#Oftentimes the most you get is the character names

[diaryofageekgirl]

Cross-posting my meta/ranting from the Helluva Boss subreddit. Originally posted June 22, 2024 (here):

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I love both Stolas and Blitzø. I'm super invested in this relationship. Both of them made mistakes, but both of them are also coming from places of trauma and previous fucked up interpersonal relationships. That being said, I don't really feel the need to point out how Blitzø fucked up, because so much of the fandom is so biased towards Stolas that everyone is already well aware of that part of the problem. I'm also very aware of the fact that Stolas has grown significantly as a character, but sometimes people in the audience forget the difference between what WE know, and what the CHARACTERS know. Now that that's out of the way...

Oh my god, THANK YOU. There was one particular line in Apology Tour that stuck out to me, especially because Blitzø's reaction wasn't what I hoped it would be.

Stolas: "I don't look down on you! How many times do I ha- when have I ever?!"

Oh, I don't know dude, maybe the entire first season?!

Episode 1: refers to Blitzø as "my little imp" during the phone call (using his bottom-of-the-hierarchy species as a cute pet name is..... bad. It's bad). Also just fully ignores the fact that Blitzø tells him that it's not a good time, that he doesn't understand what he's saying (more than once!) and clearly just agrees to the deal in order to deal with the more pressing issue of being shot at.

Episode 2: CONSTANTLY flirts with Blitzø using incredibly sexual language throughout the episode, even when Blitzø repeatedly tells him that he doesn't want to be flirted with while he's working. (That's not even going into how he completely ignores Octavia's emotions/reactions to what's going on around her and just focuses on himself and what he thinks is a good idea in the moment. That's two for two on episodes where his stunning lack of self-awareness shines through).

Isn't in episode 3 or 4. Though I will take a second to acknowledge one line in episode 3 - when Blitzø charges into the room and challenges Verosika and her crew, one of the succubi says "Is this little imp boy starting a demon duel?" Yet another example of imps being treated as lesser by other demons.

Episode 5: The constant heavy-handed flirting in public, again, even though Blitzø repeatedly tells him not to, again. On top of that, there's the "itty bitty imps like yourself" comment that he makes to Blitzø while in bed, and not even a minute later, tells him in cutesy UWU baby talk that he's "sowwy his cwients wiw have to wait" - not taking Blitzø or his work seriously. And, of course, we get Striker telling Blitzø that Stolas treats him like a plaything.....

Episode 6: ......aaaaaand the very next episode has Stolas literally calling Blitzø his "impish little plaything". Side note, but I feel like most discussions about Stolitz's dynamic and the imbalance present in it focuses on this line in particular, but not the rest of his behaviour throughout the whole first season. He is constantly making aggressively sexual comments, oftentimes right after being asked or told not to by Blitzø, sometimes after being told more than once.

Episode 7, he's actually fine. Hiding his face when Ozzie singles him out isn't great, but he had just been publicly embarrassed, and if you watch in the background, he does get up from the table (likely about to try to help Blitzø) right at the end of Verosika's bit, before he's interrupted by Asmodeus. And while I'm certain he really did just want to "talk, or watch a movie, or cuddle", I can also see how easy it would be for Blitzø to interpret that as him asking to Netflix and Chill, as it were.

(Also, not a major thing, but having a little plush imp doll as a kid (as seen in S2E1) feels.....really weird, to me? Like I know most posts on SocMed and reactions on YT just see it as cute, and I'm probably reading too much into it, and I know that IRL toy dolls and stuffed dolls of people are a common thing, but just the idea of a prince having a plush doll of a low-class citizen feels really bad. A literal plaything, if you will.)

Season 2, Episode 2: Not much, but even though they had a tiny bit of a fight (if you can even call it that) after Ozzie's, and even though they haven't been communicating super well, and even though he's concerned about finding Octavia, Stolas still finds an opportunity to make a sexual comment towards Blitzø.

Season 2, Episode 4: Ohhhhhhhhhh my god, I never even used to be mad about this, but the way that it got brought up in Apology Tour made me pissed. Stolas now getting upset about Blitzø not coming to rescue him when Striker kidnapped him? Telling him that he "couldn't even be bothered to come help me"? Fuck. Off. With. That. As a father of a daughter himself, you'd think that Stolas would be sympathetic to the fact that Blitzø was trying to help out his own daughter in that scene, especially considering that he had to wait 5 fucking years for a mandatory medical procedure. Of fucking course he's not going to skip out on that! And just the way he responds to that:

Stolas: Oh, ha, ha. Well, I do agree that is very important...But, I-

(and then he's cut off by Striker). I urge anyone and everyone to go rewatch that bit of the episode, because his tone of voice is just so dismissive. Like, "yes, yes, that's nice, now drop everything and come rescue me, which is more important". And that's before he even realizes that he's in serious danger!!!

Like, I'm sorry, but where the fuck does he get off getting mad at Blitzø for "always making it about sex"? Blitzø has only ever reacted to the sexual advances that Stolas was putting out - even from the very first hook-up, Stolas just assumed that Blitzø was there to seduce him, and Blitzø just went along with it as a way to distract him while he stole the book. He agreed to the transactional fucking in episode 1 while he was being shot at and was trying to get Stolas off his back. He's expressed annoyance towards Stolas' sexual advances in episodes 2 and 5 of season 1. And now suddenly it's Blitzø that makes it all about sex?!

And what do you mean, "How many times do I ha-" Have to what, buddy? Tell him that you see him as an equal? You haven't done that yet. Tell him that you love him? You did that whole conversation in pretty much the exact wrong order and shut down when he didn't react like you imagined in your head. Tell him that you think highly of him? You haven't done that. Not directly to him, not where he could hear, not before the end of that argument, right before forcibly teleporting him away from you, which, y'know, just reinforces Blitzø's earlier comment about treating him like one of his butlers, and how he "can't just dismiss [him]."

He may not have ever actively viewed Blitzø as inferior to him, but there's a LOT of internalized classism going on that I'm not sure he's even aware of.

(continued in a later comment):

One thing I'd like to add to all of 👆 that: I mentioned a bit about other people in Hell talking down to imps, but one thing I forgot to talk about is how Stolas himself views imps that aren't Blitzø. Quick list (entirely from memory):

Refers to Millie and Moxxie as "you littler ones" in Loo-Loo Land

Refers to I.M.P. collectively as "you little creatures" in Truth Seekers

The generally condescending and dismissive way he talks to the imps of the Wrath Ring in Harvest Moon Festival - if I'm remembering correctly, he also refers to them as little! Like I get it, he's crazy tall, but we all know that's not the only way to interpret that comment.

3.5 Since Stolas (and a big chunk of the fandom) went ahead and compared Blitzø's comments to Striker's, I'm gonna do the same to him! Those comments are so reminiscent of Striker saying "you little things ain't worth the clean-up" to Moxxie and Millie, also from Harvest Moon Festival.

4. Picking up, forcefully squeezing, and swinging around his imp butler while he was mad during his phone call with Stella in Seeing Stars. I'm not saying that he's abusive towards his staff, or anything like that - just that the very fact that he did it at all seemed to be totally subconscious, which in turn suggests that he doesn't realize how demeaning that is.

5. Actually, now that I think about it - the fact that he's so upset that specifically Blitzø didn't rescue him in Western Energy. The main reason he's alive and not bleeding out in the bottom of a mine shaft is because Millie and Moxxie showed up, and they only knew to go there and help him because Blitzø told them/they were there during the phone call. Like, does he even know their names? Is he even grateful that they helped? We don't know!

I saw someone in another thread say that he was essentially at the equivalent of the "I'm not racist, I don't even see colour!" stage of racism, and I completely agree. He doesn't realize all of these internalized prejudices he has, but they are ABSOLUTELY there.

(comment on another thread, building off of the comments I made about s2e4, originally posted July 7, 2024):

Also, a few other points to build off of this & respond to other comments on this thread:

"But he didn't tell Stolas about the first time, and the Carmine-crafted gun that Striker had that can kill royal demons" - You mean the one that Moxxie took from him and still has in his possession at the end of Harvest Moon Festival? The one that Moxxie was shocked that Striker even managed to get his hands on? Remember, I.M.P. didn't know that Striker was working for anyone; logically, that means they would have assumed that he got the weapon entirely on his own, and something like that is both rare and expensive - imps don't typically "make it big" in Hell, and I can't imagine a powerful Overlord would be thrilled to give a weapon that could kill them to someone so far below them in status. With them taking it from him and keeping it at the end of the episode, it means that they would assume that he's no longer a serious threat. They had no way of knowing he was being bankrolled by a royal, with access to three more angelic weapons (two pistols and a knife) (four if you count the rope as well).

"Stolas: You knew someone was trying to assassinate me?" Uhhhhh, yeah? You were there for Loo-Loo Land, dude, you know that people are trying to assassinate you, like all the time. This isn't news in any way - and yes, Striker is generally more dangerous than any of the assassins that we saw in that episode, it still doesn't change the fact that you're already well aware that being rich and royal puts a target on your back. This is really unfair to get upset with Blitzø for. (I'm aware that this is an argument and sometimes you bring up unfair accusations in arguments and both of them were very heated and I shouldn't have to plaster every comment about this episode and this relationship with disclaimers that I'm not hating anyone, just expressing frustration.)

[fungi-maestro]

The Question #6 (1987)

[oldwritingm]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

could I get Dazai x Jessica rabbit male reader? Like reader is taller is feminine and intimidatingly sexy and Dazai endearingly is his “roger rabbit” in this situation, male reader is disinterested in me and woman alike to try to woo him and is polite but firm with he’s not there for you he’s there for someone else. The. Dazai comes strutting in and hangs on male reader’s should with love struck eyes and everyone is like “how the fuck did you end up with him-?” And male reader is like “He makes me laugh”

Dazai Osamu - Jessica Rabbit-Like Male Reader 

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

This is ADA Dazai and not PM Dazai since you didn't specify in your ask what time frame you wanted this in. This is my first time writing Dazai so I apologize if I didn't capture his character properly. I also wrote this headcannons in second person for a change, let me know if you like this more than the usual. I hope I did your ask some justice, Anon. The lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Why Don't You Do Right” written by Joe McCoy and sung by Peggy Lee. —Benny🐰

Warnings -> Suggestive, Mentions of Suicide, Reader will have descriptions that correlate with the character 'Jessica Rabbit'

                                                                                                   

🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒

❝𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖞, 1922-- 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚❞

. . .

🎙   When Dazai and [Name] first met, you can imagine what the first thing the bandaged man said to them was, of course, asking to commit double suicide with him. The tall and seductive stranger giggled and declined, thinking the bandaged man was simply making a morbid joke, but he planted a sweet kiss on Dazai's cheek and made his way down the street and out of the ADA detective's line of sight. The way the taller man's hips swayed as he strutted away had the brunette staring after him with wide eyes, sparkling with interest.

