#I LOVE FISHE DOBSON I LOVE FISHE GUYS

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

As promised, Demon Dobson Headcanons. As usual with Demon headcanons, obligatory warning that some of what I say may tie into my own lore revolving around hell and that I'll likely expand on it in text. TLDR; I'm a nerd over demons and designing them.

also these are in no particular order

Word count: 2.1k Words (what)

Demon Dobson HCs: (i foind fishee)

୨・┈┈Dobson is a mid-ranking demon in terms of position and power. From a younger age, he was shown to have potential in his abilities and for that reason was looked upon with more respect and in higher regard by his peers. He was ahead of his time, a prodigy, he was perfect. The attention gradually got to his head, and in time, he had developed a superiority complex regarding how he views other people. Power-wise, he’s able to turn into his demon form with ease when submerged with water. He’s outright amazing at getting to and from places through traversing water canals. (this means he's also amazing at switching from wet clothing to miraculously dry clothing in seconds. Magic!) He’s also capable of something or other with his flip phone. I think it’d be interesting for him to have a technology based ability but I haven’t figured it out. Maybe something to do with disorienting people through typing or showing specific things on its screen? Thus, giving him leverage to triumph over them.

Dobson isn't a pride demon. He's an Envy Demon. Dobson is depicted as having a superiority complex toward others, he holds himself to the highest degree, but he's also a class act suck up. Dobson constantly looks down on others partially due to a fear that he will become inferior, that he will be in a place where he’s forced to be looked down on for his abilities. He wants nothing more than to excel past his peers, to be seen as full of potential by his superiors, and for the most part, he has. He does excel in most of what he does. But in areas he doesn’t, he puts those around him down in hopes to be seen as superior. He’s cutthroat and downright vicious over his position to keep from being inferior. He’s terrified of being beneath others, and due to that, he’s constantly envious of those with a higher understanding of things he wants to be seen as proficient in. He’s envious of those above him, of those who appear capable of moving past him easily in life. And so, he’ll give them hell for any mistake they show. For example, I imagine he'd envy Morris’s abilities with people. Dobson couldn’t give less of a damn what people think of him, but he does wish he was able to sway a room like Morris can. Dobson constantly finds himself envying small things about others, wishing that was him. As highly as he views himself, he knows his life of normalcy could do more. This is also why he tends to suck up to authority figures, in hopes they’ll see his distinguished potential and uplift him as he feels he deserves to be. 

On the note of Envy, I like imagining Envy Demons to be aquatic in nature. The sea is a deep and unpredictable place of ferocious beasts. However, there is also an unmistakable sense of dread. In the sea, if you are not up to standard you will die. If you were born weak, you will die. Be envious of those stronger in this sea of doubt, work to be as good as them lest you fall to your knees. That is why I see Envy as the Sea. This is why Dobson is aquatic rather than your average portrayal of a demon. Adding onto this, Envy demons have horns that curl upward similarly to that of pride demons, but they kind of branch off like the coral of the sea. 

Dobson’s demon form is based off of the Idiacanthus Atlanticus, or the Black Dragonfish. These fish are said to be the most venomous fish within the Mediterranean. They have venomous spines that are known to cause significant harm to humans and other marine life. In other words, they’re quite rigid and difficult to approach. Plus, they’re a smaller, unpredictable predator. Though, generally, their diet consists of smaller invertebrates. I found the choice to be quite fitting due to his ruthless, unsavory, cutthroat nature toward his peers. He’s poisonous, he’s unpredictable, motherfucker would literally throw rocks at you if it meant he got the upperhand in his job. His choice in attacking smaller prey would be due to his inability to view his superiors in the same way. He envies them, but he’d like to please them rather than get on their bad side so that he too can climb up to their ranks. (i choose to willingly ignore the sexual dimorphism aspect) 

Dobson was human, and he lived a relatively unfulfilling, short life. He was top of his class, he considered himself a prodigy, someone who was meant to do great things and have everyone else look up at them in amazement. Unfortunately for him, an accident at 17 would leave him six feet under, soon to re-emerge in a sea- no, whirlpool of possibility. Despite his initial grief and dismay, Dobson enjoys being demonic. He feels powerful, as if nothing could stop him, you could say that despite his sin he’s overly prideful of where he is now. That isn’t to say he doesn’t feel envy toward the living though. He often wonders where he’d be had he not gotten into that accident. Would he have made some grand discovery? Would he have graduated early? Would he have a high grossing position in some prestigious company? Seeing mortals around his age fills his head with envy. To be them, to turn back time, he’d do anything for that opportunity. 

After allowing himself to grieve the life he had, he eventually pursues a job in Joja Corporations. For a while, he didn’t have the motivation to do his job as well. After all, why bother? It wasn’t like he was the person he was. He had become a monster in his eyes, something entirely offset from the guy he was before. Who wouldn’t grieve their past life if they could remember it? Sure, he looked like himself. But he was different. Extremely different. It took him ages to dig his way out of that mindset, but when he did, he was a rising star within the company. He ended up one of the youngest individuals in a middle management position, and it only added to his ego and reaffirmed his superiority over others. Unlike before, he had genuine power thanks to becoming demonic, and he’d damn well use it in whatever way he could to get the upper hand over his peers.

₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦

The day Dobson found out he could become more powerful by harvesting human souls was the day he truly discovered the power his demon form had. There was a particularly offensive customer in Joja-HyperMart that day, and he brought them outside and just about dragged them underwater. Of course, he ended up too scared off by the possibility of losing his position to do that, so instead, he showed his teeth as if to threaten them and said something along the lines of “I’m not against using… what would I even consider you? Human trash, that's it. I’m not against using human trash like yourself as a floatie. Or even a toothpick. Seriously, talking down to ME?” and he continued to go on a rant until they nervously backed away, Dobson’s less human traits in full view unbeknownst to him.

