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#This isn’t specifically related to anything canon but. it could be.

minecraft-inspo · 1 year

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This is an updated version of a post I made several years ago, expanded to include all living things in Minecraft, not just the mobs.

Have any questions about why I placed something where I did? Please check out my explanatory post here before you ask about it:

Anything marked as “confirmed” is either a real evolutionary relationship as we currently understand them, or a relationship that is easily intuited. For example, goats and sheep are actually closely related, while spiders and cave spiders can be easily intuited to be related.

If the lines are solid, please check Google before you try to correct me - real life evolution is sometimes unintuitive! Yes, birds really are reptiles, pandas are carnivorans (which is not the same thing as a carnivore), dolphins are ungulates, and kelp isn’t a plant.

Yes, I know zombie horses exist. No, I didn’t include them because they don’t spawn naturally.

I’ll include the same disclaimer that I included in my last post: This tree is a mixture of actual biology and my personal headcanons, and so far as I know there is nothing objectively wrong with where I placed specific mobs, but there could be a lot subjectively wrong if you were to interpret the mobs differently than I did. In other words, the biology should be correct, but don’t take this as a statement of the actual canon within the game. I should also note that this tree makes the assumption that all life originated in the overworld, rather than evolving separately in each dimension. I also included non-mob blocks and items that would likely be considered animals, or evidence of animals existing.

#minecraft #infographic #biology #evolution

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dentos-wife · 1 year

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Let’s talk how about Chrom and Robin’s bond evolved over time

With everyone clamoring over the new emblem I wanted to take a look back how we got here with their relationship and why I think at this point Chrobin is the intended or inferred Chrom pairing when it didn’t used to be.

In 2012 we got Fire Emblem Awakening, and as Chrom was related to Marth, his inferred pairing was Sumia a pegasus knight as a nod to Caeda, Marth’s canon wife. Granted because part of Awakening’s charm is you could pair anyone up, you didn’t have to pair Chrom up with Sumia if you didn’t wish to. But to IS she was the intended choice.

She had special scenes with Chrom and was the most likely to end up paired with him if you weren’t gunning for a specific wife for him

And you see her here in the opening with Lucina

Robin is you, the avatar, they don’t even have official art, just them with a hood

They had a canon design what we all know now but it wasn’t really used. And that should have been it as far as IS was concerned. Awakening was their last hurrah. And then FE blew up.

Robin’s canon design is now getting used, both the male and female version are now in Smash Bros. Then we have Warriors and Heroes and the Awakening cast shows up more. But not Sumia. Perhaps it’s because she’s not popular or the people flocked to Cordelia instead but she is the pegusus knight everyone loves. Sumia isn’t even in Warriors or the base FEH she gets added much later to FEH only with other less popular Awakening characters.

It’s here when FE became more maintstream I believe that IS changed their tune on Sumia being the intended wife and retconed it. I fully think Sumia was dropped and they no longer had an intended pairing for him all because she just wasn’t popular. Him and Robin were close of course they always were, obviously some would see it as friendship others would see it as something more the usual nothing really changed there.

And then 2022 ten full years after Awakening’s release...this happened

Couple things here. I fully believe the reason Chrom was paired with MRobin here instead of FRobin is for two big reasons reasons.

1) If they paired him with FRobin it canonizes a pairing so MRobin is the safer option, FEH doesn’t usually pair men and women unless they’re already a pairing. So MRobin got paired with Chrom and FRobin was on her own but she still has lines about how much Chrom meant to her.

2) MRobin is the more popular Robin as has been shown every year in CYL and he’d even win next year

So Chrom and Robin were always close it was a no brainer to make them a duo unit, they picked the male version on a very family oriented banner.

That said some of these lines...well let’s just say if a man and a woman were saying that to each other there would be no doubt here. Imagine if this Robin was the female version

Robin: There's Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, Frederick... I think we've got gifts for everyone. Don't we? Chrom: Well, all but one. What would you like your gift to be, Robin? Robin: What? Me? You can't just come out and ask like that, you know. There are rules! Chrom: You know I don't care about that. Just tell me what you want. Robin: Truthfully...I can't think of anything. Chrom: You don't want anything? Aw, come on. Think of the bind that puts me in. Robin: You gave my life meaning when I had nothing—not even my memory. The sense of purpose I've found at your side, working for peace in the world, is all I could ever ask for. Chrom: You're not alone in that, you know. I feel the same way. That's why I wanted to give you something nice. To show you how I feel. Robin: All right, all right. In that case, why don't you give me one of those flowers you're wearing? Chrom: It's only going to wilt. Robin: I'll press it into one of my books. That way I'll never forget this Day of Devotion.

Snippet from their duo convo. Usually when someone gives flowers it’s considered a pretty romantic gesture I’ve heard plenty of people call this alt playfully the gays and yeah this is very strong.

FRobin even comments on them in one of her lines.

“That man with Chrom is a Robin from another world, right? They get along so well, I'm almost jealous...“

There was no need for that line at all, we can tell from their lines how flipping close they are but they felt the need to have another character comment on it in base lines

I do believe MRobin was used not to canonize a pairing...at first. And then they gave up because it looked like people really liked it going even further in the next year.

In Awakening Chrom and Robin refer to themselves as two halves of the same whole which is already a loaded term. But it’s never been used after and was just part of the game

Enter the next time they pair up as the Emblem of Bonds which brought that back for the first time since 2012, in full force

Correct me if I’m wrong but no one besides them have referred to each other as their other half in Awakening

Lucina does it in Engage. For reference other half means husband, wife or partner (romantic). I think after the Valentine’s alt they decided sure why not and now they’re really going in with Robin being Chrom’s other half when they only touched the term once past Awakening in a FRobin cipher card. Other half in Engage is Robin and he pops up when engaged with Chrom to mix magic with the attack. I don’t doubt you can mean a friend with this term but when paired with everything else they say to each other, it’s pretty strong evidence it’s further than friendship.

Okay now for the the ultimate Robin is now Chrom’s intended partner view, Legendary Robin also released this year

“Tactician of Ylisse. Celebrated as Exalt Chrom's other half in the legends that followed their exploits. Appears in Fire Emblem Awakening. “

I saw some people argue exalt could mean Lucina too but no it doesn’t, it clearly means Chorm it says so and if you didn’t believe that, we got a map that was the two called Chrom and his other half. Which is Robin.

His art also references his other half status, he now wears blueish green jewelry which stands for Chrom and the brand of the exalt is on his chest plate

Finally in his damage art he once again has the symbol of the exalt formed in magic.

And a ring, some have argued it’s his clothes but usually the magic gauntlets he wears are on his middle finger and not under his gloves; pretty sure it’s a ring, it’s even on the ring finger of his left hand, where you generally put a wedding ring.

All this together is some very strong evidence, but put it with everything else they’ve done since last year and it’s clear to me, IS now is pushing Chrom and Robin as the intended pairing. Not canon like Marth and Caeda or Alm and Celica, but intended like they do with Eliwood and Ninian and some others I’m probably forgetting. And because MRobin is who they use and their “canon” sort of like FCorrin is the “canon” Corrin, IS is strongly hinting at MChrobin

Which fascinates me, we went from Chrom with a intended implied wife to scrapping it and pretended it never happened to this, Chrom with an intended husband. Him and his best friend, both two guys, very much in love. In ten years IS changed it’s mind on the intended canon pairing that isn’t even possible in the base game. They are a fate defying duo, the emblem of bonds, the exalt and his other half, two halves of the same whole and they are showing that in symbolism harder than ever. I think that’s really cool

To end this I’m aroace and see romance a little differently from the amatonormic norm Chrom and Robin could just be really good friends lord knows I also think friendship should be just as important as romance BUT if they were, it’s very clear they are each others most important person over any wife they might separately have. But even that doesn’t follow a typical heteronormative relationship no? Chrom and Robin’s bonds are so strong they transcend the concept of romance and friendship as we know it, there is no name for the type of love they share it’s beyond us.

But what about Lucina? (and Morgan) In a world with magic, dragons, people dying and coming back to life, time travel and more the idea of two guys somehow having a child is no longer far fetched at all really, or even surrogates exist.

Also they act like kind of like dads with her and it’s really cute

Now granted IS could remake Awakening and MRobin will still not be able to marry Chrom and this whole analysis would have been for naught but I think if they do remake it they’ll add it. Look at how many people have been introduced to them just through Heroes and Engage you don’t think people are going to want to pair up the exalt and his other half in their game?

To sum it up, yes there literally is no heterosexual explanation for where IS has taken this. It wasn’t originally the intended pairing but it sure is now, I don’t think there is any room for denial anymore until we see what they do with a remake.

#chrobin #fire emblem #MChrobin #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem engage #analysis #like at this point if you don't like it you can ignore it but it's VERY clear to me IS is going with it now #if Sumia was more popular would we still have ended up here? Dunno #this all is still the same for FRobin btw but she's not who IS is pushing as the canon Robin but it still stands #anything she gets with Chrom? Take the same way Chrom loves all Robins #if you read all this I love you

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mango-bango-bby · 8 months

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yandere! platonic miguel w a reader who isn't treated too well by their parents in their dimension and tries to be at HQ a lot to escape please?

Ty for ur time!

♡ Escape ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, platonic yandere, dad!Miguel, teen/tween!reader, mentions of abuse and neglect, isolation, basically kidnapping

Summary: Your family is mistreating you and Miguel notices (Platonic!Yan!Miguel O’Hara x GN!teen/tween!reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

♡ You loved being a spider-person. Although it wasn’t the powers, or the love from the public for your super-hero persona, or even really saving people that you loved about it. You liked being able to hide. You liked swinging your way up to the top of a building and staying there for hours, away from home until you absolutely had to home.

♡ So when you were introduced to the spider-society, of heroes just like you, of course you wanted to be there. You stayed there for hours, even late in the night. Even doing mundane things, just at HQ instead of home.

♡ Miguel of course noticed. Yes, you were an “annoying kid” as he told himself. But you also helped him, you were strong and helped him track down anomalies. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had grown fond of you. You were just a silly kid, he didn’t outwardly say it but he felt like he was responsible for you. Perhaps it was the father in him, but he felt the need to care for you, keep you safe.

♡ He did notice that you spent a lot of time at HQ, but more specifically in his office. You would just say hello to him and sit on the floor. He was a bit annoyed at first but you weren’t interrupting so it didn’t bother him to much. He did notice that you would just… sit there. You wouldn’t do anything spider-man related, you just exsisted. You would eat in there, watch things on your phone, do your homework, watch him do stuff on the monitors. You did everything in his office, maybe because you felt safe with him.

♡ Miguel noticed, but foolishly didn’t think much of it. He actually liked you, so it didn’t bother him too much. Maybe it was the father in him, or maybe that you clearly were trying to help him. But he felt protective over you, you were just a kid after all.

♡ What he definitely noticed and was concerned about is when one day, you showed up wearing your hero mask. You kept your spider-person mask on. But not in battle, just hanging out in his office. You were just watching him do stuff on the monitors while wearing your hero mask. Of course, you were hiding a bruise but no one knew.

♡ Although you eventually couldn’t take it anymore, all of your emotions erupting out at once. So you went to the only person you trusted, the only person who made you feel safe. Which was Miguel. You walked into HQ crying, keeping you mask on to try and conceal your tears. And you just hugged him and he rocked you side to side as if you were a baby.

♡ After you tell him, he knows exactly what he has to do. How could he ever let you go back to a family like that!? So you stay with him for that night. But he convinces you to stay with him longer, your family isn’t safe for you to be around. Perhaps he may need to pay a visit to your parents, they were going to be your canon event anyways so he might speed that up.