🎙  The two met again and subsequently exchanged contact information as well as planned a date during one of the investigations he was a part of. Something about the murder of a guy that happened in the club that [Name] performed in and the perpetrator being an ability user. After the investigation wrapped up, Osamu made sure to rizz him up and once again coax them into a double suicide, to which they again chuckled at and denied. For the mentioned date, Osamu took them to the movies them out to eat at the Uzumaki Diner before walking them home and being sent off with a kiss.

🎙  Now the two are married; two years going strong. Dazai makes sure to show up to every single performance his husband has at whichever club it happens to be at; oftentimes skipping out on his paperwork in order to do so. Dazai does make sure to tell [Name] that he in no way needs to come and see him at the ADA just in case, for their safety. Occasionally though, the seductive club singer does pay the bandaged man a workplace visit; usually dropping him off lunch or just to spend time together after being apart for a while.

🎙  Most times [Name]'s visits end up with him sitting sideways on his husband's lap while listening to him talk about his day in an animated fashion. Trailing his index finger up and down Osamu's chest slowly and sensually; the natural seductive smile playing on his lips. [Name] smothering the brunette in tons of kisses; leaving prints of his painted lips all over his husband's face and staining the bandages wrapped around his neck. Feeding each other whatever Osamu decided to grab from the vending machine on the other side of the room.

🎙  Speaking of the ADA; those in the agency still can't wrap their heads around how the two got together in the first place. [Name] is a drop-dead gorgeous sex symbol of a man who has a flourishing career as a club singer and Dazai is... well himself. Poor Atsushi nearly had a stroke trying to process the two being in a loving and stable relationship. How the bandaged man and his husband interact also seems to leave a few select people feeling painfully single and Dazai absolutely revels in their suffering. The man definitely plays up his interactions with [Name] just to get a rise out of them. When Kunikida asked the tall man just what he saw in his husband he answered that Dazai made him laugh.

🎙  Overall, the two have a very loving and stable relationship. Despite Osamu's want for death, [Name] makes him feel like life may be worth living just a little while longer than he thought. Every night that he spends in his husband's embrace is another night he feels safe, loved, and protected from the haunting memories of his past actions and those he's lost. Although... most nights the two of them don't get to sleep until late into the night.~ All Osamu's doing I'm sure, the scoundrel.

. . .

❝𝖂𝖍𝖞 𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖔 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖔? 𝕲𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖞 𝖙𝖔𝖔❞

🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

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[orfisheus]

The Problem With the Eddsworld Fandom's Depictions of Red Leader/Future Tord, A Disabled Perspective

Disability is a contentious concept for most of society, with most either treating us with disgust, confusion, refusing to treat us as human, or to see our struggles as what they are. Ableism affects all people in many different ways, but as someone who focuses a lot of my energy in fandom spaces, the pervasiveness of ableism with how media and their fans interpet and react to disabled characters is a very personal situation for me. While many may argue that an ignorance to these topics in fiction has little bearing on real life, the prevalance of these tropes have echoed and led to feelings of othering for many disabled people, and oftentimes support the same notions that lead to the day-to-day ableism in our own personal lives.

In recent years, I have experienced this most often with the prevalance of negative disability tropes perpetrated by fanfiction surrounding the character of Tord, also known under the alias of Red Leader in some fanworks. It is a problem not just common in the Eddsworld fandom. A more recent, and much larger fandom in Mouthwashing also shares a common trend of repeated ableism in fan depictions and interpretarions of disabled characters. Most fan creators are unaware of these tropes and the harm that they cause, but as a disabled person, I am unable to ignore it.

For context on myself, you can call me Fish. Get it? Or"fish"eus? I like to think I'm funny. I am a mentally ill, disabled, and neurodivergent creative who has niche interests in representation in media and the intersection of intersectionality and fandom spaces. I experience chronic pain due to a multitude of conditions, all of which are invisible disabilities. I am NOT an amputee or have a facial difference, like the character I am analyzing. I can only speak based on my own research in my attempts to portray him positively, but I want to mainly focus on the ableist tropes I see and the real life effects they have. That is something I CAN focus on, because I've been dealing with it for years from conditions that came onset later in my life. I will be speaking from that perspective, but will be doing my best to try to educate on what I do know from my research to help authors, artists, and creatives create a better portrayal of him in fanworks.

The most common tropes I see with him are what I will call "The Disabled Villain", "The Innacurate Disability", and "The Ignored Disability". There are a few tropes in each, but for ease of organization (and the sake of your (and my) time), I will be talking about them together in these sections. There are also overlaps in many, but I will define the main issues with them.

The Disabled Villain

James Bond, Wonder Woman, The Witches. You name it. You have most likely seen this trope at work in cinema. A malicious evil-doer is revealed to have a "horrid" face symbolic of the true evil within their soul, while the beautiful, able-bodied hero is meant to stop them. It's a trope as old as time, one that goes back to even Plato. Tropes are tropes, people subvert them, so a few cases down the line may be excusable. But that has not been the case For many years, the most prevalent form of representation for disabled people was in these villains. Imagine if the only representation you had for yourself was narratives surrounding how the way you look or what your disability is and have it only be equated to evil people. It leads to a villainization of disabled people. People react to facial differences with disgust, because they are "shown" that it is "evil", or "ugly", or equal to being a horrible person. As stated by The Nora Project, "According to the book Disabilities: Insights from Across Fields and Around the World, disabled students are two to three times more likely to be bullied in comparison to their nondisabled classmates. The disabled villain trope contributes to this phenomenon in overt and subtle ways. For example, the trope implicitly encourages fear of disability and difference, while validating, and even elevating, those who fight against the evil, Disabled Villain. Bullying based on fear and disdain is almost a natural consequence of the trope when viewed in this light". Another big issue is that disabled characters have not been given space to exist outside of villainy. There are not many complex narratives surrounding them. This leads to our disabilities being downplayed, us being dehumanised, and we are seen more like props in real life, or simply tools to achieve a message in a narrative.

Tord's disability is never explicitly shown in the show. It is something more prevalent in Fanon, specifically in fanworks that focus on the "Future" era of the show's timeline, where the narrative and outside discussions on the show implies a high tech society, potentially dystopian, potentially a consequence of his actions. These ideas have taken a life of their own in the fandom, with many creators fully expressing these ideas. The problem arises when Red Leader falls in line with this trope. In many works, he is the sole disabled character, a figure of pure evil, or given little nuance in the narrative. Artists illustrate his scars as bright red, crimson, or, in TBATF, green. For some reason. In this way, they attempt to highlight the villainy by equating him with common symbols of evil: facial differences and disabilities. Unfortunately, these are not just symbols. These are conditions and scars that real people have, which the fandom tends to ignore in favor of dramatization.

This was a trope I most commonly saw explored in fanfiction when I first joined in 2016/17. The show, unfortunately, subtly and accidentally perpetrated it by having the only character visibly and irreparably "damaged" by the giant robot fight be Tord, despite the fact that Tom, who had a whole missile directed at him and got buried under a house, was fine with at most a leg injury and a cut on his arm. Luckily, we have grown past the need for ableist tropes, and the faults of the show can be left in the past!

... Not.

Disability tropes have simply evolved in how the fandom treats Tord. Even if it is now done with more consciousness and sympathy towards his character, ignorance still prevails. Let's talk about common pitfalls people fall into when writing him.

The Inaccurate Disability

In fanon perception, Red Leader is an amputee with a high tech prosthesis and a facial difference resulting from burn scars. Like many disabled characters, he suffers from a collective fandom lack of research. But never fret! That is what I have subjected myself to for the past four years, so your friendly neighborhood disabled Fish can tell you how to right your fandom wrongs! Just kidding! Take this as a pointer, and do your own research.

As is common with fictional prosthetics, his arm prosthetic is treated as a perfect fix for his amputation. It acts just like, if not better than an actual arm. The issue with this is that is isn't realistic. Yes, I know, I'm criticising Eddsworld fanfiction for not being realistic. STAY WITH ME HERE. Once again, if it was one instance, or a few, that explored prosthetics being incredibly functional in science-fiction, then it could be a cool concept. But when every sci-fi work has it, then that is no longer a concept. That is a misconception. And I have interacted with people who believed that prosthetics were 100% functional! The thing is, like all disability aids, it does not suddenly make us able-bodied. For example, I have ear defenders that I wear when I experience pain within my ears. But that does not mean my hearing will now become normal, and I will no longer experience pain from the sound I'm hearing. What WILL happen is that I will straight up not hear you. Like, literally. Can you repeat that? I had my ear defenders on. Oh, you're saying that my ear defenders aren't prosthetics and are not a fair comparison? Well, that's fair, but take this as an illustration of a disability aid and how they differ from able-bodied experiences. Also, many prosthetic users do many things without their prostheses, and some even prefer NOT to wear them. Blogs that explicitly cover disabled representation, such as @/cripplecharacters, have posts that cover WHY many amputees are not fans of this trope. The problem comes with that it erases disability, and yet also treats us like we are given a space at the table of representation. It's just another way that authors avoid actually doing research.

Other things that people tend to ignore are how burn scars, or any scars, would not only appear on a character, but also affect them. I have seen, aside from skin tones that looked like they were picked out of a crayon box instead of what would appear on a person, teeth exposed, wounds that look as if they are fresh from the explosion YEARS after they occurred, and what I like to call "paper shredder" scars. Because instead of them looking like burn or shrapnel scars, it appears as if his skin was put through a shredder. Once again, another consequence of the show's at most-30 second scene with questionable decisions that made massive ripples in the fandom. With the injuries Tord received, it is most likely that he would have two kinds of injuries: a burn on 18% of his body (minimum, based on rule of 9s), and/or shrapnel scars from debris. While shrapnel scars would manifest as darker scars, the burn scar would likely be a hypertrophic scar, as "70% of patients develop hypertrophic scars following burns" (Finnerty et. al). The scars, when healed, are warm toned on the boundaries of their areas and cool in between. When on a pale skintone, they are not too dissimilar, and would therefore not have such a drastic color difference as seen on skin. They would also not go down to the bone or skin, as that would be a completely different kind of injury, and are also commonly done to make him look "scarier", which then aids the Disabled Villain trope. It also treats these scars and injuries more like a work of fiction, rather than something that many real people have experienced, adding to continuous misinterpretations of real life disabilities and facial differences.

For writers wanting to include consequences of burns, what would be more likely to be affected are his hearing, vision, and nerves on the right side of his face, as burn scars can go as deep as nerve endings. Also, burn scars, especially third degree burns, require treatments, such as burn-specific skincare. Scars, especially burn scars, can affect you and become disabling. For artists, the main thing I don't see artists do is draw him with damaged hair follicles. Burn scars damage the scalp and eyebrows, preventing hair growth. I am sorry, but he would not still have fluffy, luscious hair. Do not kill me. He just wouldn't. And if you are saying that he had it in the show, I can't hear you because my ear defenders are on, but I hope you heard me, as we've gone over that the show is inaccurate and we should do our own research.

