I'm glad you like the story and characters so much <3 I've found that the characters in StS are a lot stronger than the characters I envisioned in my last big project, The Wyvern's Bride. Probably because I mulled them over a lot and thought a lot about them before jumping into writing. And I've had some practice putting less author voice into their dialogues. But I'm so glad you appreciate them <3

I'm pretty pleased with the world building I've done. I tend to dislike having to come up with stuff on the fly while I'm writing so it was another thing I thought about in detail before actually starting. I look forward to sharing more of the details with you :)

The story is on AO3 and on tumblr. I don't mind where you prefer to comment or how long your comments are, go absolutely ham. I will say that the story will travel further if you reblog with your comments (as comments or in tags) whereas if you message me directly, reach will be less far. But that's more for me to consider than for you.

Have a lovely lovely lovely day!!!

[barrenclan]

hhahahahahahahahahaha boi/girl/whatever you GOTTA start answering your asks in bulk. like lemme demonstrate

[screenshot compilation of 15 people asking the same question] [long paragraph answering all of them]

[screenshot compilation of people really hating cootstorm] [le talking about cootstorm]

[screenshot compilation of people just generally being nice and leaving compliments] [lots of thankyous]

keeps the clutter down to consolidate it all into one post; at least as far as ive seen , browsing asks is a useful way to try to glean lore tidbits, and when the asks are crowded with you repeating yourself a bunch it can be hard to weed out informatiion we don't already know. plus anyone not here for the asks or worried about the new issue being spoiled while trying to find it can simply not click the 'read more' dropdown and carry on their merry way.

hope that helps! and in general dont feel pressured to answer us all anyway; a bunch of us submit stuff unaware it's already been said, or only want to toss in their thoughts or appreciation without needing a response. godspeed, your comic slaps!

Well, thank you for the advice! For the record, I in fact do not answer every ask I'm sent; if they're repetitive, weird, or I can't think of anything interesting to say I delete them. Though I don't do that with many! In general, every ask I answer has something different with each one that I want to address.

Screenshotting is nice, but my Canary Tumblr theme makes it a little garish. Sometimes I'll do it but usually I'll just answer the one that addresses whatever question the others do. Which is also why I tag things with characters and other words, so people can look through them later.

[angel-shaw]

Tidbit Tuesday!

Ahhhh I was taggeedddddd!!!!! (I may be a little excited)

@dollscircus was the one who tagged me:3 (yes i know im a day late shhhhh)

Part of what i have for my Gavin/Darlin Fic!

Gavin wasn't planning to stay the night with the wolf, he knew he wasn't really welcome. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to leave, once the wolf fell asleep holding him with the show playing quietly in the background he was there to stay. At least for that night. 

     In the morning Gavin woke up to a hand running through his hair. He could feel his tail thumping on the bed softly. He shifted a bit to look up at the wolf, who was looking at their phone, scrolling casually as their hand ran through his hair.

     They looked stunning, the small streams of light coming in from the curtained windows perfectly falling onto their face and body. The moment lasted far too soon for the incubus’ taste. Tank's hand stopped running though his hair as they looked down at him. “Good morning sleepy head, how did you sleep?” They asked, their morning voice rough and hella attractive. 

     Gavin let out a small humm as he pushed his fluffy hair into their hand, trying to get them to resume petting him. They got the message and resumed their petting, their strong hand running smoothly through his hair. After a bit, audible purring was able to be heard. Tank didn't say anything nor did they stop petting him, Gavins tail still thumping comfortably on the mattress.

       They stayed like that for a while,neither one wanting to move from the warm comfortability they had achieved. Gavin felt their arua was much calmer than the night before, not nearly as much worry and stress. He knew he couldn’t stop it from coming back but he was glad he could keep away the worry in the quiet minutes of the morning.

     That was until a computer screen lit up across the room. An email Gavin assumed, whatever it was, it made the wolf's anxiety, and surprisingly a little bit of anger, come flooding back into their arua. They kicked their legs out from under the covers and pulled away from Gavin. He found himself mourning the warmth they provided.

 As an Incubus he ran hot but they did to as a shifter and he wanted their warmth back. He was glad it was in the cooler months as it didn’t affect them cuddling together all night and under a nice warm blanket too.

