#timya

SO, I am, admittedly, not the best at drawing kisses. Especially between characters that have muzzles, like meerkats do! It can be a pretty challenging task to not make it look awkward.

My favorite way to approach kisses is with sequential art, where I show the anticipation, the kiss, and the aftermath, sort of like this:

Close-ups:

Generally speaking, unless I’m going for a comedic kiss, I avoid drawing them smooching in profile. BUT, the scrunched up muzzles can make for some really funny drawings!

If I’m going for something more serious and romantic, I tend to opt for drawing the characters kissing at an angle. Usually, with one character in 3/4 back view, and the other in 3/4 front view. It gives the kiss a more cinematic feel, and it makes drawing them with their heads tilted in opposite directions a bit easier.

Also, in my opinion, I think drawing the anticipatory moment BEFORE the kiss can be even MORE romantic and sensuous than drawing the kiss itself! And, bonus points, you don’t have to worry about the squished up muzzles and the noses getting in the way!

And then, there’s the always lovely cheek kiss, which might be the easiest one of all to tackle, considering you only have to worry about one smoochy-faced muzzle.

Now, as for drawing Mya, there are a few things that I keep in mind when trying to keep her on model:

-She ALWAYS has heavy, dark under-eyelids/eye bags. She should look perpetually tired.

-Her eyes should always be half-lidded or partially lidded, even in extreme facial expressions and takes. Once again, perpetually tired! Haha.

-The top of her skull is much more rounded and less pointy than Timon’s, and her forehead is slightly taller.

-Her hair fluff should start at about the crown of her head rather than just after the hairline.

-Her eyebrows should be darker and slightly thicker than Timon’s.

-Her chin/bottom lip should be fuller and rounded than Timon’s.

(I really need to sit down and make her a model sheet!!)

ANYWAYS. How long did it take for Timon and Mya to realize they had fallen in love with each other, you ask?

Weeeeeeell.

Simultaneously fast, fast, FAST, and yet achingly slowly at the same time.

Ya see, both Timon and Mya are two middle-aged, stuck-in-their-ways, emotionally stunted dipshits who would rather have each individual strand of fur plucked from their tiny bodies than to be honest with each other for even 5 seconds. Their entire dynamic is playing emotional CHICKEN with each other, actively trying to get the other one to break while desperately trying not to crack wide open themselves.

They fall into it like idiots. Like THE SUCKERS THEY ARE. LIKE A COUPLE’A RUBES. Two meerkats who thought they were conning and manipulating each other who accidentally let their hearts get tangled up so tightly that they’re now nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest, staring at each other like, “uh oh.”

Timon ABSOLUTELY caught feelings first. (Painfully, VISCERALLY, all while kicking and screaming and clawing at the ground while being dragged by the scruff of his neck by his aching, reluctant heart.)

But here’s the kicker:

Falling for Mya is the thing that finally makes Timon start to reevaluate his relationship with Pumbaa.

Because he realizes… OH. Romantic love feels like THIS. Romantic love is terrifying. Romantic love is I see you and I want you anyway, and I want you to see me and I’m DESPERATE for you to want me, and please, OH PLEASE, don’t leave me.

And suddenly he’s looking at Pumbaa and going… wait a minute.

Has he always seen me like that?

(…Yes, Timon. Yes he has. You absolute goon. 🤡)

But see, Pumbaa’s love is safe. It’s constant, and gentle, and forgiving. It’s a kind of love that’s so steady that Timon almost can’t feel it. For Timon, Pumbaa’s presence and love is like oxygen: it’s almost invisible, until suddenly, after being violently separated from Pumbaa, he’s left to fend for himself without that love. And now that he’s alone, he’s terrified and gasping for breath and SLOWLY SUFFOCATING.

Pumbaa’s love is so unconditional that it almost doesn’t feel real to someone like Timon, who has built his entire personality on the idea that love has to be earned. That he doesn’t deserve love unless he’s made himself useful and indispensable.

But Mya’s love, on the other hand?

Her love is selective. It’s not guaranteed. It’s terrifying. It demands something from him. And that’s why it unmakes him.

It’s not soft, it’s not easy, and it’s definitely not unconditional.

And to Timon, Mya’s love feels like a risk.

Because he’s spent his whole life convincing himself he doesn’t need love, not because he doesn’t want it, but because he’s absolutely convinced he’ll never get it. So he copes by pretending love is for others. That it’s only meant for those that are safer than him, less flawed than him, BETTER than him. He masks the ache with bravado, sarcasm, and carefully controlled performative detachment.

He tells himself that he can’t be hurt or rejected if he just pretends he never wanted love in the first place.

(Alright, this is where I’m treading carefully!! Because what I’m NOT going to do is imply that Timon falling in love with a female meerkat fixes his emotional problems. In fact, she actively triggers his WORST tendencies at first and makes him spiral harder into self-destruction. And his behavior has nothing to do with her gender, but her personality. The fact that she doesn’t give affection freely. This would play out exactly the same way if she had been a male meerkat. ANYWAYS. Stay with me!! Don’t boo me off the stage just yet!)