♡ You’re only a child. Nothing is exactly safe for you in your universe. Not your family, and especially not being a hero! So he begins to isolate you, convincing you to stay home. But it’s better than your parents so you gladly accept being isolated and kept away from the rest of the world. But at least you’re getting loved, being cared for and doted on by your real papa.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: You all are loving platonic yandere lately because it’s like all that’s in my inbox 😭😭 Not that I’m real complaining though 🫶 I’ve been working on what Halloween requests I have lately 💗)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

#soft yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere!miguel o’hara #platonic yandere miguel o’hara #platonic yandere miguel o’hara x reader

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lincolndjarin · 2 months

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Every Now and Then - ch. two

[ And if You Only Hold Me Tight ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 9.3k

summary : you spend some time tommy, you spent some time with joel.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, language, panic attacks, violence, injury, wounds, possessive behavior, toxic relationships, animal death, i probs missed some i never know how to tag so lmk if i misses anything !!

a/n : this took so long and i dont even know it its good so i'm deeply sorry about that.

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“It’s nice to meet you Ellie.” You hold your hand out across the table to her, offering your own name up in the process, noticing an incredulous look in her eyes as you say it. Of course she doesn’t shake it, you’ve worked with enough survivors her age to know how they think.

She doesn’t trust any of this, and you can’t blame her. Every single thing she’s seen since arriving here is too good to be true, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s okay, you can be patient. She just needs to learn how to be a kid again. When she makes no attempt to move you pull your hand back, your smile never wavering. You’ve met kids in much worse condition than this, you can work with this.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself, Ellie.” You set the notebook you’d been writing in back down onto the table, you don’t want this to feel like an interrogation for her, it needs to be a conversation or you won’t get any of the information you need.

“Like what?” She’s slouched down into the chair, her arms crossed across her chest. She has her defenses up, she has spent her entire life protecting herself, she isn’t going to stop just because a stranger offered her a mug of tea. A mug of tea that she has notably not touched.

“Anything you want to, or I could ask some specifics if you’d like.” You take a sip of your own tea, hoping it might show her it’s safe. She only hums in response, you decide it might be for the best if you just ask her what you need to know. “Let’s start with a few easy ones, how old are you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“We need to assess your health, what classes you’ll be put in, if you’ll be needing any feminine products. I promise, anything I ask is for your own good.” Seeing kids like Ellie is a painful reminder of just how lucky your own little ones are, it’s a wonder she made it this far. You can’t hold her skepticism against her, her distrust is why she’s still alive. “Would it help if we brought your father in? He’s just down the hall with Maria.” You aren’t sure why, you typically handle every stray but she had insisted on helping you out today. She’d spewed some sort of excuse about how Ellie might need some special attention but as far as you can tell she’s in the same state that most kids are in when they arrive.

“He’s not my dad.” She’s quick to say it, as if it’s a sore subject.

“May I ask his relation to you then?” Maria had told you she arrived with her father, you were told to expect one teenage girl and one man in his fifties.

“He’s… my friend?” She sounds unsure, unsure enough to ring alarm bells in your head.

“Honey, are you in a safe situation? We can help you if you need-” She doesn’t even let you finish your question before sitting up straighter.

“No, no, no, gross, it’s not like that, he’s not like that.” The look of disgust on her face brings you immense relief, this world is full of enough horrors for a young woman to face.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.” Even if she hasn’t been through that, she hasn’t had it easy, no one has. But there’s something distinct in her eyes. Loss. She’s seen more than enough of it, more than anyone her age should. Her eyes keep darting to the door, her head tilts in that direction every time someone walks by. She’s worried about her companion. She doesn’t want to lose him too. “I know none of this makes sense, and you have no reason to trust me but I need you to try Ellie. And if I ask you anything you aren’t comfortable with then you don’t have to answer but I need you to try, please. The faster we finish up here, the faster you can get back to your friend.”

She takes a moment, you’re practically holding your breath when she finally nods.

Perfect, you can work with a nod. You love a nod, a nod is all you need to help this girl.

“Let’s start with your age again.”

“Fourteen.” You’ll have to have a menstruation kit sent to whatever house they put her in, most people’s cycles start being regular once after a few months in Jackson.

“Thank you.” All you get is another nod yet you can’t help but smile. “Do you know where you were born?”

“No.” Her eyes are trained on your shoes, occasionally darting around the room but staying low for the most part.

“Where did you grow up?”

“The QZ.” The thought makes you sick for several reasons. The last place a child should grow up is the streets of a quarantine zone, even if she was in the FEDRA program it wouldn’t have been easy. The thought of any QZ still makes you queasy, even after this long.

“Which one?” Anywhere but Boston.

“Boston.” Of course. With your luck she would be. Someone’s far from home.

“FEDRA program?” As terrible as they are, they always keep the kids' vaccinations up to date, one less thing for you to worry about.

“Mhmm.”

“How old were you when you left?”

“Fourteen.” How the hell did she make it to Jackson all the way from Boston in such a short period of time? Why come to Jackson at all? There’s certainly other QZ’s between here and there, there’s probably other settlements too.

“Can I ask why you left?” It’s not a question you need to ask but your stomach is in knots at the mention of the Boston QZ and you can’t help yourself.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Something flashes across her face, she isn’t trying to be rude, she simply doesn’t want to talk about it.

“That’s fine.” You don’t need to worry about it. She doesn’t know him. There’s no reason for her to know him. QZ’s house hundreds, if not thousands, of people. There’s no reason to spiral over nothing. “Do you have any allergies that you’re aware of?”

“Nope.” She makes a popping sound on the “P” as she leans back in the chair, trying to look relaxed despite how on edge she still is. You decide not to put anymore pressure on her, it won’t do you any good.

“How are you feeling physically? Any symptoms of illness?”

“Like infection?” You have to stifle a laugh, if she was infected the two of you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

“I’m not worried about that, I mean something more like a runny nose or a cough.”

“Oh. No.”

“Any skills in particular you’d like to learn? Our school system is a little less traditional than what you probably had with FEDRA.”

“I like science.” She sits up a bit, good, you’ve found something that piques her interest.

“Then I will make sure you’re enrolled in some science classes. But I meant skills like agriculture, construction, or veterinary care. Something you could learn about that interests you. You won’t be asked to help out around town until you’re sixteen but we like to let you explore different things to see what you like-”

“Could I learn how to shoot a gun?” She leans forward before you can finish your thought.

“You could apprentice some of the hunters, we could also have you trained for patrol and scavenging which involves gun safety and training courses. You’re a bit young for those but I’m sure I could ”

“Really?” You can tell by the inflection in her voice that she still doesn’t trust you entirely, even if she’s excited.

“Of course, you’ll probably be the youngest student in the training class but I’m sure you can handle it.” She needs something good in her life. You want to protect everyone who finds their way to Jackson but this girl makes your heart ache. Most adults you’ve worked with aren’t able to hold themselves together this long, putting on a brave face despite everything.

“Do you like burgers?” You almost cringe as you say it, hoping she’s had food outside of the synthetic shit FEDRA produces.

“I guess?”

“I’m having a little cookout tomorrow evening once everyone’s finished their work, it’ll be small, just me and some family but you’re welcome to join. You can bring your friend, I have two little ones you can play with. They might be a little younger than your usual friends but I promise they’re great company.” You swear she almost smiles, and suddenly you just want to make this poor kid smile. “You know, I’ve got a telescope in my garage, so if you stop by it’s all yours.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, I’ve never even touched the thing so maybe you can put it to good use. Let me write down the house description for you, it isn’t too far from this building, you can stop in whenever you want tomorrow. There’s an empty house across the street as well, maybe I could show it to you, see if you like it.” You pencil it down, tearing the paper and handing it to her. This isn’t something you’d typically do but you can’t resist an opportunity to help her feel more at home here.

“Yeah, I mean that would be great.”

“Perfect.” You lean back in your chair. “What sort of hobbies interest you?” You’ll be in charge of putting together a welcome basket for her since Maria has marked her down as a permanent occupant.

“Reading, I like comics. And I used to draw a lot in the QZ.” Perfect, books are easy to find since Jackson was built around a small library.

“Okay then, I think that’s all I need from you for now but I’ll be around soon once you get housing settled. You can go join Maria and your friend if you’d like, I have to figure out what house we’re going to put you two in but I’ll be stopping by later with a few things for you.” That actually isn’t all you need from her, there are more questions on your mind, one specific question. Ask her what his name is.

“Thanks.” She stands, quickly heading towards the exit as you grab your notebook, you need to make a list of everything they’ll be needing.

You shouldn’t. If by some stroke of misfortune you’re right this question will only serve to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to push away. You shouldn’t.

But you do.

Before she’s out the door you call out her name, you don’t want to know, but you have to.

“Ellie, what’s your friend's name?”

You found the treehouse two months after you found Jackson.

With tears streaming down your face you had dropped the twins off at Maria’s, mumbling apologies before going to the edge of town, a large amount of Jackson was empty, and still is. They’re planning for the future. Someday, generations from now, the town will grow and they’ll use these houses to accommodate families. But for now it’s just an empty town, one that you realized had a treehouse. You had hidden yourself away there, curling up into a ball to become as small as possible.

Tommy had found you hours later, shivering, with no more tears left to cry. And he hadn’t chastised you or asked you why you’d done it, he’d just taken your hand and walked you home. It doesn’t take him hours this time, only about thirty minutes according to your watch. You hear the crunch of his boots, the walking pattern you recognize as his, and the creak of the boards as he pushes the hatch open before sliding up into the small space with you.

Before he speaks you’re already reaching for him, desperate to cling to some kind of familiar safety.

“Hey darlin’.” It’s a dance you two do, fluid and instinctual as he pulls you into his arms, you slot yourself between his bent legs as he wraps himself around you. You used to sit like this when you couldn’t find shelter on snowy nights, one of the many habits you had trouble breaking when you found Jackson. Maria would never ask you to change your relationship with him, it was a decision you had made with Tommy when he told you he wanted to marry her. A part of you just sort of knew she didn’t like it, so you stopped. And you’d never hold that against her, if the roles were reversed you certainly wouldn’t be as kind as she’s been. That’s why you’ve always loved Maria, since the first day you met her she has been like a sister, patient but blunt with you.

Except in this one instance.

She withheld some particularly important information.

“The twins?” You lay back against him as you mumble.

“Maria’s watching them. They’re helping her make dinner, you shoulda’ seen them in the kitchen. I swear she’s the only person they listen…” His voice trails off when he feels you tensing up all over again as you go back to fighting off tears.

A silence falls between you, familiar and reminiscent of your first few days together out in the woods. And just like back then, you’re the one to break it.

“Have you seen him yet?” The words feel small and hoarse in your throat.

“No. Couldn’t bring myself to.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, you wish you could find comfort in any of this but there’s just too much dread. Too much unease fills your stomach to relax.

“Does he know you’re here?” You wish your voice didn’t tremble so much.

“Maria didn’t tell him.”

“Are we sure it’s even him?”

“Not a lot of Joel Millers walking around during the apocalypse.” It’s like he can sense your skepticism as he quickly continues. “She said he looked like a Miller.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Like me but grayer.” Fair enough.

“Does he know I’m here?” There’s no way. He couldn’t.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Can’t stay that way forever.” You know that. But you don’t have anything to say about it so you move on, and redirect the anger that mixes with your confusion and fear.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” He can’t take your side in this, as much as you want him to, he has to take her side because her’s is the rational one. Do you have a side? Can you be mad at her for this? Are there even sides?