     He watched them cross the room to their deck, in their underwear . From what he saw they didn’t have a chair for their small desk so they didn’t take a seat. He could feel knots forming and tightening as they stared at the computer. They typed something and stood back up straight, taking a deep breath and turning back to him with a smile on their face. 

     They stared at him for a minute, similar to how he did them just a few minutes ago, before they yawned, stretching their arms above their head, making their back or arms audibly pop in the few different places. “God I’m kinda hungry,” they said as they twisted their torso, making their back crack more. “I could go for some eggs or something, what ‘bout you?” They asked casually as they stopped cracking their bones and walked to the small dresser. 

     Gavin didn’t respond right away, he was still red faced after the show of their body they had just put on. They didn't even mean it to be hot, it just was. The way their muscles flexed as they stretched, the way their face pinched the slightest bit, it was all hot. Only in their underwear too,so he saw everything. 

They stopped stretching and looked at him, waiting for his response. “Ya, eggs sound nice” he said quickly before face planting himself onto their pillows out of embarrassment. Why was he blushing? Why was he embarrassed? He's an incubus for goodness sake.

Tank smiled and walked to the bed, leaning onto it to kiss Gavin's hair. “I'll be out in the kitchen, come on out when you get up.” He lifts his head when they walk away, he sees them grab their computer and then they walk out. Still in just their underwear. 

After a few minutes Gavin sits up, he feels his face be normal again opposed to the bright red it had turned.  He smiled to himself, it had been a long time since he's felt this happy and full. Being an Incubus he only fed off of sexual pleasure and feelings but he couldn't help but, for at least now, think he was being filled by their kindness to him. 

 He kicked off the covers and ran his fingers through his hair, he never had to worry about knots in fluffy hair which is a blessing whenever someone, particularly this wolf, tugs on it. He stretches and smiles to himself, debating whether or not to put more clothes on before meeting the oh so lovely wolf in their kitchen. He ends up just magicing on fluffy socks to match with his boxers because goddamn it their floors are cold and he would be damned before he opted not to wear fluffy socks when the opportunity presented itself.

[filet-o-feelings]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Thanks for the tags @hippolotamus and @stereopticons!

I'm almost done editing what I have of Library Boy so I can get to adding the sentences from the poll (and maybe even finishing this sometime soon?) So for now, here's another angsty bit, this time on David's end from where I'm at in my reread/edit (I promise this fic isn't as angsty as my last couple of shared bits)

He would ask Stevie, but she's always busy with Twyla. And besides, she’d probably tell him to just ask and stop overthinking it because she always gives him the advice he needs and not the advice he wants. Because she likes to watch him suffer.

He could even talk to Twyla about it. They’d become somewhat close during the times he and Stevie had visited the diner and the few movie nights she had tagged along to with Stevie. She was surprisingly fun.

But no, he’s not going to do that. He’s just going to dwell on it until it eats him alive, and then he’ll bury it with all his other anxieties and try to forget about it and move on while it conspires with the rest to throw him a surprise panic attack at the worst possible moment.

It’s a cycle he’s experienced before and will experience again. He’s self-aware enough to realize it but not enough to change. At least not anytime soon.

So, he continues on as he has been, meeting Patrick at the library and pulling their project together piece by piece until they have something they can be proud of.

He’s not going to pretend he’s not a little sad when the project is complete, this time.

It's barely Tuesday anymore so I'll leave an open tag for anyone who wants to share.

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Severe fucking content warning

Content warning for literal fucking torture and abuse. everything else should be tagged. If I miss any content warnings please for the love of all that is holy tell me so I can fix it.

Psychological torture. Those are the words bouncing around my head this morning.

Did you know that sleep deprivation and social isolation are often considered to be tied for the worst tortures known to humankind?

Let me give you some more context. When I left mormonism, I lost everything in regards to my social safety net. Mormonism and my mormon friends and family were all I had.

It's by design, too; how is someone supposed to leave if their only safety net disappears when they do? Why would they even consider leaving if that safety net holds them perfectly because they can conform?

But when you can't conform, you fall through the cracks. As I did.