Even well intentioned authors and artists ignore many aspects of the disabilities he would likely have!

Which brings us to the last trope...

The Ignored Disability

Many well meaning people intend to give him nuance by trying to avoid the Disabled Villain trope. Accidentally, however, they end up completely ignoring his disabilities instead.

Just like the high-tech prosthetic, the real disabling aspects of having a disability are at best rarely mentioned. I have seen, in some fanworks, that he goes straight from amputation to having a prosthetic. And that is where his disability ends. Because the prosthetic ends up being a fix-all situation. Authors refuse, or forget, to include aspects of amputation, such as the healing process, stump or phantom pain. Artists will cover up his scars with a helmet or a mask, another trope that undermines his disabilities and attempts to brush it under the rug. I understand that there is a discomfort for able-bodied authors in thoroughly exploring how a character feels about their disability. That is something I think we should. Avoid. If you're not familiar with the experience of being that minority, you do not need to add commentary on it. And if you do, and it just falls into more negative tropes, I will send a salmon cannon at you (/j). However, I do not agree with brushing every disabling aspect of his life under the rug.

People can assume it's not a problem, like it isn't something blatantly apparent. But, if you assume that disability and being disabled is not a "big thing", you end up where your medication is denied because your insurance refuses to see your common procedure as not a necessary medical intervention because you're "too young". And that is not fiction. That is what inspired me to write this essay, because the day that I got that news was the same day I sat down and told myself that I needed to share my perspective on the perception of disabled characters by honing in on one of my favorite characters and how the fandom treated him.

Disabled characters deserve to be included in media, disability and all, with care given to how their life would operate as a result and what they would experience with their specific disability. That's why many people recommend sensitivity readers who can give proper insight upon that disability and can advise people to properly portray it.

But if you cannot afford or access that resource, what can you do?

Fish's Non-Cohesive List of Ways I Tried to Write Tord as a Non-Amputee Without a Facial Difference

Do research!! The more you are to try to understand what you are writing about, the less you are to misinterpret or misrepresent it.

Look into resources that focus on portraying disabled characters, especially with those you wish to write about. Read blogs, research tropes that are common in disabled characters, and hell, read medical journals. They can provide great insight (<< nerd who likes reading medical journals)

Include more disabled characters. Make the other boys be disabled! Want to be canon compliant? Create OCs who have disabilities! I have a bunch! It's 2024! Be cringe and be free! The character's disability would go against the traditional narrative form of "usefulness"? I'm an animator who can't wear headphones and a theatre performer who can't physically handle the volume of a band. And yet, we find ways to persist, to exist. We will always find our way to live in the way we want to, in whatever way we can.

Look into disability activism. Learn the difference between the Medical Model and Social Model of disability. Know what an invisible disability is. Listen to us when we say that we don't want to be treated as special or an inspiration for simply living (inspiration porn). The more you are aware of what we struggle in real life, the more aware you will be to not repeat those mistakes in your fiction.

Write what you can. Highlight little talked about aspects of having a burn scar or being an amputee, such as the recovery, or treatment for the chronic pain, or how different he would be in battle due to decreased depth perception. As a disabled author, I have personally touched on the experience of gaining a disability later in life, and how he copes with it. Now, not all of y'all can do that. But that is a personal experience I do have, and it is something I have highlighted in my own work. So, while I couldn't tell you the ins and outs of having a burn scar or a prosthetic arm, I could describe the shock and frustration that comes with suddenly experiencing difficulties, or even being unable to do what you had done before.

I ask that, if you are willing to do better, or to start on the right foot, you take what I have written, reflect on it, and treat disabled characters, and in turn, disabled people, better from here on out.

Fiction is not reality, but the way we deal with it is reflective of who we are and what we believe. The boundary for our own personal being does not suddenly stop within fiction. When we interact and interpret it and create for it, it is integral that we remain conscious that bigotry runs rampant, albeit often as an unseen force, within fandom spaces, and do our best to counteract that.

I have doubts that the new eddisode will treat this topic with the same respect. I hope you can all go forward with what you have read in this WAY LONGER than I expected essay, and do what those grown British men cannot. Even if they erase it, retconn it, or do not treat it with respect, let's all go forward and do better!

As for always, you can discuss more in the tags or my inbox!

I hope you have a wonderful life,

Fish

[thatwritergirlsblog]

10 worst ways to start a book

1. An irrelevant point of view

It's extremely frustrating as a reader to read the opening scene of a novel, get invested in the story and start rooting for the POV character, only to have that character never show up again or show up as an unimportant character.

Your readers will feel betrayed. Why did they get emotionally invested in this character? Why did they care?

One of the most important functions of your first scene or chapter is introducing your main character and getting the reader to root for them.

Don’t waste that crucial moment on an unimportant POV.

2. Too many characters

Starting to read a new book is usually a bit confusing. You have to get to know new characters, a new world, a new writing style etc.

Don’t add to that confusion by introducing two dozen characters in the opening scene. Readers won’t remember their names or care about them; they’ll just feel overwhelmed and confused.

Additionally, readers will also struggle to root for the main character, because there are too many other people crowding the scene.

3. Telling

My name is Lisa. I’m a short, feisty brunette who loves horse riding. I have two best friends called Anna and Daniel, and we carpool to college every day. I have a crush on Josh, one of my tutors, but he’s twenty-seven and isn’t interested in me.

Telling is boring. It has its place, but the start of your novel is not it. The above paragraph could have been an interesting scene in which you showed the reader all the information via action and dialogue.

Unless you’re using subversion to surprise the reader, e.g., My name is Lisa and I’m a class-three demon, don’t start with telling. 

Immerse the reader in the story through action, dialogue and the senses. Show us who the main character is, don’t just tell us.

4. Description

Please don’t start your book with a page-long description of the setting. In fact, I would recommend not starting with description at all. 

Yes, a few lines of description later in the opening scene is fine. But the reader needs to care first. 

No matter how beautiful your writing is, readers won’t be sucked in by a five-paragraph description of a field.

5. Worldbuilding info dump

Please don’t start your book with an explanation of your world’s climate, politics, history, magic system etc. 

Once again, the reader needs to care first. 

There needs to be action and conflict and a compelling plot. The world exists as a backdrop for the story and the characters – it’s not the protagonist and it shouldn’t take up the opening scene.

6. The dream sequence

The main reason that this is a bad way to start your book is that it’s been done way too many times.

But that’s not the only reason.

It also feels like a betrayal to the reader, because they got invested in the story and the character and the events, and then you tell them it was never real.

And oftentimes the storyline and world of the dream is much more interesting than the actual story, which makes the latter look very boring in comparison.

7. Looking in a mirror

Once again, it’s just been done too much: A character looking in a mirror and describing their physical appearance to the reader. 

Firstly, no one describes their appearance in detail when they look in the mirror.

Secondly, the reader doesn’t even know who this person is. We don’t know if we’re interested in the character yet. We don’t know why we should care. So, we don’t want a detailed description of the character’s appearance right off the bat.

Show us interesting aspects of your main character’s personality, hobbies and life. Weave in physical description as it becomes relevant. It’s not important enough for the very first paragraph.

8. Starting way too early

Yes, most books don’t start with the inciting incident (although I recommend that they do), but the start of your book shouldn’t be too far away from your inciting incident.

So, don’t start with a long scene describing the main character’s everyday life. The readers want the thing to happen.

Providing context and introducing the main character is fine, but don’t leave the reader hanging for too long before you get to the good stuff.

9. Trying too hard

“Your first line has to be amazing and hook the reader. It needs to be something no one has ever read before.”

I bet you’ve heard that piece of advice hundreds of times. It’s not bad advice, but taken to the extreme, it creates an opening that is disjointed, conflated and confusing.

Your first scene should introduce your character, story and voice. So, don’t write a single line of profound purple prose that has very little to do with your actual story as a first line.

Focus on writing a good story. Introduce the reader to the book and make the main character intriguing. You don’t need a mind-blowing first line.

10. The lesson

Most books have a theme or something the author wants to say. Oftentimes, that takes the form of a life lesson.

This is good, but the lesson needs to be subtly woven into the story.

It should not be forced down the reader’s throat in the very first scene.

Don’t tell me what I’m going to learn, show me the lesson through the story.

If you’d like to read a Fantasy Adventure novel that does not have any of these opening mistakes, check out my debut To Wear A Crown.

Reblog if you found this post useful. Comment with your own tips for writing a good opening scene. Follow for similar content.

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

I Want You.

sasuke uchiha x female reader.

cw: all characters are 18+, piv penetration, intended lower case, smut, swearing, face fucking, missionary, enemies to whatever the fuck, idk what else.. not proofread?

WELCOME TO VANNY'S COME BACK!

sasuke was hard to read. you never really understood why he looked at you the way he did, but it was always different than how he looked at others. even more than the way he eyed naruto, the pure shallowness in his eyes when he bored into yours showed almost hatred. you never knew why.

kakashi was your uncle, so oftentimes you were with him and his team, wielding naruto uzumaki, sasuke uchiha, and sakura haruno, and became quite good friends with them. well, everyone but sasuke who you just didn't talk to much.

you knew much about him though, through sakura. she'd always talk of him, "sasuke" this, "sasuke" that. "sasuke is so handsome" "sasuke is so great" "he's so strong".. you grew bored of hearing the name.

the older the group got, the more sasuke had grown to achieve his goal to provide vengeance for the uchiha name. it seemed to be the most of what he'd cared about.

"sasuke, it's too dangerous to leave the village! you're not gonna go find him yourself are you?" sakura had yelled as sasuke walked towards the border that marked the end of the leaf. you saw the pain in her eyes as she fell to her knees and tears began to fall down her cheeks. you watched emotionlessly as sasuke turned around, and he eyed you one last time, that same look of hatred he'd always only shown you. before he walked away, he looked at sakura, as she was wailing on the ground, staring at it, and then looked at you again, and he let out what was almost a laugh, and he left.

not caring much, you helped sakura get up off the ground and walked her over to where naruto had been standing, hugging her before trading her off to him. you didn't even think sakura noticed much that you handed her off. "you take care of her," you said, walking towards the village.