“Probably because she knew we’d react like this.” His head tilts a bit to rest against your own. You’re thankful for this position so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“She should have told us.” You’re trying to remain calm but your voice is pitching up higher by the minute.

“She was going to, she just didn’t know how. She thought she had more time”

You need to relax. It feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest and you’re certain Tommy feels it too.

“How did he find us?” He wouldn’t have been looking for you specifically, unless he had a death wish.

“On accident, I think. Maria said he was looking for me when they found him.” That makes sense. It’s just a coincidence that you’re also here. He has no way of knowing that you even know Tommy. How he managed to locate him is another matter.

“We’re two thousand miles away from the QZ, how the fuck did he find you?”

“He always gets what he wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Plain and simple, you don’t need much more than that.

“I don’t want to see him.” An impossible request, but you make it anyway.

“We both know that isn’t possible.”

“Tell her to send him away.” Also unlikely.

“You know she can’t do that, we don’t turn folks away from Jackson.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Like hell you will.” There is no fight in his voice, just certainty as he holds you a little tighter. Not without me. The silent promise that lingers under his words, but it’s more complicated than that now, you have two toddlers and he has a wife, there is no running away from this. No running away from him

He’s inevitable.

It doesn’t matter if the world ends, and you run halfway across the country, Joel Miller is inevitable.

“He’s got a kid.” You mumble as you reach for his hand, entwining your fingers with his. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the warmth of his skin against yours.

He scoffs. “He’s got two.”

“Another kid, some girl. He brought her here all the way from Boston.”

He shifts a bit, clearly confused. “Why?”

“I was hoping you’d know, it isn’t exactly in his nature to help the needy.”

He pauses for a moment. “Well, I mean, how old is she?”

“Fourteen.”

“Well there’s your reason, Sarah was fourteen.”

Sarah.

A girl you know very little about other than the fact that she’s your daughter's namesake. Sarah Ruth Miller. It had been Tommy’s idea, you had only picked out a name for a boy and you owed Tommy everything for keeping you alive that long, so when he asked if he could pick his niece's middle name you’d been more than happy to oblige.

It hadn’t been Joel who told you about Sarah, he never even told you he had a kid.

Tommy had told you about it just before the twins were born. You’d been snowed into a cabin and he’d just returned from hunting with a grin on his face as he told you he had a surprise. You couldn’t sleep, between the cold and the pain in your lower back you were just too uncomfortable most nights. Tommy always insisted on staying up to keep you company even if he ended up falling asleep most of the time.

That night he told you about how he lost his niece on outbreak day as he skinned the fox he’d caught in one of his traps as you sat beside him in front of the crumbling fireplace. When he finished the story he held up the pelt and told you he was going to make your babies first blanket with it.

Of course at the time neither of you knew that he would have to make a second blanket, or that he would need to do it a month sooner than either of you had planned.

“I invited him to dinner tomorrow.” No sense in hiding the fact from him, he’ll find out either way.

“What?” His hand tightens around yours and it’s your turn to comfort him as your thumb rubs circles against the tense skin.

“Ellie- the kid, I invited her before I knew about Joel. Even told her she could bring him.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. Of course you invited him to dinner completely by accident, sounds like something you would do.

“Then why don’t we just get it over with?” Or you could leave, brave the Wyoming wilderness with your kids and his wife and make a run for it, far, far, away from Joel Miller.

But you can’t do that.

So you might as well get it over with.

“Together?” You bring his hand up to your face to warm the icy skin of your cheek.

“Together.”

He means it. He stays with you until the next day, walking you back into town and bringing you to his house. Maria starts apologizing the second the two of you walk through the door but you just hug her. She doesn’t owe you anything, any anger you thought you felt towards her was misplaced.

And you all settle in for the night.

On particularly bad nights you’ll spend the night at their house. It’s been happening less and less these last few months but it’s an unspoken decision tonight as Maria brings down sleeping bags from the attic for the kids.

You tuck the kids in by the fireplace, hoping that they don’t catch the vacant look in your eyes as you kiss their foreheads. Thankfully they both seem to be too excited about having a living room campout to notice. You hear hushed whispers from the kitchen, it sounds like an argument so you just sit on the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you stare out the window facing the street.

What house did she put them in? There are a few options for temporary housing, but he could be anywhere. The thought makes you nauseous. Thankfully you’re distracted when you eventually hear Maria stomping up the stairs followed by a sigh from the kitchen before Tommy joins you on the couch.

“Everything all right?” You mumble, hoping to not wake the kids as you offer up some of the blanket to him.

“It will be.”

God you hope so.

“How do you wanna do this?”

Good question.

Preferably you wouldn’t be doing this at all, instead you would be enjoying what might be the last nice day before autumn sets in entirely. You, Arthur, Ruth, Tommy, and Maria. You’d still be happy if Ellie came over by herself but that’s so unlikely you don’t even consider it an option. Joel’s too protective and you confirmed with Maria that Ellie would be coming. He won’t let her go alone, you know that better than anyone.

You rub the back of your neck with your freehand. “The kids stay inside with Maria.” Ruth is already there, helping her aunt with the salad as Arthur sits in your lap, playing with a few stones he’s set up on the picnic table.

“Okay.” Tommy’s biting his nails, you’d spent weeks reprimanding him about that until he broke the habit.

Your knee starts bouncing, a nervous habit of your own that you’ve had for as long you can remember. Thankfully Arthur simply hums to himself as you bounce him. As far as you can tell neither one of the twins knows something is wrong, you can only hope it stays that way.

“We can wait for them out here, I can ask Ellie to go in and help Maria with the kids.”

“And then?”

You frown in contemplation. “I haven’t planned that far ahead.”

“So you didn’t plan for the most important part?”

“Did you?”

His teeth shift when you ask, biting down hard enough to split his nail lower than he intended. You watch as blood blooms there while he curses under his breath.

“Shit, go inside and grab a bandage, they’re in the cabinet above the sink.” He stands as you wave him towards the house, he brings his thumb to his mouth, his brow furrowed. “And bring Maria and Ruth out with you when you come back so we can go over everything with her.” He nods, humming in response before he disappears behind the screen door.

“Is Uncle Tommy okay?” When you look down you’re met with a worried look plastered on your son's face. You instinctively cup his face with your hand, using your thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. He looks too much like his father when he does that.

“He’s okay, love. He’s just gotta go get your Aunt and Ruth.” You lean down, kissing his forehead before turning to set him down next to you.

“Okay, Mama.” He seems satisfied with your response as he gives your leg a little pat before running off towards the edge of the yard. You’ve got a patch of rocks and gravel the kids like to dig through. You turn to watch him, with your back now leaning against the picnic table as he crouches down, examining the ground before finding a suitable stone. Clutching it in his hand he rushes back to you, holding it up for your approval.

“Very pretty, thank you.” You take it from him with a smile, setting it behind you on the table with the rest of them. He repeats the process several times, staring down at the ground, scrutinizing each rock before bringing the ones he deems good enough over to you. You give appropriate oo’s and ah’s to each one, grateful for the brief peace your son is able to give you. He carries on with this for sometime, until you have a sizable pile of rocks beside you.

He leaves, and he returns, dozens of times until he decides not to return to the patch of gravel.

You thank him for the speckled stone he hands you now but instead of running back across the yard he squints, staring up at your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He hops up onto the bench next to you, grabbing the sleeve of your shirt and bunching it up in his little fist as you give him a soft smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, hon.” You ruffle his hair a bit but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“Why’d you make a mad face then? Uncle Tommy too.”

So much for the kids being clueless, they’ve always been too smart for their own good.

Shit.

You sigh, looking up at the clouds briefly before looking back down at him.

No sense in lying to him. “You know how Uncle Tommy has a brother?” You wrap an arm around him, pulling him close.

His face scrunches up a bit as he thinks. “Yeah…” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced as you give him a reassuring smile.

“Well, we don’t really- we don’t always get along with Uncle Tommy’s brother, and he’s gonna be visiting us soon.”

“Why?”

“He’s in Jackson for a little bit, and he came a long way to get here-”

“No Mama, why don’t you like him?”

This is a conversation you had hoped to have with your children when they’re older. Preferably it would be one you wouldn’t have to have at all, but it’s just another unavoidable part of Joel. They’re already old enough to ask questions, it started when kids in their class began asking if Tommy was their dad. Which of course led to the twins asking you one night just before bed the same question.

“No love, he’s your uncle, who told you that?” You don’t want that rumor going around, people already talk about it, it doesn’t help that they both bear a resemblance to him.

“No one, Annie asked us.” Your daughter answers as you brush some of her hair behind her ear. You recognize the name, it’s a girl in their daycare class.

“And what did you tell her?”

“That we just got a mom.” Ruth answers but Arthur picks up the second she’s finished speaking.

“Do we have a dad?” He tilts his head to the side as you swallow loudly.

“Yes, you do.”

“Where?” Ruth asks.

Last you’d heard he was in Boston.

“I’m not sure.” They turn and look at each other before turning in unison towards you, you should have known they wouldn’t take that answer. “We lived together for a little while, in New York, and then we got separated.” None of that means anything to either of them but it’s an answer, which is better than nothing.

Arthurs tiny hand squeezes yours, pulling you back into reality. You often wonder if they know when you’re lost in a memory, he looks up at you curiously. What did you do to deserve such a patient child?

You take a moment to think of a way to phrase it. “We… got into a fight. A long time ago.”

“About what?”

“Grown up stuff.” Your heartbeat quickens, you don’t want him to know about all that, he’s too little, you need to end this conversation.

“What kin-“ When he starts another line of questioning you poke at his sides, sliding him off the bench in a fit of giggles.

“Time to go inside, nosy little man.” You follow after him as he rushes away, brown hair that’s just starting to curl at the ends falling into his eyes as he runs away from the house.

You catch up to him within a few steps, scooping him up and cradling him like a baby. He lets out a high pitched shriek until you squish your face into his cheek, kissing the rosy skin until he quiets down to a few small giggles.

“Your aunt needs some help in the kitchen, you’re gonna go play with her and your sister now.” He nods as he squirms in your arms until he’s more comfortable, wrapping his arms around your neck and resting his chin on your shoulder as you walk him back towards the house.

He’s gonna need a nap soon, which means Ruth is gonna need a nap soon. Maybe you should try and get them both down before everything else happens.

Right on cue, Tommy pushes open the door with Ruth on his hip, Maria not far behind him. Based on the smiles they’re both sporting you can assume they’ve made up. They always do.

“I think it might be time for these two to head inside.” Tommy gives you a soft smile and for a single second you get to pretend that everything’s fine. Maria takes a lighter towards the grill, trying to light it as you go to stand next to Tommy, the twins both grinning at each other.

In your own little bubble, everything is completely fine, and you’re with your family.

And at the end of your single perfect second the bubble is popped. It all happens before you’re ready, although you doubt you could ever really be ready for this.

Maria pockets her lighter, mumbling something about going inside to look for matches after a few unsuccessful attempts. You set Arthur down, nudging him in her direction, he quickly runs towards her, taking her hand as she begins to make her way back towards the house. Tommy wraps his free hand around your shoulder. Giving you a reassuring squeeze as you rest your head against him to stare at your little girl.

“We’ve got this.” He gives you another squeeze but you’re struggling to find safety in it. He’s always been the strong one, the confrontational one. He’s got this. You don’t. You tilt your head to stare at him when Ruth’s gaze goes from your face to his but your head snaps to the side when you hear your name called.