Dobson's noticeably more bark than bite. He could make threats all day, but actually acting on them and taking someone's soul is another thing to him. I imagine when he's pushed about actually getting physical with his threats he gets all stammery and says things like "Well- I've decided I'll spare you. I'm a nice person, can't you tell? Seriously, wanting me to go out of my way to hurt you. Are you hearing yourself?" when in reality, he's just too afraid of the idea of actually getting into a fight. Yes, he's strong, especially with venomous spikes. No, he doesn't want his pretty face harmed. No, he doesn't care what upper-hand he could have in a physical altercation, leave him alone!

He's gotten himself into heaps of trouble with others, especially other demons due to his inability to keep quiet over his thoughts. He's definitely made backhanded remarks toward more powerful demons and immediately had to dive into a river to keep from being punted.

The King of Taking Care of Himself. Every Thursday and Friday he goes to a ritzy seafood place in Zuzu City. Being an aquatic demon really gives you a craving for seafood. Who would've thought? Yes, he could hunt it himself, but he wants it prepared just right. He wants it specially made for him!

You'd think Dobson would learn how to mask his demonic traits, but no. He's outright horrible at keeping his true nature on the down low. He's overly prideful of these traits, yes, but he's also prideful of the fact he hasn't been yeeted into the void by a demon hunter yet. Yes, he can hide things like his tail and horns, but they just seem to pop out of nowhere when he's annoyed! Whenever this happens, a loud growl leaves his mouth followed by a "I STUBBED MY FOOT DON'T YOU DARE COME IN- WAIT- PLEASE- HANG ON-" Don't get him started on his teeth either! Outright impossible to hide those things! I imagine he has to do those really awkward toothless smiles in order to keep people from seeing just how sharp and jagged the many teeth in his mouth are.

This dumbass has no idea anyone else in Joja is a demon. He thinks he's the only one. He's the special Joja Demon who has to hide himself from all of his peers in hopes he won't be caught and end up in massive trouble. Of course, thinking he's that special does give him a bit of an ego boost. He can't help but look down on his coworkers over it.

His tail has to be the hardest thing to hide. Yes, his horns are pointed outward and have numerous ends to them to hide, but he can literally just wear a hat if his hair doesn't suffice. His tail is HUGE. It drags behind him when he's not underwater, if it wasn't for the fact that he measured it out of boredom one day, he'd swear it was larger than him. He can retract his tail, but again, it always seems to pop back out whenever he's feeling overly annoyed. It's a wonder he hasn't been confronted about it.

He's definitely smacked people who annoy him with his tail. When they turn around, he turns to them and shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. Maybe it was a bug? Maybe you should've moved out of the way when I asked? Mmh?"

There's a reason his tail is so large, of course. In his full demon form, it acts like a mermaid-tail type thing which allows him to move in water better. Also, it looks cool as hell. A jet black tail with bioluminescent spots. These spots can be found on other parts of his body as well. They light up brighter than usual whenever he gets flustered, and his face tends to flush a light shade of blue along with them.

He has a bulb around his chin that glows too. Basically, he's glow in the dark in his demon form. Awesome, right? Yeah, but imagine seeing him in a distant river at like- 2AM. He's definitely used the subtle light he gives off to his advantage. And by that I mean, he's used it to scare people away from the place he resides.

If he had to pact with anyone, it'd be reserved for his closest friend. Someone he views higher than most, someone he wouldn't mind taking on the world head on with. He'd be the one to bring up the idea, and with his usual grandeur, it'd sound something like "Hey- I was thinking... we're such close friends, right? You're practically the only one I turn to for my issues. I thought I'd return the favor. Yeah, I'm offering you my hand. I'd like to form a pact with you! I know, it's such an honor. I wouldn't be doing this for anyone, you know. You just mean significantly more than the average country idiot. Don't be shy." He'd never admit it, but it made his entire year when they ended up saying yes.

Of course, if you do end up pacted to him, there's clear ground rules. Never disturb his beauty sleep, don't contact him during his self-care hours, don't interrupt his seafood dinners unless you plan on splitting the bill, and please text him if you're needing to know whether or not he's busy. He'll get back to you immediately. The only exception is if its an emergency. In which case he'll disregard every rule placed and do everything in his power to help. He's not going to act nice over it though, you're still getting Dobson branded sass. But he's honored to be able to help.

[bitchinbarzal]

trouble in paradise | life of ivy

summary; mat and mama are the biggest couple in the NHL and are usually at the forefront of all the drama.

mamabarz

liked by bboeser, josty17 and 134,799 others

mamabarz my team 🫶🏼

view all comments

islesfan no mat?

sydneyemartin love ur team!!

emmasimmard i miss the littles!!

hockeyfan the lack of Mathew in these comments has me 🤔🤔

nhlwags

liked by fanone, fantwo, alexaserowik and others

nhlwags hearing through the grapevine that Mat Barzal (Isles) and Y/N Y/L/N (devils) have split after their son was born a few months back!

view all comments

islesfan you’re making it out like it’s something to do with Ryder!!

fantwo this is confusing

fanfive it’s mats fault. idk what’s happened but leave my mama b outta this she’s an Angel!!

randomfan the fact Noah dobsons girlfriend liked this 🤔🤔

barzal97

liked by titobeauvi91, owahlstrom97 and others

barzal97 thing one & two spent the weekend fishing with me and my pops and the most asked questions was “daddy when can we go home?” 🎣

view all comments

islesfan 😦 first weekend he’s home and HE ISNT WITH HIS girlfriend ?!

liannabarzal Ivy’s touque 🥺🥺

islesfan hello… is anyone going to address the elephant in the room??

josty17 💙💙

nhlgossip

liked by fanone, starsfan and 346,799 others

nhlgossip trouble in paradise?? Mathew Barzal and his partner, Y/N have reportedly called it quits!

the New Jersey Devils team doctor has been missing from the bench for this past week of games along with neither addressing comments of concern on their instagram posts without eachother. their son, Ryder was born only two months ago.

