🦖 jurassic park & world toys 🦕

for @neon-gay-dreams!

sources: 🦕-🦖-🦕-🦖

rdr2 men as girl dads

arthur, charles, john, dutch, + hosea

technically gn reader, but some things may be interpreted as being more fem? you are the other parent of the child

arthur morgan

+ he would definitely go to the women in the gang (and you of course, but he'll be more shy about it) to ask them questions. "is this what you ladies like?" before he gives his daughter a gift.

+ he'll document basically her entire life in his journal; write entries about her biggest moments and their times together, and he'll draw her all the time. there will be pages that are just covered in drawings of you and your daughter.

+ the other gang members would tease arthur for being "so soft" around his daughter and he probably gets real flustered about it, but you think it's adorable how gentle he is with her.

+ she will make flower crowns or put flowers in arthur's hair and a lot of the time he'll forget about it, so he'll walk around camp or even go out riding with a braid and flowers in his hair.

+ of course, your daughter would have some kind of knowledge as to what the gang does, but arthur will still try to hide violence from her. he'll make up silly excuses as to how he gets cuts or bruises, and he tends to hide his guns when around her. hell, he won't even really smoke when in her presence.

+ arthur is very accepting, and that especially applies to your daughter. if she wants to travel the world, he'd support it. if she said she wanted to be a dinosaur, he'd try his best to help her achieve that. the only thing he would say no to is being a gunslinger.

+ arthur's daughter would be a girl constantly surrounded by love. i can imagine her being artistic and creative like her dad, with the ability to get along well with anyone she meets. she would also be very expressive and bold, feeling that she can be whatever she wants.

charles smith

+ crafts dolls and other toys for her!!

+ he'll take your daughter out on nature rides or walks and will teach her all about animals and their importance. especially when she's a baby; he just finds it comforting to have a little friend he can talk to, even if she doesn't respond.

+ charles would be SO protective of his daughter. he would definitely teach her important rules of survival and how to handle weapons because he believes she can take care of herself, but he also can't help but step in immediately when the smallest altercations happen.

+ he also knows how cruel the world can be, and he doesn't want his daughter experiencing any of that. he likes to keep everything pg around her; if micah or someone is being inappropriate around her, charles will get upset quickly.

+ you can learn a lot from children, and charles is well aware of that. he's such an attentive listener when your daughter speaks to him, and will act like everything she says is revolutionary. he'll bring up a fact you've never heard of in a conversation with you, and when you ask him where he learned that from, he'll nudge his head towards your daughter.

+ i think charles' daughter would be a mini version of him, minus his use of violence lol. she would be quiet and only open up to those shes comfortable with, and would be very passionate about those she loves and the things she cares about.

john marston

+ you will always be able to tell when john dressed her because what in the hell is she wearing?

+ the goofiest dad but he's trying his best he swears!!

+ he's not the most vocally affectionate dad out there, but he'll randomly show up with gifts because he'll remember his daughter mentioning that she liked a specific item.

+ he'll also show affection by teaching her things. he doesn't really know what young girls would find interesting, so he just kind of assumes she would enjoy horseback riding or something of the sort. will definitely feel awkward if she expresses that she's bored.

+ john is trying, but he doubts himself and will always come to you for reassurance. he feels a lot better after speaking with you about things. "i'm just...bad at this stuff. you think she even likes me?" "john, she loves you more than anything, and i do too."

+ he's so bad at playing pretend, but he tries his hardest and you think it's so funny. if arthur catches him playing dolls with your daughter, he'll definitely tease him about it later. "dad, use your girl voice!"

+ a daughter raised by john marston would probably be rather shy, but also very kind, patient, and understanding. she might also take on some of her dad's sarcasm.

dutch van der linde

+ he would spoil his baby girl ROTTEN. he just can't seem to ever say no to her and will end up going into town himself to get a new stuffed animal for the kid the moment she asks for one.

+ dutch would definitely boast about how smart his daughter is. he would teach her to read and write as soon as possible and would feel so proud when she tells him about the things she read or wrote about. "she gets it from me, of course."

+ he would quite literally kill for his daughter. he's definitely the scary dad, but like in a way that she will casually bring up "oh yeah my dad has killed people" on first dates.

+ dutch's daughter would definitely be one to have a rebellious phase. i think he would tend to insist that she stays at camp because it's safest, but he would raise a girl that's curious about what the country is like outside of her tent. there would be many instances where dutch will send someone out—or himself to go find her after she steals a horse and runs off somewhere.

+ i feel like he would want to name his daughter something like...antique, or based off of some character from literature. things like ophelia, elizabeth, athena, victoria...

+ i actually think that dutch would raise a rather fiesty daughter. educated and bold, i think a daughter raised by the leader of the van der linde gang would grow to be a leader herself.

hosea matthews

+ i think hosea was born to be a girl dad.

+ he would so have a nickname for her that would stick with her for the rest of her life. something cute like dew drop or honey bee; and sometimes even the other gang members would call her by that nickname.

+ with the way hosea sits and listens to the women in the camp, he would do the same with your daughter. although he can be a stern parent when needed, he'll always listen to her before doing anything else.

+ he'd love to teasingly embarrass her in front of the others. "remember when you were wearing diapers until you were four years old?" "dad!"

+ HE KNOWS HOW TO DRESS A BABY!! and he would be so proud of himself. he'd probably be more excited over baby clothes than you.

+ oh he would treat her like a princess. i imagine him reading her fairytales as a child and will play along with her when she pretends to be a princess. if he could, he would build her a castle.

+ i believe that hosea would raise a humorous, kind hearted girl, who can also be rather mischievous. i can imagine his daughter being very outgoing and friendly, but very serious when needed.

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

✧CHAPTER 3✧

WARNINGS: nth I think

✧tag list✧: @chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strwberrydinosaur @sunghoonsbeautymark

3 sleepless nights. It's only day 4 of having the baby and Riki was already starting to regret his decisions a little. He groaned, waking up a little late to find the space beside him, and the crib, empty. Riki proceeded to take a quick shower, brush his teeth and go downstairs in search of the 2.

There he saw Y/n cooking something in the Kitchen while the baby sat on a mat, playing with some soft baby toys. There were times where he did regret taking the baby with him, but there were also those small, rare times where he's just so glad he decided to keep him. He didn't want to admit that he was definitely all for the idea of raising this baby, though part of him was hoping that a real dad would take the baby, or did he?...

Riki lied down on his stomach, beside the baby and watched as the baby shook the soft dinosaur toy. "What should we call you... Junior Riki? Riki Junior? Riki Jackson? Rizziki? Nj Nishimura Jr? Rj? Lil riki? lil ki? Riki little?" As riki continued to list names that involved his name one way or another, the baby, still continued to play.

"Ugh name choosing is so complicated- I'll do it later..." Riki said as he took the baby's hand in his. "Don't end up anything like your biological dad..." Riki randomly blurted, looking the baby in the eyes. "Be more like me, unlike him I actually want to name you-" He added as he played with the baby's hands. "So cute..." He smiled.

"Ok you stay here, Im going to go annoy your mommy~" Riki smiled, softly ruffling the baby's hair, as he went to the kitchen, back hugging Y/n. "Rough night?" she asked as she kissed his hand, "Baby was crying all night, he won't even smile at me- god the things I do for you Y/n..." Riki complained as she sighed.

"Ki you can go take a nap now if you want, but after you eat lunch mkay?" Y/n smiled as Riki kissed her forehead "No need, I'm going to go play with the baby~" the male replied, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her forehead lovingly. "God I don't know where I'd be if you weren't in my life" he mumbled, as he snuggled her tightly. The girl blushed a little, not looking up at Riki, she turned to face the baby.

