#Poor and horrible upbringing
Text
𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader
summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]
pairing | joel miller x fem!reader
content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking
author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.
↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs
There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.
He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.
But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.
A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.
You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.
You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately.
But, Sarah was always there.
And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.
With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.
It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home.
But, nothing compared to the real thing.
His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.
And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.
It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily.
“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.
“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”
“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be.
Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”
Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.
Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming.
“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”
“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”
Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.
“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”
He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.
“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.
It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily.
It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.
Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.
Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.
You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.
Yet, something in you yearned to do so.
You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.
-
His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.
Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.
You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”
“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”
The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl.
Darlin’ though, it was all you.
He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.
“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”
“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”
“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”
And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.
“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’
“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?
“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”
The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.
The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.
You shouldn’t entertain the idea.
You shouldn’t even consider it.
“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.
“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”
Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.
“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”
“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.
But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.
-
You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much.
It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.
There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.
Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.
It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed.
He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.
The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.
But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.
The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.
“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”
Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.
“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.
“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”
“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice.
“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.
“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.
“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”
You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.
With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.
You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.
The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.
Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.
Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.
Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.
He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.
“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”
“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”
“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”
And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.
He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.
Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.
“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”
You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”
“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”
But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.
Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.
“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”
“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”
“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?”
“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.
“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”
“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”
It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.
Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t.
“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.
“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”
It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more.
Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch.
Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.
It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.
You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.
“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.
Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.
-
A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing.
Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.
“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”
You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”
Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you.
“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise.
You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.
Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly.
Even if this was his home.
Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.
Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.
Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.
“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.
The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.
“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”
“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”
The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.
“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”
Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.
“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”
You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.
“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.
“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.
Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.
-
Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.
Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.
He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.
Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.
He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.
This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.
Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal.
And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.
It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way.
You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.
Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be.
But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.
“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”
You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.
Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.
“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”
Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.
He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.
“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”
God, if only he knew.
He did, but that wasn’t the point.
Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.
“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.
“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.
And vehemently refuses every time you offer.
Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.
Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.
He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.
He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.
You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.
“Can you swim?” He asks casually.
“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.
Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?
-
Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.
“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.
You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.
“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.
“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”
Your choice—that’s what he’s implying.
You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.
“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”
Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.
“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”
“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”
“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”
Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.
“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”
You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.
“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”
Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.
“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.
Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”
God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.
Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.
-
More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.
Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.
Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.
“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”
You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.
“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.
And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.
Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.
There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.
"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"
There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.
Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.
His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.
"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."
He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.
Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.
Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.
"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."
You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.
“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”
“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”
“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.
“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.
This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.
-
The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.
At least, as much as you could.
Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.
And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.
So, you had no problem staying back.
A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.
Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.
It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.
So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.
Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.
He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.
His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.
He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.
“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”
You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.
“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”
Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.
“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”
You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”
It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.
You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.
“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”
“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”
Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?
“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”
The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care.
His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”
You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck.
“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”
“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”
And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them.
The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.
His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.
Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation
You wanted this. And so did he.
He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face.
He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.
“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”
You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”
Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.
Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.
He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?
And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.
Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.
“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”
As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.
“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.
Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.
“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”
“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”
“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”
You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”
Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”
“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”
Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.
“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.
You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.
It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.
Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.
You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.
“Stay still.” Joel demands.
You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.
“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”
There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.
“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in.
You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”
Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed.
-
Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.
Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.
And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted.
Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.
Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.
But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.
So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.
He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.
Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.
But, for you, it stings.
You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.
She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks.
You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.
“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”
And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months.
You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.
A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.
–
Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.
“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”
“Joel, please—”
“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”
“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”
“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”
“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”
Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”
“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”
Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.
Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.
This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel.
He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.
“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”
Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.
But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.
“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”
Never would be, you want him to say.
“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”
You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.
“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”
That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.
“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”
“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”
“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”
Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.
Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.
Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.
“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.
“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”
“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”
You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.
“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”
“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”
“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.
“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.
And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.
You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.
And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.
It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#bfd!joel#pedro pascal characters#pedrostories#my writing
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
What the fuck is Jesus up to in Good Omens season 3?
This is a question I've been thinking long and hard these past couple of days and I have some THOUGHTS SO. Buckle up.
Aziraphale and Crowley watching the Crucifixion (Good Omens, 2019)
First off. The answer to the question posited is relatively simple. What is Jesus up to in GO3? With s2's ending in mind and with the hints we've gotten for 668: Neighbor of the Beast over the years, we know he's descending to Earth to initiate the Second Coming. And that Aziraphale would probably make that happen - or do everything that he can as Supreme Archangel to sabotage it.
But I wanted to examine on how Jesus might fit into Good Omens' overall narratives and established themes - about morality and humanism and free will, and. I'm just saying, there are A LOT of fascinating routes they could do for his character.
(Disclaimer as usual: this is a theory that I obsessed over when I was stuck at the cemetery during All Souls' Day and must be treated as such. In no way am I insisting this should be how canon events must happen. I am just doing this for the funsies.)
The THING about Jesus if you situate him in the world of Good Omens (with the assumption that most of the pop culture Christology mythos associated with him remain intact) is that in this context he very quickly becomes: 1. Adam Young's narrative foil; and 2. an Aziraphale parallel.
Now, the first one is obvious. Of COURSE he is Adam Young's foil, duh. Adam isn't called the ANTICHRIST for nothing. Brought into the world just for the sole purpose of ending it. However, when the time comes for him to fulfill the Will of his Satanic Father, Adam flat out REFUSES.
Both the book and the show attribute this to Adam's human upbringing. He was raised as a human, and because of that he has the trait that the book uses to DEFINE human beings: free will. At the end, Adam had the AGENCY to reject the destiny planned out for him.
'Adam stood smiling at the two of them, a small figure perfectly poised exactly between Heaven and Hell.
Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm. "You know what happened?" he hissed excitedly. "He was left alone! He grew up human! He's not Evil Incarnate or Good Incarnate, he's just… a human incarnate—"'
- (Good Omens, 1990)
That is NOT what happened to Jesus.
Adam Bond as Jesus in Good Omens (2019)
Like Adam, he was raised as a human -- being a human incarnate was his WHOLE DEAL in Christology. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us... yada yada yada.
UNLIKE, Adam, though, Jesus wasn't able to REJECT his Destiny of Dying Really Horribly and Painfully on the Cross. Narratives in the Bible also made it clear that the Crucifixion was NOT his Will, but that of God's. Like... him begging to be spared from torment but ultimately following God's Will is such an important event entire devotional practices are made out of it.