y/n posted this video of her and their son together with the caption ‘the only boy I need’

view all comments

mamabarz y’all are REACHING now….

fanone SHE COMMENTED

devilsfan don’t come for our queen

kingsfan I’m not even an isles fan but I love y/n and I’m here for the gossip

mamabarz

liked by alexaserowik, emmasimard and others

mamabarz apparently I’m single now?? but this guys always in my house and eating my eggs… how can I get him to leave?

view all comments

fanone ok she’s so funny

sydneyemartin queen 👸

emmasimard ICONIC

titobeauvi91 i found moving to Vancouver helped but didn’t get rid of the problem

lianabarzal no because you’re an icon for this

mamabarz

liked by nicohischier, njdevils and 234,579 others

mamabarz that’s doctor y/n y/l/n-barzal to you.

myself and mathew have not split up, despite the multiple ‘inside sources’ saying so. we are now happily married and I get 2 NHL salaries into my bank!!! the reason for my absence from the devils bench was because our precious ivy girl fell off our trampoline and hurt herself last weekend. I will be back on monday 🤍🫶🏼

view all comments

fanone i don’t know what to freak out for…. Her addressing the rumours or the fact they’re married

njdevils welcome to the devs, Mathew

mileswood.44 congrats doc

liannabarzal SISTER

titobeauvi91 congratulations guys

[jemej3m]

HAVE U EVER THOUGHT OF A BAND!AU?? i love band au's and ur work!!! (not to mention but i think u would write an excellent drummer!andrew)

are you kidding me??? have i ever thought of a band au? bruh i breathe band au’s

also, i wanted this to be soft, so have some childhood friends starting a band out of their mum’s garage :DD

*

“Can I now?”

Neil ducked his head, trying not to show Andrew his grin. “No, ‘Drew.”

Andrew cocked his head. “How about now?”

Neil turned around and arched a singular eyebrow at the man. “You cannot shove your drum stick through Kevin’s brain, Andrew. Not now: not ever.”

“I hate you,” he muttered. Neil just grinned. 

“You say the sweetest things to me, ‘Drew.” With that, he turned and continued to tune his acoustic. Behind him, Andrew was going bright red. 

What started as a friendly, neighbourhood band had turned into something else entirely: Neil and Andrew were cramped backstage, tuning and warming up. Kevin was probably talking to his mom on the phone, whilst Nicky was most certainly trying to escape their security detail and go flirt with fans in the event centre’s foyer. He could charm a crowd. 

They’d started the band up when they were just kids: Neil remembered Kevin grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him across the street, where he’d noticed the three Dobson boys setting up instruments in their garage: Nicky on bass, Aaron on keyboard and Andrew on his drumkit. 

Neil, having been only 11 whilst the others were 12 or 13, wasn’t as outspoken or enthusiastic about joining them as Kevin was. 

“Come on, Neil,” Kevin insisted, dragging him by the elbow. “I’ll sing and you play the guitar. Okay?”

“It might be fun, Neil,” his sister, Dan, insisted, giving him a gentle push out the door. “It’s just messing around in a garage band. Nothing serious.”

If little Neil knew where he’d be, nine years later, he probably would’ve spontaneously combusted out of paranoia and fear. 

Adult Neil still got anxious - he always wanted to perform his best - but it’d taken years of gigs and scouts and labels to work them up to where they were now. It was a gradual process, which definitely helped the whole stage-fright thing. 

“What are you thinking about?” Andrew inquired, sitting down behind Neil and hooking his chin over Neil’s shoulder. He smiled, leaning back against his best friend. 

“Just stuff,” he responded. “How we got here. Where we’ll go.”

“Next stop on the tour is D.C.”

“Funny.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed, deadpan. “That’s what I’m known for.”

Neil just laughed, getting to his feet. “We’d better get ready before Kevin comes back.”

“Your brother is the worst,” Andrew grunted, following suit. 

“At least we’re not related,” Neil grinned, jostling Andrew’s shoulder. “You can’t talk: you’re Aaron’s twin.”

Andrew just pointed a stick at Neil in warning. 

*

The lights were flashing. Audience screaming. Neil opened his eyes out of his reverie and looked to his counterparts: Nicky was rushing up and down the front lines, giving out as many hugs as he could. Kevin was waving and blowing kisses. And Andrew - 

He stood behind his drumkit, shirtless and dripping with sweat. He still bore his armbands, brimming with blades and secrets, and in his hands he loosely held his favourite pair of drumsticks, a pair Betsy had bought him, one’s he’d been careful to not break. 

Neil’s mouth was dry as he walked over to where Andrew stood. A spotlight blazed from above, shrouding Andrew’s head and illuminating his hair like a golden halo. He looked angelic. He was angelic. 

“You were amazing,” Neil said, voice lost under the cacophony of the crowd. His hand was reached out, gently brushing the bare skin of Andrew’s bicep. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore: the post-show euphoria was driving him. 

Andrew didn’t need to hear him. He could read lips. Read intentions. 

They were ushered off the stage soon after, Neil’s ears still ringing, his fingertips still burning. Andrew tugged on a fresh shirt, a towel around his neck. He had the most laborious job out of all of them, save maybe Kevin. Neil looked away from the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. 

“Good show,” Kevin panted, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. Neil nodded, the exhaustion of playing for four hours settling in. His shoulders ached, fingertips raw with playing both his guitar and the keyboard (Neil filled Aaron’s vacancy when he’d fucked off to college) whilst his throat ached from countless harmonies and backups he sung for Kevin. 

Genuine praise from Kevin was rare and prized for their band, and was usually reserved to the few moments after a performance finished. Then he’d go back to his regularly scheduled criticisms and evaluations. 

“Wasn’t it?” Nicky grinned. “We are such hot shit sometimes! Anyway,” he slung his guitar off to the side, careless. Neil winced a little. “I’ve got a cutie waiting in my car, apparently.” He winked. “His name’s Erik and he’s built like a wall. I’ll see y’all tomorrow!” 