I didn't just lose everything, though. I didn't stop there. I also gained a neighborhood full of watchdogs who I was sure would herd me back to the cult at the first opportunity.

Going outside on foot was no longer an option - if any of my many mormon neighbors saw me, they would have Questions. If I gave any worrying answers, there was bound to be Visits. I wasn't strong enough to handle that.

Besides, I lived in suburban hell. Fifteen minutes just to get out of the neighborhood on foot, another fifteen to get to the nearest gas station. My depressed, broke self wasn't about to spend an hour walking for a round trip to the fucking gas station when I could barely handle doing my own laundry.

So I was trapped inside the house unless my parents or someone else with a car deigned to bring me with them on a trip. But it was fine at first, because I had an internet connection and multiple online friends; plus, I'd managed to forge one irl friendship with someone between deconverting and graduating high school.

My parents weren't happy about this for some reason (I have a working theory as to why and I'll get to it later). Their justification was that it was just generally bad for me to be spending as much time online as I was.

Of course, I wasn't doing great mentally, but they refused to believe that they could be at fault for that with their "mild" transphobia. Surely refusing to accept my newfangled, sinful identity on the basis of a false moral high ground couldn't possibly be the most significant source of my suffering; surely deadnaming and misgendering me couldn't be doing that much damage.

Surely refusing to assist the transitioning process in any way shape or form couldn't be a good enough reason for suicidal ideation. Surely I was just an undermedicated psycho for considering lighting myself on fire just to get them to understand my pain enough to... help me with the process of buying a binder with my own money.

Surely I just needed to get my act together and get over myself.

So, ever since that psych ward visit that treated me better than they did, they decided that I could only have internet access if I did enough of my chores around the house.

Doesn't sound too unreasonable until you remember that 99% of my friends were online. I tried telling them this, and their response was to encourage me to get back in touch with my old ward member friends. You know, from the cult I had just escaped. That, granted, my parents were still very much a part of.

(Remember that theory I was telling you about? That little tidbit is an important piece of evidence.)

So I was cut off from the world with significant regularity, having nothing but a flip phone to contact the one supportive friend whose phone number I had. That friend kept me alive and sane enough to stay that way for nearly a year as this hell dragged on.

At some point, my brother and his girlfriend moved back in with us. I guess they weren't a fan of all the sinning I was doing, because my parents had multiple talks with me about how I needed to give them more space (aka stop existing in the same room as them).

So, eventually, I was all but confined to my bedroom, since I could never sit them down to have a conversation about what times I was allowed to be downstairs and what times they would be occupying that space.

This all built up to the breaking point. I had just developed a new medical condition that left me basically bedbound in pain. I was forced out of bed anyways, because nobody was going to take care of me (probably due to the nature of the condition being considered 'sinful'). I did what I could as I could, as I always have.

There had been a misunderstanding about chores. My brother and his girlfriend were in charge of one bathroom, i was in charge of the other. Except I thought I was in charge of the wrong one. So while the downstairs bathroom stayed clean (despite me not doing much to maintain it), the upstairs bathroom became absolutely filthy.

It all came to a head when my brother yelled at me to take care of my responsibility. I finally figured out what had happened and explained to him why I hadn't been doing it, as well as why I wasn't about to start until I could actually, you know, stay standing for any significant amount of time. He yelled at me more and threatened to tell our mom.

I told him to go ahead, as any rational person would take one look at the situation and agree that I needed to rest. My only mistake was assuming that my mom retained any rationality for me.

So she called me and attempted to chew me out. mind you, i was ill and in debilitating pain already, so I put my foot down and asked her to save it for later. But I knew what was coming when she said we were going to "have a conversation" when she got home. She was going to take away my flip phone to force me to do as I was told.

My flip phone, 99% of the use for which was to call my one and only friend that i could access. My one and only friend who was the sole support in my life. The only person, the only thing keeping me sane.

That was going to be it for me. If she did that (and she'd done it before, so there was precedent), I was going to fucking kill myself.

So I locked her out of my room that night and tried to get a good night's rest in preparation for what would have to happen in order for me to survive.

At about 4 in the morning the next day, I packed up everything that i could carry and i walked out the door.