Everyone looks up. The twins, Maria, Tommy, and you, as Ellie walks around the side of the house and waves at you. The sound of your name makes the man walking behind her look as well, his all too familiar scowl scanning the yard, softening into a look of disbelief when his eyes settle on you.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“I don’t like havin’ you out there on your own. I worry too much.” He mumbles the words against the back of your neck as he tightens his hold around your waist. At some point the two of you had stopped pretending you’d wake up any other way and just went to bed like this. “Stay here, angel.”

You’re so comfortable you almost consider it, but you ran out of cards last week and you’re cleared for work as of today. “I have to go if I want to sign up for any of the well paying shifts, Joel.” You peel his arms off of you, sitting up as he matches your movements.

“Don’t sign up for that shit, it’s always somethin’ stupid or dangerous.” His voice is low and thick with sleep as he wraps his arms back around you. “If you need somethin’ I’ll get it for you.” He hasn’t shaved in a few weeks, his coarse facial hair rubs against your shoulder as he murmurs.

Who knew big, scary Joel Miller could be so clingy.

The most surprising part of your relationship, if you could even call it that, with Joel is just how needy he is. You don’t have any problems with it, it’s just a bit of a shock. Although maybe needy isn’t the right word.

Protective.

You’ve left the apartment two times in total since moving in with Joel, both times you insisted on needing air much to his dismay. He accompanied you around the block without a word the first time. The second time was the same, the only difference was that you stopped to buy a small bag of buttons, Joel had frowned as you made small talk with the older man sitting behind the table before rushing you home.

“You could have just told me you needed buttons.” He grumbles as he holds the door open for you as you make your way to the kitchen table, taking a seat as you take his flannel off of you, the sight of your tattered sports bra serves as a reminder of how badly you need to get back to work once you’re cleared.

“I don’t need buttons, you do. Every shirt you own is missing at least one.” You laid the shirt down on the table, pointing to the drawer next to the sink. “Get me the sewing kit.” His frown deepens but he does as you say before sitting down across from you.

Reaching across the table he sets the box down beside you, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Still, you should have just asked me.”

You open the small tin, unspooling a bit of thread. “I needed to go outside for a few minutes, it’s stuffy in here.”

“We could have opened a window.” He grumbles under his breath as you grin, holding the thread between your teeth while sliding the other end through the needle.

“It’s not the same and you know it.” You mumble through your teeth before releasing the thread and setting the needle down. You pour the buttons out onto the table, searching for one that best matches the beige of the buttons on the flannel. Eventually his hand encompasses your own as he guides you to one that’s a slightly different shape but matches the color perfectly. “Thank you.” You give him a teasing smile as you place it over the frayed threads where its predecessor once was.

That was a week ago and you haven’t been outside since but when Joel went to get the mail from downstairs he brought you a notice from the doctor that you were cleared to return to work today. Despite his protests you start to push the blanket off of you but he’s quick to pull it right back up into place.

“Stay, please.” He continues to hum against your skin.

“I need the money, Joel.” You turn to look at him, his usual morning sulky look seems doubled today.

“How much do you need?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he lets his face fall forward, his forehead resting on yours.

“It’s not like that.” You swear, if you asked him to, he'd find a way to give you the moon and stars, but you hate relying on him for everything, especially after such a long time of being dependent on him. “I just need to work.”

“You don’t need to. You want to.” His breath still smells like whiskey from last night as he gives you an exasperated glare.

“Fine, I want to work. My leg’s fine now, you can barely tell anything was wrong with it. I’ll be okay.” You lean just a bit more towards him, kissing his cheek before sliding out of bed.

You aren’t exactly dating Joel.

Dating seems so trivial during an apocalypse, and you haven’t had any conversations about it. It just sort of happened. You woke up one day and neither one of you wanted to pull away from the other, and it progressed from there. He came home from a job one night and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping himself around you and he kissed your forehead before falling asleep. You still don’t know if he knew you were awake. The next night you’d taken his face in your hands and kissed him, just to see what he’d do, thankfully after a moment of shock he’d kissed you back. And it just became another unspoken part of your life with Joel. He kissed you goodbye when he left to go do the things he refused to tell you about in any detail, and you always greeted him with a kiss when he returned.

But you don’t have sex.

You want to ask him why but you hold your tongue, it’s possible you’re just being impatient or maybe he just wants to wait. So you don’t push it or bring it up because you like how things are with him.

The word boyfriend is not a word that suits Joel.

He isn’t your boyfriend, he’s just sort of, yours.

“Angel, please.” He continues his griping as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Joel, please.” You repeat back at him, trying to mimic his low tone.

“I’m bein’ serious. Things have gotten bad out there recently, too much FEDRA bullshit.”

“It’s always been bad and I’ve always managed, I’ll be fine.” You pull one of his shirts out of the closet, slipping it on, starting to button it as he makes his way to the end of the bed.

“Can we at least talk about this?” He rests his elbows on his knees as he hunches over. The morning haze on his face is gone and is replaced by the stern scowl you’re used to.

“There isn’t anything to talk about. I’ll be careful, there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll see you tonight.” After digging through the dresser drawers you eventually find your only pair of jeans. Once your boots are laced you walk back over to him, standing between his legs and taking his face in your hands.

Staring down into his surprisingly gentle eyes, so dark that in the dim morning light they look pitch black.

God he’s pretty.

Even with that stupid pout of his.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You lean down, placing a kiss on his forehead before pulling away only to be stopped when his grip on your waist tightens.

“Just- wait.” You’re about to push him away with a laugh but his voice cracks just enough to make your smile drop.

You start to speak in a soft tone but you only get one word out. “Joel…”

“Please- I just- I can’t let you go out there and sign up for that shit. There’s jobs that aren’t dangerous, simple stuff.”

“Those jobs pay a few cards at best, hon. I can’t wear your clothes forever, I need new underwear, socks, all sorts of things. And I want to contribute around here, I’ll be okay, I promise.” You push the mess of hair falling across his forehead back as you stare down at him.

He looks so genuinely upset already and you haven’t even left yet, he’s making this far more difficult than you thought it’d be. “I won’t be able to do anything if I don’t know you’re safe. It’s dangerous for both of us, I can’t be distracted like that.” You sigh, long and loud as you drop your hands to your sides.

The more you think about it the more it makes sense. He really does worry too much, and even if you don’t know exactly what he does for work, you know it’s dangerous.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

“Okay.” You groan.

“You’ll stay?” The corners of his mouth start to raise a bit.

“I’ll do the safer jobs.” The hint of a smile that had been on his face dissipates. “It’s a compromise. You can’t always get everything you want.”

“Fine, come right home after.”

“I will.” With one more kiss he finally lets you go.

So, at Joel’s request, you sign up for the easy jobs.

They’re boring, and generally sort of terrible, and they pay the least, but Joel doesn’t make any further arguments about it. So you keep signing up for them. Typically it’s childcare, or filing documents for FEDRA, or working in the entry level food processing jobs.

Boring, boring, jobs that involve standing around and doing nothing or wrangling kids who don’t deserve to grow up in a place like this. You hate the look on their little faces, they always look too grown up for their ages.

But you put up with it, because at the end of the day you get to go home to Joel, Joel who seems to be in significantly higher spirits ever since you’ve agreed to those specific jobs. So you make it work. He makes it worth the banality of it all, at the end of your first week back to work he surprised you with a large paper bag, grinning like you’d never seen him before. When you unfolded the crumpled bag you were greeted with a mess of fabric, different colors and textures. You poured the contents onto the bed and immediately realized what he’d gotten you. Bras, panties, socks, and two pairs of jeans. It must’ve cost him a fortune and your eyes began to water immediately. You had wrapped your arms around him, barely letting go of him for the rest of the night.

After that it got even easier, eventually you got used to it.

You learned to live with the terrible jobs, and if you wanted anything you couldn’t afford with your meager savings Joel always managed to get it for you, even if you hadn’t told him you’d wanted it in the first place.

You probably would have stayed like that forever if you hadn’t started taking the long way home. Weeks had passed before it happened, you had grown comfortable, vulnerable. Joel always made sure you felt safe and you let your guard down just long enough for something to happen.

Joel had left early that morning, telling you that he was gonna be late, before he kissed you, he was out the door before the sun came up.

Whenever Joel told you he would be late you took the long way home. Winding back alleys that were mostly empty that always led back to the apartment building. It was just a treat for yourself, something to do to fill time that would be spent at home, waiting for him.

You never had any issues or alterations.

Until that afternoon.

Joel will be late.

So the second your shift is over you take the handful of cards and make your way through the city. And just like you’ve done every other time, you look behind you every once and a while but not nearly as much as you should. Because of this, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

It’s a younger man, probably a year or two older than you at most peering around the last corner you turned. Once he knows he’s been seen his pace quickens and instinctively you do the same.

“On the ground!” The second you hear it you pray it’s for someone else, it has to be, you’ve done nothing wrong. You walk faster, hoping to avoid what could be a messy confrontation when the sound of boots slamming on the pavement rushes towards you and you’re forced up against the wall of the alley.

In your peripheral you catch the white text against the black of his uniform.

FEDRA.

Your knees are kicked from under you as he pins your arms behind your back, the force at which your head hits the stone has you dizzy as you try to catch your breath. Too much is happening too quickly, when you finally feel like you can use your voice the wind is knocked out of you as you feel him hit you in the side, hard enough to have you wondering if he broke a rib. The force of the hit makes your knees crumble completely as the officer lets you fall, only giving you enough time to get to your hands and knees before his boot slams into your stomach knocking you onto your side.

Finally, when you roll over onto your back you get a clear look at him. He looks like your average FEDRA officer, the only thing out of place is the unsure look on his face. Your ears are ringing so you barely make out what he says, all you catch is something about thinking you were someone else, before he turns and leaves as if it never happened.

Leaving you alone to clutch your stomach and wonder what just happened, and what you did to deserve that.

You’d never heard of random attacks from FEDRA before. Maybe in other zones, but the city has always been calm as far as that goes. Maybe things really did get worse while your leg was healing.

Joel was right.

That’s all you can think about as you stumble to get to your feet, everything hurts but now is not the time to assess your wounds, you need to get home before something else happens. You manage to hobble up the stairs of the building, nearly collapsing by the time you opened the door.

You feel so stupid.

Joel was right.

It isn’t safe out there, at least not for you. No one fucks with Joel, no one attacks him on the street because they’re afraid of him. No ones afraid of you.

It’s a long couple of hours after that.

Mostly a lot of berating yourself as you try to take in the extent of the damage.

Surprisingly it seems to mostly be surface level. Sure, you’re going to bruise pretty bad and your face got scraped up on the stones but nothing permanent seems to have been inflicted.

Once you’ve showered and slipped into an old shirt of his and a pair of panties you climb into bed, wanting this day to just be over, but you know it isn’t. Right on schedule you hear the lock click as Joel steps through the front door, you hide your face in your pillow.

“What are you still doin’ up? It’s almost midnight.” His voice is a low whisper as you hear the familiar sounds of him kicking off his boots and setting down his things. You hear the outer layer of his clothing hit the floor, you told him a while ago you thought it was gross that he slept in the clothes he wore all day. He started sleeping in his undershirt and boxers after that. “You okay, Darlin’?” The bed shifts as he sits beside you and the second you turn and look at him his jaw twitches. “Christ… what the hell happened? Who did this to you?” He’s managing to stay mostly calm but you’re already worried he’s going to blow.

“It’s nothing, I just had an issue with an officer on my way-“

“This is not nothing.” He’s already fussing with your face as you take his hands and move them away from you.