Soooo. Along comes Mya, someone who is guarded, terrifyingly perceptive, and brutally intelligent. She’s someone who doesn’t laugh at his jokes unless she means it. She doesn’t offer him comfort or coddling or safety, but she sure as hell sees right through his bull shit.

And oh boy, she REALLY sees him. And she lets him know it, too.

And for Timon, that’s the most terrifying thing anyone has ever done for him.

And now, suddenly, he’s desperate for her approval. And I mean panicking for it.

He lives for the moments when she cracks a smile, or laughs at something he says, or teases him gently. And every time she pulls away, he spirals a little bit. Maybe a lotta bit. 😵‍💫

It’s not because he’s shallow. It’s because if Mya, this guarded, skeptical, no-nonsense, emotionally stunted meerkat, chooses him? Then maybe he actually is worth something.

And this leads to a major problem:

…He starts to trust her love more than he trusts Pumbaa’s.

(At first.)

(Stay with me AHAHA!!!)

Because, again, Pumbaa’s love is unconditional.

Which means… Timon just… can’t trust it. How could he? In his mind, Pumbaa is way too good for him. But Mya… Mya is NOT. Because, he says to himself: “I don’t just like Mya. No, no. I’m like Mya.”

She’s a snake, he tells himself. She’s schemin’!She’s just as slimy and awful as I am. But Pumbaa? He’s too good for me. An’ he’s too naive to see me for what I really am.

But not Mya. She sees exactly how scummy I am, and doesn’t run away.

Pumbaa’s love feels like a fluke or a trick of the light. And Timon tells himself lies, like:

“Pumbaa loves everyone.”

“He’s too kind and naive to actually see how flawed I am.”

“He needs me. That’s not the same thing as wanting me.”

But Mya doesn’t need him. Mya could walk away. And she almost does.

And here’s the thing: Timon knows Mya could hurt him.

Like… Really, REALLY hurt him.

Not just bruise his ego or embarrass him in front of a crowd. No, no, no. He’s had that kind of rejection before. He can handle that. That’s the kind of rejection from his meerkat colony days, the kind that he’s built his emotional walls against.

No. This feels different.

Because Mya sees him. Sees through him. And she doesn’t ask permission to see through him. She’s a con artist after all, and reading people is literally what she DOES. So she burrows right in, sneaking underneath his fur without ever being invited.

And for Timon, if someone who sees him that clearly decides he’s not worth loving, then it’s not just heartbreak.

It’s proof that he really is broken and unlovable underneath the mask. And it confirms everything that he’s ever loathed about himself.

And THAT is what makes Mya so dangerous and tantalizing at the same time.

So yeah. He gets desperate. He starts chasing her affection like he’s starving for it. Not because it’s romantic, but because in Timon’s wormy little brain, if Mya chooses him, then that must be love. Love that he EARNED. Love that proved that he’s actually worth something.

And here’s the important part: Timon is wrong. His logic is deeply, DEEPLY flawed.

This isn’t cute. This isn’t romantic. This is a full-blown trauma response dressed up in slapstick and snarky one-liners.

The story knows he’s unraveling. It doesn’t frame his behavior as swoony or aspirational, but rather, it frames it as desperate. As deeply flawed. Pathetic, even.

His need for Mya’s approval is NOT love. It’s a survival instinct, kicking in where his self-worth should be.

Because this isn’t some grand romance. It’s a meerkat begging not to be abandoned, still nursing raw wounds from being violently ripped away from Pumbaa… with no one to blame but himself.

It’s the same fear that’s been eating him alive since he was a pup in his meerkat colony. It’s that same damn belief that love must be earned, or else it doesn’t count.

And falling for Mya forces Timon to FINALLY confront it.

Because in chasing her approval, he starts to realize what he’s been DOING to himself.

He starts to unpack why he never truly believed Pumbaa’s love. Why he thought he always had to perform. Why he never let himself rest.

Because the truth is not that Mya’s love is better, or more titillating than Pumbaa’s love. It’s NOT.

The truth is that both kinds of love are terrifying when you don’t believe you deserve either of them.

And that’s when something shifts, when it all starts to break open.

Suddenly, Timon starts to realize: OH. Maybe it was never about needing to earn love. Maybe it’s about letting himself believe in love.

Because Pumbaa didn’t love him because he was useful. Pumbaa didn’t stick around out of pity or cluelessness or naivety.

Pumbaa ALWAYS saw him. He knew him fully and completely, flaws and all. He saw all the spiraling, squirmy, panicked mess that was Timon and LOVED HIM THROUGH IT. And he always stayed by his side.

And now, so does Mya.

