#James Zare

[dearimasu]

hi i had to gif my wives off of the new joestastic animation. bye

[homocidalpotat]

template:

[cartoonhorses]

Remission

Jimmy Zare x female! Reader

warnings/triggers : Slight breast play, heated make out session, takes place on Earth, slightly ooc Jimmy

word count : 2.6k +

author’s note : I feel like this is a little rushed and I’m sorry! I tried my best to go back and correct my grammar mistakes, if I missed anything please let me know.

MDNI

The air outside was crisp, heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint warmth of the mid-morning sun. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, clutching the card your family members had sent to you through the mail in your hand. Your heart raced, not from nerves, but from excitement. Today was special, it was your birthday! And of all the places you could have been, all the people you could have spent it with, you wanted to spend it with Jimmy.

Jimmy—the guy you’d been seeing for a few months now. What started as casual hookups shifted one night when he invited you out to a rundown diner and, over greasy fries and flat soda, asked you to be his girlfriend. Of course, you said yes. How could you possibly turn him down after such a romantic gesture. The memory of it never failed to make you giggle.

The walk to his house wasn’t too long due to the fact he only lived a few blocks away. As you reached Jimmy’s door, your mind flickered to all the times he surprised you before—small gestures that left you breathless. He wasn’t one for grand displays, but he had his ways. Like when he gave you fake, cheap flowers from the dollar store in a nice, decorative vase that he likely got from an old ladies’ garage sale.

Finally, you reached his house. You stood on his porch and brought your hand to the dark, wooden door. You didn’t even have to knock. The door cracked open and the positive energy you felt all morning suddenly shifted.

Jimmy stood there, leaning lazily against the frame, his expression neutral, almost bored. He wore a white, tattered wife beater that clung to his slim but muscular torso. “Hey,” he said flatly, stepping aside to let you in.

Your chest tightened slightly, but you pushed it aside. Maybe he was tired! Yeah that had to be it. You stepped in, the card still clutched in your hand, and gave him a soft smile. “Hi,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He gave you a tiny smirk once you pulled away, though his mind almost seemed to be somewhere else entirely since it quickly faltered.

The living room looked exactly as it did the last time you were there—cluttered but not messy. The faint smell of pine from the candle you had gifted him weeks ago lingered in the air. He plopped on the couch, leaving room for you to sit but picking up his phone like you weren’t even there.

You sat beside him, the card in your lap. You didn’t say a word and minutes began to tic by, each one louder than the last. You watched him scroll on his phone, his thumb lazily flicking up, eyes glued to the screen. You were somewhat thankful for the TV being on, otherwise this situation would be extremely awkward.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked finally, desperate to fill the silence between you two.

“Not really,” he mumbled without looking up.

Another pause. Longer this time. Your mind raced, trying to rationalize his behavior. Maybe he was planning something and wanted to throw you off. Maybe he was nervous about making today perfect. You told yourself a hundred maybes. Each one more desperate than the last. But the knot in your stomach tightened either every second that passed.

You couldn’t take it anymore, had your boyfriend not realized what day it was? “Jimmy?” You said softly, your voice teetering on the edge of hope and hurt.

“Yeah?” He replied, glancing up briefly before his eyes fell back to his phone’s screen.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Do you know what today is?” You asked with a bit of hopefulness in your voice.

He frowned slightly, as though trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. “Uh… Saturday?” He offered after a beat, his tone light, almost amused.

Your heart sank, the weight of his indifference crashing down on you. “It’s my birthday,” you said, the words heavy and raw.

You thought for a moment that maybe he would feel bad, that he would apologize and beg you to let him make it up to you. But that wasn’t Jimmy. In fact, his face didn’t change much at all. He blinked once, twice, then shrugged. “Oh, I guess I forgot. Sorry.”

That was it. Two words—I forgot. Not an apology laced with guilt or the frantic rush of someone who realized their mistake. Just a shrug, like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter.

Your chest tightened, anger bubbling beneath the surface, but it wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment, heartbreak, the crushing realization that you had built this day up in your head while he hadn’t even thought of it at all.

“Jimmy,” you said, your voice trembling. “You forgot my birthday?”

He finally set his phone down on a nearby table, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. For a moment, you thought you saw something there—guilt, regret— but it was fleeting, gone before you could grasp it. “I’m sorry,” he said again, but it felt hollow, an afterthought. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.”