“Jesus Christ,” Kevin said, not unkindly. They were all used to Nicky’s antics by now. He looked back to Neil. “You gonna stay with Andrew or me?”

Neil narrowed his eyes. Was he going to stay with his brother or his best friend? The choice wasn’t exactly hard to make. 

Kevin put up his hands. “What? I thought you two’d had a lover’s spat or something, before the show.”

“Kevin,” Andrew warned, voice low. 

“You guys weren’t as synthesised as you usually are,” Kevin continued. “Did Neil say something, again? Neil, what did you do?”

“Kevin,” Andrew snapped. 

The man took his final warning with a grain of salt and rolled his eyes, peeling off to cool down and head back to the hotel. He left Neil standing in the middle of the corridor, baffled. What the fuck was he talking about? A lover’s spat?

“Don’t think too hard, junkie,” Andrew muttered, fingers hooked into the collar of Neil’s shirt. “He’s just sprouting his usual bullshit.” But Andrew couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

“Right,” Neil agreed, smiling weakly. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Shut up,” Andrew tugged him down the corridor with a finger hooked through Neil’s belt loop. 

Neil went willingly. He always went willingly with Andrew. There was no one else in the world that he trusted more.

*

“What do you mean, you’re not a thing?”

Neil paused with his fingertips up to the door, ready to push it open. It seemed as though he had stumbled upon a conversation - perhaps not for Neil’s ears. 

“He’s not interested,” Andrew said, sounding exhausted. “And I’m not about to pressure him into something he doesn’t want.”

Huh. Maybe they were talking about a new guy. Andrew didn’t date that often - or very successfully - and he was usually not willing to talk to Neil about it whenever it did happen. Neil wasn’t quite sure why but respected his boundaries nevertheless. He just didn’t know that Andrew went to Kevin about it. 

Neil wondered who it was, this time. Roland? He’d been the most long-term thing Andrew had ever attempted. No, Andrew said he wasn’t interested in Roland. Unless he was lying. 

Andrew doesn’t lie to me, Neil reminded himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kevin insisted. “He’s been in love with you ever since he first saw you. Don’t give me that look, Andrew. Put away your knives.”

“Do you think so?” Andrew asked, voice low. Gravelly. Tainted by disbelief.

Something in Neil’s chest tightened. He sounded…hopeful. Neil was arbitrarily jealous. Who was this guy? 

Wait, why was Neil jealous?

He pushed against the door, ignoring the way that the two of them shifted so that it didn’t look like they were engaged in conversation. 

“We’re loading up the bus,” he supplied. “Time to get moving.”

And if Neil noticed the way that Andrew walked around him, careful not to brush their knuckles, well. 

He didn’t say anything. 

*

By the end of the third week, Neil couldn’t handle it anymore. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, or why Andrew was so adamant in avoiding him, but he hated it. He hadn’t felt this isolated since his early years when his father would shut him in a wardrobe and his mother would scold him for eliciting his father’s ire, before both of his parents died and Wymack adopted him into his strange little family, brought him into the tiny cul de sac  where Betsy Dobson and Abby Winfield lived with their own collections of abandoned kids. 

“Andrew,” he mumbled as he watched Andrew tuck himself into his own bed. They were sleeping in the same hotel room but they were millions of miles away from each other. Neil felt stiff and confused. 

Resigned, he shut the light off. 

*

“Fix it,” Kevin demanded. 

“Fix what?”

“Just tell him already. It’s getting nauseating.” 

Neil narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Kevin threw Neil’s lyric notepad back at him. “‘Living limbless, lost, lonely, ever since you went and left me’? What do you mean, what am I talking about? I thought you two were already together - now he’s saying you were never interested? What the fuck, Neil. You’ve been practically married for years.” 

Neil blinked. “Me and -”

“Andrew, yes, who else?” Kevin continued, irritable as he scrawled down new ideas. “You’re so fucking dense sometimes - ow!” 

Neil stuck out his tongue, satisfied with the large black line his thrown pen had left behind. He fished out another pen from his bag and kept writing, letting Kevin’s banter distract him from how painful his chest felt. 

*

The tour was ending. They were looping back to South Carolina. Andrew hardly looked at him anymore, let alone spoke to him. Kevin looked at Neil with pity. Nicky tried to cheer everyone up with icecream. 

Neil couldn’t understand why they were falling apart. What had he done? What had he said? 

The screams irked him. They sounded less ecstatic and more afraid. Neil was falling apart onstage, overthinking. They’d just played for Charleston, one of their last stops on the tour. 

The curtains came down. Neil couldn’t move. The others were already off the stage. Neil couldn’t breathe. 

“Neil,” Andrew said. He couldn’t look Andrew in the eye. How was he to explain that Andrew’s estrangement had left him in such a miserable state that he could hardly perform without breaking down? 

“Neil, look at me.” 

Neil closed his eyes. “Whatever I did - I’m sorr -” 

“Abram,” Andrew whispered, before pressing a bruising kiss to Neil’s lips. His eyes flew open, though he didn’t move. It didn’t matter: Not a moment later, Andrew ricocheted back, hand over his own mouth. In his other hand, his favourite drumsticks snapped, falling to the floor in uneven halves. 

By the time Neil had opened his mouth, Andrew was gone. 

Neil spent the drive to the pub they’d chosen to ride out their performance high in silence. Andrew was stoic and unmoving, silent despite Nicky’s attempts at conversation. When they arrived, Neil felt like he wanted to throw up. 

It was bustling at the late hour, but dark enough to slip in unnoticed. Neil followed Andrew up to the bar: at one point, someone shoved into Andrew and Neil felt him press Neil against the marble top, warm from shoulder to shin. Neil wanted to lean back into him. He wanted Andrew to look at him, to talk to him. He wanted Andrew back. He wanted Andrew. 