“Joel-“

“Tell me what happened.” It’s a command and you’re too tired to fabricate something, and for the first time in a while, you’re afraid.

So you tell him exactly how it happened. And before you realize it’s happening you’re sniffling, a part of you feels like you’re about to be scolded for this but he only nods, never interrupting you until you’ve finished.

Your vision’s blurry with tears when you look up at him, the weight of being attacked starts to weigh heavy as you realize just how lucky you were that that was all that happened. And then you say the words he’s been waiting to hear.

“You were right, Joel.”

“I’m sorry, angel. I should have been there to protect you.” He holds his arms open and you don’t hesitate as you lean forward into him. You do your best to hold it together as he lays you down before clicking off the lamp and pulling you back against him. He softly scratches your back, kissing the top of your head as he does. It’s silent for a few more minutes until he suddenly whispers into the darkness. “Tell me you’ll stay here from now on.”

“Joel, I-“

“No more going out there without me. You’ll stay safe right here, no one can hurt you here, not while I’m around.” You open your mouth to argue again but stop yourself.

He’s right.

Now that you’ve calmed down you know that you’re lucky to even be alive. You don’t know why you were attacked but you know it could happen again, and there are worse things than being beaten.

No one would hurt you here, not with Joel around.

“Stay here, angel.” He murmurs, softer this time.

Joel is right.

“Okay.”

He isn’t beside you when you wake up, your hands searching through the cold sheets seeking his warmth. He had mentioned something as you were falling asleep about an early morning supply run but you had hoped to say goodbye before he left, you wanted to make him breakfast. As you get ready to roll back over and sleep a bit more you’re startled into an upright position.

“You should watch where you’re flying, angel.” You bite back a shriek as Tess’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen.

“Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” Your heart skips a beat as you reach over to the nightstand, pulling on the little chain that turns the lamp on. “Joel’s not even here, what are you doing?” You don’t like the idea of being alone with her, she doesn’t come around much anymore, you used to see her in the hall on her way here constantly, but after you moved in she stopped.

You do your best not to flinch as she makes her way over to you, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not here to hurt you, there’s no need for theatrics.” You hadn’t realized you were shaking so badly until she said it, it takes a conscious effort but you manage to stop it for the most part. “I’m just here to talk.”

“About what?”

“About you and Joel.”

You don’t want to talk about that with Tess. You don’t want to talk to Tess at all, she frightens you and she knows it.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” This time when you flinch she hesitates. For a brief moment the facade of a woman who fears nothing drops, and you swear you see sympathy in her eyes. “Joel is dangerous, you need to be careful with him or you’re going to get hurt.”

Is that why she’s here? To try and break you up?

“He won’t hurt me, he cares about me.” You wish you sounded more sure of yourself.

“You’re right, at least for now.” She flips her pocket knife open, ever so carefully running the blade along the underside of her nails, scraping away any dirt or grime she so happens to find, you fight the urge to flinch again. When she finally looks back up at you she takes a moment, examining your expression as if this was an interrogation. “Being loved by him is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a girl like you.”

You can’t help but scoff, now look who’s being theatrical. “A girl like me?”

“Good, too good. And fragile.” She points at you with the blade before returning to her nails. “He’ll do anything to keep you safe, even if it means breaking you into tiny little pieces, just so you’ll fit in a box he can lock.”

You’re about to call her a liar but you hesitate. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You deserve to know.”

“Okay, but why? You don’t even like me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you.”

Fair enough.

“I think you should go.” You don’t want to hear anything else. You don’t believe anything she’s saying and the entire conversation makes you feel sick. She doesn’t know anything about your relationship with him, and she clearly doesn’t know anything about Joel. He’d do anything for you, you don’t think you’ve ever been taken care of before you met him.

“What do you know about glue traps?” She doesn’t make any effort to leave so you decide to just answer her with a sigh.

“Like the ones you use to catch mice? I don’t know, Joel buys them sometimes.”

She points her knife in the direction of the corner of the room, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Sure enough, in the corner of the room, peeking out from under his dresser, is the faint outline of something on the floor, you’d never noticed it before.

“It’s the worst kind of way to catch a mouse.” She stands, walking across the room and peeling up the trap with the edge of her blade before snapping it shut and taking the edge of the trap between her fingers, dragging it across the floor to the middle of the room so you had a clear view of it. “They’ll do anything to get out.” The tip of her boot nudges the corner of the trap, now that it’s been dragged into the lamp light you can see exactly what she wanted to show you. Two things are in the bloody trap. A mouse, barely alive, based on the way its chest rises and falls, and something else. A caterpillar maybe?

No.

A leg. A bloody mouse leg, on the edge of the trap.

“They’ll chew off their limbs, and peel off their own skin just to get out, the ones that manage to are lucky enough to bleed out somewhere else. The ones stuck in the trap though?” She nods down at the creature you now refuse to look at. “They’ve got it the worst. Suffocation, dehydration, the ones who try to peel off and can’t, bleed out, stuck in place.”

With a sudden crunch, her boot slams down on the trap. You watch, slack jawed, as she peels it off the sole before tossing it in the bin in the corner.

“I’d take a quick death over either of those.”

“I think you should leave. Now.” You try to sound authoritative but your voice trembles too much to sound anything but afraid.

“I heard you got caught up in some FEDRA business yesterday.” She starts again but you’ve had enough.

“Tess.” You manage to have a bit of sterness this time in your tone but it doesn’t seem to affect her much.

“Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You catch that sympathetic look one more time before she unlocks the door chain, twisting the doorknob before speaking one last time. “I noticed some of our inventory is missing, this is the only warning you’re gonna get about that. If you want shit like that just ask, I’m sure Joel would be more than happy to have another way to control you.” She doesn’t turn around when she says it, simply slamming the door and leaving. You have no clue what she’s talking about, but that isn’t the part of the conversation that sticks with you. All you can think about is that crunching sound.

So you avoided her after that, writing off her words as an act of jealousy.

Joel would never do anything to hurt you.

Of course you know better now. She was just like you, she had been in the glue trap herself when she tried to keep you from joining her, but you hadn’t listened, instead you’d fallen face first into Joel. And he wouldn't let you go without keeping some of you for himself.

i don't have a taglist anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on all fics !!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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prince-kallisto · 4 months

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Crowley’s curious eating habits and the significance of soup

This sounds really out there, but PLEASE here @moonlightequin1 and I out 😭😭😭 We had a very impromptu “theory” collab again, but to us it felt like less of a theory, and more of like…this is what is literally happening in canon.

Edit: Link to Ray’s Twitter thread that discusses what I did above the cut! ^_^

So I’ve been noticing that Crowley has mentioned soup or stew, especially in the manga and novel which came way after the initial in-game books. In the novel, he gives a soup pot to Yuuya, his unified exam voiceline has him trying out tomato stew, and in the manga, he says he was KIND enough to not turn Grim into stew. As if implying that if he weren’t so kind, he would’ve served Grim for dinner by now- fully capable of both cooking and eating a monster like Grim.

Crowley is very raven/crow inspired, and Ray and I think it’s more literal than just his outfit. We think these are a shared trait in Raven/Crow Fae. Because…Hm??? Crowley’s first instinct is to eat Grim- who is first believed to be a monster!! Perhaps this comes off as a joke at first, but in the second Valentine’s Day card merch, Crowley says he ate the gift that we gifted him. But…the thing is, it was an inedible object, and Crowley couldn’t even tell the difference. He even calls it DELECTABLE, but apparently it wasn’t food. He tries to save face by saying “…he was joking,” but the pause is very telling in that he did indeed eat the gift.

Ravens and Crows scavenge carrion and even literal garbage. What’s also interesting to note is that Crowley’s favorite food is “Wild Game,” which is wild animals that are hunted for consumption. As Ray put it, he likes his food fresh from the hunt. It feels very in-line with Crowley being a Raven/Crow Fae, but when you think about it…isn’t it a very odd specification? Crowley comes across (or at least tries to) as a gentleman. He even made the Culinary Crucible to encourage healthy eating habits for the students. Wild game is indeed said to be healthier, but when you consider that Crowley suggests eating a monster, and eating (and enjoying) inedible gifts, it seems like he can eat just about anything because of his own nature as a raven/crow.

But what about the soup? Considering that Crowley doesn’t really talk about food much, isn’t it interesting how nearly every time, it’s related to soup/stew despite it not being listed as his favorite food? Look at the screenshots above, and notice how he mentions soup in every single medium that Twisted Wonderland has been written in so far: The game, the manga, and the novel. Each a mention of soup.

Well, when I first mentioned this to Ray, I mentioned that Crowley’s mentions of soup reminded me of how General Lilia says that Levan summoned a pot to make soup for him and Meleanor. Because…of course I did lmao, I’m one of the resident Crowley-Levan theorists here! 🤣 But the more Ray and I discussed it (Aka freaked out lmaoo), the more we realized that this connection might be more important than we thought. You see, Levan was praised for this action, as Meleanor told him that he was “the only one he could rely on.”

And circling back to Crowley’s favorite food being Wild Game, and the implication that he genuinely thought about eating Grim who is a monster…General Lilia was in the habit of eating wild rats and lizards. And even now, Lilia’s cooking is pretty much inedible- where things get riddled with liver where it really doesn’t belong lmaoo.

When putting this all together, it all feels quite strange. Crowley can eat inedible objects and think it’s delectable, he repeatedly mentions soup/stew, his favorite food being hunted wild animals, and doesn’t seem to hesitate at eating a monster. And why not, Crowley’s was interested in tomato stew as Lilia’s favorite food is listed as tomato juice 👀

Since Ray and I love Crowley very dearly haha, we naturally go to an angsty direction with him when discussing our theories. But food is very strongly associated with memories and nostalgia. The experience of eating, especially with others, includes many of our five senses. Food can have you “relive” the emotions of a time you once experienced in the past. It’s often very symbolic of the experience.

Think of what the strawberry tart meant to Riddle, for example. Of the tart’s forbidden sweetness, of how he disobeyed his mother just wanting to be with his friends. Or even Malleus with his disliked food being “full-sized birthday cake” and his favorite being shaved ice, and how these experiences came from being alone on his birthday!

TWST uses food in their storytelling very deliberately- not only for backstory/memories but for character relationships. Think of how Cater pretended to like sweet things when in actuality he despised them and only Trey noticed it (relating to his own personality of being trendy and cool, but rather detached to the people around him), and sweet things brought back memories of how his sisters used to force him to eat sweets that he didn’t even like. OR how Kalim’s least favorite food is curry, because Jamil was once put into a coma after taste-testing Kalim’s poisoned curry. But hey, even though curry was banned in Kalim’s banquets because Kalim was so terrified from the incident, Jamil’s favorite food is curry anyway! Or Azul’s favorite food being friend chicken disliked food being “healthy foods” despite constantly eating it due to his weight insecurities. Jade and Floyd’s favorite foods relating to octopus. Trey and Vil even have stories as to why they hate MUSTARD AND MAYONNAISE respectively.

I could go on and on, but I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I refuse to say that “it’s just soup” or “it’s just wild game.” There’s a wide array of foods mentioned in the game, to the point of each character having their own unique favorite and hated food listed. There’s a story behind their preferences, to the point character relationships are established and strengthened through food.

This is not just for the students, but for the staff too. Trein’s vichyssoise establishes him as a traditional and old-fashioned (and “elegant”) man, Vargas’ raw eggs and Sam’s chicken gumbo connects them to the movies they’re twisted from (frog meat is said to have the texture and a bit of the flavor of chicken. So Sam’s favorite food being chicken gumbo is a sly way to imply the frogs from the film!)