You knew that was a lie as soon as Jimmy said it. Hell, Jimmy hardly had a life. He barely worked, barely kept up with friends, and he didn’t have any contact with his family. You wondered what could possibly be on his mind.

“A lot on your mind?” You echoed, your voice beginning to rise. “You’ve had a lot on your mind but couldn’t spare a second to remember the one day that’s supposed to mean something?”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark, messy hair. “I didn’t mean to forget, alright? It’s not that big of a deal. You’re here now, so what does it matter?”

The words hit you like a slap. What does it matter? You stared at him, the man you thought you knew, the man you had spent so many nights defending to your friends and family who warned you about him. The man who you had given your time, your heart, and your trust to.

You stood, card still in your hands. For a moment, you considered leaving it, letting it sit there on his table as a testament to what this day could have been. But then you looked at him—his indifferent posture, the way he was already reaching for his phone again—and you knew he didn’t deserve anything related to you.

Without another word, you turned and walked out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you was the only thing that broke the silence.

Jimmy sat there for a moment after the door clicked shut, the silence of the room suddenly weighing on him. His thumb hovered over his phone screen, but he didn’t scroll. Instead, he stared at the door you had just left out of, your absence settling into the space like a storm cloud.

She’s mad, he thought, running a hand through his hair. Of course, you were mad. He hadn’t even tried to remember your birthday. But it wasn’t like he meant to forget! Life had been stressful—work, drama, his own constant overthinking. Yet, none of that felt like a valid excuse now.

Jimmy leaned back on his old, poorly made, leather couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was good with emotions—his own or anyone else’s. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew what he had with you was good, better than anything he’d had before. You, somehow, always found a way to laugh at his dry, sarcastic humor. And the thought of losing you over something so stupid gnawed at him.

After what felt like an eternity, he stood up, grabbing his keys off the coffee table. He didn’t even know where’d you gone—back home, maybe—but he wasn’t about to just sit there and let you leave thinking he didn’t care.

The knock at your door startled you. You had barely set the card and your bag down on your coffee table, the frustration still bubbling under your skin when you heard it. You knew who it was. Part of you didn’t want to answer. You wanted him to stew in his own indifference. But curiosity got the better of you.

When you opened the door, there he was. His dark brown eyes were softer now, the usual edge in his expression dulled by something you couldn’t quite place. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his hands shoved into the pockets of a black hoodie, something he wasn’t wearing when you saw him previously.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice lacking the usual sharpness.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “What do you want, Jimmy?”

He glanced down, as if searching for the right words on the concrete beneath his feet. “Look, I…” he paused for a moment, looking annoyed before taking a deep breath. “I messed up.” He admitted, his voice gruff but sincere. “I shouldn’t have forgotten your birthday. That was shitty of me.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Yeah, it was.”

He looked at you, his brown eyes finally locking onto yours. “But I care about you. A lot. I know I don’t always show it the way I should, and I’m not great at this stuff, but…” he trailed off, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you and exhaling sharply. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best thing I’ve got, and I don’t wanna screw that up.”

The anger you felt in your chest softened, replaced by a flicker of something warmer. But, you didn’t want to let him off the hook entirely. He needed to learn, but hearing him admit it, seeing the vulnerability in his usually guarded expression, made it harder to hold onto your frustration.

You stepped aside, letting him in. He hesitated for a moment before walking in, the tension between you palpable.

Jimmy turned to face you, his hands now out of his pockets, fidgeting slightly. “I don’t really know how to fix this,” he admitted. “I didn’t plan a grand apology or anything.”

“Clearly,” you said, your tone light but pointed.

He gave a faint, sheepish smirk. “Yeah, well… I guess I’m trying to be honest. I care about you, and I know I don’t always show it the right way, but I want to do better.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of his words lingered in the air, and you could see the effort it took for him to say them.

Finally, you stepped closer, your arms dropping to your sides. “Jimmy,” you said softly, “I just wanna feel like I matter to you, that’s all.”

“You do,” he said immediately, his voice firm. “You matter the most to me. I just… I suck at showing it sometimes.”

“I know,” you said with a soft smile on your face. As soon as those words left your lips he closed the gap between you, his hands hesitating for a split second before settling on your waist. His touch was firm, but it was also warm and grounding. The earlier tension you felt quickly melted away.