"do you just not care?" naruto said, not even moving to look at you. "you don't care that he just left like that? it didn't hurt you at all?" he sounded almost mad that you hadn't a care.

you smiled, not turning back. "why should i care? he's finally following his dreams, let him do what he wants." your voice fades off the further you walk away from the two.

it wasn't hard to understand why the two of them were hurt by sasuke's decision, after all, that was their teammate. but when did he ever vow commitment to them? he didn't. which is why you don't think it's so awful. you also didn't have a connection with sasuke, so why it would bother you was a mystery.

the walk to your apartment felt longer than it should have, especially when it started to rain.

about a week later, you were in your apartment, reading. it was a book called "the end", a long book that you'd been reading for a little while.

it was the knock at your door that surprised you out of the trance you were in while reading your book. you got up and answered it only to be surprised by who was there.

there were no words exchanged when sasuke pushed his way into your apartment. he was surprisingly clean for someone who'd apparently left the village for battle. in fact, he'd looked freshly showered and his clothes were also clean.

a few moments pass until a word is spoken. "it didn't bother you, at all?" his voice was deep, but unscathed, and it hadn't sounded like he went through anything difficult.

"looking good for someone who left the leaf to fight his brother, someone with so much power, no way you don't have a scratch on you." you scoff.

he looked into your eyes, though, this time, it was something else. not hatred. he didn't look bored. he looked hungry. like a lion looking at a deer that's all alone in the wild.

"that's not why i left." is all he says until about 30 seconds pass. you assumed he was searching for some excuse. "i just didn't want to be here anymore." he shrugged.

involuntarily your eyes roll, "so you left your team? left your home?".

"yeah." he sighs in a deep outward breath. he hadn't a care for what anyone thought about what he did. but for some reason, he cared about what you thought about him leaving. "you, though; you didn't care."

"was i supposed to? did you want me to get on my knees like this–" you begin, getting on your knees in front of him as he looks down at you. "and yell, 'no sasuke! please don't leave! the village needs you! i need you, sasuke! you're my hero!'.." you pretended to whine.

he smirked down at you, and now you stared back at him with doe eyes, waiting for his response. why were you still on your knees? why were you suddenly staring at him with such lust? why was he giving you those eyes.?

sasuke's hand tucked the hair that covered your face behind your ear before leaning down to your level. "so pretty down there for me.." his voice lowers to almost a whisper and his face gets closer to yours, he gets close to your ear to where you can feel his hot breath hitting it, "almost looks like you're ready for something else."

you'd never admit how that sentence made something inside you feel like it was exploding, and how it created a damp spot between your legs.

"im ready for you to leave." you trembled, no confidence in your voice. that wasn't true. you hadn't wanted him to leave. you wanted him to show you what he thought you were ready for.

sasuke stood up, "you don't want that, it's clear to see. your acting was much better when you were whining for me." he pauses before starting to speak again. "all you have to say are three words and i'll do the rest.." he chuckles.

"what three words?" you ask, curiosity making you wonder what he expected from you.

"all you have to say is 'i want you', and you can have me. but unless, it is, that you don't want that, then i may as well leave now." his voice was low, yet filled with hunger. he groaned softly at your no response, you'd only stare into his eyes until he'd look away and stand up.

the third step he took towards the door had your mouth agape, "wait." you say so soft you figured he may not have heard it. you hesitate to say those three forbidden words you had to convince yourself not to say right when he'd said it. sasuke stayed standing there, about two steps from the door, waiting for your response. you hummed quietly and looked down at your thighs, how they rubbed together at attempt to create any sort of friction that could ease the growing neediness in-between your legs.

"i want you."

sasuke let out what you believe was a laugh or a scoff or something before turning around. "i knew you'd give in."

"you're just soo irresistible, you narcissist." you smirk.

he made his way back to where he'd been standing in front of you, "shut up." he said with a cocky grin on his face, beginning to unbuckle the belt he'd been wearing with those dress pants. he was wearing black dress pants, dress shoes, a white button up. why he was dressed like that was the last thing on your mind at the time though. he didn't bother taking the belt from the belt loops but instead left it hanging, pants still loose enough to slide down, but he didn't do that.

"you want it?" he said in a laugh. "i mean, right here? right now? you want me?" he just wanted validation, you could see in his black, soulless eyes how bad he craved it from you. how badly he wanted to hear how much you needed him.

you let out a groan, letting your hands fall limp into your lap as you roll your eyes. you look up at him with the biggest, most needy it was pitiful to look at eyes with pure lust and need, they were watering of it. "it sure looks it, don't it?" you pout and spread your legs underneath you, beginning to rock yourself back and forth as to practically grind against the floor.

"you're insatiable." sasuke sighed breathlessly. "and annoying. should've shut you up ages ago."

sliding his pants along with his boxers down to pool at his ankles, you understood why sasuke had the reputation he did. there was no doubt that it was big, it mattered to you how he used it.

"go on, suck on it." he said with a shit eating grin as he stared down into your wide eyes.

taking his cock into both hands you begun to lick a long stripe all the way up before swirling your tongue around his tip, gliding your hand up to take your thumb to his glistening pre that began to wet him. moving your hand back down and continuing that motion before you finally take his length into your mouth. you look up at him as you do so, seeing his sharp jawline as his head fell slightly back from the pleasure.

his hand comes entangled in your hair as you bob on his length, him pulling at the roots slightly until he begun to pull harder. he pulled your hair and pushed you back onto his length at the speed he wanted to be going at, and it was no longer in your control.

practically face fucking you, his hips bucking, and his voice lowly groaning. you grabbed his wrist, surprising a low gasp to erupt from him, with your other hand cupping his balls before moving to his shaft, you took your head off his length before using your free hand to move up and down his cock. you breathed heavily as you hadn't gotten a chance to really breathe in a couple minutes.

laughing, you say breathlessly, "i want something now."

sasuke chuckles lowly and his hand goes to his forehead, looking up at the ceiling before his head falls to look at you. "is that how this goes?"

you nod your head up and down with a smile on your face. you grab his shirt and begin to stand, sasuke grabbing your arms to help you stand up entirely. this contact felt almost too intimate, the reason why you haven't kissed or anything. in reality, you almost wanted to, but you felt he possibly wasn't looking for that kind of a romantic act.

but god seeing his face so close to yours had you wanting to see just how it felt, even if short lasted.

"what are you thinking about?" he asked, seeing the perplexity on your face.

"it's nothing." your eyes dart down to look at his chest, slightly revealed from the top buttons being undone from his shirt. you look at the way that he's holding you, so close, holding your arms in his hands and not letting go. you sigh.

sasuke's head tilts slightly and his face moves to your neck, you can feel his hot breath before you feel his lips attach to the soft skin of your nape.

a small moan slips out and your hands go to his back, scratching at it and pulling him in closer. he moves up closer to your ear, to your jaw, making sure to leave little stains across the skin.

once his face leaves your neck, the look he gives you, him breathing heavy, and his hands now on your waist, yours on his biceps. and then he kissed you.

it was passionate but short lived, until he did it again. short lived again. "stop" you giggle, seeing the smirk on his face and your hands go to either side of his head, pulling him in to kiss you, and holding him there so he can't back away again.

he walks you over to your couch not too far from where the two of you are already standing, still kissing in the meantime.

sasuke hums into your mouth before the kiss separates. without words, his hands tug at the bottom of your tank top as he looks into your eyes almost for unspoken permission before he pulls it off over your head. impatiently, you pull down your short little skirt, pulling down your panties along with it before you sit down on the couch. you close your legs before anything happens, though. "why?" you ask. "i mean, why are we doing this now.."

"not sure." sasuke shrugs. "you ever wanted to do this with me before?"

you nod, "never really thought about it.. you?"

"oh yeah." he laughs. "how could i not?"

spreading your legs for him, you rub your clit yourself, but he looks into your eyes, putting a hand on your knee, his other holding his cock to your dripping hole.

sliding in, it feels almost painful at first before a wave of pleasure when he thrusts into you a third time at a relatively fast pace.

"so wh.. why did you come here— ugh. to begin with,.. sasuke?" you moan out, attempting at a regular sentence while he abuses your cunt.

he groans, "why are you talking?" he thrusts harder, faster. "just shut up.. talk– after." his hands go to your hips when your moans grow louder.

a slur of curses flow out of your mouth when you feel him in your tummy, your head falling back and moans becoming even louder. it felt so good the way he pulsed in and out of you, the way he took his thumb to play with your clit while his other four fingers press down on your lower stomach, reeling new realms of pleasure.

making grabby arms at his biceps before scratching his back so hard you probably left red marks on it, "fuck fuck fuck, please.." you moan out to him, feeling your high on its way. "sasuke.. im gonna— uggh im gonna.."

"c'mon baby, come on, cum for me, baby," sasuke groans, "come on im so close let's cum together, come onn..."

feeling yourself let go, and your walls being painted white was ethereal and otherworldly. grinding out your high, you and sasuke's loud breathing was pretty much the only sound bouncing off the walls anymore.

with barely any breath left, you still wanted an answer to your previous question. "answer my question."

"i wanted you."

[doledition]

whitney and affection

so. not a whitney fucker. a semi whitney enjoyer. yet there's something so...fascinating about whitney, so demented and truly strange about their behaviors, that makes me want to psychoanalyze them.

dolville, as we all know, is Rape Capital. Rape-Opolis. The super capital of getting abducted and violated. violation is the name of the game in dolville, whether it's mental physical or emotional. even characters who are considered fairly 'tame' or vanilla, also have their moments of violation- whether it be sydney during the rite of defilement (though it's arguable as to what extent sydney was fully lucid during it) to losing affection with robin if you refuse to sleep w them.

affection is tainted in dolville. it is a display of control, given by force. whitney is perhaps our most egregious example besides well. eden.(and i can do a lot on eden). whitney, from the onset, is violent. our first interaction w them is getting their knee shoved into our crotch. that is how we are introduced to them- as a menace, a violator. they're the most 'antagonistic' out of all the main li's right off the bat. i remember reading somewhere that vrel views whitney as a 'main antagonist' in dol, along with kylar and eden, though i could be off base with this.

anyways, even as we continue throughout the game, whitney is still the same level of cruel to us as in early game, except with more tender moments to balance it out. still, these methods of expressing affection remain a constant throughhout the game, even with high love. (granted, the dom and lust level also affects how whitney treats us but we'll get to that) whitney oftentimes takes on the role of a pimp for the player. there are many, many instances of whitney randomly grabbing the player up, as though in a scene of goodwill, and then marching them over to some rando in the park to pimp. and rest assured, you still won't be making any money, even at high love.

regardless of any amount of affection, really, whitney's behaviour continues to be cruel and violating, with no regards for pc's comfort. yet, there are tender, almost kind moments interspersed throughout our interactions with whitney. whether it's borne out of actual love for the pc or a need to display 'dominance' over them is well, debatable.

this does not negate, however, whitney's deep affection over the pc. whitney treats us how they were taught to treat others, not with respect but through a display of dominance, a need to prove how 'tough' and in control they are. whitney does not truly see pc as a person, but a toy-one they like, of course, but still a toy. pc's autonomy is nothing in their eyes, but a pesky thing to constantly contest with.

some people may say this is because whitney is just attempting to gain status, and inclusion, into their group of friends. however, while that may partly factor into why whitney treats pc as a prop, i'd argue that this isn't entirely the reasoning. i'd say whitney, at the end of the day, views pc more as a thing- a fun little thing, desperate and barking to play with-instead of a person.

this is magnified by pc's every move-if pc gives into them, this image is further solidified. if pc fights back, it beguiles them, entrances them to know more. we are treated very differently than whitney's other victims, entirely there's to torment. circling back to my earlier point of affection, whitney's treatment of the pc, their way of showing affection, is dependent on pc being a site of stress relief, a toy to play with, one without any capability of feeling any real animosity towards whitneys actions.

tl;dr: affection is violence, a display of strength, and cruelty to whtney. to get someone to love you, as the town has shown, you cannot respect them as a person. you must display your strength, and your great ability for violence and control. affection without violence and cruelty is not affection at all, now is it? (i wrote this pseudo-analysis on a whim very tired and without cross referencing the game so if there's something i'm missing or misinterpreted please let me know. also i probably just rehashed a bunch of Very Obvious Things so uh. twirls my hair.)

