#;mod o

[entirelyproblematic]

Joxmin is really, really, good because please just consider Moomin going 👀👀 at Joxter, and Snufkin is there, in the background, very loudly going “Moomin that’s my DAD”

Moomin has no fucks to give, he will court this dirty feral hobo man, and ain’t no Snufkin who can stop him

[entirelyproblematic]

where are all the Ozpin/Ruby shippers at

[entirelyproblematic]

the first time Snufkin thinks about it, it's in the dawn of spring.

he's laid out in the grass, eyes squinted closed and body lax, and the thought is one that sneaks in, slow and careful, all apple-red and unlike him.

it is not exactly words, as much as it's an emotion, a desire. he thinks of his father, here in the sun, warm and relaxed, and he thinks of fur beneath his own palms, of bodies twined closed- of the Joxter, held in his paws like something to treasure and keep, and the thought of it is so sudden, so startling that Snufkin's face rushes with blood, embarrassment and something young, and he turns over in his spot, presses the angle of his wrist to his mouth and withers.

it is not sin, which perhaps is the worst part of it. it is spring-fresh and bright, is it that tentative first kiss of youth, and here he is, thinking of it like a youngling, barely fit to thread the world on his own.

he buries the thought of it deep, and when his cheeks cool down, he crawls to his feet and disappears into the woods for a while, restless and in need of space, because even then, the thought buried, it still seeps in.

the second time, he's with his father.

that makes it worse, of course. they're not side-by-side, not as close as a part of Snufkin longs for, but the Joxter is there, a hovering, comforting present.

and then the thought is there, as sudden as the rain is in spring.

he's fishing, feet in the water and pants rolled up, and the water ripples, sound loud and startling, as he jerks in surprise.

he does not have to be looking at his father to know he's gazing down, curious.

"it's nothing," he says, but his voice comes out tight and breakable, and in a moment there is the soft padding of feet, a shadow stretching across him.

the Joxter sits down beside him, close enough that they touch, and Snufkin stares down at his toes, the reflection of his kin right there, close enough to touch.

(the thought that had snuck in was of warmth and languid summer days. of the joxter, pressed up against him, content and warm, snufkin's hand buried in his hair. it had been a thought that made his heart ache, made his blood sing.)

"it's nothing," he repeats, wavery and weaker than he means to, his paws tight on his fishing pole. his father reaches out, touches the soft spot of his elbow, and Snufkin's paws goes numb.

his fishing pole plunks into the water, and he turns around to the Joxter so quick he gets whiplash.

and then there's paws on his cheeks, bright blue eyes looking at him, rapt and deep enough to drown in, and Snufkin doesn't think.

he kisses the Joxter, a flurry of movements- clashing lips and teeth, his chest gaping wide, and it is the rush of youth, thoughtless and stupid, that makes him do this.

the Joxter tastes like fruit. sweet, juicy. like something to long for, and never have.

Snufkin pulls away, wipes his mouth. is climbing to his feet in the same breath, eyes wide and heart hammering, and he's two feet away, panic setting in, when there's a sharp yank on his tail.

he yelps. stumbles back.

"where do you think you're going?" the joxter asks, and Snufkin turns, face bleeding red, eyes stinging.

his father is red-mouthed, soft-eyed. he is not looking at Snufkin with contempt, or anything at all, except a soft warmth that reminds Snufkin is fire and flames, of cold winter days wrapped in layers upon layers.

"sit down," Joxter says, tone patient. Snufkin does so, mechanical, numb.

the Joxter chuckles, softly so, and bends down to fish his pole out of the water. he presses it into Snufkin's hands, and then, like it has always been so, tugs him in for a kiss.

"don't complicate it," he says, still tasting like fruit. like comfort, like heat, like spring.

Snufkin's face is warm, is hot, but he doesn't resist- just kisses the Joxter, one more time, warm in his chest, and turns back to his fishing.

the Joxter falls asleep on his lap, warm like summer, and Snufkin only hesitates briefly before burying his fingers in his hair.

[entirelyproblematic]

The first time Ritsu gets himself off while thinking about his nii-san, he comes harder than he's ever come before.

It's stars in his head, explosions in his throat- he makes a wrecked, torn-off sound, and moments later, he lies there, heart rabbit-quick in his chest, and drool wet on the corners of his mouth.

He lies there, come on his hand and there is no shame, strangled in his chest.

No guilt.

No nothing, except he image of Mob pinned beneath himself, making quiet, gasping noises and writhing, arching back into him- begging, pleading; “please, Ritsu- please, please, please-"

He closes his eyes, curls his hand into a fist, and doesn't hate himself

[entirelyproblematic]

tbh, i can legit see Max having a HUGE crush on David? like it just starts bc David’s so nice to him, and he’s not used to it, so he gets all mad and defensive, and pushes David away, but as we all know, David is a stubborn idiot, so he just keeps on being nice, and Max hates it, because that crush of his? it’s only getting bigger

but like. Max’s not an idiot. he knows it can’t be, because look at him. he’s a kid, David’s absolutely not one, and he hates it, he hates the fact that this can’t ever happen, because David’s a decent piece of shit, and it’s what Max loves likes about him, but also. can he not?

so it’s a struggle. it’s this thing Max carries, angry and sharp-tongued, and so bitter, and no one has any idea what’s going on, why Max is acting like this, but, what can they do?

so it’s just a thing. Max is angry, snappy- he shouts at David a lot, and David’s so confused and frustrated, because what gives? it was going SO well! but now suddenly Max hates him again, and he’s sad about that, but also stubborn, and it’s a mess

and eventually, inevitably, camp ends

eventually, Max leaves

(and the next time camp rolls around, there’s no Max. there’s just David, unhappy and sad, because he had wanted to help Max, he really, really had. but he just- couldn’t)