After a moment, he pulled away, panting. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again, his voice low.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Don’t just say it. Show me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips were on yours in an instant, the kiss slow at first but quickly deepening as the frustration between you melted into something else entirely. His scruff grazed your skin, a familiar roughness that made your heart race.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as if he was trying to erase the space that had come between you earlier. You tangled your fingers in his dark hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His lips trailed from yours, skimming down your jawline, his scruff grazing your skin and leaving a delicious heat in its wake. When he reached the sensitive spot on your neck, nipping gently you let out a soft gasp. Your hands clutched at his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“God… ‘m such an idiot…” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and rough. “I almost let you walk away… I can’t do that again.”

You tilted your head, giving him more access to leave potential marks. Your breath hitched as his hands slid up your sides, brushing beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingers splayed against your skin, warm and possessive, as though he was staking his claim. You tugged at his hoodie, needing to feel him, to close the gap between you two in every possible way.

“Then don’t,” you whispered, placing a hand on his cheek to guide his lips back to yours.

His hands moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones before pulling back again, studying your face while his chest rose and fell heavily. “You mean so much to me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t say it enough, but you do. And I’m gonna make this up to you.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. His kiss was all-consuming, his tongue parted your lips as he deepened it, tasting you like he couldn’t get enough. His hands finally dared to move further underneath your shirt, one holding your hip firmly and the other grasping lightly at one of your breasts’.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall. The pressure stealing your breath for a moment. Jimmy’s body pressed into yours, the solid weight of him overwhelming in the best way. His kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour every once of his regret and affection into you.

The hand on your breast began to slowly message the plumpness of it, his rough fingers an insane contrast to your soft skin. It only made it feel all the better.

Your hands slid beneath his hoodie, fingertips brushing against the hard planes of his chest. He shuddered at your touch, a low groan escaping his throat that sent a thrill straight through you. You pushed the hoodie up, breaking the kiss long enough to yank it over this head, his dark hair falling messily back into place. You repeated the same action with the white wife beater he layered underneath.

The sight of him—his lean torso, the subtle definition of his muscles, the way his chest heaved as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made your knees weak. You reached for him, and there he was again, his lips capturing yours as his hands slipped beneath your shirt, tugging it up and over your head in one swift motion.

“Damn,” he murmured, lips now against your neck as his hands skimmed over your newly exposed skin. “You’re… perfect.”

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer as he kissed you again, his movements growing more frantic, more heated. His lips moved down your chest, his teeth grazing your nipple, and you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt like an apology, a promise, and a confession all at once. The air between you was charged as you lost yourself in him, the world outside fading until there was nothing but Jimmy—his warmth, his touch, his love, raw and unfiltered.

And in that moment, with his lips on yours and his hands exploring every inch of you, you knew that despite his flaws, despite everything, this is where you belonged.

[lize-sleepy]

Thematic Parallels

fucked up style

[gigifluidcat]

"James said he liked Cartoon Horses as a joke!"

Do you not know the tragic formula? The "I'm not a furry but..." type of formula? It's the same thing that's ironically happened with me and James. The moment you start saying you're into something as a "joke", it slowly becomes real.

I'm pretty sure James gets rock hard just from looking at Polle by the end of the game.

[zoeylastrapes]

James Zare

I'm not a good artist so someone pretty please create this

[matchamilkyway]

Okay mw silent hill au

Basically:

Characters/roles📝:

James: Jimmy zare

Mary:Lila ___

Maria:lisa

Family🧸:

Jimmy zare: husband

Lisa zare: (late) wife

Children:???

Realetion ships🦋🪰:

Jimmy - Lisa = married

Jimmy - Lila: “i don’t look like a ghost do i?”

Lila - Lisa: …..

[gigifluidcat]

Actually yeah, I hate it when people try to give James a "softer" side. He's an asshole. A fucking loser with problems, and he's honestly way sexier that way.

Also giving villains "soft sides" and "le tragic backstory" is cliche as fuck. Contrary to popular belief, some people are just taught to be pricks. Let VILLAINS be VILLAINS.

Don’t get me started and those A03 fanfics and Twitter.

[tired0artist]

Mouthwashing, but it’s a Crime TV Show.

Tulpar is a medium sided town with one police station and its very understaffed.

And there seems to be a serial killer on a loose.

So our cast is:

Commissioner Paul (Polle) Colt, who cares more about appearances and pats on the back from the Mayor than anything else.

Chief of Police Grant Curly, who took the murder case to heart and goes on a wild chase to stop them.

Deputy Chief of Police James (Jimmy) Zare, who IS the serial killer in question but also works closely with Curly on the investigation.