[dsknsk]

I love how PM keeps playing with tropes. We've seen the tropes that they deconstruct within Limbus (in fact, it is a theory of mine that each Sinner is based on a stereotypical character from gachas), the way that they pick up the cyberpunk trope and basically throw it across the room, but another huge one is...

Carmen.

Look. I think that Carmen was and is based on the traditional 'Mary Sue'. Because...well, some traits that are said to belong to the 'Mary Sue', are turned brilliantly on their head by PM. So, for typical 'Mary Sue' traits, there's:

Pretty in the traditional sense. 'Mary Sues' always look perfect, peerless and never have to work hard to maintain their image. While, as far as I know, there hasn't really been made an in-universe compliment on Carmen's physical appearance...you'd rather stop and listen to someone who at least looks like they can be trusted wouldn't you? She's likened to the sun, as Oswald called her that, and is inside the light. (Also, out-of-universe: she is certainly pretty in my eyes. She adheres to the modern beauty standards at the very least).

Related to the above: charming. The 'Mary Sue' often has an innate charm that attracts others to her. The way that Carmen has this is through her voice, which already was powerful enough to let her traverse the dangerous Backstreets unarmed, standing out from all those other Backstreets preachers somehow and draw in the most cynical noblemen, but is even more charming after death. She doesn't even need to give a breaking speech or anything, as we've seen, she just gives you questions and comments on things. Which falls in line with...

Powerful, yet without having to break a sweat. Even before dying, she was already drawing in people without having to get physical (at least, none we know of). The only time we fight her as of yet (Kether realisation), Angela needs to use an attack that depletes all her HP to win, after five phases have already passed.

The 'Mary Sue' is often a so-called spotlight stealer. She will have a major role in the story, inexplicably, at least one other character will fall in love with her and she will overall have a large presence. So far, Carmen is the only character who has appeared in all three of the games, and if you count the Distortion and the Library, she has influenced WonderLab, Leviathan and Distortion Detective as well. She was also relevantly connected to the main cast of LobCorp and has influenced most of them in some way (i.e Ayin, Angela, Giovanni, arguably Kali, etc.). She remains to be relevant to several major story turns and has left her mark in them, in some way.

Unusual eyes. It's a stereotype that 'Mary Sues' always have unusual eyes. A common type is heterochromia (which is why I often jokingly call Hong Lu a 'Mary Sue'), but other types exist like sparkly rainbow or them changing like a mood ring or something. Carmen has red eyes, which are a common side-effect of body enhancements (Vergilius had them and the R Corp pack leaders too)...except, as we said, for as far as we know, Carmen hasn't had any. They are also a trait of Bloodfiends, but she isn't (yet) confirmed to be one. Either way, red eyes are a sign of the not-weak in the City.

Oftentimes, 'Mary Sues' are referred to as divinity, as pure grace from an utmost high all-powerful deity. They may or may not even be that deity. With Carmen, she practically had a cult of personality around her when she was alive...and she also had an analogue in another pale-skinned, red-eyed being that is also treated like this. She was described as this paeon of altruism and someone who genuinely wants the best for humanity.

Meaningful name. While not so immediately on-the-nose like 'Flowersparkle', Carmen's name can be seen as a reference to the infamous prototype of the femme fatale, once again hinting at that charming quality of hers.

Perfect. A 'Mary Sue' never fails at what she does...and that's where PM shows through that...

...Carmen is a parody on the 'Mary Sue'. A so-called 'Parody Sue'...but not played for laughs. The thing is that she is described as being all this...by those she already has enthralled. Those that aren't really involved with her - Hokma (was more loyal to Ayin), Binah (who wasn't in the picture during Carmen's life), and Roland (a stranger to LobCorp to begin with) have their say during Ruina and offer us another view at Carmen, our first, and one thing becomes clear:

A real 'Mary Sue' would be weird as fuck.

Carmen shows us how weird a 'Mary Sue' would actually be in a world that isn't sunshine and rainbows - an extremely uncanny, severely misguided being who nonetheless draws people to herself, who show a creepy amount of belief and devotion to her. Carmen thinks that the 'be yourself' message - so omnipresent in media - should prevail...in a world where the majority of people are either pieces of shit or are living such a dreary, miserable life that they just give up all hope.

But all of this is only revealed in the second game and pulls the player out of the dream. And so, Carmen does end up failing to convince some people like Dongbaek and Dongrang who manage to develop E.G.O instead.

Because despite what she was painted as in the past, in reality, Carmen is not a 'Mary Sue'. And she is not perfect.

That's why she's such a great PM character.

[writers-potion]

do u have any tips for trying to write a bunch of things simultaneously and wanting to make sure they don’t overlap in plots and stuff?

tysm

Writing Multiple WIPs Simultaneously

I'm VERY guilty of working on multiple WIPs at once, oftentimes working on my social media posts at the same time! ><

Here are some tips I picked along the way:

Set Your Goals

Each story must have a clear plot goal: aka, the socko ending.

Write down, as clearly as possible, what the central idea of the stories are. You don't want to get this messed up.

Pick the genre and total word count goal.

Write these down together in a document, and keep refering back to it as you switch between projects.

Simplify Your Plot and Juxtapose

I like to use what I call a "plot table", which looks something like this:

The table should be 1-1.5 page maximum, and once I have two of these, I put them side to side to see of the overall plot progression, major fantasy names, etc. are overlapping.

If there are significant similarities, like having very similar characters names (which I know will confuse me down the line), I make sure I change them.

Be in Different Worlds/Genres/Story Aesthetics/Fandoms

I think this is one of the most useful tips.

If you have multiple projects, don't have 3 projects in the same genre, same story world and/or same POV, etc.

Try to vary the overall story aesthetic, genre, format, POV, fandom (for fanfics), etc. so that (1) you don't start mixing things and (2) you become more flexible as a writer in the end.

Prioritise One Story

Now, this is IMPORTANT.

Pick a main project you REALLY want to focus on/finish within a certain deadline.

Then, all other projects become "Break Time" where your brain can unload the distracting thoughts you can't include in the main project.

Jump into your other, side projects when you get tired of writing the main one.

Be On Different Stages For Each Project

If you're going to use your side projects as a place for "rest" from your main one, I recommend that you put each project on different stages of writing.

For example, your Main Project may be in Act II. When you get sick of writing the sloggy middle, you don't want to look at your other projects and realize you are stuck in Act II for all of them.

So, try to stagger them. Project 1: Brainstorming Stage + Project 2: Character Profiles + Project 3: Act I, etc.

Be Flexible

Remember that when you have multiple projects, you are bound to make mistakes and start getting confused from time to time.

Don't shy away from actually combining projects or giving up on one when time simply doesn't permit.

If you have prioritized a main project, let the others be a little more volatile! In fact, being flexible is one of the joys of writing <3

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

References

https://barrylyga.com/rules-for-writing-multiple-books-at-once/

https://www.wattpad.com/557596820-how-to-write-fanfiction-writing-multiple-stories

https://www.linkedin.com/advice/1/how-do-you-juggle-multiple-stories-skills-storytelling

[some-pers0n]

Demoman is one of the characters in the fandom I feel most people straight up ignore or don't know how to write. Blunt, sure, but I do stand by it. Demoman is such a fascinating, intriguing character with the most fleshed-out backstories, yet is oftentimes relegated to being Soldier 2.0, only now with poorly written phonetics.

In other words, hey! I'm a fanfic writer who has a ton of opinions as well as a neurotic need to analyze every character they come into contact with. Pleased to see you're reading this. I've already done a little doohickey essay like this with Medic a while back. The purpose of these long rambles is half of me combing through every instance of the character and pulling them apart to see how their character works...and also me not-so-subtly venting and complaining about mischaracterization. Shocking how a fandom where the main characters are all very clear-cut stereotypes with some slight subversions here and there can't seem to get them.

This essay will go through Demo's beginning and all the way to his latest appearance in the 6th comic. I'll touch on how his character shifts and is expanded upon. I doubt he changes as much as Medic has over the years, but I think it will be interesting to see. I'll just go over bits of characterization, try to rationalize it, and then try my best to sum up all of the traits by the end and try to describe his character in the most canon-compliant way.

With that preamble out of the way, let's begin. This is also 7k words btw just...be aware of that, okay?

Before we actually get into proper character stuff, I wanna lay the groundwork first by exploring the types of characterization I see from Demo. Pick them apart. See what they're really like.

So, of course, there's the popular Redditor opinion of Demo that's mainly shaped by the way people play him in the game. There, people will describe Demo as being generally a bumbling drunkard. It's not too uncommon to see people say that he's an angry drunk. A man who is more concerned with alcohol and drinking himself into a stupor than anything else. I've also seen people say that Demo straight up can't read, which...euhhhhggg. He feels more like an alternative version of Soldier at times, which, again, isn't accurate to his character.

I don't care at all for this characterization. I do think a good chunk is rooted in racism and it's generally very uncomfortable for me to look at for too long. This characterization is pretty shallow and empty, which makes for a boring and offensive caricature. Reddit moment.

The second one is more interesting and the version you'll see more on Tumblr. It's this...odd version of him. I can't exactly put my tongue on what is off about it. It seems more accurate to his character. He's a foil for Soldier a lot of the time (Boots n' Bombs is his most popular ship let's be real) and generally isn't exactly seen on his own. Sure yeah there's the oddball art of him and him only, but let's be real most of his tag is mainly just him being in the background or saying a jokey-joke.