And in the end, there is the soup, the tomatoes stew and juice, and the wild game meat. If something as specific as a full sized birthday cake means something significant to a character, why not the specification of wild game? It’s just…interesting that Crowley’s mentions of food ties back in some way with the very very few mentions that Lilia makes regarding Levan. Perhaps Crowley’s mentions of soup and wild game means more to him than first meets the eye? 🥣

Anyway it’s so over for me, local theorist crying over a bird eating soup 🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎

#warning yet another Crowley levan theory loll #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst Crowley #twst analysis #twst Lilia #twst Lilia vanrouge #twst levan #twst revan #kallistopost #crowley is levan theory

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loliwrites · 4 months

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August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast

part one of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out) ⇢ series masterlist ⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.

Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?

These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.

Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun.

Not that anything that followed was lucky.

Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.

He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums.

And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.

Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.

Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret.

Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch.

He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia.

Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.

There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.

The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.

But they whistled at her.

And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”

The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”

Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”

“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.

Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.

“What about your dad? Where’s he?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”

The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”

“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.

It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.

And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.

“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.

He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.

She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”

Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.

“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”

He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”

“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”

Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.

“It is!”

She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.

The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.

And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both.

She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”

Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more.

“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”

Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”

You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”

He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”

You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.

“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”

Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”

It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.

Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.

Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.

Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”

The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:

The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.

The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.

And the deadbeats who never even tried.

And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.

It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.

“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.

“No thanks to you, pendejo.”

“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”

Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”

“Hola, Chucho!”

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.

Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth.

And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job.

Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children.

Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.

“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.

Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.

Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.

Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.

That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.

“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much.

But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.

“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.

But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.

After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.

“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.

“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.

“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”

Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.

Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.

“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally.

He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”

And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.

“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.

You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”

Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.

“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”

“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”

“I did,”

He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”

You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”

“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”

A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.

“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.

A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.

“Already?”

“Shut up, Peña,”

He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit.

“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”

Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”

“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads.

You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”

Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.

“Where–shit–”

He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.

You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.

“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.

You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.

“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side.

But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.

“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”

You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,”

Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi. He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #javier pena smut #javier pena angst #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena fic

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girlslovethinker · 7 months

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Hi, I just started watching GL, have only watched GAP. Can you recommend anything? I'd really appreciate it.

Hello! Although there are not that many right now, I will include a list of shows that have already aired that you can watch. Make sure you also see this list to keep updated on which GL will be coming out soon — because there will be a lot! 2024 is the year, trust me! The GL renaissance is upon us. But while we wait here’s some others:

Main characters/main couple:

- She Makes My Heart Flutter (2022)

I love this one. Basically all the characters are lesbians and in a friendship group. It’s so sweet and endearing and I really recommend it! Kinda short but so sweet. One of my favourites for sure <3

- She Loves To Cook and She Loves to Eat (2022)

The characters are a perfect match. This show will make your heart warm and you will say ‘Me and who’ every five seconds.

- Sleep with Me (2022)

The chemistry is so good. It feels so raw and real. Sexuality isn’t really an issue at all. I really enjoyed watching, my heart 🥹

- Out of Breath (2019)

Both painful and heartwarming, it can be relatable to viewers who have experienced break-ups and finding new love. This series is fun and I like it.

- Couple of Mirrors (2021)

Because of censorship, their relationship isn’t ~specifically stated but they are canonically together by the person who created them. I mean, they literally live together, sleep in the same bed, raise a child together etc. The vibes are gayyyy, it’s safe to say they have romantic feelings for each other. If you love action and badass women, this is for you!

- Legend of Yunze (2022)

Lovers reunite after centuries apart. It’s so beautiful and I rewatch this quite a lot.

- Girlfriend Project Day 1 (2022)

Super short, but still really cute. The characters are forced to work together and things ensue. I wish they’d make more episodes 🥹

- Show Me Love (2023)

It’s not made/edited the best but it’s still cute and easy to watch, nice elements of comedy :D

!!!!! Here is a link to other mini web dramas !!!!!

https://legendofyunze.carrd.co

Side characters/side couple:

- Bad Buddy (2021)

My sweetest Ink and Pa. I love them very much :) The actresses have their own GL together called ‘23.5’ which will air next year!

+ they also feature in Zero Photography

- Nevertheless (2021)

Watch this for Soljiwan, Nabi, and Han Sohee. The straight couples are questionable, but Sol & Jiwan, although a side couple, have the most beautiful story and amazing chemistry. 🥰

- Friend Zone S2 (2021)

Cris and Amm are a beautiful couple. They help each other with their situations, maybe they’re not perfect, but they are everything :D

Special mentions:

- Fragrance of the First Flower (2021)

- Love of Secret (2022)

- Wedding Plan (2023)

- Sweet Kaaram Coffee (2023)

I’ve definitely missed ones but these are just the ones I could think of off the top of my head. The only main GL airing right now is Lucky My Love & Love Senior!

#gl drama #gl series #thai gl #lgbt #lgbtq #lesbian #sapphic #lucky my love #legend of yunze #bad buddy #she makes my heart flutter #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #sleep with me #out of breath #couple of mirrors #girlfriend project day 1 #show me love #nevertheless #friend zone

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kitsunefyuu · 3 months

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-me seeing someone say dad for one isn’t realistic because afo wasn’t a good dad to Shigaraki-

That’s assuming that dad for one means he’s a great dad. It has no relations on him being good or bad parent nor can Tomura be used as a way to ‘disprove’ anything when he’s a purposeful victim/replacement.

Sometimes I wonder if they assume all dad for one believers think AFO is sunshine and roses to his family. Or that he can’t be both callous and cruel to Tomura yet marginally better when with family/kin. Dad for one is simply the belief that AFO is Izuku’s biological dad it can’t tell you how that relationship actually is. Also if going to use relationships with family you can only use Yoichi as a more accurate measure.

Everyone theorized Dabi being but were very wrong about his relationship with his siblings. Since they thought he liked them for some reason only to be shown he could care less as considered them part of the problem.

But most people believing in dad for one kind of believe that AFO even if is ‘nice’ to his family still has a dubious connection. As likely would lie or omit information from them about his villain life. Also the man would be ‘Hisashi’ who is always over seas so isn’t even around much which can be seen as neglectful. Never even a damn phone call.

Sometimes I wonder if people only see dad for one and assume, There no way it canon AFO is terrible to Tomura!

And seemed to forget that Tomura was chosen specifically as a vessel. His purpose was never a ‘son’ but a replacement body. While family as he shown with Yoichi don’t have a role in the villain empire. He doesn’t need them to do anything but be beside him. And that’s the minimum, but is also willing to do excessive force as seen when threw his little brother in a vault.

I dunno it just there always someone that anti-dad for one bringing up Tomura or how cruel he is when it has literally no bearing on dad for one theory heck he could just be a sperm donor and it works. Also Tomura would be justified in being pissed the fuck off that AFO had a semi-normal life while making him suffer. Because it truly fucked up how he will truamitize and hurt Tomura then go home to his family like nothing.

#all for one bnha #my hero academia #all for one mha #dad for one #dad for one bnha #all for one #yoly's talks #Reminder that AFO can and would be capable of doing both.#He has zero empathy and thus can play both roles without guilt.#God it like you guys never watched any true crime or seen serial killers!

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goorehound · 2 years

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I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t entirely self-indulgent. I should be answering my requests, and probably posting Mary Goore since that was the point of my account.

but dear followers, let me introduce you to König. Austrian, 6’10”, canonically severely socially anxious. your honour, I want him carnally.

sfw

Random König headcanons

ADHD. As fuck. He got turned down as a sniper because he kept moving around?? ADHD. Not the brand that makes him talk a lot constantly (although he absolutely can talk himself hoarse in the very rare chance he gets very comfortable somewhere) but the quiet type. Where he’s always doing something with his hands. His brain is always following ten different trains of thoughts. He’s restless.

On the fidgeting note, if he’s got a lot of thoughts going on then he will fidget very slowly. Rolling a pen or smth between his fingers, tracing the hems of his clothes with his fingers, tapping them slowly to some imaginary beat. But if his brain is quiet then he’s fidgeting fast. Repeatedly clicking a pen, tossing something back and forth, bouncing his leg at the speed of light. He’s gotta make up that lack of mental stimulation with some physical stimulation.

When he’s alone he mumbles to himself. Replaying past conversations so he could mumble out the answers he wished he’d given, or constructing what he’d like to say in future situations. Basically mumble mumble mumble. Mans does have things to say, you know. He just prefers to do it where nobody else can hear it.

He has almost mastered the art of making sure people are laughing with him and not at him. If someone makes a joke about him, he’ll try and come back with something self deprecating enough that it’s not too awkward - but hopefully enough that it doesn’t make him seem like an easy target. If he fails at getting people to laugh with him his brain does a windows shut down. Luckily he’s quiet enough that people don’t normally notice when he shuts down. He always makes sure to wait long enough to excuse himself that nobody will tie his disappearing act to something someone said.

He picks up popcorn with his tongue. He always gets his own bowl, because he hates the specific type of grease that comes with buttered popcorn. Man will hold that bowl up to his face at eat it like a lizard. No, he does not eat popcorn in front of other people.

Oh my god is it ever easy to fluster this man. Something as simple as talking about something he’s interested in will have him melting. Compliments are worse. He’s no blushing virgin, granted he’s not incredibly experienced either, but complimenting anything about him will have his face a concerning amount of red in an even more concerning amount of time.

Pen/pencil chewer for sure. All about that fidgeting.

He is terrified of kids. Only because he has no idea how to interact with them, he finds it more of a minefield than talking to adults. But he’s fucking great with them, and 9/10 times kids adore him - which makes him so very happy.

He hates when people touch his things. Like despises it. Probably because growing up people thought it was funny to take his shit and break it, and that definitely left some wariness when it came to people touching his things.

He’s talkative in combat because of pure adrenaline, and that’s probably when his confidence is at his peak. No time to be anxious about people making fun of him or thinking he’s an idiot when his life is on the line. And besides, if someone overhears him saying something dumb he can just shoot them. Problem solved. (Given they aren’t an ally, that is.)

If anyone wants anything König related, wether it be headcanons or some short writing piece please drop me an ask. Or a message. Anything. I have some serious brain rot going on.

#also this is no shade to adhd folks who talk a lot. i talk a lot.#also this is all projection bc I also got that good ol social anxiety and adhd mix #könig #modern warfare #könig headcanons #mwii #könig x reader #könig x ghost

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itsquakey · 1 year

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Thinking about…Marx

Even though drawing Kirby stuff is a little hard thinking about Kirby is sure enough on the table. And it’s about Marx obviously.

As much as I add to Marx’s story and headcanon all sorts of little things that make him seem more like modern Kirby characters I do like the simplicity of his character in the game canon. He has no backstory of any nature. It’s never explained how he knows about Novas. His character does come off a little unhinged and childish which is prolly why everyone was like “this guy is insane and super fucking evil” back in the day when in reality he seemed to only do it so he could make as much mischief as he could without getting in trouble (I call it “petty villainy” as opposed to actual villainy like Magolor and Haltmann). Now there’s been an argument since the beginning about if Marx got his powers from the Nova in SS/ SSU or if he had them beforehand. Here’s my theory. Kirby Super Star (Sakurai) implies Marx had his powers before the Nova incident, likely his “true form” and the Nova wish only granted him the ability to rule over Popstar via political power. (Also explains how the hell he got into space to knock Kirby away to begin with). Kirby Super Star Ultra (Kumazaki) implies Marx received his powers from the Nova as a result of the wish, “power over Popstar” likely meant the actual strength to rule via wings and a assortment of abilities and not political power to rule or anything. (Keep in mind this theory is because of Kumazaki’s lore in modern Kirby

So TLDR Game Marx canon is that he probably got his wings through an ancient artifact like the SSU Nova or the SSU Nova itself (Even though I personally headcanon he was a wish from a nova). I do like that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by these powers and in fact is barely shown in merch and art with his wings out or using any abilities. It’s like they just get in the way for him which is quite funny to me. Okay back to how I see his personality represented in canon and other things.