Quickly, he turned around, ignoring the bar tender when he asked if he was sure he wanted a virgin martini. Andrew was right there, pupils blown, cheeks red. Angry. 

He was furious. 

“Andrew,” Neil insisted. “Why -” 

He grabbed the tray of drinks and disappeared before Neil could form a sentence. 

And - well. Neil wasn’t known for subordination. 

He waited patiently for the others to get drunk and disappear into the crowd, like they always did. Sometimes Nicky dragged Neil with him, if the night was right. Andrew usually just sat, patiently waiting for his family to return to him. His whiskey sips were cautious and slow. 

Tonight was different. As soon as they were alone, Andrew stood, knocked back the entire glass and strode towards the exit. Neil let his breath hitch and followed, almost jogging in order to keep up with Andrew’s stride. 

“Andrew, this is insane,” he said as they walked down the street, leaving the bar behind. “I’m losing my mind here. Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you even look at me? What did I do?” 

“Exist,” Andrew snarled, hands curled into fists and shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket. 

Neil ran ahead of him, almost tripping over the uneven sidewalk. They’d walked far enough that they seemed to have removed themselves from any remnants of the club, and instead were stood in front of a circular, patheon-esque church and its haphazard graveyard. 

Andrew stopped walking and stared. In the moonlight his skin was pale enough to be translucent. 

“Tell me,” Neil whispered. “Truth for truth. We promised, Andrew. To never lie, to never leave. Why did you kiss me?”

“You promised,” Andrew corrected him. “I swore I would have your back. Does that have to constitute being attached at the hip?” 

Neil crossed his arms, petulant. 

Andrew’s sigh was aggravated. “It was never meant to be a problem.”

“What was?”

“You.”

“Andrew -” 

Fingers curled in the collar of his shirt, then slipped across the warm skin at the nape of his neck, then tangled themselves into Neil’s hair. Andrew pulled their foreheads together, squeezing his eyes closed too tight. Neil wanted to iron out the crease between his brows. 

“‘Drew?”

“Shut up,” the man croaked. “Shut up. Shut up.”

“Andrew,” Neil said, weakly. “I wanted to kiss you.” 

Andrew’s nails dug into Neil’s scalp. “No you didn’t.”

“Yes,” his fingers carefully found their way onto Andrew’s jaw, forcing the man to look up at him. “I did.” 

Andrew just swallowed, red-cheeked. 

Neil pulled Andrew closer, head dropping to Andrew’s shoulder. His heart throbbed like a drumbeat, heavy and insistent and never, ever out of time. “Is that what this is about?”

“No,” Andrew lied. 

“I think I like you, ‘Drew,” Neil whispered into the skin of Andrew’s neck. “I think I really do.” 

“I hate you,” Andrew managed, sliding his hands around Neil’s waist and holding him close under the Charleston moonlight. “I hate you.” 

“I know,” Neil managed, closing his eyes. It made a lot more sense, now. 

Between their erratic breathing and racing pulses, a drumbeat formed. 

[fbwhdhxhxhsbdhsbd]

CHARACTER SHEET repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.      carlton   ‘danger’   jebediah   lassiter. PRONUNCIATION.      kaal - tuhn  lass - eh - tuhr. NICKNAME.       lassie,  carly,  carlytown,  binky,  booker,  detective  dipstick,  old  penguin  from  happy  feet,  etc. GENDER.       cis - male. HEIGHT.       6′1″. AGE.       48  years  old. ZODIAC.       capricorn   /   jan  12,  1969. SPOKEN LANGUAGES.     english,  very  minimal  spanish.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.       greying  dark  chestnut  brown,  almost  black. EYE COLOR.       light  blue. SKIN TONE.       very  fair. BODY TYPE.       ectomorph,  with  his  legs  being  the  most  muscular. ACCENT.       american. VOICE.       deep,  usually  punctuated  with  higher  tonal  shifts. DOMINANT HAND.      right.  he  has  attempted  to  train  himself  into  being  ambidextrous  in  the  past,  but  to  no  avail  ( he can still write his name legibly with his left hand & will proudly demonstrate if asked ). POSTURE.      superb.   SCARS.    small  teeth - shaped  scars  around  his  left  ankle,  bullet  wound  scars  at  his  left  &  right  shoulders,  very  minute  &  tiny  marks  scattered  in  the  left  side  of  his  hair. TATTOOS.     none. BIRTHMARKS.      small  mark  on  his  lower  back. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).      his  large,  crooked  nose,   ears,  strikingly  blue  eyes,  the  sternbush.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.     mission  canyon,  santa  barbara,  california. HOMETOWN.      santa  barbara,  california. BIRTH WEIGHT.     6.6 lbs. BIRTH HEIGHT.         20 in. MANNER OF BIRTH.      c-section. FIRST WORDS.      no. SIBLINGS.       jason  lassiter  ( younger brother ),  lauren  lassiter  ( youngest sister ). PARENTS.       mona  connolly  ( mother ),  charles ‘chaz’ lassiter  ( father )     /    althea  ( stepmother ),  hank  mendel  ( surrogate father ). PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.      lassiter’s  father  was  a  crook  who  was  constantly  in  &  out  of  carlton’s  life,  until  his  parents  divorced  when  he  was  8  years  old  ( & still popped in from time to time afterwards, usually to ask for money, until carlton was about 16 and made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him ).  after  the  divorce,  mona  was  forced  to  pick  up  an  extra  job  &  extra  shifts  to  compensate  for  the  monetary  loss,  resulting  in  an  extreme  lack  of  face - time  with  her  kids.  to  add  to  that,  carlton  spent  alternating  summers  between  his  grandparents’  house  in  northern  california   ( where his grandmother made him do book reports every week, & his grandfather took him fishing )  &  old  sonora  with  hank  mendel,  who  quickly  became  the  only  decent  father  figure  in  carlton’s  youth.  lassiter’s  parents  were  both  fairly  absent  from  his  life,  &  consequently,  carlton  took  on  the  role  of  a  parental  figure  for  his  younger  siblings.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.       head  detective  of  the  santa  barbara  police  department. CURRENT RESIDENCE.     santa  barbara,  california  is  the  short  answer.  after  separating  from  victoria,  his  place  of  residence  was  constantly  in  flux  –  up  until  moving  into  prospect  gardens. CLOSE FRIENDS.       juliet  o’hara.  to  a  lesser  degree:  dobson,  shawn  spencer,  burton  guster,  henry  spencer,  woody  strode,  karen  vick,   &  maybe  even  buzz  mcnab. RELATIONSHIP STATUS.      divorced. FINANCIAL STATUS.      upper  middle  class.   he’s  on  a  detective’s  salary,  but  he’s  not  struggling  for  cash. DRIVER’S LICENSE.      consistently  kept  up  to  date. CRIMINAL RECORD.     none. VICES.    anger,  caffeine,  alcohol,  arrogance,  envy,  doubt,  callousness,  despairing.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.     bisexual. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE.       submissive  |  dominant  |  switch. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.       submissive  |  dominant  |  switch. LOVE LANGUAGE.    how he expresses love:   acts  of  service,  physical  touch.   how to express love to him: quality  time,  words  of  affirmation. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.     he’s  very  quick  to  fall  in  love   &  even  quicker  to  commit,  stemming  from  the  potent  loneliness  in  his  life;  lassiter  isn’t  a  one - night - stand  kind  of  guy.  