"39 And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt."
- (Matthew 26: 39, KJV)
We get a glimpse of that in s1ep3 of Good Omens, too:
"JESUS
(muttering through the pain)
Father, please . . . you have to forgive them . . . they don’t know what they are doing . . .
Crowley, in black, comes up next to Aziraphale.
CROWLEY
You’ve come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?
AZIRAPHALE
Smirk? Me?
CROWLEY
Well, your lot put him on there.
AZIRAPHALE
I am not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley."
- (The Quite Nice and Fairly Accurate Good Omens Script Book, 2018)
SO. Here we have the character of the Christ whose free will and agency had been STRIPPED from him in the guise of a "noble sacrifice." He comes back again on this Earth to fulfill another "inescapable destiny."
Aziraphale and Crowley need to stop him. The solution the Good Omens narrative offers to "inescapable destinies and systems" (both in s1 and s2) is for the character to realize they have the freedom to choose their own fates. It happened with Adam, and it happened with Gabriel, and perhaps it will happen to Jesus.
(At this point my sister frowned and said: "Are you telling me you think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to help Jesus realize he has agency and that him Dying on the Cross for the 'Great Plan' was kinda fucked up actually?" which sounds crazy when you put it like that BUT NEVER SAY NEVER BABIE.)
Because that brings me to my second point: if this all happens, Jesus becomes an AZIRAPHALE parallel.
In the same way Anathema is an Aziraphale parallel and Sergeant Shadwell is an Aziraphale parallel. Here is a character stuck in a suffocating status quo. To save the world, he needs to know he can escape that status quo and decide for himself. In the same way Anathema has to learn how to stop being a descendant or Shadwell to stop being a Witchfinder, or Gabriel to stop being an Archangel, and Adam to stop being an Antichrist, perhaps Jesus has to learn he can stop being... Well, the Christ, as well.
And this, of course, supplements Aziraphale's journey of letting go of the idea of being an idealized vessel of God, so he could finally enjoy the freedom of personhood and choice on Earth, with Crowley.
Or they could turn Jesus into a cackling villain who Aziraphale and Crowley need to kill in season 3, and I'd probably eat that up, too.
#good omens#good omens meta#good omens 2#good omens season 2#good omens spoilers#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#this was such an insane meta post to make but i had to do it#putting my religious trauma to good use iktr#enna rambles
586 notes
·
View notes
Text
headcannons for könig
tw mentions of; drugs (weed), difficult upbringing (bullying), growing up without a father.
✧ könig who has a ginger cat called ‘spice’. absolutely spoils the shit out of the cat, make sure she's well groomed. hands her over to his oma while he's away on deployment. könig probably wakes up with the cat on his chest at nighttime whilst on leave.
✧ könig who smokes a ton of weed. an actual addict, not even a joke. he's easily addicted and is always found smoking weed. it started off with cigarettes in his teenager years, moving to cigars til he was introduced to weed for the first time in person, growing addicted as it helped with his anxiety.
✧ könig who adores his oma. he always makes the sure she's healthy, loves the strict women to death. he always brings her flowers when he's back from deployment, spending some time with her before heading back home.
✧ könig who's the mean colonel who nobody really likes. it's only until you finally get to know him that you'll realise what kind of person he actually is. he's not horrible or mean, he just projects his insecurities onto others, but he's a really kind person and will always listen.
✧ könig who wants a ton of kids, he's obsessed with the idea of caring for children, maybe around five to eight kids. he wants to read them stories before bedtime and ruffle their hair when they run up to him, kiss their foreheads before sending them to school.
✧ könig who used a lot of musical instruments, especially the drums and electric guitar. he was definitely a bit emo, into german heavy metal and rock bands. he made a friend in the music club, smoking cigarettes behind the school, only for that said friend to expose all his secrets about his father.
✧ könig who grew up without a father figure in his life. was an only child and wants a bunch of kids so they can always feel comforted by their siblings. his mother was also a strict women, yet she was so loving and would do anything for his boy. giving him some money to buy new shoees to fit in, sacrificing a meal for her to eat, just to see her little boy happy.
✧ könig who grew up poor, his mother worked in a restaurant as a waitress. she didn't make a ton of money, especially for two people. but she'd always manage to pull dinner together, könig helping her make the meals.
#orla speaks#konig headcanons#call of duty headcanons#konig#cod konig#konig mw2#konig cod#könig cod mw2#könig#könig call of duty#könig cod
454 notes
·
View notes
Text
In my opinion, Loona is a character with some of the most wasted potential in Helluva Boss.
Though we don't have a ton of information about her background, we do know she lived in a shelter for much (or maybe even all) of her childhood. Loona is cold and distant to her adoptive father, and outright rude to many others, particularly Moxxie, who she constantly mocks and belittles. I'm thinking that this behavior is either a result of her upbringing, or perhaps it was even the reason she was put into the shelter to begin with. But until more is revealed about her past, I want to complain about the way she's currently written.
Loona is abusive, plain and simple. The way she treats Blitz, her adoptive father, goes way past simple angsty teenage rebellion and well into the abuse territory. Any semblance of Loona being remotely sympathetic was thrown out the window in Seeing Stars, when she kicks Blitz in the groin, all because he was relieved to see her and wanted to give her a hug. And all of that after she gives Octavia the "cut your dad some slack" speech.
I've seen people try and defend this behavior by pointing out that Loona has childhood trauma, and this is why she has these behavioral issues. It's certainly not unheard of for victims of childhood abuse/neglect to have anger issues and poor emotional regulation, and I would have absolutely no problem with this being the case if it was shown to actually be a problem, but it isn't. Not once does Loona get called out for her behavior or face any sort of consequence for treating others poorly. If anything, this abusive behavior is treated as a joke more often than not.
It's extremely ironic that one of the most despised characters in Helluva Boss, Stella, receives so much hate for being abusive towards Stolas, when we've seen Loona do far worse to Blitz. I honestly cannot think of a logical reason as to why we're supposed to like Loona, while also hating Stella. We see Stella nearly hit Stolas and it's (rightfully) treated as being abusive. But when Loona is constantly beating up her dad for no good reason, we're just supposed to laugh? It seems extremely hypocritical on both the writers' part, as well as many of the fans'. I honestly can't tell if the writers genuinely think this behavior is okay (when it's coming from Loona) or if they just see it as a quirky character trait of hers.