I specifically enjoy the fact that Marx never seems to apologize for what he did to Kirby but it’s shown that they are pals to an extent (if we consider the books to align with game canon). In the books especially it shows that Marx likes to make mischief WITH Kirby and Kirby is also comfortable enough with Marx to give him a hug that results in him falling and eating dirt. This current representation of Marx in canon makes me believe Marx isn’t sorry for his temporary takeover but learned his lesson in taking mischief and mayhem too far. So now he only does minor instances of troublemaking, which sometimes backfire on him. With the release of Forgotten Land and Magolor Epilogue, a bit of a spotlight has been put back on Marx due to his relation to/ similarities of some aspects of these games. I do hope he’ll show up to actually be a somewhat important character in a mainline game instead of being a cameo for people to :0 at if that’s even possible. IDK if present HAL has 100% control over Marx as a character or if Sakurai still has some control over his appearances.

If not it’s still fine to me, as he’s a little resident of Popstar who gets merch and has roles in books which I love. Superb funky grape man I love.

Okay TED Talk over, I’ve gotta go prep for finals week.

#kirby #marx kirby #marx #rambles

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octolingplush · 4 months

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being aroace in fandom spaces is kinda hard, actually.

(a note before i continue: this is based mainly on my experience in the Genshin Impact fandom.. on places that aren’t Tumblr. of course, fandom is diverse, and if you experienced any of this.. yeahhhh…)

for a lot of fandoms, the main grip people have on the media produced is around the characters, rather than the world.

people will see themselves in these fictional people, placing them in situations and making up little ideas on things not really shared.

and with queer people, that leads to a lot of headcanons of being, well, queer.

and eventually, fandom will lead to pairings. people will put two characters together, whether it be on personality, appearance, story, or a myriad of other things.

and when a ship gets popular, mainstream even, people are very quick to defend it.

how does this relate to being aroace? because people will defend their favorites against anything that might suggest the person is against their pairing.

in a few fandoms, i’ve seen people call aroace an excuse to not ship people. that’s right: some people in fandom see aroace headcanons a way to call them wrong. characters being called aroace will have angry fans raving on about how you’re “erasing rep” or comparing you to people who put characters in straight pairings (which is another thing itself). i’ve seen people, allo people, call popular characters aroace so others won’t get mad for not liking a rarepair. a character could blatantly say (or their story could say), they don’t make close relationships, and people would twist that away from the aromantic and asexual spectrum (aromantic specifically). and that doesn’t even touch on how a lot of allo fandom-goers don’t even acknowledge identities such as aplatonic—ones that seem strange or even alien to them.

and that doesn’t even include canon a-spec characters. or characters where asexual/aromantic is a commonly accepted headcanon.

allos that ship these characters will, without fail, say that “asexual and aromantic is a spectrum!”. now, i’m not saying it’s not true, because it is. but that point isn’t being thought about, especially in the way these relationships are portrayed. ace-spec and aro-spec relationships (based on the experiences of others i’ve seen, here and elsewhere) are inherently different than two allo people. being aro/ace (or aspec in general, really) makes you different. how the individual aligns with romance/sex/love in general is different, but the difference is something that a lot of allo people don’t seem to recognize.

anyway i’m just mad my identity is often seen as an “excuse” to allo people

(note 2: if you can guess which genshin ship i’m talking about you get a virtual high five)

(note 3: this is going up on valentine’s day [in my time at least lmao] specifically because i feel like it’s important to take note of this while going through fandom. maybe next time you can spot it and point out how harmful it is :p)

#aromantic #asexual #aro #ace #asexual spectrum #aromanticism #asexuality #aromantic spectrum #fandom related #fandom #fandom stuff #valentine’s day #<- because i made this. idea. when remembering how overlooked aro rep is in regards to valentine’s #(double)allo people be respectful when commenting on this if you must add your two cents pls #aroace #aroace spectrum

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prince-of-elsinore · 1 year

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still thinking about that Mike Farrell quote about BJ walking to Maine, specifically the “And it probably wouldn’t have been as wonderful as he’d have hoped it was, because you know, lives have gone in different directions” and how really that just acknowledges and summarizes the core irony and bitter-sweetness of not only beejhawk as a ship, but BJ and Hawkeye’s canon friendship, and the ethos of the entire show.

It’s a cruel twist of fate that brought these people together. War, senseless destruction, indiscriminate killing: these are the circumstances under which they become intertwined. None of them want to be there, they all want out, they endure unutterable horrors and will forever be altered and scarred. Wouldn’t it be morbid to cherish any part of that experience? To want anything but to leave it behind and wash it all off? And yet--they will miss each other. All the goodbyes are difficult, and BJ and Hawkeye's is the hardest of all. Hawk knows, and BJ must too, deep down where he’s not ready to admit to himself, that it will never be the same between them. The war created the conditions of their friendship. The stress, the blood, the fear, the yearning, the depression, all were part of it--are the very reason they “cling to each other,” in BJ’s own words. They cannot go back to that, and given the choice, they would not.

BJ and Hawk will undoubtedly miss each other, very much, as they both admit. I’m sure there are many times post-war that they wish the other were there, or might even long for the simplicity and camaraderie of the Swamp (with the rose-tinted glasses of memory), but you can’t pick and choose which parts of an experience to keep and which to throw away. The war was a package deal. Any possible reunion between any of the 4077 would, inevitably, make it clear how lives went on and paths diverged. For most of them that wouldn’t even be a disappointment, but for BJ, who clings harder than anyone to the “there and later,” to the fantasy of a perfect future, of course whatever he hoped for when he so confidently told Hawk “I promise” isn’t how it would play out. But that doesn’t mean--and Mike’s quote doesn’t even rule out--that there’s no happy ending, even if your happy ending is BJ and Hawk together. It only means that BJ will have to realize that his relationship with Hawk isn’t something he could preserve in ice and then thaw out and jump back into like nothing at all has changed (just as he’ll no doubt realize with Peg when he gets home). Because everything has changed. The war is over. If BJ and Hawkeye want to preserve their bond, they’d have to find new patterns, new ways of relating to each other, new routines away from death and destruction and hardship. It would take time and effort. Mike also said they’d make a point of seeing each other. To me that sounds like he thinks they’d be willing to put in the work. I like to think that too, even if I’m imagining a bit more drastic an endgame.

tl;dr: Mike Farrell understands that at the core of MASH is the paradox that these people mean more to each other than anyone who didn’t share that experience, but the status quo where those relationships are forged and flourish is a state of war that they all want out of so badly.

#beejhawk #hunnihawk #bj hunnicutt #hawkeye pierce #mash meta #mike farrell #whew didn't mean to make it a whole manifesto but there ya go #I guess I'm officially in Mashdom now y'all #my meta #mash

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ironunderstands · 2 months

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help I have been afflicted by Boothill brainrot time to share some shitty angst bulletpoints with the class (that I’ll probably turn into a fic later)

I don’t think I have to tag anything specific but be warned there’s probably something bad in here so if you understandably don’t wanna read that then scroll. Expect cyborg related angst (and minor spoilers)

Also I hc Boothill as nonbinary (using he/they and occasionally she) so if you’re wondering about the use of multiple pronouns that’s why, it’s not related to the angst, I just don’t want people to be confused.

-has a sensation of touch on the metal parts of his body, but it’s visibly muted compared to his skin and it drives them nuts

-despises hot/cold temperatures due to how they interact with the metal parts of their body, on especially hot days

-very vulnerable to hacking and it scares the shit out of him (thanks past obsession with Genji for giving me this one, the amount of “Sombra hacks Genji and he has a bad time” stuff I have read is unhealthy, even if she would only do it for the shits and giggles or a mission, a character losing control of their body is unfortunately very compelling please don’t cancel me)

-can’t remember their past life or how he died but still has nightmares of it

-phantom pain is a bitch and her name is Boothill

-won’t be seen as human by most people (even actual people write him this way which is a little weird to me, like I know the Robot/Human tag w Boothill serving as a Robot is probably just for reach, but like, he’s still human, he’s not a robot, he’s a cyborg, idk it’s just a pet peeve of mine)

-has to go to the scientist who made him to get “upgrades” (aka whatever they feel like fucking with this week) against their will

-he can’t remember his old life, but they can remember how their body felt back then and the cyborg one distinctly Doesn’t Feel The Same

-Boothill’s synesthesia beacon doesn’t just prevent Boothill from cursing, it prevents her from saying certain things entirely which makes it very hard for him to express his feelings

-charging induces sleep for them, something which Boothill tries to hide as it could be used against him

-debating between making Boothill unreasonable heavy (because metal) or unreasonably light (because high tech) both scenarios cause problems for him, feel free to torture yourself for as to why

-animals (especially dogs) don’t like them as Boothill doesn’t have as strong a scent nor the flesh of other humans which is why it’s hard for them to trust him, which sucks for Boothill because he loves animals

-doesn’t even know the planet they were originally from or how old he was when he died, Boothill doesn’t even know their birthday, so it ended up becoming the day he was brought back to life against his will

-gets called “it” by people who don’t like cyborgs or people that are non-organic/have nonorganic parts of their body/existence, I also share this for the trailblazer because of their dubious origins, I’d like to believe transphobia isn’t a thing in Star rail because it’s already tiring enough irl and there’s no proof for it unlike other real world problems, so the misgendering happens for other horrible reasons! Horrible reasons that are close to canon considering the whole organic/inorganic war thing depicted by the Sim Uni, I’d imagine a lot of people are still bitter about that (honestly I don’t know the details I was there for the jades) and/or ignorant enough to believe that only fleshy beings have a monopoly on personhood (it/its pronouns are cool but not on people who don’t want to use them!)

-constantly pushes the limits of their body (aka self destructive behavior), I doubt Boothill would be trying to hurt herself but it’s more of a “it will get fixed anyway” kinda thing, any injuries sustained still hurt like a bitch but Boothill forces himself to not care because well “it’s his job and he will get healed anyways” (also it’s implied from their LC that he’s a Galaxy ranger against his will from the whole “never living for themself again” thing, so Boothill probably has to get injured for the job and is just forced to grin and bear it

alright that’s all the angst my sleep deprived brain could cook up for now if I did something wrong or missed a tag pls tell me

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #angst #tw body dysmorphia #tw medical trauma #tw self h4rm #tw self destructive behavior #hopefully that covers everything if I missed a tag please tell me

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gunkbaby · 1 month

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Do you have any tips for writing Shuu?

This is the best ask I’ve ever had thank you anon!!! I am honoured to have been asked this, sorry it took me so long to answer, I was getting my thoughts in order! I have a few general tips!! Idk how useful they’ll be tho! :P (this is very long but i have tried to make myself as concise as possible…sorry anon…bear in mind this is all my opinion!)

Shuu, is dreadfully mischaracterised. So it’s tricky, especially because it depends on what exactly ur writing. If ur using headcanons that drastically change him anyway, then the rules are looser ofc, but if as close to canon is the aim, then I would take all fanon Shuu with a grain of salt. Not a slight to anyone at all, but I find different people interpret the character really differently, and I don’t agree with most of it (especially anything pre-2018), so I don’t interact with fanon, especially when writing. Idk what’s currently fanon tho, maybe it’s real af!