Every single thing I have been through since that day has been worth it to get out of that hell. I am still homeless over a year later and the only thing I wish I did different was to leave sooner and prepare better. Maybe get a nice duffel bag and do my laundry first instead of hauling all my dirty clothes in trash bags. I could've saved myself a lot of trouble by getting my documents together beforehand.

anyways. Befoer I came out as trans and not a mormon, my mother seemed fully supportive - or at least, like she was supporting me as much as she was capable of doing.

Afterwards? She never looked at me the same way again.

And so I have to wonder how two changes to my identity and lifestyle could wrench her away from kindness like that. How they could possibly cause such a significant change in how she treated me.

Here's the working theory.

Mormons prey on vulnerable people. Their missionaries are literally told to seek out the meek and weary and poor to "give them rest." This is also how they bring people back - they find out which inactive members are struggling without their safety net (which they often remove for the sin of inactivity/deconversion/etc) and those are the ones that they grasp at to try and bring back. Those are the ones that they reach out to, that they check in on.

So, how better to take advantage of someone's vulnerability than to make them vulnerable yourself? How better to make them vulnerable than to take away all of their safety nets? How better to tear them from their sin than to tear their sinful friends from them?

How better to break an apostate than to back them into a corner and bring in the walls? How better to turn someone towards your god than to give them no other choice except to be crushed?

And if they'd rather die than return to Jesus, well, then, at least you're sending them straight to the afterlife. Then they'll HAVE to see the truth. Then they'll HAVE to repent.

After all, all my mother needs to do to keep our family together forever is to keep me righteous. She already gave me a body. What loss is the rest of my life compared to the rest of eternity?

Better to die young than to live in sin. Better to be forced to come to Jesus than to choose to live free of him.

She wasn't a bumbling fool incapable of listening to me when I told her she was hurting me. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She abused me, TORTURED me, entirely on purpose. Entirely for the purpose of bringing me back to her god.

I have been tortured. I have experienced psychological torture. I probably have fucking brain damage from said psychological torture.

https://solitarywatch.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/SW-Fact-Sheet-5-Neurological-Effects-v230613.pdf

So, all that said, is it any wonder that I thought the streets would be better? Is it any wonder that I never want to see her again unless it's to use her grave as a gender neutral bathroom?

She nearly killed me. I think that was an acceptable outcome to her, too.

Certainly, the last thing she expected was for me to put my back to one wall and my feet to another and clamber out of that trap she made. Should've put a roof on it, I guess.

Anyways. If it seems like I've been less online/chipper than usual, it's because I've spent the past week coming to terms with this shit.

I love you all so, so much. Thanks for being there for me. Here's to staying alive; to escaping the trap; to finding our own families and leaving our abusers behind in the dust.

Here's to all of you. Y'all were worth the trouble of being homeless, easily.

[outer-space-face]

tagging: @sardonic-the-writer @shaniacsboogara @koro-is-caffeinated @earendilsass @dreamcatcher-ranger @trashworldblog @astreakoflavender @firefliesofmoonlight & @buckaroosboogara who wanted to see my story so here's the first lil tidbit! Fair warning, I'm not amazing at writing so I apologize if this series is a bit clunky, but I'm gonna try to learn by doing! I have some cool world building stuff I'm thinking about so I think this'll be really fun! Enjoy!! <33 :)

Noa's Mystic Encounters

It's officially been a little over a year of spending my days in this old cottage. It feels longer honestly. So much has happened I honestly don't know why I hadn't thought of sharing it with you all yet! I think it's about time I let go of some of the mystery, you know?

I actually only really moved into the cottage because I found it. It looked like It hadn't been touched in eighty years. But I just loved it so much and thought it was so cool that I couldn't just leave it alone! Only took me a couple more visits for me to realize it probably belonged to another witch and that it had little engravings and symbols throughout some of the rooms. So after a couple very thorough cleanings and some shiny, new, antique furniture, I spend most of my days here! The town nearby this place is actually a ways away from my actual home so I guess I'm lucky in a sense. I get to see all the hustle and bustle without always being in the hustle and bustle all the time.