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.     bad  boys  ( theme from cops )  by  inner  circle. HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.      plinking,  fishing,  mountain  biking,  hiking,  cleaning  his  guns  ( impulsively, if he’s stressed ),  jogging,  hunting  his  neighbor’s  squirrels. MENTAL ILLNESSES.     major  depressive  disorder  ( diagnosed  &  being treated ). PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.       carpal  tunnel. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.     left. PHOBIAS.      chionophobia  ( fear of snow ) ,  taphophobia  ( fear of being buried alive ):  the  two  usually  work  in  conjunction  with  each  other,  resulting  in  an  intense  fear  of  being  trapped  in  the  snow.  to  a  lesser  extent,  claustrophobia.  SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.     lassiter  puts  on  an  extremely  confident  front,  but  the  truth  is,  he’s  very  insecure  &  doubts  himself  a  lot. VULNERABILITIES.   the  people  he  cares  about.

TAGGED BY.   i  stole  it  :) TAGGING.   steal  it  back  from  me

[drrobw]

Consider the Ram: A Letter on Not Sacrificing One Another on the Altar of Self-Righteousness

(A Brief Explanation)

Open letters delivered over the internet are typically one of the least interesting and most easily dismissed mediums for getting your point across, especially to people who will probably disagree with you. This is because open letters are straw men (or straw women, or straw people, I’m not sure what we’re doing with gender neutrality and scarecrows) stuffed up with the worst components of our opponents’ position, and then precisely eviscerated as a way of rallying our base to their battle stations.

So you should believe me when I remind you that, as someone who could probably be considered an “expert” in writing things for free on the internet that end up having all sorts of negative professional implications, I don’t relish the penning of something like this. It’s just that I feel the need to leave some kind of public record for the authorities who will later fish our bloated and waterlogged religion out of the river, and will have nothing to go on but dental records.

Consider this letter my back molar.

_____________________________________

Dear Fellow Christian Who Will Never Read This Open Letter Because I Am Your Mortal Political Opponent, And You Stopped Following Me on Facebook Because I Shared “Something Political” and You Quietly Told Your Phone I Was A Liberal,  

First of all, how are you?

I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving, or church, or second-period algebra, or that evangelical youth camp where we spent a summer together, I sure hope you’re well! I must say, I’ve been reading and hearing about your support of our president’s increasingly dangerous “policy” positions…

(From racism parading as “law and order,” to colluding with the bad guys from Rocky 3, to tax cuts supporting only the wealthiest citizens of our country, to edging towards apocalypse — via Jerusalem or Pyongyang, whichever fuse lights first — and now to grandstanding support of an accused child sex offender for the Senate.)

…and I have become concerned about your “theology.”

It seems your faith has become incredibly political these days, and that you’ve forgotten “the gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” trading it for “the praise of (wo)men” in large houses in Washington, with large Twitter followings, and large platforms provided by for-profit Christian schools and nonprofit shoeboxes.

I remember one time you helpfully reminded me that in my strident support of African Americans mobilizing in large numbers to protest being gunned down in their neighborhoods by police officers in tanks that I was, as a pastor, no longer “sticking to the gospel of Jesus Christ and his saving death on the cross.” According to your reminder, my public (read: tepid internet) support of the Black Lives Matter movement was actually “harming my witness” to people “across the political spectrum.” You told me I needed to get “back to the gospel” ASAP, otherwise it might be time to find another pulpit (read: “youth event” because I’m only allowed to work with adolescents in churches) or career.

I remember you had a similar reminder when I marched alongside people of many faiths and orientations in protest to a twice-rejected law banning Muslim families from our country.

I remember you had a similar reminder when I gave a sermon about nonviolence, the dangers of unending militarism, and the impact of PTSD on soldiers reintegrating into families, communities, and the American workforce following their bloody service to our country.

I remember you had a similar reminder when I publicly questioned the motivations behind barring LGBTQ individuals from full inclusion in the life and ministry of God’s family on earth.

I even remember you had a similar reminder when I began asking questions about why no one in our community takes the teachings of Jesus and the book of Acts literally (especially the light socialism), but everyone in our community takes a few passages from Leviticus literally. (And no, not the ones about showing your boils to the priest!)

Each time, you gently, or not so gently (BREATHLESSLY IN ALL CAPS WITH NO BREAKS FOR PUNCTUATION) invited me to reflect on what these issues “had to do with the gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” and whether I might be attempting to cram “my agenda” into the mouth of Jesus and his saving work on the cross.