I actually fell back into Ao3 for a bit to skim over some fics to see what kind of characterization there was of Demo there to refresh my memory, and some of the common throughlines was shockingly that he doesn't drink a lot. "He rarely drinks!" I remember reading once. That's not right, no. He's an alcoholic. Like that's a core part of his character. Another fic had him being called "Cyclops" as a pet name. Ew. Anywho, other than that it's Demo being pretty into cryptids, having the Eyelander as a buddy guy, etc and etc. It's fun, but also it's missing...something.

Then, it hit me: Demo rarely is seen as an individual. He reminds me of Heavy in that regard, where most of his appearances have him be the straight-man to another character. Most of the time he's secondary and just a folly for the other characters. It's disappointing in that regard. Like you see a lot more stuff for characters like Scout, Medic, etc and etc with their own unique characterization stuff and getting their own attention.

So...then what is Demoman's character, exactly? Well, that's what we're here to see. It'll be pretty interesting, no?

----

So, funny thing is that Demo didn't change nearly as much as Medic has over the years. Sure yeah, the concept art of Demo was more of the generic stereotypical Scotsman. White, ginger, sideburns, that whole thing. Cartoony and fun design, but eventually they went with the Demo we all know and love today.

Looking at the concept art, it all seems pretty standard for the tone that Invasion was going for at the time. Nothing really to note there other than Demo's face being a stock angry grr grr expression. It is interesting to see how the idea of him wearing an eye was a constant even from the beginning though.

This then brings us to the voicelines. Ahh, good ol' characterization. Demo here is characterized as being jovial and having fun. He's throwing out insults left and right, damning them to hell and laughing at them as they die. Usual typical mercenary stuff. This is just personal headcanon material, but I always rationalize the way the mercs act on the battlefield as being a result from adrenaline and generally being drunk on blood. They aren't as mean when off the clock, but it's worth noting that these are how these characters act when a gun's in their hands and they're exploding people left and right.

TF2 really likes basing the characters off of the class they play as and how they act. Scout is fast moving and his gameplay is oftentimes getting right in someone's face and bolting, which is reflective in his hotshot personality. It's only reasonable that Demo is an explosive, fun, and generally cocky guy when out and battling. He's lobbing grenades and sticky bombs left and right. He isn't afraid to yell to the Medic he just blew up that he's been shagging his wife and calling the Scout he just chopped the head off "twinkle-toes". He teases and such when it comes to the other team.

However, the voicelines also very curiously give us a really fascinating look into his character. He's an alcoholic. He loves his scrumpy, which is not whiskey, shockingly. I thought it was whiskey for the longest time, but no! It's a cider! His stock melee is the bottle he uses to drink, now turning it into a quick weapon. His model in the main menu is him holding up the bottle itself. His default melee taunt is him taking a swig from the scrumpy bottle. It's a core part of his identity, let's be real. It's a part of the whole Scottish stereotype he has going on.

The game of course follows this. There's a lot of lines where he's slurring and babbling in a cartoony drunken way. A good portion of it is just him making vague threats...but a lot of it is also sad. He calls himself a one-eyed bloody monster. He weeps and cries. When jeering, he says he's hit rock bottom here. Interesting new development.

Apologizes for pausing to ramble, but I don't get why people try and sand down the edges to Demoman's character by making him out as though he isn't an addict. He is. That's something that is made abundantly clear. The iconography of alcohol follows him like his own damn shadow. I dunno. It bothers me.

I digress. There's some other bonus stuff I think is quite interesting. Most of his battle charges involve the other team. "Let's gettem lads!" and all. I think it's neat how he views his teammates as just that. Teammates. Those he fights alongside with. Another thing of note is how he occasionally has lines that are...odd in a way. Poetic and dramatic. Something that subverts the typical characterization. When he loses at rock paper scissors, there's a chance he'll say "Oh, 'tis a dark day", which. well then okay buddy.

So to recap: for characterization in-game, Demo is an alcoholic Scotsman who is generally pretty witty and functioning despite the incredible amounts of booze he drinks. He is energetic, bombastic, and generally hearty and having fun. He's not taking things terribly seriously and is generally just going about and blowing stuff up. However, there is a very noticeable streak of sadness to his character. When drinking, he reveals undertones of self-deprecation and hatred. Why? How?

...well, you just need to take a gander at his character card.

Erm excuse me what the fuck.

I honestly do not understand the logic behind this backstory. Like in a practical sense. Like, yeah!! obviously this backstory is sad and such! I really actually like this backstory and honestly I love writing him in the context that this happened to him. It's just that...I can't wrap my head around the idea of this being Demo's backstory given that everyone else has pretty silly little blurbs here. I think the darkest it gets is Soldier going to Germany years after WWII ended to kill people.

This??? Sure yeah TF2 gets a lot sillier and more cartoony comedic as time goes on, but even with the current tone where is the funny? I ain't complaining, I love me my angst, but this is so jarring to see. I suppose that explains why they retcon it later, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Hey, at least it gives us an explanation to why Demo is sad. We can pretty easily gleam a reason for his current behaviour in the game from this: his messed up childhood. To begin, Tavish Finnegan DeGroot was abandoned by his parents and left to live in an orphanage. Eventually, he was adopted and brought up by some foster parents, who he then murdered in an attempt to blow up the Loch Ness monster. This was when he was six years old. Actual child. 

He then went back into the orphanage, where he would tinker with bombs. Why? Insert whatever headcanon here, but for me I think it's a feeling of fascination, yet also heavy guilt. Perhaps revenge. Either way, he loses his eye from these experiments. Eventually however, he's brought back into the family when word spreads of his excellence when it comes to manufacturing bombs. The use of the word "lovingly" feels exceptionally sarcastic, but that could be in part to how his parents are later characterized. Either way, this is a result of the DeGroot tradition, which, and I quote, is wholly unnecessary and cruel. It even cites it as him being reintroduced into his family as the "end of his unhappy childhood".

...so yeah. Pretty safe to say the reason for his alcoholism is to cope with that. He feels the guilt over that and will breakdown into sobs over it even. Yikeesss... It can also mean that he feels as though he's held up to incredibly high expectations, having the entire DeGroot family lineage to live up to. Again, later on he's being nagged at for not being as hard-working as his father, who, in good ol' TF2 fashion, blew up the Queen for a nickel. It does certainly feel that way, no?

So this introduces a new wrinkle to Demoman's current characterization: he's an alcoholic who is happy and has an upbeat and fun personality (at least on the battlefield), but underneath it he's hurting and feels ashamed of who he is. He drinks to cope and manage it, yet it only seems to exasperate problems at times.

Can I safely say that Demo is the merc with the most fascinating and intriguing backstory and personality thus far? Sure yeah I love Engie a lot as well, but Demo's character actually feels like it is a result of the backstory written for him. Like all of the other mercs sure you can go on and on about stuff with them, like Scout and Spy and their whole deal, Sniper and his parents, everything with Heavy, etc. Demo?? Right off the bat there's something to chew on in terms of actual character writing.

What an interesting character! I sure hope later installations of the story will follow through on this and give him ample screentime!

Anywho, time for the Meet the Demo video. Again, a departure from the Meet the Medic video and how I rambled on and on about that one, but it was mainly due to MtM being something to mark a drastic shift in Medic's character from serious and angry to more silly and mad scientist-esque. Meet the Demo, due to it being one of the Meet the Team videos made so early on, doesn't really get the benefit of a short with a story, but I digress.

This one is stylized more like an interview, which, in canon, means he's telling this all to The Director and all. It opens with the title screen before the horns section seep in, cutting to a clip of Demo running while explosions go off behind him. A freeze frame cut before a voice-over of Demo comes on with the iconic line "What makes me a good Demoman? If I were a bad Demoman, I wouldn't be here discussing it with you, now would I!?"

Okay so just more confirmation and all of Demo's personality in-game. According to his bio, he has a short temper and all, which could explain him getting louder when asked that question. I don't think it's a joke or him exaggerating, since he seems genuinely pretty upset by the suggestion. He would have to be good at his job in order to be telling you this, yeah? Why even bother asking? It's an interesting bit of characterization that somewhat expands on that short temper.

More generic footage of him running about while explosions go off before coming back to the interview of him explaining a bomb in its simplest form. "One crossed wire, a wayward pinch of potassium chlorate, one errant twitch... and kablewie!!" Seems like filler dialogue, but I always like taking note of the fact he uses the chemical compound term as opposed to something more colloquial. It's just headcanons, but I really enjoy thinking that Demo is pretty damn smart and really gifted when it comes to making bombs and general chemistry. It's a clear passion and love of his and I like touching on it when I can.

The next couple seconds are shots between him taking a good swig of his scrumpy and then blowing up a level three sentry. It's just showing off his capabilities as a class. Nothing special (other than being cool and showing he's competent at his job). The real interesting part is his breakdown where he's on the verge of tears, exasperatingly telling the camera that he's...off. He knows it. There's not too many black Scotsmen, especially ones with a busted eye. "They've got more fucking sea monsters in the great Loch Ness than they got the likes of me" he says.

But, he perks up! He talks over a clip of him baiting a group of BLU mercs into a sticky trap. The voiceover is also really fascinating here. The way Demo talks reminds me something out of an Aesop fable. It's a very curious and fascinating way of talking. I wish this bit of characterization stuck around since it's pretty fun. "Come and get me I say! I'll be waiting on ya with a whiff of the ol' brimstone. I'm a grim bloody fable...with an unhappy bloody end!" is really cool.

The video ends with him taunting the mangled corpses followed by a rendition of the main theme with bagpipes. I should probably also mention Drunken Pipe Bomb, his theme song. It's an upbeat and fun piece with a mixture of the typical TF2 sounds (funky jazzy drums and bass guitar) as well as a Celtic flair, what with bagpipes, whistles, etc and etc. There's also a kickass surf rock section. It's quite the battle theme and definitely reflects a lot of Demo's character as being an energetic, explosive type of character who is proud of his Scottish roots.

So that's pretty much it for SFM bits for now. How about we take a step back and look at the first-ever actual TF2 comic: WAR!, where Demo really gets a big break for his characterization. We don't care about the Saxton Hale or Jarate ones. WAR! my beloved...

But first, the actual WAR! update. It was the sixth major content update released back in 2009. Remember when this game got actual content updates? Me neither. The update was based around the rivalry between the RED Demo and the BLU Soldier to excuse why they were adding new items for the both of them, with Soldier in the end winning the little contest and getting the Gunboats.

For canon lore, the update serves to introduce the idea that the RED Demo and BLU Soldier had a comradery at first. Friends! Interesting piece of characterization to have Demo explicitly go against RED and become friends with Soldier. The two of them do bounce off of each other quite well when they're paired up, I will say. They're both heavy-hitters in terms of gameplay and their personalities are quite loud at times.