If we're supposed to find Loona likeable, which we clearly are, then the writers seriously need to start making some changes. I'm not saying they should just completely retcon Loona's character and suddenly make her nice, but they do need to start being consistant with how they portray abuse, and they seriously need to stop excusing and coddling her horrible behavior, regardless of if she has childhood trauma. That is not how you grow as a person and overcome your issues. Yes, it's a process that is often long and difficult, but it hasn't been shown that Loona is actually trying to make any change at all, or that anyone is actually encouraging her to change.
If you want an actually halfway decent example of a character overcoming their trauma (at least within the Hellaverse) look no further than Blitz himself. It's clear his father was abusive and explotative towards him, not to mention he accidentally caused the death of his mother and the maiming of his close friend. Both of these things likely contributed to many of Blitz's flaws and issues as an adult. But the thing is, despite all that, Blitz himself isn't abusive to his daughter. He has shown nothing but unconditional love and devotion to his daughter despite his past. I'm not saying Blitz is a perfect character by any means (I won't excuse him literally threatening to rape his employees), but it really goes to show this whole argument of 'Loona acts the way she does because she has childhood trauma and that makes it okay' doesn't hold up to scrutiny as much as her stans seem to think.
I think a good idea would be to start showing more of how Loona's behavior negatively affects those around her, something which would give her the motivation to want to change. Show how hurt Blitz feels whenever Loona lashes out at him. We get a taste of this in Spring Broken when she hurts Blitz's feelings, but it's clear from both her dialogue in the scene as well as her later actions that the writers apparently don't want her to actually learn from her mistakes and grow as a character, which is such a shame.
Loona had the opportunity to be an extremely complex and compelling character if her aggression and violent outbursts were actually addressed as being a problem she needed to overcome, and if she actually tried changing herself for the better. Seeing the effort she puts into treating others better and breaking the cycle of abuse would have made her character feel so much stronger and more likeable. But instead, the show just treats this abusive behavior as a quirky, edgy joke and "lol that's just classic Loona!! What can ya do lol!!!"
She does have her moments where a good character actually shines through, but they're so few and far in between. I want to like Loona so much, but as it currently stands, I just can't, and that makes me sad.
103 notes
·
View notes
Note
Got any angst about the pt cast?
Of course, I do.
Peppino: He was bullied as a child/teenager and developed horrible social anxiety and depression from it. He also has generalized anxiety disorder. He's not necessarily estranged from his family, but he doesn't communicate with them a lot. This has caused tension to rise as his family began to think he doesn't love them. His failing business only adds to his crippling anxiety. He holds it against himself and is convinced that he's a failure.
Gustavo: I've said it a million times, but he's a divorced dad with minimal custody rights. He feels guilty for it. The divorce was super hard on him and still hurts. He was also very lonely at home before he got Brick. Other than that, he's a pretty jolly guy.
Mr. Stick: He's a lonely guy. His social skills aren't the best, and he's very condescending. His gambling problem has actually caused him great losses in life. He has maybe one friend (Burton). Despite being a con man, he's very gullible.
Pepperman: His narcissistic tendencies have cause many relationships to peril. Family, friends, and even partners had grown tired of his antics. He spends most of his time on his art and forgets to take care of himself. He's quite lonely.
The Vigilante: He doesn't have any family left. His maw and paw died early in his life after they were killed by outlaws. This is what made him decide to become The Vigilante. His peepaw, John E. Cheese, raised him. After he passed, The Vigilante had nobody but the ghost of him. He's become very lonely and is slightly depressed.
The Noise: He has an absent father who he resents for not being there. He grew up as a chaotic AuDHD child with a mother who didn't know how to handle it. He was bullied a lot. He's very paranoid that people will use him for money and fame, which is why he doesn't really have any friends other than Noisette. He's very angry and depressed underneath that silly persona. His social skills aren't great, either.
Noisette: She's incredibly insecure when it comes to criticism. She got bullied a lot in school for her poor social skills. Like Noise, she's also AuDHD, but her parents were educated and raised her well. She holds herself to modern beauty standards and occasionally gets insecure of her appearance.
Fake Peppino: He was met with violence and fear very early in life as he was constantly being hunted down by others in the tower (piggy police, The Vigilante). People were afraid of him, and it made him sad about himself. [Fic spoiler] Bruno was a great friend to him, but now he's gone. Until Peppino arrived, he felt that he was unlovable. Pizzahead is fine but can get too rough when it comes to correcting behavior.
Pizzahead: His poor social skills and onsessive behaviors have caused him to suffer greatly in his social life. He's very lonely and pushes most people away. He snapped at a certain point and went completely insane. He's a psychopathic maniac. He buries himself in work most of the time to avoid his feelings.
Pillar John: [Fic spoilers] John was originally a maintenance man in the tower. He was an incredible fixer and was good friends with Pizzahead. The tower was old and falling apart. Once Pizzahead realized there was no fixing it, he created a crazy contraption and trapped John in the top floor of the tower, causing the pillars in each level to support the tower's stability. Because of this, John developed a horrible depression after having a happy life.
Gerome: Gerome had somewhat of a tough upbringing. His mom and dad got divorced when he was young. His dad wasn't a great person. He was depressed as a kid because he felt the divorce was his fault. When his mom met John's father, things changed drastically, especially when John was born. At first, he didn't like John or his father. Once he saw how happy his mom was, he opened up and became close to John and his dad. Despite this, the depression still haunts Gerome to this day. Gerome even finds himself feeling a bit guilty over the tower situation.
#pizza tower#noise#the noise#headcanon#noisette#pizzahead#peppino#peppino spaghetti#fake peppino#pepperman#the vigilante#mr. stick#pillar john#pizza tower gerome#pizza tower gustavo
54 notes
·
View notes
Note
What is your view of Tyrion. While I sympathize with him for how horrible Tywin is too him I also feel like people sometimes people give him too much credit. He knows that the Lannister regime has no legitimacy and what sort of people Tywin, Joffrey and Cersei are but still works hard to keep them in power. Plus I hate his attitude towards Sansa and how entitled he feels towards her.
Yeah, Tyrion is… look, I have a lot of compassion for his horrific upbringing with Tywin, the isolation and ableism that Tyrion faces from birth.