Forensic Scientist Anya Małkowska, who suspects Jimmy and tries hard to hint at it to Curly, who just doesn’t get it.

Evidence Officer Harold Swansea, who maybe has a hint or two about Jimmy, but simply does not want to get involved and leaves it to the Chief.

Rookie Police Officer Daisuke Reyes, who mainly is on desk duty and just wants to bother Swansea to death in the evidence room.

The ending for this would be that, there’s a hurricane or some other cataclysm that locks them inside the police station, just as the truth about Jimmy comes out.

So the crew is trapped in an enclosed space with a serial killer. How well would that go for them? And would it all just end in flames as two chiefs face each other?

Idk, it’s just a silly AU that I thought of while watching some crime drama lol

I might do some art for it tho, because it could be fun to change up their designs 🩷

[ask-postcrash-curly]

who peeled you

James Zare.

[c1trvswurld]

Love calling jimmy his full legal name. Love calling him James zare

[everyones-favorite-co-pilot]

-- | Transmission incoming from: James Zare

Hey. I'm Jimmy. Co-pilot of the Tulpar, pleasure to meet you.

Curly figured it would be good for me to get some exposure to others. So. Here I am.

Hey! We figured we'd hop on the roleplay blog train :)

We're the Bloodbane System, and our main is @yellow-computer-mouse. This is a roleplay blog for Jimmy, run by our Jimmy fictive.

Because this blog is run by a fictive, please be civil. We won't answer asks that make us uncomfortable. Feel free to ask more personal stuff about him, he'd love to talk about himself.

Jimmy will not sugarcoat his replies. He's a really nice guy, but he'll be blunt with his responses here. It's a roleplay blog, after all. No need to be polite. (HE JUST GIGGLED DEVIOUSLY. JIM.)

We have BPD and NPD, as well as a whole host of other stuff. Please keep this in mind, and note that this will affect Jim's responses.

That's all! :)

- Grant Curly! (also a fictive)

[cartoonhorses]

Beauty & Bitterness

OOC! Jimmy Zare x female! Reader

warnings/triggers : Takes place on Earth, arguing between Jimmy and reader, slightly ooc Jimmy.

word count : 1k+

authors note : This is my first-ever fic, so i’d love to hear any suggestions or feedback for improvement.

Also, I did not read over this afterwards! There will definitely be grammar mistakes

MDNI

Jimmy had always been rough around the edges. The kind of guy most people would pass by without a second glance. He was just, odd. His hair stayed messy, his jawline was scruffy, and his old and tattered clothes reflected a life that didn’t concern itself with appearances. It was safe to say that most people kept their distance from him. But not you. You saw something in him that nobody else did.

You were the complete opposite of Jimmy, everything that he wasn’t. You were put together, well-groomed, and polished. When you entered a room, heads turned without fail. You had this effortless beauty, you were noticeable and just all around dazzling.

So, when people found out the two of you were dating, they were totally flabbergasted! You, a radiant, captivating young woman, with an older disheveled man? It was the kind of pairing that caused whispers.

Jimmy knows you're way out of his league when you two begin dating. Initially, It didn't bother him. In fact, he felt like he won the lottery. However, when you guys started going out in public together more frequently, he noted how people stared, how they whispered. That's when it became harder to shrug off.

Jimmy had always prided himself on being tough. He’d grown up in a world that taught him to keep whatever emotions he had buried. But being with you, it felt impossible. You brought peace into his messy world, and he found himself craving your warmth like a man who’d been living in the cold his whole life.

But now, sitting at the bar, listening to those men practically tear him apart, Jimmy felt that familiar knot of anger in his chest tighten. “I mean, just look at him. Did he even try to make himself look presentable?” Jimmy’s grip around the cold glass of liquor tightened, his knuckles turning white. He knew they were talking about him, the disdain in their voices was familiar to him.

But Jimmy took a deep breath, he told himself to ignore it, to let it go. After all, he’d heard worse before. But then they spoke up again, "His girlfriend it gorgeous too. But it makes me wonder, why him? I mean, seriously… what is she even doing with a guy like that?” Jimmy felt his blood begin to boil, they were talking about him like you deserved better, like he wasn’t enough for you. And God did that piss him off.

You were well aware that Jimmy never handled insults well. His anger would simmer in his chest, slowly building until it boiled over like a pot left too long on the stove. But instead of lashing out at those who had pushed him to that edge, he tended to turn that anger and fury onto you.