Because, in your words, “my politics” had (or has) replaced or superseded or undermined “my theology.”

I totally get that.

In some ways you might have been (or are currently) right. One of my issues is that I desperately want people to think I’m smart, and bookish, and cool, and aloof in a James Dean-with-bad-skin-and-a-masters-in-divinity-sort-of-way. I do love John Oliver and John Stewart and Stephen Colbert and Sam Bee and Larry Wilmore, but not because I’m a coastal-liberal-elite subsisting solely on the tears of regular readers of the Drudge Report (I went to a state school, live in East Tennessee, and make less than you do), but because they are (for me) some sort of ubermensch cooked up in a lab by Aaron Sorkin inspiring me to believe that people rail against something for reasons other than ratings (even if they don’t).

Sheepishly, I often wish more people read my stuff, and when they don’t, I’m tempted to rattle my own saber as a way of igniting my base or offending “yours.” And you’re probably right, I often chase the “praise of men (and women and everyone in between),” and am quite often wrong about a majority of things, most of which involve my love of righteous (although action less) indignation. I’m more of a hashtagger and sermonizer (when I get the chance), than self-disinterested marcher for justice. I have my own baggage, and most of it involves using religion, politics, and, in a pinch, even “you” to satisfy the dissonance I so often feel because my actions fall far short of my words and stinging rhetoric.

You could say I’m a bit of a clanging symbol, or a whitewashed tomb, or a bad karaoke rendition of a breathtaking Jon Stewart rant from the good ole days.

I hope that you’re still reading, because this isn’t some sort of apology that I hope will inspire you to apologize for what’s *cough* REALLY THE PROBLEM HERE *cough* — but that in baring my own scars (kind of like Jesus following his crucifixion) and wounds and fears and baggage, you might feel safe enough to unlock the door to the baggage keeping you and your own tribe cut off “from the authorities.” We won’t get anywhere together if we keep letting corporations and their preferred politicians and news personalities set the ground rules for who we listen to, or how we can or can’t speak with one another.

The more we lock the doors to people who disagree with us, the more we willingly elect pedophiles to the Senate, abusers to the House, deranged Tweeters to the White House, and megalomaniacal victimizers to the Academy. 

I’m rather tired of having to cut through an atmosphere of skepticism and cynicism and tribalism (some of the fumes from which I take full responsibility) whenever I want to talk to you about how I don’t think cutting taxes to people living in the stratosphere of our economic food chain will change the lived experience of people in abject poverty, or people in middle-class poverty, or people in upper-middle-class poverty. I also don’t find it terribly helpful that I have to hear that, because I’m interested in a larger federal government (resulting in me voting for Democrats from time to time — although that’s probably going to change) that somehow makes me “not a Christian” or someone who no longer “believes in the gospel.”

I will allow your self-constructed narrative of a political Christianity almost solely concerned with limiting (and eliminating) abortions, the rights of LGBTQ persons, and the absence of federal help to people in poverty, if you’ll allow me to continue to consider myself a “follower of Jesus” when I include marginalized people at the statehouse and at my communion table (which, SPOILERS, because our democracy is no longer interested in being anything more than a feudal patronage system, is ALL OF US NOT NEEDING THAT PRIVATE PLANE TAX WRITE-OFF).

However, I should state that I will always believe that your support of Donald Trump, Roy Moore, and the other court evangelicals who — so desperate for some White House correspondence stock — willingly sold you (and our Lord and Savior) out for at least 30 pieces of silver was where your movement jumped the shark.

I appreciate your interests in protecting the rights of the unborn at all costs, I just wish the rights of the rest of us already born didn’t have to be trampled underfoot in the process.

One more thing you were probably right about is that your religion (and mine) is under attack, but not from liberal arts professors at Vassar, or the Hollywood establishment, or the work of Robert Jeffress and James Dobson. Our respective Christianities are being laid waste by special interests, namely ours, and the ways we have sought to weaponize our fidelity.

Because I’m a (sometimes) pastor, I’ll close by saying that toward the end of Genesis, Abraham believes he hears the voice of God inviting him to take his long-promised heir, Isaac, to the top of nearby Mt. Moriah in order to sacrifice the person for whom he had most longed, as bloodily concrete evidence of Abraham’s fidelity to his God. However, upon reaching the peak, binding Isaac to a nearby altar, and raising the knife heavenward, God (at the last minute) invites Abraham to consider a ram caught in a nearby thicket as a suitable sacrifice (rather than his son).

Depending upon your tradition, this story can be read as one elucidating Abraham’s great, unwavering faith. A faith willing to go to the ends of the earth (or his own family tree) in search of ways to prove itself. This story can also be read as one that results only in questions about what kind of tyrannical, aloof, backwards God asks for this kind of faith, asks for this kind of sacrifice? One of my favorite interpretations invites us to consider that God is explicitly engaging a tradition (child sacrifice) that Abraham (a religious man in the wilderness of pre-history) would have been intimately familiar with, as a way of bringing him (almost satirically) to the edge of reason, as a way of prophetically calling into question an entire religious system that would require shedding the blood of other living, breathing human beings.

Consider the ram, Abraham. 

Against better judgment, we’ve dragged our faith to the top of the mountain, we’ve bound it to an altar built in the name of nationalism, democracy, and power, and now have the knife raised heavenward once again as a way of proving how serious we are about our commitment to religion. We’ve promoted abusers, we’ve covered up treason, we’ve cheered at the rejection and damnation and condemnation of our brothers and sisters, and we’ve spilt blood in service to our country and our religion (again and again and again).

What if instead of cheering us on from the skybox, God has been pleading with us to consider the ram the whole time?

What if our acts of fidelity to the tribe our back bumper testifies to have actually been the thing God was satirically calling into question from the beginning?

What if this whole thing is about the divine putting on display how far we’re willing to let our misguided faith in a structure, or a system, or a party, or a religion, or a country take us?