HOWEVER. Despite his claim to feel pity for fellow bastards and cripples and broken things, Tyrion’s compassion almost never outranks his own pride and ego. Just look at this disgusting reaction to Tywin’s murder of poor Masha Heddle for the crime of being a helpless bystander during Tyrion’s capture by Catelyn:
The inn and its stables were much as he remembered, though little more than tumbled stones and blackened foundations remained where the rest of the village had stood. A gibbet had been erected in the yard, and the body that swung there was covered with ravens. At Tyrion's approach they took to the air, squawking and flapping their black wings. He dismounted and glanced up at what remained of the corpse. The birds had eaten her lips and eyes and most of her cheeks, baring her stained red teeth in a hideous smile. "A room, a meal, and a flagon of wine, that was all I asked," he reminded her with a sigh of reproach.
And that’s before we get into Tyrion’s vicious misogyny.
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm so annoyed when people are like "Harvey Dent chose to go evil, he gave up on morality once the world hurt him". Bro. Since Eye of the Beholder, Two-Face at his best is when he's written as someone who has been always fighting. He had been fighting to keep a hold on that morality, to believe the world isn't rigged cruelty or heatless chance, to not let the trauma of his painful upbringing keep him down, to fight for a better Gotham. His passion for the law was him searching for order in the chaos of chance. Sure, he lost that battle, but he fought! If anything, he lost BECAUSE he fought in an incredibly self-destructive way. His attachment to the law and criminal justice only added stress to his mind and made him repress his mental scars instead of heal. The fall into villainy after the acid-scarring was not a man letting go, it was a man seeing the ledge he was hanging on by the fingernails crumble and give way. To say he chose this shit is like saying a depressed person gave up and let depression win.
This is especially annoying if you take into account Two-Face's entire comic book history, where when he initially appeared, he recovered and went on to be a completely law-abiding citizen. Except, Two-Face was too popular a concept, so first they had to bring the impostors who framed Harvey, then when that didn't stick, they scarred his face again and brought Two-Face right back. And since then, it's just been poor Harv getting dragged around the revolving door in and out of villainy, with him recovering and then some horrible thing happens to him that reawakens his, or the darker alter's, violent impulses. Or worse still, they have Harvey always be terrible. That he was always a two-faced villain deep down, and the scar simply brought it to the surface. They kill his good side off, in favour of making him a two-bit gangster with a coin flip gimmick. How could he not blame fate for his villainy? The hand of fate, the hand of the writers, always drag him back to villainy rather than let the Antihero seeking redemption idea stick.
Perhaps that's changed in recent years, I haven't been keeping up. But don't you ever say that Harvey Dent didn't fight.
#harvey dent#two face#twoface#rant#if i see one more “trauma reveals what you are” take#or someone have harvey try to One Bad Day a similarly facially disfigured good victim#or have him rig the coin toss to be a morton's fork#i will toss a coin into their grave
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Helluva ideas!
More Helluva Concepts!
Blitzo- Part succubus/imp. Around late 30s- early 4ps. Crazy boss to work for. Great at improvising and thinking on his feet, but a horrible planner.
A failed clown, found his calling in the assassin business. Cares about his employees in his own way, sadly doesn't express this properly. Annoys Moxxie because he doesn't appreciate the (justified) criticism Moxxie gives.
Mille - Grew up in wrath. Lates 20s. She comes from a large family.
Despite her seemingly impressinve strength, she is actually the weakest in her family. She tends to be overly competitive. She almost never turns down a challenge. After feeling like a failure compared to her family, she vows to prove her worth while working at IMP. She prefers hand to hand combat or melee weapons, as she feels they will help her prove how strong she is. She is heavily insecure about seeming weak.
She can fly into blind rages and is hard to console in that state. In this state, she is basically riding on intense adrenaline, and doesn't stop until she drops. Like a raging bull.
Loona- 18 or 19 year old hellhound. Adopted by Blitzo. She is reluctant to trust anyone and is rather lonely. Blitzo gave her a job at IMP as their receptionist.
She is apathetic towards the job, and feels as though Blitzo is overbearing. She does care about him, and appreciates his care.
Moxxie- Unheard voice of reason. Grew up in greed. Due to his upbringing, he has learned how a proper buisness functions and hopes to educate Blitzo.
An excellent marksman, poor in melee combat. Great at planning, but doesn't handle deviations from those plans well, and gets easily frustrated. Working for a buisness that is barely keeping itself alive is a big blow to his ego, as it is considered shameful in greed. Very formal, enjoys refinement and class.
His marriage to Millie is complicated, she tries to encourage him to let loose a bit, while he tries to encourage her to settle down. They argue about it but still love each other at the end of the day.
Still working on Millie's work attire, as I drew her in her casual clothes.
So, what do you think?
#sketch#helluva boss critical#helluva boss rewrite#helluva boss redesign#blitzo#millie knolastname#moxxie knolastname#loona#hb#vivziepop critical#concepts
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
As a kid watching Ninjago, I was just interested in the flashy powers, and the heroics of the main characters, like any kid would. Like, 'Aw these guys are so heroic and selfless and awesome'
But now as an adult, when I recommended my GF the show, I specifically said "This is Family Issues: The Lego Cartoon"
Honestly, Jay likes to complain and hide his upbringing, but he's probably the ONLY ninja with any resemblance of a normal happy childhood and backstory. He has two loving parents who supported him, and was an aspiring inventor.
You could argue Fritz Donegan rectified it, but Jay didn't know this, so how would this affect how is childhood turned out?
At worst, he was dirt poor, living in a junkyard and all, but compared to what the rest of his team went through, I think they'd WANT what Jay had.
Nah, instead most of Jay's trauma and emotional baggage is in the present.
And who else do we have?
We have a robot who didn't even know he was a robot, or had any idea of his identity or memory, so much so that he was just... wandering around the land with amnesia. (Then, you know, everyone thought he was weird)
We have Cole, who grew up in a harsh family background where his dad forced/pressured his kid to be a musician, and canonically suffered depression and bad violence habits after the loss of his mother/during her illness. (Idk about those other Royal Blacksmiths if they are in the family or not, but either way they didn't seem supportive)
Kai and Nya's parents up and vanished from their lives at ages five and three, and they had to raise each other all by themselves with just a blacksmith shop. Basically means they were forced to end their childhoods right there, especially Kai, because older sibling. And there's no indication they had any friends or anyone to help them in their town, at most there was that one lady that they hated, so... ouch.