I've learnt quite a bit so far. And I'm fortunate enough to have met a couple of other witches in town. There's a big part of me that wants to open up to more non-magical townsfolk, though. Or even find some elder witches to learn from. I really want to start showing more about magic and my experiences with it so maybe this'll help me get there. I have a ton more stories to tell so I'll update you on some of them soon!

[lambden]

🌟2022 AO3 WRAPPED!🌟

thanks to @peaktotheocean for this!

Works published: 49! more than I expected, but I published a lot of tumblr drabbles this year so that probably accounts for it

Word count: 124,134. jesus christ that is so many

Hits: 25,994

Bookmarks: 738. nowhere near last year's but still unbelievably high for my average!!

Most popular by kudos: everyone LOVED this geraskier fic heartbreak & horseshit, seconded closely by this lambden fic haha... unless?

Most hits: same as above, heartbreak and horseshit SWEPT

Longest: at 17,032 words it's an AU I wrote for another fandom that was roughly inspired by ALOTO- the movie, not the show! if anyone here is for some reason into dead by daylight or wants to read about baseball ladies, here you go!

Shortest: this is barely a fic. a tidbit of fluffy eskel/jaskier

Most comments: by far it's my modern geralt/netflix jaskier fic somewhere out there, the response to that fic was beyond gratifying and overwhelming! i am working on a part two and it should be up before 2024 LMFAO

Fic that made me cry: I don't really cry at my own writing but this cahir/eskel space pirate/robot AU is one of my favourite things I wrote this year that touches on sadder themes

Fic that made me smile: i always have fun with the flash fic challenges and this fill I did where a peacock becomes enchanted with Geralt is probably my favourite from this year! I also really like this stranger things fic I wrote but this is a witcher blog so I'll try to keep it witcherly haha

Gifts: I know this probably means gifts FOR other people but my favourite gift from someone else was this sickfic, it carried me through the whole year to be honest 💖 otherwise, this Ciri & Letho secret agent AU was requested for a friend by a friend and it made me very happy to write!

Events: I wrote a few fics for the flash fic server, and also participated in the Yennefer Big Bang and the Witcher Fic Writers winter exchange. I had varying successes with these events, and I feel a little disheartened leaving this year with a bad taste in my mouth about some of what happened. But I am proud (or trying to be) of what I contributed and very grateful for all that I did receive, and for my dear friends who helped edit and cheer me on through uncertain times. Writing is just a fun hobby for me so next year I'm definitely not going to let the stress get to me the same way. (Also, because it was brought up by Cole, I'm seconding the desire for a Stranger Things flash fic server!)

Tagging: @faetxlity @jaskiersvalley and whoever else might like to complete this! consider yourself tagged

[crimsonsynastry]

Ao3 Fic Stats Meme

Tagged by the lovely @thepapernautilus ! If you love G'raha go read their stuff. (or Astarion. I haven't read it because spoilers but I'm certain their Astarion work is excellent too)

I've been dead on Tumblr so I have no idea when you tagged me in this lovely, I'm so sorry 😂

-

rules: give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the fewest words.

Most Hits | Unbreaking Breaking | Final Fantasy XIV | F!Warrior of Light/Zenos yae Galvus | Explicit | 18k words | CW: Non-Con, Violence I knew it would be this one right off the bat. One of my darkest and still most popular works, because people, like myself I suppose, want to see Zenos do some messed up things to the WoL. Zenos, pre 6.0 I found, catered to a very dark and messed up part of my mind.. And this was the result. People just seem to also like that.

Second Most Kudos | My Moonlight, Your Starlight | Howl's Moving Castle | Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon | Explicit | 3.5k words It has been a hot minute since I've logged onto Ao3 to check my stats properly and *wow* I did not expect this to have so many kudos. It shot up there in popularity pretty quickly, which I suppose I had somewhat expected.. My love for Sophie and Howl is not isolated, and people want to see them together.. Particularly with Howl in bird form.

Third Most Comments | In Every Life | Final Fantasy XIV | F!Original Character/Emet-Selch | Explicit | 19k words and writing Auh, my first attempt at a longfic.. I'm surprised this one has so many comments honestly. It's on hold at the moment because I started this when my writing style was significantly different, but I do hope to come back to it later when I can fully focus on writing past tense without mixing my current present tense style of writing in there.