Which means… maybe it’s wasn’t a fluke. Maybe it wasn’t a trick of the light. Maybe he’s not the horrible, unlovable little parasite he had started to think he was.

Maybe he’s just… lovable. Already. Just as he is.

Not because he earned it. Not because he faked intelligence, competence, and usefulness well enough. But because someone looked straight through all the jokes and bravado and panic and said: “I love him.”

So yeah. That breaks him a lil bit. It finally rips out the stitches that were covering up a festering wound, and drains out all the infection so that he can finally heal.

And once he understands that love doesn’t have to be earned to be genuine, it rewrites every relationship he’s ever had. It makes Pumbaa’s love for him finally make sense.

Because now he gets it. Now he understands what it costs to love someone so much that it makes you stupid.

What it means to not give up on someone when they are at their lowest. When they’re panicking and lying and pushing you away. When they’re so convinced they’re not worth it, they make you prove it to them again and again.

Because that’s what Pumbaa’s been doing for Timon this whole time.

And now that Timon has felt it, this desperate, dizzying love for Mya that makes him cling and spiral and want so badly to be enough, it reframes everything.

Suddenly, he realizes: Pumbaa loved him like this.

Pumbaa loved him when he was emotionally constipated and mean and ugly and afraid. Pumbaa loved him through the spiral. Pumbaa loved him when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection.

And he never made Timon beg for it. He just loved him.

So… YEAH.

Falling in love with Mya isn’t about Timon “finally” finding love. It’s about him finally understanding what love means.

And once that happens, Timon realizes he doesn’t just need Pumbaa anymore. He can choose him.

Because he finally, finally realizes that Pumbaa wasn’t just someone who stuck around. He was someone who saw everything ugly and despicable about Timon, and still chose to love him.

And that, right there, is the love Timon never believed he’d get. Except now, he knows he’s had it all along. The entire time. He was just too in his head to see it.

So. 👀😮‍💨

WHAT WAS THE QUESTION AGAIN?! …oh, yeah.

How long did it take for Timon and Mya to realize they were in love?

Ha. Hahaha. HAAAAAAA.

WELL.

They fell hard and fast and immediately got stuck in the weeds about it. They spend an embarrassing amount of time spiraling, projecting, sabotaging, and denying EVERYTHING.

Timon panicked and smothered it in deflection. He shoved it down with everything he had, drowning it out in noise, in jokes, and in that desperate need to stay in control. Because if he let that feeling breathe, it might remind him of the one thing he had spent his life lying to himself about: you want to be loved. And so, he did everything he could to avoid the terrifying thought that someone might actually love him. Because if Mya loved him, she’d see him. And if she saw him, she’d leave. That’s what he believed. That he was too much, and not enough, and just wrong in some unfixable way. So he clung to control, to performance, to the idea that if he could just stay funny enough, or useful enough, maybe he’d keep her from seeing the cracks in the facade.

But Mya was panicking too. She wasn’t withholding affection to play games with Timon. No, she was spiraling too. She tried to cut off the feeling before it could bloom. She shut it out, packed it down with silence and cool detachment, refusing to acknowledge what she felt. Because if she let herself need Timon, REALLY need him, and he left, that would be worse than never letting him in at all. Because for her, love had never been safe. Her whole life had taught her that closeness leads to pain, and that trust is a mistake you pay for later. Letting herself want something meant risking the heartbreak. So she stayed guarded. She got cold, and a little mean. She acted aloof, like she didn’t care. She told herself it was all self-protection and emotional savviness. But really, it was fear. A deep, gnawing fear that needing him would make the loss hurt more when it inevitably came.

So yeah. They fell in love in the middle of a con. While actively trying to manipulate each other. While lying to each other. And while lying to themselves.

Their love story isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being honest.

It’s about two flawed, scared, quick-witted little meerkats trying to believe that they’re worth loving, even if it’s terrifying.

But, eventually, they do, and Timon finally lets himself be loved.

So yeah. I’m going to reiterate this because it’s important: Mya doesn’t fix Timon. She doesn’t heal him with love or save him from himself. What she does is shatter the mask. She’s the catalyst that forces him to face himself. A mirror that reflects everything he’s spent his life avoiding.

She’s the spark that makes him ask: “Why do I only believe in love when it hurts?”

It’s not her love that heals him, but the reckoning she triggers within him.

Because in chasing her approval, Timon is finally forced to confront the shame, the fear, and the lie he’s built his life around: that love has to be earned. That he’s only worth keeping if he’s useful, or funny, or the “brains of the outfit.”

And when that illusion breaks, what’s left isn’t some ooey gooey romance. It’s clarity.

It’s the realization that Pumbaa has always loved him. That Pumbaa saw him the whole time. And that kind of love (the quiet kind, the steady kind, the kind that never asked him to perform) was always there.

Mya doesn’t heal Timon. But she breaks the lie that told him he was never lovable in the first place.

—

TOLDYA. Couple’a rubes, am I right?! 😏