And... Lloyd.
Just Lloyd.
Half of the show is just Lloyd suffering.
Born as the son of a man forced into an evil oni maniac, said father ditched his entire family.
Mom decided it was a good idea to abandon her kid in a boarding school about villainy. (That's like, the ONE thing I genuinely think the movie did better than the show.)
And that school heavily bullied Lloyd and even exiled him, forcing him on the streets, basically
Everyone hates him and doesn't help him (until Pythor)
Gets tricked by Pythor
Gets kidnapped by Serphantine
Nearly dies in lava
Is given a destiny as the savior of all of Ninjago where he's forced to be on opposite sides of his father, and part of said destiny involves him needing to kill him
AGAINST HIS WILL MIND YOU
Was LITERALLY forced to give up his childhood for this destiny
Was tortured by the Overlord for his golden power
Ice Ninja died
He got his father back, and then he died.
Was possessed by an evil ghost tyrant and was forced to do horrible stuff with no control over himself
Was also physically strained to his limit with that possession
Lost his uncle
Fell in love, and then said crush turns out to be a twist villain who wants to TORTURE him, resurrect his father and steal that fatherly love from him, and have said father try to KILL HIM
Which he was very close to succeeding at
Has to live in hiding for a week thinking all his friends are dead
Twist villain crush dies in a building collapse
That traumatizes him and haunts his trust and empathy towards people for A LONG TIME
Gets cubed in a video game (idk if that counts as trauma)
He's also a dragon oni hybrid, and his oni hide haunts his mind for his entire life, and is terrified to even think of a part of himself
Merge. For weeks he thought all his friends were dead. (Again)
And you know, physical beatdowns from being the Green Ninja, one of the most responsible jobs as the savior of all of Ninjago.
And that is not even everything, I'm sure there's a lot of stuff I didn't mention.
This poor, poor Emo Child.
If this wasn't a Lego show, this would have a Clone Wars tone, I'm convinced.
So yeah, 'Family Issues: The cartoon'.
At least they all have each other. They're a happy found family, and the light in each other's lives. They're here for each other. Their dynamics are precious to me.
#ninjago#childhood trauma#found family#family issues#ninjago lloyd#ninjago kai#ninjago nya#ninjago cole#ninjago zane#ninjago jay#lloyd garmadon#kai jiang#kai smith#jiang kai smith#nya jiang#nya smith#jiang nya smith#cole brookstone#zane julien#jay walker
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
May I propose the idea of: Mihawk had a nice upbringing, something horrible happened, then he had to make do being pretty poor and alone? He gives me the vibe of clinging to having perfect grooming and taking up tailoring to keep his clothes nice as a coping mechanism to have some sort of control in a situation in which (at the beginning) he must have been ridiculously out of his depth
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
no bc codys parents ignore him and hold no respect for him unless they can use him to one up each other (his mother PAID HIM to beat his father in a game of chess and then he left for a whole year so he could train to beat cody in chess when cody was like. 9) and he so desperately wants to be liked and respected by others but hes a nerd/dork/geek at his core and so to learn how to be 'cooler' he literally goes to the mall to people watch bc nobody wants to be around him partially because of his lack of 'normal' socialisation and his poor social skills even though he is so incredibly talented in so many other ways (sculpting/engineering, art, chess, etc)
meanwhile alejandro has spent his entire life trying to achieve perfection in an attempt to be recognised as his own person by the people around him INCLUDING HIS FAMILY who only ever view him as a lesser version of jose and so he has all these skills but no reason for any of them bc his family will never appreciate him as his own person back home and so he learned how to be manipulative and use his looks to get what he wanted from people bc at his core hes convinced that he is inherently lesser
both of them are horrifically mangled on the show and it is treated as some sort of 'comeuppance', cody with the bear in tdi and alejandro with the volcano in tdwt, both of them are selfish and treat people poorly as a result of their horrendous upbringings, both of them are capable of so much as they are currently and also capable of so much more but theyre held back by their trauma and a lack of support from the people around them, both of them are rotten but there is a glimmer of something truly beautiful at their cores but to get there would be horrible work
184 notes
·
View notes
Text
Much Ado About Rats: A Skaven Story
Greetings everyone and welcome to the very first of my series of posts that will follow as I write my fanfiction about Skaven in the Warhammer: Age of Sigmar setting. While my fanfiction is something rather private and will probably go through a long and thorough process of writing, editing, proofreading and even rewriting before I am comfortable publishing it, I would still like to talk about its worldbuilding, its characters and my personal headcanon on all matters Skaven.
It's easy to consider Skaven as just cannon fodder for the good guys of the setting, nothing but a mass of hungry and inherently if not comically evil vermin that exist only to multiply, destroy and die, not too dissimilar from the Tyranids of the 40k setting. They represent all the worst traits both on individual and societal level and, more importantly, they're not human and kind of ugly and monstrous, you'd get weird looks if you told anyone you empathise with them, similar to reactions you'd get from the common audience if you said you feel nothing but pity for the orcs of the Lord of the Rings setting.
However, to me the Skaven are much like the Imperium of the 40k - they are independent individuals trapped in and molded by from their very birth to their rather short death by a highly institutionalized and hierarchical society with ruthless inner politics, warlordism and a merciless system of economics and labour. The Skaven who are not ready to do everything in their power to survive and chase the power are either destined for death or slavery. They fanatically worship a god that doesn't care that much for his children if not bestows constant malice onto them, but any deviation from that worship is tightly controlled by a tyranical sect of wizard-priests. The Skaven either conquer, ruthlessly exploiting their surroundings until their utter desolation, or stagnate forced to literally cannibalize each other to survive. They are essentially trapped in a vicious circle where the society forms natural selection where the most power-hungry, cruel and vicious individuals win and these individuals, in turn, do all in their power so that this society stays that way, with them in power and their subordinates in various forms of slavery. I don't know about you, but most of the above doesn't sound to me that different from average life of an Imperial citizen in a Hive World. Moreover, isn't that also what happened in real world many times? How the ultra-rich of today stay in power, how Nazis brainwashed the entirety of Germany into genocide and complete ruin, how medieval tyrants and their aristocrat countries held entire countries in serfdom, how USSR bureaucrats reproduced their own power by what amounted to negative selection?