Fourth Most Bookmarks | Tumble After Tumble | Final Fantasy XIV | F!Warrior of Light/Emet-Selch | Explicit | 24.7k words Ohhh no now we're getting into my older older writing.. I suppose people just like kinky smut with Emet-Selch, and this fic definitely has a lot of that.

Fifth Most Words | Wilt | Final Fantasy XIV | F!Warrior of Light/Emet-Selch | Explicit | 24.5k words | CW: CNTW One of my favourites that I am still writing for the lovely Kunstpause! They enabled this wonderful piece, and I hope to return to it when I'm more alive again as I've been on a bit of a hiatus. Two more chapters have already been written so honestly this shouldn't be entry number five, but the fourth and sixth entry have already been mentioned so I might as well leave it here.

Fewest Words | Pacify | Final Fantasy XIV | F!Warrior of Light/Zenos yae Galvus | Explicit | 298 words | CW: Non-Con One of many little tidbits when I was feeling dark.. Not entirely sure why I didn't throw this one into my snippets fic, but well, there it is.

In truth I'm not sure who to tag because I have been away from fandom socmed for so long (and Im only here intermittently) but, if you haven't done it already (and if yall want to do it) I'll tag @kunstpause @drk-brain @elveny @dholwrites and @hippestglitch

[darkwood-dweller]

i had a few hcs for my phighting oc au so i think i'll list them out here. i dont think i should tag this w phighting even tho it is like .... phighting content bc its mostly just stuff about my ocs. anyway + i will be editing this as i think about it more !!!

phighters can draw power from the 7 sfoth swords which can be used to empower their skills

their phinisher could also change attributes depending on their "affinity" with a certain sfoth sword (how many times they had drawn power from them)

drawing too much power can lead to corrosion of mind and body which can lead to deformation of the body and the physical manifestation of the mind (projmoon reference bc i have 2 fuse everything w projmoon ;__;)

weakened or unstable psyches are more prone to this corrosion. while it is possible to recover from the deformation, it usually leaves irreversible side effects.

stronger deformed phighters are typically harder to revert, but once reverted may have stronger combat abilities than what they may have had prior to being transformed

some of my ocs have lore tied to these little tidbits but i havent written them down since none of the lore is concrete yet

[living-in-the-state-of-dreaming]

Mini PSA.

Friendly reminder and a small tidbit of advice to you sad, little anons and people out there. You know who you are. Having an opinion is not 'vitriol', especially when the opinion is also one shared by numerous other people who have also said something similar online whether it be reviews or otherwise. And flaming that person for having an opinion just because you get worked up and defensive and feel your buttcheeks clench, only makes you a bias asshat who really isn't doing anything other then harming the community you're in, be it for a particular game or otherwise, with your toxicity.

Oh and also, one more thing, to you anons and sad, sad people out there. Yes. I am one of those people who agree with their opinions. And yes I am talking about Engage. I haven't even played FE, I hope and plan to at some point, but I also think Engage and the mc looks absolutely wretched and a major step down from the other older games, aside from the combat which I have heard good things about and so I'm never going to touch Engage even with a 50 foot pole. And no I am not afraid to admit it or of you sad, little anons and people out there on the internet because it's my own opinion; that isn't harming a single hair on anyone's head. Well, maybe it is when it comes to the hair between you anons ass cheeks. Your toxic opinions, harassment and borderline gate keeping when it comes to what someone is and isn't aloud to think however, is.

It is also my dear friends @bubblegum-snowdrop opinion. Leave her alone and don't fuck with my friends. Feel free to come spout your meaningless hate in my inbox though; I'll delete every single one of your drivel because I have been called far worse. ^~^ The most I'll do is correct your grammar since poor grammar seems to be a thing that's common with you lot. You've been warned.~

Anyway.~ Don't be like these anons or people. ^~^

Oo, that actually has a nice ring to it, maybe I'll make that into segment or tag when I make my Nav and about me on here. Could be fun.

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 900

Rated: E for eventual smut

Chapter Tags: fluff, angst, rivalry issues, discussions of sexual activities, Spanish grand prix

Thankfully Elena managed to keep her smugness within semi-reasonable levels. She had been able to tell you were embarrassed at being caught with Niki in your office, that and you’d been giving her a death glare as she chatted up the man. After only a few moments she left the two of you be. The rest of the night went by without incident. Niki took you home and gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek before leaving.