Consider the ram, Abraham.  

I’ve been willing to sacrifice so many of you, living, breathing, gifts on the altar of my faith-based righteous indignation and fear of the news cycle.

I’m sorry, truly.

I hope that we can share a coffee, or a beer, or, as the earliest followers of Jesus did on the evening before his death, a shalomim (or fellowship) meal of bread and wine and reconciliation. If Jesus could break bread with the man who nailed him to a cross for 30 pieces of silver, then I dare say I could probably survive a meal with someone who thinks Sean Hannity has good ideas.

But no promises, reconciliation is a process.

Your (maybe) friend, Eric

Consider the Ram: A Letter on Not Sacrificing One Another on the Altar of Self-Righteousness was originally published on Dr. Robin Weinstein

[arethawieck71-blog]

What To Do Concerning The Backstabber In Your Lifestyle.

Great day, mens and gals, and also thanks for visiting the Galena Biopharma First Quarter 2015 Earnings Teleconference. In very early 2015 alone, Sense Airlines introduced 25 brand-new continuous courses expected to begin this year. Blocking some sort of dark swan, the odds of the US market collapsing over the upcoming month are actually virtually nil. This markup margin deleverage could be much like the first fifty percent from 2015.

Thus today, our company are actually going to learn from Gary blogweb4uhealth.de Vaynerchuk, pulling from his most motivational clips off 2015. In very early Might from 1874, Isaiah and also his close friend Holly Dobson were using down DeSiard Road in a two-horse buggy. You know your close friend or even loved ones suches as as well as dislikes and also just what they enjoy doing. Great aid can make a big difference, and it could be a technique to glue your partnership, even if your close friend has actually embarked on a brand-new trip as a moms and dad. If you trade a fish you captured for some potatoes your friend expanded, neither of you is paying out any type of income taxes on the offer.

Tom Daley and his boyfriend Dustin Lance Afro-american appreciated their very first public trip all together at London's stylish G-A-Y bar on Saturday night (January 4, 2014). Having stated that, he was the only black hero in any of the kids books I read in my childhood. You wish to make her think that an outdated colleague is phoning, not a distraught and unhappy ex-boyfriend. Simply to evaluate, our team completed the very first one-half of 2015 a bit before our inner routine. You may still make use of a reverse email look up to determine even more about an e-mail deal with as well as pick up from in a lot existing get in touch with records concerning an aged close friend. Along with the going along with tomato, cucumber, and reddish onion mixed greens, our fluid close friend presented great length. The youngster is sent out to an edge, or an area, to think of his or her actions An adult variant from the amount of time out works also on any adult close friend that is actually functioning misbehaving or juvenile.. Residential property internet operating earnings or even NOI coming from carrying on operations for the 4th quarter of 2015 raised 83% to $6.2 million compared to NOI from $3.4 thousand for the very same fourth in 2014. The various other fascinating sort of dark leather handbag is actually black natural leather bring ladies handbag. The buddy you pick from one of the concentrated Kolkata companions solutions is actually consistently certainly there to become our true love of your demands in your mattress when you need to have an individual to become with you who recognizes what you like the best. Second, the cost possibly more affordable compared to those used publications on the market place because you are actually taking care of a pal. This minister mentions there is actually nothing at all really good stemmed from dark folks, He also condemns Obama's mother to make love along with a silly dark guy, as well as he carries on stating that she was actually disgraceful and foolish. Our markup in the second region from 2015 was actually $10.3 million, including $1.7 million from Heska Image resolution.

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

i just woke up from my nap. HES BEING DRAWN!!!!

he go blub blub and thats it really

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

HIIIII TUMBLR. SINCE IM NOTICING PEOPLE TAKING AN INTEREST IN DOBSON (and a certain mutual reblogging one of my posts mentioning wanting to know his lore :3), I'M GONNA GIVE YOU THE RUNDOWN OF IT. THAT WAY, YOU TOO CAN UNDERSTAND THIS ENIGMA OF A MAN.

Here's all I know from bits and pieces I've gotten from ConcernedApe comments I've seen + the original cutscene

Here's the cutscene dialogue I was referring to for your viewing pleasure.

Dobson would've been the original Joja-Based rival for Stardew Valley. Meaning, if he was present in the game there's a chance we wouldn't have Morris instead. Imagine that

I imagine if Dobson were added there would've been more planned in terms of the ending of the Joja Route. During his beginning cutscene, he mentions getting enough signatures to instate a Joja Hypermarket. I imagine this would've introduced something similar to the end-game Joja Route Supermarket SVE introduces.

Adding onto the Dobson Asshat mention, Dobson would've been significantly more confrontational as opposed to Morris. There's a reply to a comment on youtube where ConcernedApe mentions that Dobson would've done more to inconvenience you throughout the year. He was also bolder, and overall less afraid of masking his actual feelings about those around him/his goals. Again, in order to make who to support less clear, keeping this would've muddied the narrative.

Based on the timeline, I want to assume his development was around the time that Stardew Valley was going to have a completion requirement of around an in game year. It would've been easier to complete the community center I assume, so he would've been there to balance out the lack of difficulty. This was removed due to the fact that ConcernedApe didn't want players to feel rushed, and instead wanted them to go at their own pace in their gameplay.

Given he would've inconvenienced the farmer through the year, I like imagining he would've pulled extremely underhanded things in order to temporarily halt your progression. Like... ripping cables from the mine elevator to keep you from getting geodes and other things, putting something in the rivers to keep you from fishing that day, destroying crops, things of that matter. I said this in my first HC post but he was literally built to cause chaos and mayhem.

There genuinely isn't much about him online, but I do love the fact that he would've genuinely been an absolute little shit regardless. Man has many enemies and not a care in the world.

I'm planning on making a few HC posts about him later, but here's what I know about the existing information revolving on him and why it's so so so so so hard to get a grasp of his potential character. (And why its so fun seeing different, yet oddly similar portrayals of the guy)