The main difference between Imperium and the Skaven is that, while the Imperium also exists in a constant flux of decay, misery, exploitation and treachery, it still gets many stories about individuals that manage to represent better aspects of being human, in spite of their culture, their upbringing, their status. Skaven, however, are for some reason excluded from humanity and human stories, despite having the same sapience and free will as humans do, they almost never get any stories that center them and everywhere else they are just there to do something horrible (and sometimes funny) and then be defeated by the heroes of the story. Despite this, we got more intricate glimpses of Skaven in the Queek Headtaker novel, it turns out they can be loyal, they can have a conscience, they can be brave, they can reflect on the poor state of their species, they can actually care for each other for other reasons than power, however rare that is and however corrupted and abusive that care might be.
Skaven also make me reflect a lot about our own world. In a way they are kind of like Ferengi from Star Trek series, their culture on one hand seems completely alien from ours, but on the other hand it has direct connection to our culture because it is a huge exaggeration of it. We exist, function and prop up systems that cause suffering, we compete even if that means that someone else will go hungry, we punch down our most marginalised and miserable, we entrap people into economic system where the line must go always up propped by extremely underpaid labour or everyone will be scrounging for food, we exploit and destroy our environment without care for neither other living creatures nor even other humans, our current cultural mindset is thoroughly hierarchical and power-seeking with even those critical our the current state of things rarely escaping from it. It's easy to sneer at the Skaven as the utterly evil "monster" species of the setting, but they are only doing what we are doing, but dispensing with our dislike of grotesque, with our flimsy morals and with our ever so cautious self-preservation instinct. But in our world we have many stories of people prevailing despite tyranny, misery, poverty, people going to great lengths to help each other, people protesting and fighting injustice, even if their mind was still polluted by bigotry, cruelty or selfishness. If Rom from DS9 can unionize in spite of his entire species and culture, why not give a chance at better characterisation and characters for Skaven that doesn't revolve around being comically evil? Something akin to Queek's bravery and care for Ska, even if completely insane and abusive by our standards, Ska's unquestioning loyalty, Gnawdwell's refined composure and genuine pride for Queek, Sharpwit's recognition of Skaven being doomed to be trapped in their vicious cycle and never learning from any mistakes.
Source: https://twitter.com/nan_ivel/status/1460612547887910914
My motivation for writing a fanfic about Skaven is thus motivated by this unfair treatment of simultaneously portraying the Skaven as sapient and free willed individuals completely capable of forming a society woes many traits and woes of our own and other similar societies in fiction, while they are always treated as non-persons, never get any kind of diversity despite numbering trillions and stories about them that delve deeper into their psyche are practically non-existent. My story will be focused on a band of Skaven finding their own ways and detaching their personalities from the society that made them what they are, it's an escape story, a story of change, a story of experiencing and feelings things you could never put a name to. This is not necessarily a story about redemption, bad guys becoming good, the Skaven being goodie-two-shoes, it's much more about a seed of hope that exists even for cruelest and vilest of beings to change in whatever way, it's humanising Skaven in a way how our own evil is deeply human and it's about negating the idea of evil being ontological and immutable for sapient persons of free will.
The fact that there are trillions of Skaven and tens of thousands of clans should be, on the contrary, taken as a reason for the fans and creators to experiment with imagining diverse environments, individuals, sub-cultures of the Skaven society, sprawling like a tumour, growing in every which way. Similarly the fact that there is not really a lot of actual established lore about the Skaven and either very old bits that can be easily considered not even close to canon, short paragraphs that describe the trope of Skaven, but rarely go into any nuance or expand on them or things that could be very easily supplemented by additional lore, rather than be contradicted.
For example, what is the true nature of Great Horned Rat, is he even a real god of Chaos, as his aspects, domains and character seems to change all the time? Or maybe he is the truest of them, since even his nature changes chaotically, usually following the constant dynamic flux Skaven as a whole find themselves in? What is the relationship of Skaven with gender? Are breeders just an irrelevant lore tidbit that could be disregarded, or maybe it could be expanded, for example, how clans that don't have the means to purchase Moulder monstrocities operate? What of cloned Skaven? How is Skaven biology influenced by their constant misuse of warpstone, permanent overexertion, starvation and lack of sleep? Are we to believe Black Hunger isn't a psychological reaction that a half-starved sleepless human couldn't experience? A lore purist could disregard all these questions, but they'll end up without a backbone to their faction and barely anything interesting to write or ponder, apart from them being just mindless characterless beasts of ruin.
Next posts will answer these questions and go more into detail about some of my personal headcanon that informs my fic, such as diversity and function of Skaven society, their biology and its relationship with warpstone and exertion, their reproductive cycle, basic details of Blight City are the protagonists come from and what Great Horned Rat represents in essence. But, of course, that’s just my interpretation.
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here’s another post on how TCW did Anidala and Hayden and Natalie dirty. Let’s compare the expressions of the characters and how the show and movies each portray the same couple.
This is Anakin at his worst when he has killed children and many more and then felt betrayed by Padme and IS capable of hurting her at the moment.
This is how you react when you get deeply hurt by someone you love:
Not this:
And these are small arguments compared to mass murder and betrayal. Is this what love is supposed to look like? Rather than this:
You are vulnerable when you are in love and you aren’t afraid to show it. It’s not about only spending time together (something they argue about in TCW). It implies unhealthy codependence.
These two should just get a divorce because their marriage is a raging dumpster fire of clinginess, pettiness, anger issues and incompatibility. I don’t blame people for thinking they are toxic and dysfunctional because that’s what they are in the show. This is definitely not love that I’m seeing and attachment certainly has no capability to redeem anyone.
That is not to say all TCW Anidala moments are horrible but their interactions are so watered down it isn’t very convincing. It looks like attachment. Not love that can ignite the stars. One can argue it isn’t “realistic” and all couples have fights and it’s Anidala in their worst moments but can it really get worse than Mustafar? And is star wars supposed to be realistic when its creator said it’s a fairytale and a soap opera about family? Is it supposed to portray real world relationships which is not even relevant to the theme and message of the story? In contrast, look at how the movies and the OG clone wars portray love:
Regardless of your feelings on the couple, there is no mistaking the love in their eyes and expressions. They had different upbringings but Anakin in AOTC novelization still tries to find similarities and common grounds with her whereas TCW highlights their differences and portrays it as incompatibility.