Riki sat beside the baby who was fiddling with some soft, building blocks. "ba!" the baby babbled, as he stacked one block on top of the other, staring up at Riki, wanting to get a reaction out of him. Riki smiled, acting a little shocked, as he pat the baby's head gently "Awww my Riki junior is a smartass!" He cooed, as the baby giggled.

"Lunch is ready babe~" Y/n called out as Riki carried the baby boy with him "Let me feed the baby this time" Riki pouted as Y/n shrugged, handing him the baby food, before serving Riki his dinner. "Lookie here Riki junior- when you grow up I'll let you smoke a joint with me, only if you eat this yummy baby food ok?" Riki asked, seeming oh so series as Y/n nudged him.

He fed the baby a spoon, and the baby happily swallowed the food, Riki sighed in relief, as he knew the last few times he tried, the baby did not want to help him. Riki then turns to Y/n "Babe I'm hungry a-and my hands are busy so can you feed me too?" Riki asked innocently, staring at Y/n with those convincing, cutie eyes, rolling her eyes, she took some food with the chopsticks "Here comes an aeroplane~" She sang as she fed Riki his lunch. The male smiled as he eat happily, feeding the baby more baby food.

Y/n finished washing the dishes after eating, and walked into the living room to find the baby asleep in Riki's hold, in his mouth was a dinky, that had a cute yet funny design of a moustache and a cigarette coming out of the mouth. the baby innocently chewed on the dinky as Rowan snickerred. "You have more facial hair than daddy" the girl joked as she gently took the baby out of Riki's hold, noticing that Riki had fallen asleep.

She kissed his forehead and pecked his lips, "Sleep well my little baby" she said as she tucked Riki in, a nice soft blanket coverring his body as he napped on the couch.

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

You have kids?!

Fluffy innocent act blurb

Not exactly a pt3 but I hope this holds yall over til the weekend <3

Summary: reader finds out Eddie has 2 kids after their mom drops them off.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, swearing, mentioned smoking but no smoking.

Taglist: @thefreakofhawkins86 @yaspillz @eiriancrow @eddiemuns0nl0ver @stunnababy2212 @strangerthings1983fan @fieldofsecretss @3rriberri

The clock read 8 am, and Eddie was rudely awakened to the sound of someone banging their first against his door. He groaned rolling over, looking at you, smiling to himself. You looked so beautiful, splayed out in his bed, in his shirt as sunlight streamed in through the curtains. The moment however did not last long as the banging got louder.

“Fucking hell-” he mumbled walking to the door in nothing but sweatpants. “Alright, alright! I fuckin heard ya!” he yelled at the door, yanking it open. Only to be met with the sight of his baby mama and his twins saying “daddy!”, then he realized that today was Saturday, and his weekend. “Edward.” Eddie rolled his eyes, “don't know why you insist on calling me that, you barely know me.” the kid’s rushed him, holding onto his legs “oh no! I'm being attacked by cute gremlins!” They laughed at his fake screaming, as he pulled two giggling messes into his arms “you two miss daddy?” he asked, hugging them tightly.

The two kids nodded, they both looked like a smaller version of Eddie himself. Curly brown hair and adorable brown puppy eyes. Of course, the moment was ruined by the witch that gave birth to them. “Remember, their bedtime is at right, and nothing too sugary. They have school on Monday” Eddie rolled his eyes once again “fucks sake, I'm their dad, not a babysitter, your rules don't apply at my house.” their mother scoffed “whatever, also, can you drop them off at school Monday? I won't be available.” Eddie put the kids down, ushering them to go play. “of course, you won't be, you never are.” with that, he slammed the door in her face.

After turning away from the door, he saw two brown-haired masses running back towards him. “Daddy! Our room is still locked!” his daughter- Aurora, told him, his son Ozzy, full name Oswald, Eddie despises it though, trailed after her. “Sorry Pumpkin! Daddy forgot it was the weekend, didn't have a chance to unlock it last night.”

Eddie made his way back to his room, quietly entering and grabbing his keys, trying his best not to disturb you. Before slipping out and unlocking the twin’s bedroom. “Alright, you little monsters, play while I make some pancakes.”

---

You awoke to the smell of pancake batter and tiny voices giggling, you moaned, rolling over in Eddie's bed, realizing it was 9:15 am. “Shit! Wait... it's the weekend.” slowly, and groggily you pushed yourself out of the warm bed. Settling to slip on some pajama shorts under Eddie's shirt and calling it a day. As you walk out, you see a room that is never open whenever you're over, wide open filled with toys and childish decorations.

“Hey, Eds! Why is...” you stop in your tracks, seeing two little kids, the spitting Images of Eddie sitting at his dining room table, same mop of brown hair, and big brown eyes staring back at you. “Morning sweetheart, hum, these are my Kids...” He points to what you assume to be the boy of the two, dressed in a dinosaur shirt and shorts “that's Oswald or Ozzy as I like to call him, and Aurora.” he points to the little girl, She’s in an adorable floral dress.

Everything clicks for you at once. “You have kids?!?!” you almost yell, your Eddie? The one who smokes every night, and cusses like a sailor is a father! Eddie nods “yeah, they're twins and five years old, I only have them every other weekend so you never had the chance to meet them.”

Before you could reply, Aurora is hopping down from her seat and running up to you. “Your the girl Daddy talk about all the time aren’t you! You’re really pretty” She beams at you, and you feel your heart fucking melt, she was absolutely adorable, Eddie on the other hand was horrified. “You little snitch! You pinky promised you wouldn’t say anything if you met her!” He ran up, scooping her into his arms. Laughter erupted from her as he picked her up. “Awe you talk about me?!” you gushed, “Nope! Don't believe anything these monsters say! They're liars!” he joked, putting Aurora back into her seat.

Ozzy gasped at the accusation from his father. “Nuh-uh! Only sissy is! I didn't say anything!” Ozzy leaned backward “Sissy didn't lie about how pretty she is though! Way prettier than mommy!” both you and Eddie laughed at this, a little boy saying, someone else is prettier than his mom, that's priceless! “Oh, I am so telling her you said that Oz!” Eddie said in between laughs, “But your right she is prettier than your mom.” He looked at you with admiration. “Now…who wants to go to family video and annoy Uncle stevie while we pick out a movie?” Both of the kids chime in with “me’s!”. It was going to be a fun weekend.

Marijuana Cigarettes

Happy 4/20 y'all🍃! Here's a little Ellie x Reader ramble with smoking, movies, and smut. It's not beta read so forgive me for any mistakes. Also, I am in a writing slump so if y'all have any prompts or suggestions on what to write next pls let me know!!💟

Word count: 2k

You got a text this morning from your girlfriend saying plainly, “Come over tonight?”

Even though the text seemed a bit eerie you knew that was just Ellie. She was awkward as hell over text, it made you giggle every time you got a strange vague text from her.

She probably just wanted to watch a movie or show you another dinosaur book she found at the library.

At 7 you decided to head over to her and Joel's house. You parked your car outside of the main house on the street and followed the narrow path down the side of the house and through the back gate.

The path was slightly covered in a bit of lingering snow from the storm a few days ago but come the morning sun tomorrow it would most likely all melt away.

You made your way to the garage door, tapping your feet on the mat outside to rid your shoes of the sticky snow before turning the brass nob and entering the warm-ish detached garage.

Ellie was standing in front of her desk fiddling with something you couldn’t see when you walked in. You bent down to unlace your shoes as Ellie turned around alerted to your entrance by the squeak of the door, “Hey baby,”

“Hey,” You say standing up and padding across the room to Ellie. She envelopes you in a hug that chases the lingering chill from outside away. You sigh sinking further into her.