Later in the night, as Jimmy drove you home, both of his hands sat on the steering wheel, the weight of the evening’s events (which you still had no clue about) hung heavily between you two. The car ride was silent for the most part, punctuated by your attempts to explain how great of a night you had. Jimmy only hummed in response, an unspoken frustration radiated from him.

Finally, as he pulled into the driveway of your home, he turned to look at you. “You didn’t notice how everyone was looking at us tonight, did you?” He asked, his voice was deep, cutting through the silence like a razor. It caught you off guard. The small smile that lingered on your lips slowly faltered, confusion written over your face.

You blinked, “what are you talking about?” Your tone came out soft, a stark contrast from his.

Jimmy let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Don’t play dumb, okay? You know exactly what I’m talking about. Those guys at the bar. They were laughing at me—at us. They think I’m some kind of fucking charity case. That you’re just slumming it with me for fun.”

Your heart sank as his words hit you. “Jimmy… I don’t know what you’re talking about… But, I don’t care what they think,” You said softly. “You know I like you, so why does it matter to you about what they think?” You reached out to place your hand on top of his, but he pulled away like a scared animal.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t care, but I do!” he snapped, his voice was rising. “Do you have any idea what’s like to stand next to someone like you? To be with someone like you? Someone who’s got it all together, who everyone wants to be around. And you wanna know what everyone’s thinking, ‘What’s she doing with him?’”

Your mouth parted slightly? Having the urge to speak but not finding the words. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I chose you, Jimmy,” You attempted to say firmly. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks because I see you! I see the man who comforts me when I cry, the man who—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” He interrupted, his voice breaking. “Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen me.” His shoulders began to sag, anger slowly draining out of him and leaving behind exhaustion. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not good enough for you.”

Your chest tightened at the sight of your boyfriend being so vulnerable around you, it was definitely a sight you weren’t familiar with. You leaned over from your side of the car, cupping his scruffy face in your hands. “Jimmy, listen to me. You’re what I want. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted you. And I don’t care what those idiots at the bar think! They don’t know you like I do.”

For a moment, he just sat there, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find some truth in your words. Slowly, his hands came up to rest on yours, his grip was tentative but steady. “I’m scared…” He admitted quietly. “Scared that one day you’ll realize they’re right and… and you’ll leave.”

You weren’t used to Jimmy showing this much emotion, hell, he wasn’t even used to it! It made the years that pricked in the corners of your eyes finally spill down your cheeks as you pressed your forehead against his. “I’m not going anywhere, Jimmy,” you whispered. “I love you, and everything about you. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

And for the first time in a long time, Jimmy let himself believe you.

[raining-anonymously]

GOD i am sick of drawing jimmy it was fun at first but he’s actually so hard to draw sometimes. if this animation flops im going to play the graveyard chapter and get the “good ending” achievement fifty million times. screw you james zare and your crimes and your hard to draw face.

[gigifluidcat]

Fuck Censorship bro yall are just pussies fr I'm gonna call James Zare by his GOVERNMENT Name.

[nottakingresponsibility]

He hasn't wrote in his journal in a while, he got caught up in everything going on. Maybe he should write in it again, or at least write down things that seem important. Right, no. He'd just write down a couple of things. He grabbed out his pen, his journal, right.

He forgot how many nights it's been, marking the times wasn't important anyways, he didn't need to do that. He just began to write mindlessly.

"Night."

"I have a few things I need to remember, so I'm writing them down here. 7777 is that one number that opens the ingredient machine into Kaleb's world or however the hell it does that, never looked into it." "I didn't know where the gun case was exactly, but he did somehow. Ended up giving me the location for it. So if things go to shit like everyone claims they will, I have an escape plan." "Kidding." What was that thing that virus told him to type in? He was already blanking. Then he remembered it, right. Write that down for later, it might be useful. "That virus thing's contact is just 'callback ping' I think. That's another thing I'm writing here to remember. Not that I'll ever need it, but it's nice to have that information." "I can only hope this space trip ends soon. I'm getting real tired of this bullshit." "This is James" He never says his last name. Maybe he should. It sounded decent...? He didn't use it nearly enough. "This is James Zare, signing off this journal page." It sounded a lot more stupid on paper. Right, he'd just cross that out. "This is James Zare, signing off this journal page." Better. He put away the journal in a secure spot, pairing the pen with it. Tomorrow is another day and all that, right?