Padme in TCW: I just know I’m not happy anymore (with you). I don’t feel safe.
Padme in ROTS novelization: For Padmé Amidala, saying I am Anakin Skywalker’s wife is saying neither more nor less than I am alive. Her life before Anakin belonged to someone else, some lesser being to be pitied, some poor impoverished spirit who could never suspect how profoundly life should be lived. Her real life began the first time she looked into Anakin Skywalker’s eyes and found in there not the uncritical worship of little Annie from Tatooine, but the direct, unashamed, smoldering passion of a powerful Jedi...
But though she loves her husband without reservation, love does not blind her to his faults. She is older than he, and wise enough to understand him better than he does himself. He is not a perfect man: he is prideful, and moody, and quick to anger—but these faults only make her love him the more, for his every flaw is more than balanced by the greatness within him, his capacity for joy and cleansing laughter, his extraordinary generosity of spirit, his passionate devotion not only to her but also in the service of every living being. He is a wild creature who has come gently to her hand, a vine tiger purring against her cheek. Every softness of his touch, every kind glance or loving word is a small miracle in itself. How can she not be grateful for such gifts?
It’s sad that a lot of people are under the impression that TCW ‘saved’ Anidala when all it did was take away the pure unadulterated love Anakin and Padme shared for each other.
#anidala#anakin skywalker#padme amidala#padmé amidala#anakin x padme#anakin and padme#anti tcw#clone wars 2003#love vs attachment#swpt#not my anidala
579 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh if you don’t mind, I would love to hear your thoughts on Raphael’s and Gortash’s gray areas! 😊🫶
This is going to be a whole ass character study and sorry I wrote days on this bc I didn't have time
Raphael
He’s a lawful neutral devil tied to the laws of the Nine Hells. Souls are a currency there. Contracts are how things run. Without either, the Hells would likely dissolve into chaos. He's also the son of Mephistopheles, second only to Asmodeus, ruler of all Hells. That's already an interesting context.
He says several times that mortals choose despicable and tyrannical acts when given free choice. He says that disapprovingly – and positions himself as the fairer, more just option. So this is already interesting: He isn't evil for cruelty or evil's sake. He's evil within the construct of his realm, upbringing, and very being (he *is* a devil/cambion after all), but authentically and ambitiously wants to use that for "good" (or at least: for better than tyranny, or horrible things mortals would do).
But then he bought a child, tortured his obsession, and does all kind of fucked up shit. Does he do that because he enjoys them? I think for Raphael, it's necessary and "correct". He probably doesn't fathom the concept of altruism or compassion; instead everything is a transaction to him, opportunistic, and cynical almost. Still, there's something that motivates him to do *better*, which I find interesting. It's also possible he's full of shit, but I think it makes him more interesting and complex if he's actually honest with the player, so I choose to believe that.
Gortash
He grew up poor, hungry, and without a future. His parents were so shitty they sold him to the Hells. There he was beaten, abused, and who tf knows what he saw there. He's similarly ambitious to Raphael in the sense that he wants to rule it all. Rule it all for Bane – only Gortash's tyranny is more structural, systematical, focused on oppressing opposition, rather than torturing individuals. Gortash probably doesn't know (care?) who's dying for his rule. It simply does not matter to him. Why? Because he thinks that everyone holds their own fate in their hands.
I will cut him some slack for his childhood trauma to a certain degree. Also being a follower of Bane? Cult. Brainwashed. Delulu. Sorry Enver but you're wrong. You're brilliant but so stupid. Wtf.
He doesn't seem to find joy in the tyranny, however. Rather, his end goal is control – which he lacked his entire childhood. But then again he sold Karlach. When pressed, he says she had the opportunity to turn that situation into something good – I wrote about it here. I think he's firmly in the camp that every individual has the power to turn their life into what they want. It worked for him – but he doesn't understand that it's not how the world works. He's completely blinded by his own upbringing and experience and falls into confirmation bias.
----
Raphael's core belief is that mortals cannot be trusted to make their own decisions, as their tyranny makes them weak.
Gortash's core belief is that mortals must make their own decisions and have the power to change their own fate.
So, do I think either of them is "evil"? No. Do I think they are complex characters who do evil things? Oh absolutely.
But that also means they could be redeemed. Potentially. 👀
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
the cookie run fandom genuinely has some of the worst media literacy ive ever seen when it comes to morality. 99% of the takes you see on characters are horribly simplified and try and fit them into two categories, fully good and fully evil. the best example is clotted cream cookie and how people jumped from “fucked up evil politician snake man” to “poor uwu innocent baby” after chapter two of odyssey came out and completely ignored all of the nuance to his character. is clotted cream cookie a victim of a shitty upbringing and possible abuse? yep!! did he also willingly turn a blind eye to the lower city and how the republic mistreats them? also yep!!! hes not all the way good but hes not all the way bad either but GOD FORBID characters not be boiled down to something easily digestible for chronically online 13 year olds on tiktok i guess. dont even get me started on the cookies of darkness
#cookie run#clotted cream cookie#i realize reading this that this post seems like a really elaborate shitpost if you arent into cookie run but uhhhh#abuse mention
383 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jin the Abandoned Alchemist
Redesigned. I changed my Alchemist!MC Jin's design to have more wizard vibes and I think I gave him the standard Disney villain colour scheme. Welp.
Pronouns: He/Him
Birthday: September 13
Height: 5’7 / 171 cm
Personality: Gentle, awkward nerd trying his best
Likes: Books, libraries, gardening, tea, sewing, learning new things (especially of the magic variety), cuddles
Dislikes: Hurting people, cruelty, spicy food, heights, the cold, liars, public speaking
Fatal flaw: Often lets his past and self-doubt consume him.
Other: Carries around a small rabbit plush named Aster that he made when he was younger. He’ll eventually give her to his love interest as a good luck charm (enchanted with a small protection spell, too — yes, this boy would give a protective charm to an eldritch horror because he genuinely worries for their safety) if they’re close enough Yes, this was 100% inspired by Hades
Quote: “I don’t think this was covered in my studies… Oh well! Trial and error is a perfectly valid method of learning.”