After a few moments, you lean back to look at her, “What are you up to? Did you find another dinosaur book?” you ask in question regarding her earlier text.

“No, I mean well yes but that’s not why I texted you earlier. Do you know what today is?” She’s grinning in excitement. You rack your brain trying to remember what today could be. It’s not your anniversary, you would have remembered that. Nobody’s birthday. You shook your head, looking up at her when you couldn’t come up with an answer.

She smiled even bigger, “It’s April 20th,”

The woman was practically shaking with excitement after she stated the date. It took you a few moments of confusion to understand what she was saying.

“Oh my god, it is. Do you have any weed?” You were getting excited now. It’d been a while since you smoked. Life had gotten hectic and by the time you and Ellie had time to hang out late at night, you both just wanted to watch a movie and fall asleep.

Before you started dating Ellie you didn’t like to smoke, it wasn’t your thing. Constant overthinking and chest-crushing anxiety were the standard experiences for you when high. But after the first time smoking with her, you realized it could be a lot of fun. At least she made it a LOT of fun.

She nodded stepping aside for you to finally see what she had been toying with when you walked in. On the workbench desk was a Bob Marley-covered grinder, rolling papers, and three joints. Little green bits of weed scattered across the wood of the table.

“Wanna get high off our asses and watch The Duff, baby?” Ellie smiled down at you waiting for your response.

“Hell yeah,” You began to unzip your coat, now feeling warm in the small room. Ellie grabbed a joint and your hand, pulling you to her bed in the corner of the room.

She snatched a gray lighter with a cowboy boot engraved on it off the nightstand and crawled onto the mattress wearing only her boyshorts and a tank top.

Before you joined her you whipped your long-sleeved shirt off and walked to Ellie’s closet replacing your shirt with one of her t-shirts. You kicked off your jeans and turned back to her. She was smiling, letting her eyes trail the length of your body.

“What?” You giggled feeling nervous under her stare.

“Nothing, I just like you in my clothes,”

Her voice sends a chill down your spine. You crawl in bed beside her, both of you leaning back against the headboard and she scrolls on the T.V. locating y’alls favorite movie to watch while high, The Duff.

The movie starts and you both settle back into the pillows, Ellie’s arm around your shoulders, your leg thrown over her hip.

Ellie flicks the lighter open, places the joint between her lips, and sucks as the tip lights. The embers on the tip of the joint glow orange in the darkening room, the only other light source being the small television in the corner of the room.

Grey smoke billows out of her mouth as she smiles at the feel of the first hit. The earthy scent of weed instantly fills the room. You take the joint as she offers it to you, taking a deep hit. Smoke fills your lungs, settling warm in your chest before you blow it out.

You guys continue the rotation until most of the joint has burned up and you are significantly high. You feel like you’re in zero gravity and yet at the same time feel like you have an elephant sitting on your chest. You are hyperaware of every place where your skin touches your girlfriends.

The skin of your thigh feels like it’s on fire as it rests upon hers and her finger leaves a trail of lightning as it passes over your shoulder in methodical motions.

You grab her hand bringing it in front of her face. You take in the vanes running over the top of her hand, the lines weaving along her palm, and her short nails. You have lost all interest in the movie, far more concentrated on your girlfriend’s lovely hands.

Next, you move on to inspecting her tattoo. You trace the leaves across her forearm with your finger, reveling in the fact that the hairs on her arms rise with goosebumps in the wake of your touch. You move on to tracing the moth, circling all of the patterns on its wings.

“Baby?” Ellie sighs, the high hitting her just as hard if her voice says anything.

“Mhm?” You don’t look up, continuing your path up her arm.

“I need you to stop that,” Ellie choked out.

“Why?” This gets you to look up at her.

Her pupils are blown wide, turning her eyes black in the low lighting, “Because your touch is leaving every one of my nerve endings on fire and we haven’t finished the movie yet.”

You smirked, glad she was feeling just as affected as you. You let her arm go and leaned up kissing her deeply, “That’s good because my whole body is on fire,” You whisper seductively when the kiss breaks.

Ellie groans, leaning her forehead on yours before muttering, “Fuck the movie,”

You giggle nodding, “Fuck the movie,”

Suddenly you’re flipped onto your back and Ellie’s lips are on your neck. She leaves a trail of kisses from the underside of your jaw to your collarbones. Lifting your shirt she reveals your breasts. You gasp as the cool air hits your nipples causing them to peak.

Ellie lets out a grumble at the sight. Before long she’s continuing her trek down to the place you want her most. She starts at the place between your breasts, continuing down the center of your stomach before landing just above the hem of your panties.

She smiles up at you before lightly grazing her nail over your clothed clit. You whimper at the sudden contact. Squirming you wait for more. All you want is more in this moment.

“What do you want baby?” Ellie asks in a teasing tone.

“More… please,” You whine. Ellie’s chest rumbles with a chuckle as she places a kiss against the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” Ellie’s teeth graze the hem of your panties as she waits for your response.

You gasp at the sight of her between your legs, the sight turning you on more than expected. She always did this, asking you to tell her exactly what you wanted. The woman was a slut for your words.

“I want your fingers in me now Ellie,” You whined, losing patience.

She laughed, “Yes ma’am,” Suddenly she was ripping your panties down your legs and throwing your legs over her shoulders. She looked up at you as she oh so slowly dropped the lightest kiss possible to the top of your clit.

You threw your head back at the contact, balling the sheets in a punishing fist.

“You gonna come all over my fingers baby,” Ellie asked as she pushed the first finger inside.

“God yes Ellie…please!” You lifted your hips, following the movement of her fingers.

Ellie groaned leaning down to trail the tip of her tongue over your clit. You could feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. You needed to come so bad but you never wanted this to end.

Ellie must have felt that you were getting close because she pulled back slightly, stopping all her movements. You gave a whiny cry when she stopped. This made her laugh and you wanted to scream. You needed to come so bad.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You wanted to wipe that smile off your girlfriend’s face but that would not get you the orgasm you were so desperately craving.

“Yes.” You groaned back.

“What do you say?”

Ugh, this woman was pushing your buttons in the way only she could, “Please Ellie! Please make me come.” You bucked your hips prompting her to continue.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Ellie dove back in, devouring you. She lapped at your clit, back and forth up and down. You felt drouzy with lust.

She added one finger, pulling it out and adding another when reentering. You moaned riding her fingers as best you could in this position.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. Are you gonna come?”

“Yes, yes keep going, Ellie!” You practically screamed, chasing the orgasm you could feel teetering on the edge, ready to burst.

“Come, come for me baby, please.” Ellie pleaded.

It was her please that sent you over the edge. The whole time she acted as if she was in control of the situation but she wanted to make you come just as badly as you wanted to come. Her pleading for it was too much.

You twitched and sighed, coming down from the high as Ellie crawled up the length of your body, leaving kisses in her wake. She placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into her side, cuddling you.

After a few minutes of recovering, you leaned up and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. At first, it was soft and sensual but after just a few moments the kiss turned more heated. You threw your leg over hers, framing her hips on your knees.

Before the make-out could turn into anything more a knock sounded at the door startling you both. You froze and Ellie groaned.

“Yeah?” she called out.

“I’ve got dinner inside if you girls are hungry,” It was Joel’s voice that called back, “Oh and Tommy and Maria are coming over.” He continued.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at the grimace on Ellie’s face. She rubbed her face with her palm before shouting back, “Okay we’ll be in in a bit,”

The sound of Joel’s footsteps retreated down the path back to the house. You giggled as Ellie rolled her eyes. You climbed off her and the bed searching for your jeans. After slipping them on you walked back to the mattress where Ellie hadn’t moved from, just watching you.

“Come on hot shot, I’m hungry.” You offered your hand dragging her out of bed. She grumbled something about Joel being a cock-block and she got dressed.