For added voicelines, there's a bunch of the Administrator denouncing their friendship as well as domination lines for both Solly and Demo whenever they kill each other. Demo pretends he hates Soldier, but asks if he's okay, tells him that he loves him, and generally is like "but we're still friends though, aye? :]" He does care a lot about their friendship, which is pretty sweet and cute. Sure hope that lasts.

In the WAR! comic, we see Demo in a mansion. He's loaded! It's also confirmation that the mercs are given quite a lot of money, but apparently not enough for Demo's mother. She's nagging him about not working and saying that he should be ashamed for being so lazy, to which he rebuttals, saying he has three jobs and has made millions annually. Apparently not enough for his mother, since Demo's father worked twenty-six jobs.

She also brings up an interesting piece of information. "No demoman worth his sulfur ever had an eye in his head past thirty!" which implies that missing an eye is a family tradition to lose your eyes when working this job. Would this also imply that Demo is not thirty by this point, since he still has the one eye? Eh, whatever. 

Demo taking care of his mom in this old, nagging state is pretty neat characterization, as well as him holding down two other jobs besides mercenary work for RED. He's very capable and talented! He's also extremely caring and sweet. Even when his mum is complaining and griping about him not living up to his father, he gets her tea and takes care of her. He does respond with a lot of "I know mum" when it comes to that. He's heard it all before. She keeps saying the same stuff. I like thinking he knows fully well he can't live up to the extreme work ethic his father had or truly impress his parents and is pretty bummed out about it, but that's just headcanons.

Anywho, Pauling's there. She's there because the Administrator wants to break up the friendship between Demo and the BLU Soldier and instead have them be pitted against each other. While Soldier needs to be tricked and insulted by Demo and told that he's a civilian (something that he hates apparently), Demo is more coerced and convinced.

He's still loyal to their friendship, but, aye, there's something different about that sword there. Here's an interesting bit of characterization: Demo being a sword guy. There's a lot of medieval stuff relating to Demo, what with DeGroot's Keep, the Eyelander, his general way of speaking at times, etc and etc. It's fun and I think he takes great interest in medieval-period stuff, but, again, headcanons.

Demo feels conflicted. How could she make him choose between his best friend and this cool ass sword?? He doesn't give an answer, but Miss Pauling further pushes him to choose violence when leaving even more stuff for him as well as telling him that Soldier said that he'll join the fight. It's then assumed that Demo agrees by that point.

It's interesting to compare and contrast Demo and Soldier. Soldier, despite hearing all of these mean things, still wants to be friends with Demo. It's until "Demo" calls him a civilian, something personal and sensitive to him, is when he decides to betray him. Demo meanwhile is more swayed by things that he loves, but the final push is that betrayal. He only acts when he's finally told that their friendship has been severed. Curious how their loyalty is strong in those ways.

...I should probably sometime mention the actual retconning of his backstory however. Hoouhhh boy let's go. So, for the 2011 Halloween update, there was a comic alongside it. This comic had some cute gags, like Heavy giving a little boy he scared seven grand. However, the main attraction is the rewritten backstory for Demo.

I mentioned earlier, but I honestly can't blame them for maybe trying another crack at a Demo backstory that isn't as bleak and miserable. I do really like the original one because I'm a sucker for angst, but this backstory does work a lot better tonally when you're just trying to write some goofy stuff, especially if it involves Merasmus at some point.

The story retcons the whole thing and seemingly makes it so that Demo has always been with his parents and the reason he lost his eye was not because of some brutal accident but rather a currrseeee ooohhhh spookyyy. He's hired by Merasmus to sweep up the place a bit, with him being exceptionally clear to young Tav to not touch any of the accursed tomes. He does, of course. Nothing too much in terms of characterization. It's more just saying "Hey Demo's eye is cursed and that's why he lost it but! hey! it comes back once every Halloween!!"

Again, I can't really knock this version of events. They're simple, but goofy and fun. It's all up to whatever you're trying to accomplish with Demo methinks. If you want silly and whimsical stories, you can have that backstory. If you want gut-wrenching angst, probably should take the initial one.

Aanndd that's virtually it for Demo being important. Demo doesn't get too much plot relevance later on. He's just kinda done with. He shows up in Expiration Date for a quick gag where he returns with a bunch of beer, shouting and cheering while being unaware of how they all just learned they're going to die in three days. He then shows up again during the bucket scene and doesn't do much other than mouthing somethin' (I can't tell you want tbh). A new thing is that he plays piano! That's fun! He then kinda watches Scout try and ask out Pauling and he yells for him to describe what she looks like, which is just what Demo currently sees her as (drunk, blurry, etc). He then fights in the big battle yada yada and shows up at the end with the beer again.

The MVM trailer I suppose is a thing to be noted. Here, he's a BLU Soldier and is playing cards with the Soldier of the same team. Seems like regardless of teams, there's some sort of bond between the two of them. All that happens is that Demo is down to bust up robots with the rest of the RED mercs. Pretty much it.

It is quite unfortunate to see Demo relegated to a role so passive in the story and comics. I've mentioned it before, but I do have an ever so slight grudge against Soldier for taking up the majority of the screentime when it comes to the comics. Yeah, he's really fun to write about, I can't blame the writers for doing so, but also like...c'mon... In the end, we're left with a good chunk of the mercs being underdeveloped in exchange for a ton of Soldier trivia. Props if you like Solly though; your fave got the best treatment.

Ah, but still! Demo has some moments in the comics! Let's go through them! 

Uh. Upon checking most of the comics before the mainline ones, it appears he does not say even a single word. Or even show up in a good portion. Well that's disappointing. I thought he at least said like...one thing. The most he does in terms of characterization is put on a crown in A Fate Worse Than Chess, and even then that's just a silly cosmetic. Damn.

It's fine though! Because now we have the mainline comics! Hot damn finally some actual casual Demoman TF2 writing! Let's get a look and see what his normal usual personality is like! I wonder what fun shenanigans he's been up to.

The first time we see Demo he's babbling about his job being replaced by robots and looking utterly dishevelled and depressed.

Okay. That's...yeah pretty in line for his character thus far. An alcoholic who is struggling with some stuff and oftentimes will have a very vocal breakdown in front of others.

The way that he's characterized here is rather fascinating though, I'll say. He's depressed. From what we can glean, this is what his life has been like since the layoffs. He's gained weight (what with Soldier's very blunt "Hello fat Demoman!"), hasn't shaved, his clothes are dirty, and beer bottles are scattered in the living room. Even the Eyelander is like "dude you need to let it go" when Demo mumbles about robots replacing jobs. He's presumably lost his two other jobs and has just been laying on this couch, drinking booze and watching TV and nothing more, despite his mum's nagging.

This is a side of Demo we don't really see. Sure, yeah, we see the hot and tempered side (ex: Meet the Demoman and the general game) as well as the sad and weepy side, but it's never to this degree. Like full on depressive episode. Yikes. Sure yeah he gets dragged back into the plot and instantly gets back to himself (albeit more orange than actually black)(I keep forgetting how whitewashed Demo was in these first few comics), but it's played for laughs and gags.

What an interesting piece of characterization, no? I've seen a fair amount of major depressive disorder, BPD, PTSD, and or bipolar headcanons slapped onto Demo and tbh I can't blame them. I'd be really interested to see some fic explore that in greater detail. I'm too busy writing Engiemedic yaoi to do anything for now though. Womp womp.

The ending bit of the comic has Demo and Pauling mainly chat with each other. Oh yeah!! Demo and Pauling! They've got a couple pretty neat lines. For the usual contract it's just jokes about his alcoholism, his eye, and a couple about his mom and just general gags. In the Tough Break update, she's out drinking with Demo and nearly spills the beans about her job. Fun. I really like the Miss Pauling characterization where she regularly hangs out with the mercs. It's cute.

In the comics, she talks to Demo more like an actual equal than, say, Pyro or Soldier. She talks to them like they're children roughhousing in the backseat. Demo sits up front and the two go back and forth. Demo is the more mature and reasonable one here. Another thing that's a common bit of characterization in the comics is that Demo isn't...drunk. He's not slurring nor acting in a way that makes it immediately clear he's inebriated. He's pretty lucid. This can be from the fact that he's a very high-functioning alcoholic, but it also makes him out to be actually pretty all-there for most of the time. I've seen far too many fics where Demo is in a perpetual state of shitface drunk so that was a nice refresher.

Demo reappears in the second comic, where we get some pretty neat characterization. He's out on the town in disguise. I keep forgetting about that "What do you see?" "Not a damn thing. Let's switch places" gag that's so funny. Whatever. He is the voice of reason when it comes to Soldier. The straight-man character. He's not really...drunk here. He's not slurring his words nor is he exactly doing anything. He steps in front when Soldier starts yelling at an elderly woman, instead approaching her with a calm and kind demeanour. He holds Soldier back when he goes to strangle Scout for. I guess just being there.

So there's Demo when he's just doing stuff normally, I suppose. He's generally pretty level-headed, albeit because he's up there with Soldier. He's the Normal One when posed next to a guy like Solly. A little disappointing, but there's probably more in comic 4.

Ah the Swordvan comic. Demo and Pauling head over to Sniper's house to retrieve him. An odd bit of characterization is that Demo just takes one look at Snipes' house and goes "Welp, nobody's here. Let's get out". He doesn't seem terribly thrilled to be here, further backed up by him saying that there's just gonna be fingernails and jars of piss and he straight up says "good riddance" like what is his issue with the bushman??

Now that's kinda interesting. Demo sees Snipes as being kinda just gross and a raving lunatic. He could easily be in-place for the audience and just saying what we're thinking, but I think it's interesting to see that Demo, the guy often portrayed as being the weirdo party guy, being very straight-forward. He think Sniper is some sadistic madman and just wants out. Unfortunately, he's given a neckfull of Sniper's homemade family moonshine, so he can't get out quite yet.

A very common thing in these comics it seems is Demo being the voice of reason, which is pretty interesting. The straight man to everyone. When he wakes up to Pauling spitting on him to wake him up, he goes "eughhh gross, but, hey, it worked!!" before then is knocked out. He then stays quiet for the rest of the scene, unless of course you're counting the deleted pages. There's no dialogue, but Demo breaks free from the ropes binding him, yells at Sniper, then pushes past before then inserting three syringes-worth of the moonshine into himself and passing out. Alcoholism joke as per usual. Shockingly the first one we've gotten so far.

In the submarine ride down, Demo's passed out with his scrumpy in hand. Again just a gag about him drinking a lot. He then kinda stays in the background for the rest of the comic, only appearing really once to hold a vat of liquor, before then coming to in the final shot where he holds Sniper's dead body. Heyyyy Demo I thought you thought Sniper was a weirdo freak.