More about him below:
Jin is kind, gentle, inquisitive, curious and a bit naive from his sheltered upbringing. He’s always yearned for adventure, but never believed it was possible with his curse. Now, he finally gets his wish, though he had little choice in the matter.
Very socially awkward and easily flustered due to his lack of experience interacting with other people. And now, with his mentor’s betrayal, he’s a bit more reserved, unsure of who to trust.
Non-confrontational but quietly sassy. Ais might bring that side out of him more.
Jin calls him “Ais-hole” in his head. He’s aware that it’s not a particularly witty or even good insult, but it makes him feel better when the latter annoys him.
Book smart and street dumb
Jin tends to see the best in people, even to his own detriment.
Has avoided touch like the plague. He’s always careful not to get too physically close to someone, and because of this, he’s usually very observant and aware of his space. Not that he doesn’t crave physical affection. He definitely burst into tears when touching Leander for the first time.
This poor boy is touchstarved (ha) but he’ll never ask for physical affection, for fear of either, at worst, hurting someone or at best, being a nuisance.
He also struggles with a lot of guilt for craving touch since he knows it’s dangerous to other people and it’s selfish to yearn for things that put other people in danger, right?
I'm not sure whether this is canon or not, but I wrote his curse as gradually growing, both in surface area and in power. When he was an infant, the curse was only in his fingertips and it didn't make anyone lose their minds. One touch would bring horrible, unmentionable thoughts but those thoughts would pass.
As he grew older, the curse spread from his fingers to his palms to his hands, up his forearms and his elbows. Its effects also grew in intensity. What was a horrible, but instantaneous thought became one minute of terror, then two, then an hour, and so on, and the nature of them grew worse. Currently, it dooms anyone it touches.
And the curse is spreading still. Jin views his curse as a ticking time bomb, so he is desperate to find a cure as soon as possible. He doesn't know what will happen when it consumes him entirely. He is terrified of becoming a monster.
He used to have dark brown eyes, but the curse made his eyes gold. His left sclera has taken on the dark grey and the gold veins of the curse. I imagine that when — if — he is cured, they'll turn back to their original brown.
Adores plants and plushies — soft things that he’s able to touch without hurting. He has a small stuffed rabbit named Aster that he made when he was younger, one of the first things he’s sewn. She has a hidden pocket to carry herbs or small potion bottles. He places lavender and chamomile in Aster when he has trouble sleeping.
He's a bit embarrassed about his love for plushes. His old magic mentor found his fixation undignified. And really, he shouldn't be needing or craving such creature comforts, as if he was still a child.
He has his plants, though. That's something useful and conducive to his studies.
He talks to his plants sometimes when gardening. “You wouldn’t go mad on me, would you, matricaria chamomilla? … Although, since I’m currently talking to a plant, you’re probably not the one I have to worry about going mad.”
Before coming to Eridia, he used to grow and make his own tea blends. If he wasn’t an alchemist, he wouldn’t mind opening a tea shop.
His spellbook was given to him by his old mentor. It acts as a notebook for magic studies and research, but he also uses it as a diary, somewhere to doodle and write down his thoughts.
He has some trauma surrounding magic, considering that it was a big part of his relationship with his mentor, but he genuinely loves learning and mastering it. He’s always believed himself to be a burden, but magic is something that he can use to actually help others instead of harm them. Despite everything that’s happened, he can’t help believing he owes that gift to his old mentor.
The Senobium always sounded like a dream to him, so hearing that there is darkness beneath the promises of knowledge and wisdom and history is extremely disappointing, to say the least. He’d had hopes of eventually becoming a student.
Aside from matters of his curse, he tries to be as honest and sincere as he can be. Eridia is a city that runs on information, but he chooses to freely give what information he can. He doesn’t believe in withholding answers that could help someone in need. And that is part of how he loses faith in the Senobium after discovering that they’ve closed their gates. All the knowledge of the world, locked away as people suffer, and for what?
This is also probably influenced by his mentor’s betrayal, having been lied to his entire life inclines him to prefer the truth, whatever the cost.
Sometimes, he regrets running away. Was he too hasty? Was he selfish? He was hurt when he learned her true plans for him, but maybe he owed it to her. A small thing to repay the mage who had taken him in. If all he brought was pain and terror, what was a bit of suffering on his part for answers?
And then, he also honestly misses her. He can't say the mage was a bad person, she gave him a home. She practically raised him. She taught him magic. And she made him feel not alone. She cared for him, and he doesn’t believe it was an act — at least, not all of it.
His zodiac sign is Virgo
MBTI is INFJ
Enneagram is 9w1
Here's his full outfit and pose below (plus nervous Jin with his cursed eye, laughing Jin and panicking Jin):
It's funny that he has the Disney villain colour scheme because when I imagine him, he moves like a Disney princess. I gave him an eyepatch because I feel like he would be insecure about his eye where the curse had spread. He has gloves for the extra coverage but he doesn't wear them all the time.
I also made a character playlist for him. Some songs are just there for the vibes. The sounds I associate with him are autumnal and folk-y:
"Wanderer's Lullaby" by Adriana Figueroa
I imagine his magic mentor Minerva used to sing this to him.
“Out There” by Tom Hulce & Tony Jay
“The Loneliest Girl” by Celeina Ann & Nai Br.XX
“Ruin” by The Amazing Devil
“Waiting in the Wings (Reprise)” by Eden Espinosa & Hudson D’Andrea
"How to Be Invisible" by Kate Bush
“Monster” by Caissie Levy
“Irrelevant” by Lauren Aquilina
“I Was Human” English Cover by rachie
“The Horror and the Wild” by The Amazing Devil
“happiness” by Taylor Swift
“Message in the Wind” by Celeina Ann & Nai Br.XX
“I Am Not Nothing” by Beth Crowley
This is how I imagine his good ending, if I manage to get him one. Haha, I am so scared about the game. In a good way! There’s also this male nightcore version.
“King” by Lauren Aquilina
#touchstarved#touchstarved oc#touchstarved game#red spring studio#jin the alchemist#my oc#original character#my original character#my drawings#traditional art#my art#he did just write down ‘cuddles’ and then frantically scribble it out like ‘no you don’t GET to you piece of shit what is wrong with you’
18 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
discordbite
KixxMxBoy
ninjacheese13
I like pencils (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
avbreybeardsley
Aubrey Beardsley
heroesshade98
HeroesShade98
ariesrising30
Maja K.