You both slipped your shoes on and made your way to the door. She placed her hand on the nob going to open the door but you stopped her.

Leaning up to her ear you whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you come real hard when we get back, baby.” You pecked her cheek and bolted outside giggling before she could drag you back to bed.

How did we like it? This is my first time posting my smut writings so if it was bad sorry I tried (I'm much better at fluff). Anyway, thanks for reading! 🤍

[A familiar voice that's accompanied by the noise of little bells approaches Wilbur from behind.]

Excuse me? Can you tell me how I get from here to the Inn at the Starlight theatre?

[The voice sounds almost exactly like that of Owen - just younger and a little faster maybe - and the person it belongs to looks like him too. Just, again, younger, with a different hairstyle, and wearing a jester costume for some reason. In addition, he's carrying way too many paper bags from all kinds of stores from Lakeside Mall. One of them is from Toy Zone and the head of ab unusually big dinosaur plushy looks out of it. The other bags mostly belong to clothing stores.]

-@agent-carvour

[ Wilbur was a tad bit confunsed by the bells and when he heared the voice he was even more confusned. He would wave away the smoke before coughing a bit, he would drop the cigarette he had in his hand before crushing it under his foot] I think i could try point you in the right direction. [ He would look at the other slightly titling his head. This wasn't the Owen he knew right or Owen at all] Oh, Nice outfit; nice to see stuff more lively here. do you need any help with those, is proabably easier if i acutally show you.

Your Turkey Dinosaurs AU is so so sooo gooood. It makes me want to cuddle with Maxy and Mr Roar and watch UP with them. It's so sweet and really a safe thing to read for me. It makes me feel good and happy and comforted ❤️. Can you write something more about it? Maybe Maxy scared of storms and Daniel taking care of him. Or something with Uncle Michael. Or anything really. Anything is good. Everything about this verse is good and amazing.

Hi! I’m so glad you’re loving the series - sorry it took me so long to write this for you! Also sorry it's a only… a little bit… related to your original prompt! I got carried away 🫣

1079 words, cw for wildfires

“Wait here for a second baby,” Daniel tells Max, leaving him playing with his toy cars on the rug in the living room.

It’s the winter break and they’re spending it on the farm in Perth. It was supposed to be a nice relaxing holiday, so that little Max can spend time outside on the farm, but it’s very quickly gone to shit.

Daniel is stressed and that is an understatement. He locks himself in the bathroom, hands shaking as he fumbles with the lock that he probably doesn’t even need to use. He just needs a moment to think, to work out what to do, to check the news on his phone. He’s checked it like 100 times now, hoping that the story will just disappear. That the news is wrong.

There’s a wildfire blazing less than 200km away, the wind is constantly changing direction, and while the farm should be safe, Daniel doesn’t know.

He’s already text their pilot, asked if they can scramble the plane and fly home at short notice, and the crew are on standby ready to go. The only problem is getting a flight slot. The smoke has stopped some flights, there is a backlog to get through, and Daniel can’t get them a slot no matter how much money he’s willing to throw at them.

He splashes some water onto his face. Think. Think. Think.

He hasn’t lived in Australia for over seventeen years. He’s not exactly prepared for this.

“Daddy,” Max says, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Just a minute, Maxy,” Daniel says, squeezing his eyes shut. He needs Max to be big right now.

“No,” Max says, voice wobbling. “TV says big fire.”

Oh shit. He’d left the TV on, which means Max has seen the news.

Daniel opens the bathroom door, and then immediately holds his arms open for Max to snuggle into. He’s looking up at Daniel with big blue eyes and a terrified expression, but the thing that really hurts Daniel is how Max is looking at him like Daniel can fix this, like Daniel can fix anything. He wishes he could.

“Yeah,” Daniel says, stroking his hair. “Do you think you could get big Maxy out?”

Max is quiet for a moment, but then he lets out a pathetic little whimper and Daniel knows that this is it. Max can’t bring himself up.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Max says, “I can’t do it I’m scared.”

Daniel can’t quite explain what happens inside of him after that, but knowing that Max is stuck small and potentially in danger brings out the fighter in him. There is no fucking way he’s going to let Max get hurt. No way.

He texts Michael.

Then he texts their pilot again.

Michael is at his families place a couple of miles away and Daniel feels fucking terrible asking him to leave them but it turns out he doesn’t need to. As soon as Michael finds out Max is small and terrified, he’s on his way to help.

Their pilot promises he’ll keep trying to get a flight slot and that he’ll call Daniel as soon as he has any news. He tells Daniel that they will be the first non commercial plane out of here; that he’ll be such a pain the arse that air traffic control will end up throwing a slot at them. Daniel suspects their pilot knows about Max, he’s never mentioned anything, but he looks at Max with soft protective eyes sometimes.

When Michael arrives they immediately beginning preparing for the worst. They divide up tasks. Michael hoses down the entire outside of the farm house and the surrounding land, making sure the earth is wet and less likely to burn. Daniel cuts back the grass, reducing the amount of material that could burn and fuel the fire further. A little bit of protection if the fire does come their way.

Max sits on Daniel’s lap on the lawn mower, he’s crying completely silently because he doesn’t want to distract Daddy from the important job. It’s heartbreaking. Daniel drives with one hand and wraps the other around Max’s waist to hold him close. He can’t give Max all of his attention right now, but he can make sure Max has some comfort.

It’s still unclear if the fire will reach them, the wind unpredictable, but the smoke is gathering now. Sitting heavily in the sky and scratchy in the back of Daniel’s throat. That’s how he knows it’s time to go inside.

“Baby,” Daniel says, lifting Max into his arms as soon as they’re inside. Max wraps around him like a koala, holding on so tight, burying his face into Daniel’s neck. “Daddy won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Uncle Michael won’t either,” Michael says gently, devastated that this is happening when Max is small and so delicate.

They sit together on the sofa, Daniel and Michael pressed close together and Max sprawled across both of their laps. He’s sucking on Daniel’s fingers, too distressed for his binkie, only Daddy is able to bring him comfort at a time like this.

The next hour is a blur. Daniel’s phone rings. He and Michael scramble to gather up Max’s plushies. Then he’s driving to the airport, Max on Michael’s lap as Daniel drives faster than he should.

When they arrive at the airport, they’re able to drive straight to the tarmac, and Daniel ends up carrying Max the short distance from the car to the plane. The younger man’s legs and arms wrapped around Daniel so tightly as they climb the stairs. The pilot greets them with a small wave, he doesn’t seem surprised that Max is in Daniel’s arms. He’ll have to thank him properly later.

The moment the plane wheels lift off of the ground Daniel sobs with relief. It’s an overreaction to flee the country, he knows, he could have gotten them a hotel room in the city but. It’s hard. He was scared. Max was scared. He would have done anything to keep Max safe, to get him as far away from the danger as possible. So, back to Monaco it is.

He holds Max close, whispering that they’re safe, they’re okay, that Daddy will always keep him safe. All he gets in return is babbles, the relief of getting away from the danger has dropped Max even younger.

“Oh my sweet baby,” Daniel says, stroking his back and peppering kisses to his cheeks. “We’re safe.”