Monday morning came and Elena was full swing, as per her usual. The door to your office nearly broke off the hinges as she came barreling in.

Smacking her hands down onto your desk she squealed “you have got to tell me everything!”

Sighing, you say “Elena it’s barely 8 in the morning…”

“And? I saw the two of you, I know what goes on behind closed doors,” her smirk grew and she wiggled her eyebrow at you. “How was it? Did you do it? Oh gosh did you do it on the desk? That’d be so hot! Does he have any tricks that he does? Ooh - how big is it?” she rambled, all of her questions blending together.

“Christ, Elena no! We didn’t have sex, we just kissed is all.” You didn't consider yourself prudish, you’d been with men before. Even so you found your face growing mad with heat.

“Oh…” Elena pouted. “Is he a good kisser at least?”

“I’m not complaining,” you smirked. “He likes to be… in control,” you offer, hoping the tidbit of information will satisfy her risque curiosity.

“Ugh, we love a good man in charge," she moaned dreamily. "When are you going to go out again?”

“I’m not sure. He leaves for Spain tomorrow for the race on Saturday.”

“When he wins you could give him a little, you know,” she shimmies her shoulders, “reward.”

“I’m sure I could,” you giggle at her antics.

🏎

Tuesday night Niki called you. You had asked that he let you know he’d gotten to Spain safely for the race. “I just wanted to make sure you got there alright,” you explained at his chuckle.

“You worry about my safety doing something as mundane as taking a flight? Liebe, there’s a 20% chance I could die doing my job and that’s what you worry about?”

“There’s that word again. What’s it mean? Lee-buh?” You vaguely remember him saying it to you over the phone once, quite late at night.

“Liebe. It’s what my father used to call my mother.” He didn’t say that it meant love. Niki was not romantically inclined in the slightest. Sure, he could flirt if he wanted, not that it was hard to get attention with his status as a driver for Ferrari. But when it came to the hand-holding and whatnot he was out of his depth. The endearment just came natural when he thought of you, though.

Just as quickly as he explained the term did he change the subject. “Will you watch the race?” he wondered. As much as Niki wanted you there with him in Spain he also wanted to spare the both of you from the tabloids. He didn’t like the press bothering him for his personal affairs; he wanted to focus on the race. He’d explained to you as much Saturday night.

“My television is all out of sorts so I can’t watch, but I’ve got my radio that I'll be listening on.” He grunted, satisfied with your answer.

The conversation lasted another two hours before you insisted on ending the call. You had been laughing at a story he was telling you about some idiot reporter at a recent press conference when you noticed the time. Knowing how strict he kept his sleep routine, and with the events of the Spanish Grand Prix being in full swing, you didn’t want to be the reason he wasn’t at his peak.

He hung up first, but not before bidding you “sleep well, leibe. I will see you soon.”

🏎

Sitting at the kitchen table, you nursed a beer as you listened to the Spanish Grand Prix over the radio. Both Niki and James were doing well. They easily blew the other drivers away in their dust from the very beginning. You waited with anticipation, your boys neck and neck. Suddenly, the British announcer gasps, shouting “and Hunt has moved out of Lauda’s slipstream in a daring move to pass into first place. Quite the feat with only a half lap to go!”

The race is quickly over, your brother finally beating Niki. You knew Niki would be annoyed at the change of events, but you couldn’t help but let out a little cheer at James succeeding. Disposing of your empty beer bottle, you busy yourself around the kitchen; the radio providing some background noise while you work.

“Now wait - what’s this? The officials are pulling Hunt aside, and it looks like there’s an issue with the McLaren. They’re bringing out the measuring tape - this is never a good sign.” Stopping to face the radio you wait, brows furrowed.

A full minute ticks by.

“And Hunt has been disqualified! His McLaren is just too wide and falls outside legal bounds….” the announcer continued his explanation but you were lost in your disappointment. A name caught your attention; “rumor has it someone saw Lauda speaking to an official just moments before….”

Shit.

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