A very general tip but it cannot be understated with Shuu - always refer to canon. I have a notebook where I make notes of things I have noticed in his canon appearances, notes from the wiki, the light novels, films, everything. I always cross-reference when planning, and adjust my plot accordingly, during the writing stage, so I can alter my writing process, and upon editing/re-drafts, which I find is where Shuu really becomes himself. I would say write him as best as you can in a first draft, and allow yourself time to redraft and fine tune him afterwards. :)

Another tip for general character writing is to write diary entries from that character’s POV - regardless of whether that is the ultimate protagonist or not - this helps get inside their head. Shuu’s blog entries are helpful starting points.

So, some things to avoid (note: i haven’t read fic in years, so this isn’t in reference to any writer/fic in particular, just things I did notice/have noticed that i dislike when I see him characterised.)

I used to see a lot of flanderisation with Shuu. People really overestimate the amount of French he uses, so I guess a tip there is to limit that - or half the amount you think is enough. You can always add it in later if it is too little. He obviously does use it, but it’s not to the point I’ve seen. Also remember that Shuu doesn’t just speak French - he speaks Italian and English too! (Ik he speaks German, but this only comes up once. Unless ur writing a fic with Kanae I would say it’s less important). A good starting point for adding French/Italian/English to his dialogue/inner monologue would be to look at a list of common francophones, Latin phrases, or older English turn of phrase (not modern Bri’ish, shuu is not a roadman). If I find a list I will add some links 4 u. :)

With regard to general speech/train of thought, try use a wide vocabulary of colourful adjectives - words that are maybe rare or perhaps too fancy for normal conversation. I read a lot, so if I find a new fancy word I write it down. Normally this ends up going to Shuu’s passages in my work :) (I think a great example of this was when I read A Certain Hunger - the protagonist was a food critic, so she was very helpful with colourful language in relation to food!) I also think imagining his anime VAs saying any dialogue really helps me check dialogue too! Food is worth mentioning too, obviously, I think a Shuu-specific tip is to use terms that could be food-related in otherwise unrelated actions - one can devour a book, salivate in anticipation, or go out for a delicious walk! That kind of thing. Don’t be afraid to make it a little silly. Shuu is very fun to write, so have fun! The key is just to toe the line between silly and fun, to caricature. I think if you intend to write him properly, then you inherently sort of avoid that tho.

A thing that seems random but that I used to see constantly in fanon Shuu was him swearing a lot. Off the top of my head, Shuu properly swears once in Tokyo Ghoul - depends on the translation. He also says damn/damned a few times. That’s about as much as I ever write him saying. Again, I would use more colourful language to express his anger or strong emotions. Thinking to him slagging off Rize - that sort of posh-boy anger. You could probably use swearing very sparingly to pack a comedic punch. He doesn’t swear flippantly, that’s very important imo.

Shuu’s motivations are really important. I’ve seen him written as this sort of caricature so many times. People often refer to Shuu as this sort of narcissistic creep - but I think that’s a mischaracterisation. I think he’s vain, but I think that his vanity and pride is covering up some repressed guilt about what he has to eat - his earliest documented interaction with food is that of guilt. Shuu sees himself not as some kind of monster - but as very strong predator. I think he’s more matter-of-fact than people initially realise. He views the world as dog-eat-dog. He’s hunting Kaneki because he is predator - not in the sense of a creep, but as a lion. His justification for his existence is merciless in that fact - man is not typically sympathetic to the hens in batteries, served pre-plucked en mass in a Tescos, but Shuu, who hunts his prey properly, as a true animal should, is supposed to believe he is lesser than them. I think that makes him much more understanding. I think that’s why other ghouls also fail to understand him, because though he pretends to be better, more civilised, he has a very savage mindset. (Sorry. Long Character analysis there, remember what I said about taking fanon with salt earlier?). :p)

TLDR: I think people think Shuu leans far more into a ‘villain’ role than he actually does. An animal is an animal. I wrote a whole load of paragraphs about his character on Instagram a while ago. I will try and rewrite them and post them here if they would be helpful. (Again, all just my opinion)

In regards to Shuu’s obsession with Kaneki - if this is what you’re writing - this isn’t something I’ve ever written (sorry!) but I have written a similar relationship with him and an oc, and I also have BPD (shocking!), so I can relate to this kind of thing…Kind of. I’ve never wanted to eat anyone! I find expressing this kind of obsession very difficult to verbalise - it’s like, full of over-idealisation. You get so swept up in the idea of someone, you forget they’re a flawed human being who you actually might not know as much as you’d like. And when that idealisation inevitably implodes, it’s very devastating. Shuu’s depression and anorexia after ‘losing’ Kaneki, is something I heavily relate to. It might be worth examining what other people with similar conditions have said about this kind of obsession in particular (in bpd we refer to it as having ‘favourite people’) - im not saying Shuu has BPD, I’m simply saying that looking into real life examples for similar kinds of things, in ways that are expressed by people much wiser than me. :) I think it’s important to have empathy for people like this when writing them, because we do exist out here! Having empathy for Shuu when writing is very important, imo.

I think with his relationships, it’s key to remember that Shuu does not understand what he is feeling. He does not understand that he actually genuinely likes Kaneki and enjoys his company, or Hinami’s company, or Hori. This is despite him going out of his way to comfort them, lend them books, buy them gifts, and (importantly) flowers - which Shuu says he links directly with feelings of happiness. People have said this is creepy, but I think this is wrong. Shuu does not understand how relationships work, but he understands that material objects can make people happy. I think people viewing Shuu’s exchange of gifts as something impure are kind of missing the point - understandable if you’ve only read TG and not :re, tbf.

This is just my opinion, so listen liberally, but considering Shuu refers to his actual friends as pets - I think it’s a somewhat reasonable assumption to make that Shuu’s only relationships outside of his home have been with animals or plants. I write Shuu’s relationships as if he were interacting with animals. With :re based stories this is a little different, but you can generally use the same rule. Referring to my earlier point about Shuu viewing himself as an animal - he probably doesn’t think this perspective is as offensive as it might be.

****

I think this is everything off the top of my head. In general, it all comes back to referring to canon, that’s your main thing. Thinking about, and analysing the character in your own way, and coming to your own conclusions. You can utilise other people’s ideas- as long as it’s not offensive, I don’t think it’s so bad, but I try not to. Also, having empathy for the character and taking the time to get to know him. Sometimes I just listen to what Shuu is telling me - if a story arc is too difficult to write, maybe it just isn’t his! Sorry for rambling so much - was this even helpful at all? I feel like I have simply waffled!

Just a few notes: I have written/am writing Shuu at stages Tokyo Ghoul does not document (when he is19/20, and after the end of :Re at age 30+). So most of my work is my estimation of where he might be.

Bear in mind I also haven’t posted anything in a loooong time so none of this has been subject to any criticism aside from my own! I can post some extracts of my current work if it would be helpful. I can also post some pages from my Shuu notebook if you need inspiration, or my instagram analyses, or whatever might help! Feel free to send more asks if needed too! As you can see I like to talk!!!

i hope this was semi-helpful!!!! thank you anon!!! This was such a lovely ask, thank you, merci beaucoup!!! Bisous!!! <3

#Tysm for this wonderful ask anon!#I have spent so long thinking about it!#I hope this is at least…coherent? Helpful?#Sorry.#but thank youuuu!#Feel free to add onto this if anyone has useful tips in the reblogs!!!#I feel like i am so useless for someone who calls themselves a shuu fic writer :p #Bisous!#Asks #shuucore #shuu tsukiyama #gunk #tg gunk #tokyo ghoul

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valerieismss · 4 months

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Okay I did another manga panel recolor to illustrate my point about Danny’s freakassness and how it could’ve been written more effectively.

My main issue with Danny’s character has little to do with his design and nothing to do with his personality and motivations. It’s just his behavior that drives me up a wall. You really don’t have to change anything about Danny himself to communicate his main internal conflicts: his desperate need for unconditional love.

It’s frustrating because I know that others (including myself, when my friend introduced me to this) will misinterpret Danny to be a pedo when he’s explicitly not one, it’s just that his behavior communicates something that’s different to his actual character. You see this in the manga and the anime, especially—a lot of his expressions are weirdly horny even though he never actually communicates or suggests he really feels that way about Rachel. Notably, his need for her is familial. He sees himself in her, and his mother’s eyes in her. In another post, @wlwfav said in a reply to a post by @mothwithapencil that he wasn’t projecting his feelings about his mother on Rachel so much as he was projecting his desires for unconditional love onto Rachel to mother her, like a reverse projection (trying not to plagiarize here!). I fully agree. This is especially apparent when you see a flashback of Danny counseling Rachel in the game. He directly relates his shit onto her. The amount of countertransference (which is when therapists project their own feelings onto their clients) this man has is immeasurable. It’s part of why I’m so attached to him. (For reference, my favorite character of all time is also a therapist with an assload of countertransference.)

Anyways, I think you can make Danny just as unsettling if not more if you get him to stop acting as horny as he does. It causes some really uncomfortable mischaracterizations. There’s really no need for it. That’s why I edited the second panel a little bit. You can change a character’s behavior and keep their motives and desires the same. I wouldn’t change an extreme amount about his behaviors. I think his lack of physical boundaries actually works really well for his character. It makes sense given his isolated and rejected upbringing. I draw the line when he pins Rachel down in the anime. What was the reason. He just wants her eyes. Explicitly. Just her eyes.

Also, the tongue? Can anyone explain why it’s necessary??? It’s GROSS AND WEIRD! It also gives his character a weirdly sexual undertone that isn’t necessary to making him a terrifying guy. Like you can still get freaky with it without that damn thing. The excessive use of peepers…I mentioned this in my last post. It’s a good way to disarm clients/players from his obsession with eyes. If he treats his fascination as a joke (“I just really like your peepers haha!”) it makes him less suspicious. Contextually, it also makes sense. Danny canonically becomes a psychiatrist because he knows he’ll encounter people with lifeless eyes. Unsurprisingly, in the art of the game, they tend to be younger patients. To me, when we first meet him, he came off as a pediatrician. I mean, he calls himself Dr. Danny instead of Dr. Dickens, like a pediatrician would. His tongue shit and his peeper shit could sound like some silly thing he’d say to get clients to feel more at ease around him before he legit kills them and takes their eyes.

All of that is really unsettling to me. You could characterize his freakassness in ways that aren’t sexual but just as chilling. If Rachel’s needs for a perfect family and things that are “hers” can be conveyed in a horrific way without sexualizing her, the same could be done for Dr. Fuckface. He’s so similar to her, after all. He wants a family—Rachel, specifically—that mirrors what he wishes he would’ve had in his childhood, because he believes that comes with unconditional love. Even when Zack stabs him in the anime, his line is, “I’ve been so terribly lonely!” Because that’s his actual issue. He thinks Rachel, having had a similar childhood, is the only one who could understand, and he believes he’s fundamentally unloveable because of his trauma. He literally thinks his eyes killed his mom. He’s so fascinating!! I’m so obsessed with him. I can’t wait to start episode 0 of the manga.

So, yeah. In the second recolor I tried to convey his creepiness by giving him a more wistful expression that still strikes you as fucking weird. Instead of seeming excited sexually, he seems excited at the idea of a forced family. It’s more accurate to who he actually is. He literally does not want her like that in canon. I wish his behaviors reflected that more.

#valerieisms #daniel dickens #danny dickens #i love you dr. dick in me…

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