So I stopped at a Jack-in-the-Box on the way here and the girl said 'Hiya! Are you having an awesome day?' not 'How are you doing today?' but 'Are you having an awesome day?' Which is pretty shitty because it puts the onus on me to disagree with her, like if I'm not having an 'awesome day,' I'm suddenly the negative one. Usually when people ask me how I'm doing the real answer is I'm doing shitty, but I can't say I'm doing shitty because I don't even have a good reason to be doing shitty. So if I say 'I'm doing shitty,' and they're like 'Why? What's wrong?' and I have to be like 'I dunno, all of it.' So instead when people ask me how I'm doing I say 'I am doing so great.' But when this girl in the Jack-in-the-Box asked me if I was having an awesome day, I thought 'Well today, I'm actually allowed to feel shitty. Today I have a good reason.' So I said 'My mom died.' and she immediately burst into tears. So I have to comfort her, which is annoying, and meanwhile there's a line of people forming behind me who are all giving me these really judgey looks because I made the Jack-in-the-Box girl cry. And she's bawling and she's saying 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!' and I'm like, 'It's fine, it's fine. I mean it's not fine, but you know it's fine. And I would like to order a Double Jack Meal and I've kinda got somewhere to be, so less with the crying and more with the frying, huh?' Then the girl apologizes again, and offers me a free churro with my meal. And as I'm leaving I think 'I just got a free churro because my mom died. No one ever tells you that when your mom dies, you get a free churro.' [Throat clearing] Anyways, that's not part of the uh, okay, here we go. Let's do this. Here I am, Bojack Horseman, doing a eulogy, let's go." [...] "Beatrice Horseman, who was she? What was her deal? Well, she was a horse. She was born in 1938. She died in 2018. One time she went to a parade. And one time she smoked an entire cigarette in one long inhale; I watched her do it. Truly a remarkable woman. Lived a full life, that lady, all the way to the end--which is uh, now, I guess. It really makes you think though, huh? Life, right? It goes by, stuff happens, then you die. Okay, well that's my time, tip your waitress. Nah, I'm just kidding around. There's no waitress, but that's all I have to say about my mother. No point in beating a dead horse, right? So [inhales] Mom, you got any ideas? Anything? Mom? No? Nothing to contribute? Knock once if you're proud of me. Can I just say how amazing it is to be in a room with my mother and I can just talk and talk without her asking me to shut up and make her a drink? Hey mom, knock once if you think I should shut up. No, you sure? I mean I don't wanna embarrass you by making this eulogy into a me-logy. So, seriously if you want me to sit down and let someone else have a turn, knock once and I will not be offended. No? Your funeral. Sorry about the closed-casket by the way. She wanted an open-casket but, uh she's dead now, so who cares what she wanted. No, that sounds bad. [Stuttering] I'm sorry, but I-I think if she could've seen what she looked like dead she would've agreed it's better this way. I mean she looked like this. [Agonized expression] Kinda like a pissed off toy dinosaur. Coroner couldn't get her eyes closed so now her face is forever frozen in a mask of tremendous horror and anguish; or as my mom called it: Tuesday. Tuesday. My mom called it Tuesday. Hey mom, what'd you think of that joke? You like that? You never did care for my comedy. [Clears throat] Here's a story. When I was a teenager, I performed a comedy routine for my high school talent show. There was this, uh cool jacket I wanted to wear because I thought it made me look like Albert Brooks. For months I saved up for this jacket and when I finally had enough I went to the store and it was gone. They'd just sold it to someone else. So I went home and I told my mother and she said 'Let that be a lesson: that's the good that comes from wanting things.' She was really good at dispensing life lessons that always seemed to circle back to everything being my fault. But then, on the day of the talent show, my mother had a surprise for me. She had bought me the jacket... and even though she didn't know how to say it, I knew that she loved me. Now that's a good story about my mother--it's not true. But it's a good story, right? I stole it from an episode of Maude I saw when I was a kid where she talks about her father. I remember when I saw it thinking 'That's the kind of story I wanna tell about my parents when they die.' But I don't have any stories like that. All I know about being good I learned from TV. And in TV flawed characters are always showing they care with these surprising grand gestures; and I think a part of me still believes that's what love is. But in real life, the big gesture isn't enough. You need to be consistent. You need to be dependably good. You can't just screw everything up and take a boat out into the ocean to save your best friend or solve a mystery and fly to Kansas. You need to do it everyday, which is so hard. When you're a kid, you convince yourself that maybe the grand gesture could be enough. That even though your parents aren't what you need them to be over and over and over again, at any moment they might surprise you with something... wonderful. I kept waiting for that. The proof that even though my mother was a hard woman, deep down, she loved me, and cared about me, and wanted me to know that I made her life a little bit brighter. Even now, I find myself waiting. Hey Mom. Knock once if you love me and care about me and want me to know I made your life a little bit brighter. [Silence] My mother did not go gentle into that good night. She went clawing and fighting and thrashing--hence the face. If you'd seen her, I swear to god, the only thing you'd be thinking about right now is that I am nailing this impression. I was in the hospital in those last moments and they were truly horrifying. Full of nonsensical screams and cries, but there was this one moment, this one instant of strange... calm. Where she looked in my direction and said 'I See You.' That's the last thing she said to me. 'I See You.' Not a statement of judgement or disappointment. Just acceptance and the simple recognition of another person in a room. 'Hello there. You are a person, and I see you.' Lemme tell ya, it's a weird thing to feel at fifty four years old that for the first time in your life your mother sees you. It's an odd realization that that's the thing you've been missing; the only thing you've been wanting all along. To be seen. And it doesn't feel like a relief to finally be seen, it feels mean. Like 'Oh, turns out that you knew what I wanted and you waited until the very last moment to give it to me.' I was prepared for more cruelty. I was sure that she would get in one final zinger about how I let her down and about how I was fat and stupid and too tall to be an effective Lindy Hopper. About how I was needy, and a burden, and an embarrassment. All that I was ready for. I was not ready for 'I See You.' Only my mother would be lousy enough to swipe me with a moment of connection on her way out. But maybe I'm giving her too much credit. Maybe it wasn't about connection. Maybe it was a... maybe it was an 'I See You' like 'I SEE YOU' like 'You might have the rest of the world fooled, but I know exactly who you are.' That's more my mom's speed. Or... maybe she just literally meant 'I see you... You are an object that has entered my field of vision.' She was pretty out of it at the end there, so maybe it's dumb to try to attribute it to anything. Back in the 90's I was in a very famous TV show called Horsin' Around. Please hold your applause. And I remember one time a fan asked me 'Hey, um, you know that episode where the horse has to give Ethan a pep talk after Ethan finds out his crush only asked him to the dance because her friends were having a dorkiest date contest? In all the shots of the horse, you can see a paper coffee cup on the kitchen counter, but in the shots of Ethan, the coffee cup's missing. Was that because the show was making a statement about the fluctuant subjectivity of memory and how even two people can experience the same moment in entirely different ways?' And I didn't have the heart to like, 'No man, some crew guy just left their coffee cup in the shot.' So instead I was like 'Yeah.' And maybe this is the coffee cup. Maybe we're dumb to try to pin significance onto every little thing. Maybe when someone says 'I See You.' it just means 'I see you.' Then again, maybe she wasn't even talking to me, because if I'm being honest, she wasn't really looking at me. She was looking just past me. There was nobody else in the room, so I wanted to think she was talking to me. But honestly she was so far gone at that point who knows what she was seeing. Who're talking to, ma? Not saying, huh? Staying mum." [...] "Maybe she saw my dad. My dad died about ten years ago from injuries he sustained during a duel. When your father dies you ask yourself a lot of questions. Questions like ‘Wait did you say he died in a duel?’ and ‘Who dies in a duel?’ The whole thing was so stupid. Dad spent his entire life writing this book, but he couldn’t get any stores to carry it or any newspapers to review it. Finally I guess this one newspaper thought he was pretty hilarious because they ran a review and tore him to shreds. So my father, ever the proud Mary, decided that he would not stand for this besmirchment of his honor and he claimed the critic didn’t understand what it meant to be a man. So he demanded satisfaction in the form of pistols at dawn. He wrote the paper this letter saying ‘anyone who didn’t like his book he would challenge to a duel.’ Anyone in the world. He’d even pay for airfare to San Francisco and a night at a hotel. Well eventually this found its way to some kook in Montana who was about as batshit as he was and he took him up on the offer. They met at Golden Gate Park and agreed ten paces, then shoot. But in the middle of the ten paces, Dad turned to ask the guy if he’d read the book and what he’d thought, but not looking where he was going, he tripped over an exposed root, fell, and bashed his head on a rock. I wish I’d known to go to Jack-in-the-Box then. Maybe could’ve gotten a free churro. Would’ve been nice to have something to show for being the son of Butterscotch Horseman. My darling mother gave the eulogy. Mind you, during my entire life I had never heard her say a kind word to or about my father, but at his funeral she said ‘My husband is dead and everything is worse now.’ ‘My husband is dead and everything is worse now.’ I dunno why she said that. Maybe she felt like that’s the kinda thing you’re supposed to say at a funeral. Maybe she hoped that one day someone would say that about her. My mother is dead and everything is worse now. Or maybe she knew that he had frittered away all her inheritance and replaced it with crippling debt. Which is a pretty shitty thing to leave your widow with. Bad news you lost a husband, but don’t worry, you also lost the house. Maybe Mom knew she’d have to sell her fancy jewelry and move into a home. Maybe that’s what she meant by ‘everything is worse now.’ Is that what you meant, Mom? I gotta say I’m really carrying this double-act. At least with Penn and Teller, at least the quiet one does card tricks.” [...] “What’s the difference between a first-year lit major and my mother, Beatrice Horseman? One’s well-read and the other’s a huge bitch. Yeah might’ve gone a little too far with that one. That might’ve been too ‘huge bitch’ for the room. I’m sorry, Mother, you’re not a huge bitch. You were a huge bitch... and now you’re dead. You know the first time I ever performed in front of an audience was actually with my mom. She used to put on these shows with her supper club in the living room and she used to make [inhales] she used to make me sing the lollipop song... And those parties, they were really something. There were skits and magic acts and ethically insensitive vaudeville routines and the big finale was always a dance my mother did. She had this beautiful dress that she only brought out for these parties and she did this incredible number and it was so beautiful... and sad. Dad hated those parties. He locked himself in the study and would bang on the walls for us to keep it down, but he always came out to see Mom dance. He'd linger in the doorway, scotch in hand, and watch in awe as this cynical, despicable woman he married took flight. And as a child who was completely terrified of both my parents, I was always aware that this moment of grace--it meant something. We understood each other in a way; me and my mom and my dad. As screwed up as we all were, we did understand each other. My mother, she knew what it's like to feel your entire life like you're drowning with the exception of these moments. These very rare, brief instances in which you suddenly remember you can swim. But then again, mostly not. Mostly you're drowning. She understood that, too. And she recognized that I understood it, too... and Dad. All three of us were drowning and we didn't know how to save each other, but there was an understanding that we were all drowning together. And I would like to think that that's what she meant when we were in the hospital and she said 'I See You.' You know the weird thing about both your parents being dead is that it means you're next. I mean, it's not like there's a waitlist for dying; any one of us could be run over by a Snapchatting teen at any moment and you'd think that knowing that would make us more adventurous and kind and forgiving, but it makes us small and stupid and petty. I actually had a near-death experience recently. A stunt went bad and I fell off a building. I'm an actor. I do my own stunts. I work on this show Philbert. I'm Philbert. It hasn't come out yet, but it's getting heavy buzz. And, oh, speaking of buzz I'm supposed to take two of these every morning, but my mornings are so screwed up because of the shooting schedule I don't even know what mornings mean anymore. There's a joke in there about a guy who's been to so many funerals he doesn't even know what mourning means anymore. Let you guys figure out what that one means for yourselves. Anyway, wanna know what I thought when I was falling off that building and I went into panic mode? The last thing that my stupid brain could come up with before I died: 'Won't they be sorry.' Cool thought, brain." [...] "I don't even know what 'they' I wanted to be sorry. My mom, even before she died, could barely remember who I was, and of course, my dad's dead. The last conversation I ever had with him was about his novel. He was so certain this book was his legacy. Maybe he thought it would vindicate him from all the shitty things he ever did in his stupid worthless life. Maybe he didn't. Dunno. Never read it--'cause why would I give him that? I used to be on this TV show Horsin' Around. Seriously, though, hold your applause. Well held. It was written by my friend, Herb Kazzaz, who's also dead now, and this little girl named Sarah Lynn, and it was about these orphans. And early on, the network had a note: 'Maybe don't mention they're orphans so much, since audiences tend to find orphans sad and not relatable.' But I never thought the orphans were sad, I always thought they were lucky because they could imagine their parents to be anything they wanted. They had something to long for. Anyway, we did this one season finale when Olivia's birth mother comes to town and she was a junkie, but she's gotten herself cleaned up and she wants to be in Olivia's life again. And of course, she's just like a perfect, grown-up version of Olivia and they go to the mall and get her ears pierced like she's always wanted and--sorry, spoiler alert for the season six finale of Horsin' Around if you're still... working your way through it. Anyway, the horse tries to warn her 'Be careful, moms have a way of letting you down.' But Olivia just thinks the horse is jealous. When the mom says she's moving the California, Olivia decides to go with her--and the network really juiced the cliffhanger. Is Olivia gone for good? But, of course, it's a TV show; she's not gone for good. But, of course, it's a TV show; Olivia's mother had a relapse and had to go back to rehab so Olivia had to hitchhike all the way home--getting rides from Mr. T, Malf, and the cast of Snop. Because of course that's what happened. What're you gonna do? Not have Olivia on the show? You can't have happy endings in sitcoms--not really--because then the show would be over and above all else the show has to keep going. There's always more show. And you can call Horsin' Around dumb or bad or unrealistic but there's nothing more realistic than that. You never get a happy ending because there's always more show. I guess until there isn't. My mom would hate it if she knew I spent so much time at her funeral talking about my old TV show, or maybe she'd think it was funny that her idiot son couldn't even do this right; who knows. She left no instructions for what she wanted me to say. All I know is that she wanted an open casket and that her idiot son couldn't even do that right. I'm not gonna stand up here and pretend I ever knew how to please that woman, even though so much of my life has been wasted in vain attempts to figure it out. But I keep going back to that moment in the ICU when she looked at me. 'I See You.' 'I. C. U.' Jesus Christ. We were in the intensive care unit. She was just reading a sign. My mom died and all I got was this free churro. You know the shittiest thing about all this? Is when that stranger behind the counter that gave me that free churro is that small act of kindness showed more compassion than my mother gave me in her entire god damn life. Like, how hard is it to do something nice for a person? This woman at the Jack-in-the-Box didn't even know me. I'm your son. All I had was you. [Inhales.] I had this friend and right around when I first met her, her dad died and I actually went with her to the funeral. And months later she told me she didn't understand why she was still upset because she never even liked her father. It made sense to me because I went through the same thing when my dad died and I'm going through the same thing now. You know what it's like? It's like that show Becker. You know, with Ted Dansen? I watched the entire run of that show hoping it would get better and it never did. It had all the right pieces but it just--it couldn't put them together and when it got cancelled I was really bummed out. Not because I liked the show but because I knew it could be so much better and now it never would be and that's... what losing a parent is like. It's like Becker. Suddenly you realize you'll never have the good relationship you wanted and as long as they were alive, even though you'd never admit it, part of you--the stupidest goddamn part of you--was still holding onto that chance. And you didn't even realize it until that chance went away. My mother is dead and everything is worse now. Because now I know I'll never have a mother who looks at me from across the room and says 'Bojack Horseman, I see you.' But I guess it's good to know. Good to know that there is nobody looking out for me. That there never was. That there never will be. So, it's good to know that I'm the only one I can depend on. And I know that now and it's good. It's good that I know that. So. It's good my mother's dead. Well, no point in beating a dead horse. Beatrice Horseman was born in 1938 and died in 2018 and I have no idea what she wanted... Unless she just wanted what we all want. To be seen.

-- Bojack Horseman, Season 5 Episode 6 "Free Churro"

This is the Buddy for March 10th. There's a lot of smoke there. At first I was toying with making the image even taller, like ten times the size, so that most of it was covered in smoke, but decided to go with this one. A real coin toss, really.

On an unrelated point, I heard about Akira Toriyama's death yesterday. Pretty sad, considering he was still comparatively young (68) and active. I was a huge Chrono Trigger fan when I was young, and I've played that game through the end several times. Best RPG of its generation.

I also liked Dragon Ball, although not as much, and that love kind of diminshed with age. Still, I've got a lot of nostalgia for the Z era sagas, with Freeza and Cell. And I read the manga, the early years with kid Goku were pretty interesting, too.

Unfortunately, after the Boo saga the franchise kind of went off-rails. Wasn't into the anime-only GT series, not to mention the games or the disastrous movie. The Super series wasn't as bad, but still doesn't compare to the original.

Still, I have real fond memories of the story. It's an interesting and unique story - or at least it would be if it wasn't so incredibly popular it became ingrained into everyone's mind and imitated to such an extent. I'm reading Osamu Tezuka's Boku no Son Goku, which was also inspired by Journey to the West, and this time I can say Tezuka's work wasn't the superior adaptation. Of course, you have to consider the context...

It's hard to explain a lot about Dragon Ball, especially to people who aren't fans. It started out as a comedic parody of a XVIth century novel, but then it turned into a martial arts story, and then it became serious? And the main character grew up, dozens of minor characters piled up in the background... and all of that before the twist that started the story I'm familiar with - Goku's an alien?

Toriyama's art made the story a lot more pleasant, too. The design of vehicles, aliens, monsters and robots was top notch, and what made me enjoy the story much more than the fight scenes and associated cliches. Another interesting thing was Toriyama's use of twists which led the stories into a different direction when compared to other shonen manga, which often adhered religiously to the build-up to stronger enemies in sucession.

But that's also where the story issues lie. The first is the bloated cast of characters being humiliated so Goku could steal the spotlight. The biggest victim there is Yamcha, but, really, everyone who was beaten by Goku then turned good was kind of cannon fodder. That started as a twist, too - so this evil guy Goku had so much trouble with got beaten so easily by the new villain? Damn. And since new villains kept being introduced, each one being so much stronger than the last, it was hard to make sense of how strong the characters were (and any realism was already out the window thanks to all the plot devices keeping the characters alive and strong enough to fight).

It's funny by the end of the story - or even, by the end of the kid Goku era already - the dragon balls were also relegated to the background. I don't like a lot of the cliches of the series, the plot devices used to make characters stronger with no interesting consequences, the convoluted use of elements of past stories, annoying character behaviors... but, still, you have to respect a guy who managed to start out with such a weird little comedy with its goofy looking vehicles and talking dinosaurs, and turn it into a behemoth so popular, people can have such strong feelings about it.

RIP, Akira Toriyama.

my dad is so funny, he's not afraid to get his teeth kicked in, he's deathly afraid of the dentist, he used to do nothing but get in fights when he was my age, he doesn't swear, he's so claustrophobic he can't get an mri and the only open model of an mri machine in this country is owned by some school who won't agree to use it on anyone but people researching stuff for it, i know this bc my dad called them and asked about it bc he is genuinely incapable of feeling shame about anything ever, his fave sport used to be boxing and then everything and now all he does is disc golf, i've witnessed food crimes some could only dream of bc my dad mixes any food bc "it all gets mixed up in the stomach anyways," he won't eat anything that's fallen to the floor, he's so allergic to cats he almost developed asthma, he has a cat and will let both her and my cat rub their little faces on his face as much as they please, he genuinely believes in a lot of ufo sightings, we used to have inflatable alien toys growing up, he taught me to hold a playstation controller before i learned how to talk he used to play all sorts of video games but he doesn't play anything outside of cod anymore, he doesn't understand a lot of things but he knows he doesn't need to and he's an ally, he's allergic to seafood but yearly ends up in situations where some place he's visiting has put fish in the weirdest of dishes, he didn't have any education besides middle school until his 50s but he had a good job due to how good he is at talking to people, i can't go anywhere with him bc he knows half the town so it takes ages for him to catch up with people, he knows a guy for everything, he remembers the names of like 3 of my friends and always makes the exact same jokes about them every time they come up in conversation, he's never in his entire life yelled or even raised his voice at me and one time in kindergarden some child attacked me when dad was picking me up and his reflexes were too quick so he instinctively hit the child with a backpack he was holding and the child flew across the room and my dad was ready to get charged with something but literally no one there cared about that, he got drafted but got out due to having stomach problems, he believes in the supernatural, all the older cops in my hometown hate him, i have no idea what crimes he's committed in his youth considering one of his friends who used to play dinosaurs with me when i was a kid got shot and killed over something drug related and i don't think that's any of my business, he's the most average middle aged small city man ever, i'm pretty sure he's autistic and some of his teachers even picked up on that when he was in elementary school but they did nothing about it so everyone just forgot it, he started smoking in 3rd grade but stopped when i was born, people often tell me a lot of things about me start making sense when they meet my dad, he's weird but not even remotely special bc that's what half the dads in his area are like. everything about him can be explained by saying he was born in the 70s

Cute: Richie?

☾ cute character questions ☽

the basics:

name: Richard Victor Gilmore

age: 15 (at the start of Gilmore Girls season One.)

zodiac sign: Libra

one good trait: he’s always on time for everything

one bad trait: n/a

habits:

one bad habit: doesn’t get near the right amount of sleep he should be

one good habit: doesn’t drink or smoke/do drugs

one habit they can’t break: n/a

one they’ve broken: slowed down the amount of coffee he drinks

what they’re afraid of: spiders, hight’s, claustrophobic/small places

family:

their parents names: Lorelei Gilmore and Christopher Hayden 🙄

their siblings names: Rory Gilmore (sister)l

favorite childhood memory: Getting to go to the manor & having chances for Richard to tell him stories about Yale 🥺

favorite childhood toy: stuffed dinosaur

embarrassing story: Once climbed a tree on a dare, a branch snapped and he broke his arm because of the fall.

favorite family member: Richard Gilmore

a story about that family member: Starting from when Richie was thirteen and began doing odd jobs around Stars Hallow, Richie gets Richard a new tie for his birthday every year. 🥺

what they prefer:

coffee or tea?

showering in the day or night?

taking baths or taking showers?

tv or movies?

writing or reading?

platonic or romantic love?

iced tea or lemonade?

ice cream or smoothies?

cupcakes or cake?

beach or mountains?

favorites:

song: Come What May - Moulin Rouge (film)

band: Abba or Queen

outfit: Bracebridge Dinner. 🥺

place: n/a

memory:

person: Richard Gilmore or Mia Halloway (season 2 Mia, season 7 Mia doesn’t count)

movie: Jurassic Park (the first one) & Moulin Rouge

show n/a

i do think a lot about how the incident where she burnt down a foster home was the closest she got to being clocked for her powers. as is, the only reason she didn't was pure luck. if they'd pressed just a little bit more, they'd discover that the wiring in the building was faulty, sure, but still much more intact than it should have been if it had been the thing to set the house on fire. the person doing the inspection was relatively new, just saw the damaged wiring, and figured that was probably it. horses vs zebras and what not.

then there's the witness testimony. the other little girl, the one who took livvy's toy just before the fire started, never changed her story even once. she said that she had taken livvy's stupid plushy dinosaur, that livvy got upset, she cried and tried to grab it back for a minute, but then. then the air around livvy had changed and so had her eyes. she said livvy and the air around her shimmered like a long road in summer, that she started to sweat even though it was january, and then suddenly the place was filled with smoke and angry orange flame. there were two other kids who saw livvy's toy being taken just before the fire started, one of which ended up in the hospital, able to corroborate this at least in part.

but they never questioned livvy, not really, she wasn't talking at that point and her social worker informed investigators of her being selectively mute. they entertained the idea of having her write down the answers to the questions asked, but decided they'd move on and focus on the other kids who could verbally describe the incident. if they'd pressed even a little, however, there's a real chance livvy would have confessed out of guilt. incriminated herself by saying she was sorry and that she didn't mean to.

Someone posted this in a group where I’m a member, with the description:

“Be sure to read to the end. From a sticker card in a box of dinosaur toys.”

And I have questions:

Is this real?

Because:

a) mosasaurs are not pterosaurs b) mosasaurs were Cretaceous not Late Jurassic c) mosasaur achieved global distribution d) none of them got to 25m in length (they were big, just not that big) e) they got the weight right! f) they were apex predators and ate meat food (on a roll here)

…and then what the fuck were they smoking? Nothing has bat wings and four legs (because you’d need to be diverging from the tetrapod format) and I think they’re actually describing some sort of a chimera? But yeah, horses do look like that sometimes.

No one got this much wrong by accident.

Oh, and it was in a box of dinosaur toys? Neither mosasaurs, pterosaurs or chimeras are dinosaurs…

dumping all my poetry about you

Down bad for you I have never been this down bad in my life ouch ouch ouch 

—— 

You make me mourn the person I could never be. Smarter, wittier, more genuine. You make me wish I was better, make me hate myself, make me ashamed. You wouldn’t want any of those things. 

I can’t write your name, can’t admit I have wanted you for months, can’t humble myself before the universe even in the anonymity of confession. 

I knew you hated small talk but I was terrified of doing more, of somehow showing I was paying attention. God I loved you. God I love you.  

It hurts that no one ever wants me. No one ever sees me like that. I hate being ugly. I hate it. 

—— 

Folly folly. 

My foolproof crush cure is to draw a frog skull in pen. To kill any unwanted love (I’m sorry I’m a burden) all I have to do is draw a frog skull in pen. You made be gotten rid of with a frog skull drawn in pen and then I can speak to you again. 

He looks at me with that simple look that I’ve always dreamed of. He’s just happy to be looking at me. Last night he had looked so serious, and the pause had dragged forever (I think it was my last taste of heaven. Let me live there in the afterlife, suspended in hope like honey). But in the here and now his eyes make me feel there is more to me than the shallow layers I’m terrified of. He makes me forget being sixteen and drinking svedka and he makes me forget earlier today and feeling like a failure every time I clock into work. He makes me forget everything I loathe inside me and relive every word I’ve ever said to him. God, have I ever made someone look that happy, that relaxed? No. I haven’t. 

He’s not looking at me. Not really. 

I remember being young and knowing I was ugly and always would be. I remember thinking my only shot at being wanted was to be wanted by men who would violate me, my only outlet to be used. I remember how much it hurt to realize, and I don’t think it’s gotten any better. I’m just used to it now. 

I want someone a little sad so I won’t be the only one who has to bare my soul. 

—— 

They played a song from a show you asked me to watch 

I didn’t finish it 

History repeats 

I’m scared that I don’t love the way I’m supposed to 

It doesn’t fill me like it should 

I just had a magic moment. It’s the only kind of magic left anymore, the kind that exists with a francium half-life. 

I was listening to our song (the one you don’t know about) walking to my favorite spot on campus (you’ve never been there). I was thinking about not-you, about muffins and new jeans and a Master’s degree. 

A wind hit. 

The silvery underside of each leaf caught the light, with the rustling crescendo of concert confetti. That was it, really, but that’s all it needed to be. It shifted my skin just enough to let me breathe easier than the second before. 

I wanted to tell you about it but what would I say? The tap finally turned on, flushing out the stagnant water that had been puddled in my ribs since September? Who wants to hear that? 

———

It would’ve been easier if we had never been friends. 

Because now, every night, every time I am not careful, I catch myself thinking of you. Wondering what you thought and what you think. Where are you? Did you lie as much as I fear? Was talking to me just another responsibility? And why? 

“Why” has taken root more deeply in me than a child just learning about atoms, about dinosaurs, about gravity and the weather. “Why” perches inside the shell of my ear—I cannot hear you speak without hearing it too. “Why” spreads like fire, all my memories of you smoke-hazed. I knew I was too stupid, too young and too boring, to see the world as you did. To move through it as you did. Why did we end up in the same place at all? 

There are fair and pretty distractions, a happy meal thrown into the backseat after school to stem the flow of questions with fries and cheap toys. There are the days when you don’t plague me so much. There is the life I have built while pretending you aren’t still laughing at something I said, giving me shockingly honest answers, sharing yourself. You are braver than I will ever fucking be. 

—— 

I hate drinking from cans 

And when a cloudy day is broken 

I’ve never heard your voice on the phone, 

Why does that bug me so much? 

The sky sparkled with cast-out handfuls of stars, 

like some god’s change purse split open on pavement. 

can’t we skip 

the getting-to-know-each-other part? 

like I’m not tricking you

can I fight down, like before, 

all the rusty bile? 

I watch her in her perfect sun-blush dress 

With a smile that would send the devil running to repent 

I watch her like a peeping Tom and then 

Run home to try and write down her secrets 

I know it’s not much but it’s what I can cling to

A few fingertips bruised against the wall

—— 

I thought I heard rain but it was tires on dry asphalt 

I thought I heard the song you loved 

It’s easy to think in the clean space

We are young, working minimum-wage jobs and dressing like the magazines 

I got blisters on purpose 

See, I don’t mind how I scar and bleed, final-curtain red 

Standing-ovation red

——— 

I circled your birthday on my calendar—no caption 

I wonder if I’ll have any words to say when the morning comes 

I’ve been watching you get older through other peoples’ photos 

Home had been somewhere hovering on your periphery 

Longing, longing 

I drove past the Thai place and screamed until it vanished in the rear view 

I wonder if it was a relief when I stopped calling 

I’m hoping you booked a flight to that blackout hotel 

Find yourself in the silence like you wanted to

The bit of you I got to share 

Playing a game of cancel-plans chicken with my friends 

I haven’t seen any of them in a while

But I’ve ruined my life in million ways, so maybe it’s better if they keep a distance. 

——— 

There’s nothing like the empty I felt when I told you I was leaving 

You threw down your hat 

I knew you would be perfectly fine. Your love was just for my benefit

Like a salve, snake-oil sold in earnest

Wanting to be the one to fix it all. Even me 

——— 

I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I. Miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you. 

And like a cork in a bottle I am undone. It’s your birthday today and everyone lucky enough to still be in your life is celebrating you, a privilege I will never have again. Damn you and your paradox, a smile that welcomes me, welcomes everyone—I could be anyone. Because when you had me alone you had me entirely and you didn’t even know. 

There’s a fist in my stomach. Is anger always this blue? 

1, 3, 6

1. What were you doing at the moment you read this question?

Watching Star Trek eating Potato Chips and smoking Wead

3. Do you prefer Chicken McNuggets or Filet-O-Fish?

chicken nuggets babbyyyy

6. Have you ever owned a dinosaur? If so, which one?

I had a plastic Sarah toy triceratops when I was little