Nothing too much to say from this comic then. It's just establishing more and more that Demo plays a very...straight-man character role when it comes to the comics at least. He's reasonable, level-headed, and often just says whatever comes to mind. He's kind and will instantly rush to someone's aid when they're hurt as well as just generally being pretty good-hearted. Nice!

Comic 5 mainly just features a gag with Demo's liver being so overworked that he starts turning his other organs into alcohol distilleries. The whimsy. The line that I find most fascinating from this comic is from Spy.

Like oh okay so he straight up doesn't eat anything other than alcohol and aspirin. Water literally poisons him. Probably just a throwaway gag, but geez. It does say that he is kinda in pain all the time, at least to the point where aspirin is one of the few things his body can handle. Someone out there can probably work with that and make it angsty. Other than that, not much else for Demo.

Comic 6! The final one! Home stretch here folks before I can wrap this up and give a thesis on whatever the heck Demo's character is. Demo, again, is mainly just here for gags. It's the one thing I do really wish that the comics did more: explore Demo's backstory. Like you don't even need to keep the original one, but it's still fascinating to bring up the fact he has a family lineage at all. Instead, he's mainly just a straight-man character. But, hey, whatever. I'm just the one analyzing these silly comics and jokey joke characters for gay melodramatic yaoi fanfiction.

There's a gag about Demo's liver coming back to him after leaving. These soap opera drama scene could parallel the type of shows that he was watching when having that depressive episode, but that's maybe a bit of a stretch. He then gets included in that fun group shot, where his pose mimics that from the Meet the Demo, before then gets a one-on-one scene with Medic. 

These two are such a fun duo I wish Jaggerbombs was a more common pairing. Ah well. Medic catches Demo up on everything whilst he's stitching up wounds. The medi-gun is broken so they're doing this the old-fashioned way. Demo has a gag where he's still drinking, only that it's hydrogen peroxide instead. This then leads to a scene where Demo asks why Medic never gave him an eye. Reasonable methinks. Medic responds saying he did.

Demo gets upset. He raises his voice for the first (official) time in the comics. Again, his temperament. I think it's a reasonable thing to be upset about tbh. Like imagine being told after all this time you could've had your eye back. He then learns that, no, the procedure has been done before, but rather that it never sticks because of how his eye socket is cursed. Demo asks how he can't remember this, to which Medic goes "Hooh :] It's because I scooped out a part of your brain" because of course he did. He then forgets the entire conversation + probably Medic entirely.

Aaannnddd that's pretty much it for Demo. That's his last speaking role. Just a quick, simple gag about his eye being cursed, his alcoholism, and generally being the straight-man for others, even if he does have a couple silly gags too. Seems like a culmination of everything he is in the comics.

To conclude: Demo is a character I feel can take on two main roles depending on what kind of tone you're going for. If you want angst, you've got a character who carries the guilt of murdering his foster parents as well as the burden of being a DeGroot, turning to alcohol to cope with his sadness and general inability to deal with it all. If you want silly goofy stuff, you have Demo being a straight-man or a neat party guy if you like the bit from Expiration Date where he brings back beer and such. Of course there's nuance. I find it best to try and find a balance between these two opposing sides. It just takes time and practice to really get a hold of his personality methinks.

I do wish he was more in the comics though as his own person, y'know? He's very reliant on others in order for his character to function, whilst most others have scenes where it's just them doing something. I wish he was used more than being the guy who drags the others back to reality. Damn it sucks to see that the fics where he's mainly just the straight-man are kinda right in that regard.

But for character traits? Hm, let's see. I find it's just trying to make sense of what's given to you and seeing what best fits for the tone of story you're trying to go for. However, for me trying to write him? Well...

His alcoholism is a central character trait. He is definitely 100% an alcoholic, regardless of however people try and sand him down. I personally really like sticking to the idea that he straight up can't eat anything but booze and aspirin because I think it's funny but also sad, but that's me. I think him having a flask of scrumpy on his person at all times is a neat headcanon as well.

Another big trait with Demo is his frequently shifting mood when drunk. He can swing from loud to weeping in a couple moments. I wouldn't say he's particularly angry nor aggressive, no more than any other character at least. He's most volatile on the battlefield, but otherwise at the base I feel it wouldn't be an uncommon sight to see Demo partying until dawn or holed up in the living room and sobbing. Poor guy.

In spite of what many think, Demo is certainly not lazy. He's a workaholic is anything. He holds down three jobs and rakes in a lot of money in order to live up to his name as a DeGroot. It could be because he likes working that much or that his mother just nags him to push himself that far. That also ties into his self-deprecation, another core trait of his, but that's pretty obvious to see.

His heart is another big trait. The guy loves. He cares for his mother even when she nags at him. He sticks by Soldier's side until he feels as though he's been betrayed. He takes care of the Eyelander and treats it like a pal. He generally cares a whole heck of a lot about people and other things. He wears his heart on his sleeve and says what he means. He doesn't feel a need to really hide who he is as a person. He's loud, fun, and just naturally pretty sweet and kind. I don't think he's ever really "mean" outside of the game stuff. There's also the whole "being hired to explode people" part but ehhh that's just the silliness in him :]

Demo also being generally pretty...normalish. He's a guy who's really just going through it when you take the angst option. He oftentimes will try and hold back others from doing something stupid when sober. I feel like when he's drunk he's more willing to get in on dumb shit, but still. However, this doesn't mean he's wholly a normal person. I think you can do a lot of headcanons here where you bring out some traits that are otherwise not talked about too much.

There are a lot of liberties to be taken with Demo's character as per usual. A ton of writing a character to be, well, in-character is just getting down their voice and mannerisms. Understanding their personality and motives is just half the battle. Demo sometimes speaks like an old-timey medieval knight or poet or whatever. He's generally pretty well-spoken and whatever. For the love of god if you want to write him, you don't need to include phonetics constantly. Please. It's so much better that tu'try toh spell everay whurd like tis. Oftentimes people will just know what the character sounds like regardless. Just try and mimic his way of speaking more and you'll do wonders for actually making that character sound like, well, that character.

I've neglected to mention Demo being a black man a lot because, well, it never really pops up a lot in canon. I think the most recognition we get for Demo being black is him just saying that he's black. He's a black Scotsman and that's about it. It's curious since I've seen a number of fics where it's all period-typical racism angst and whatever, with Demo being used as a way for the author to get up and proudly say that they think that racism is bad by having Demo being called a slur and getting upset. How progressive. 

I dunno. I never really personally touch on period-typical bigotry stuff myself due to the fact that this is Team Fortress 2. Rocket jumping was invented before stairs. Besides, this is the late 60s/early 70s. The civil rights movement happened by this point. Not everyone walking the streets is gonna be some abrasive bigot. I don't know why people want to try and make it "historically accurate" to begin with since this series has never been period-accurate to begin with. I don't particularly think TF2 is a great series to go on about tackling period-typical bigotry either. Literally if you want Demo angst you've got the actual mountain load of angst with his backstory right there. Obviously of course people are allowed to write what they want and I do fully believe that sharing stories and portraying bigotry is important, but why with TF2??? Do people just really look at a POC and think their existence is inherently political and they need to make it clear they think Racism Bad, even though the tone of canon really doesn't match that?? Ah well. I'm just rambling.

Regardless, Demo is just a character where you can take a lot of different avenues with. Maybe you can explore his trauma and try and write about how he feels trying to live up to his family name. What about his issues with his now-deceased father? Maybe you can forgo that and have him be a partner in crime to Solly or whomever else, with the occasional glimpse into his more sensitive self. Really, it all just depends on the story you're trying to tell. Ultimately, writing Demo with a healthy mix of comedy and angst is probably what is best done if you just want a pretty in-character version. He can be out on some grand adventure to take down Nessie with a merc or two AND have it be a story about him coming to terms with his past. That's just a me thing though lol.

Demo, like the rest of the cast, is an easily moldable piece of clay. All of the mercs at their very core are just funny character archetypes. They can be whatever you want them to be. It's just best to work with their original characterization and personality in mind, y'know? Fanfic writing is mainly about having fun anyway.

Speaking of which, enough procrastinating for me. I need to get back to writing my yaoi...

[aliusfrater]

sam's early seasons anger is his response to the trauma obtained within the (non)family unit that is john-dean-sam, but most importantly, it's his response to the abuse john had inflicted upon both himself and dean, and it's very often on behalf of dean, who in his own codependent dynamic with john as a parentified child, non-pathologised john's abusive actions and was unable to form any kind of significant pushback against john's abuse. john's abuse is grief and emotion projected outwards onto dean, a child, the son, who gains the unjust responsibility of having to manage his father's emotions. sam refuses to be like dean and cater himself to john largely because he, through his Othering and detachment within his family and hunting, is able to view john's actions as what it is—abuse. he acknowledges this in over and over season one both with reference to the fact that what happened to them was 'not normal' and with specific reference of why john's actions are abuse—"you were just pissed you couldn't control me anymore!" he expresses his refusal to fold into the same mould that dean has through anger, first through character-typical malicious compliance, in which he asks questions he knows he is entitled to (and generally believes in arming oneself with information, due to both the chronic lack of information john and dean had provided him with as a child (3.08)) but knows john will view as disrespect (due to the fact that it strays from the codependent role that dean has folded himself into on john's behalf; he does what he's told and asks no questions, though is generally awarded more information due to his parentification) and then through argumentative behaviour. both john and dean frame john and sam's arguments as sam's fault but this is the most encapsulating abusive aspect of it—john's (the parent) response to sam (the son) is not sam's responsibility.

i don't think his revenge is encapsulated by his anger; his revenge comes from their familial idealistic response to grief, and anger is a part of grief, rather than the other way around. instead of processing this grief, it's channeled into revenge. it's a foundation of hunting for a lot of hunters, which is both a literal and metaphorical representation of the cycle of abuse (and when it isn't hunting, it's represented in blood (re: men of letters)). his conflict with lilith isn't wholly about his revenge for dean's death, especially after dean is resurrected. i think it's more so related to my interpretation of sam's character conflict for that season being that of rejecting what the codependent dynamic of his and dean's relationship¹ had become by season three in favour of his own independence; his conflict with lilith and how ruby plays into this conflict began with revenge then became the nucleus of his rebellion against dean (which does include anger²). he acknowledges this directly in season five—"dean, one of the reasons i went off with ruby... was to get away from you. [...] it made me feel strong. like i wasn't your kid brother."—but it doesn't help that both ruby and the angels were actively encouraging this conflict between sam and lilith largely because of the fact that it 1) re: ruby—represented a course of agency for sam outside of dean and presented an opportunity for her own manipulation of sam (she filled in a dean-like role in the sense that she catered to everything sam wanted the actual dean to be doing for him—namely the acceptance of his monstrosity—while presenting him with a facade of independence), and 2) re: ruby and the angels—provided them with a pawn to break the final seal by dressing up the idea of lilith as free of negative consequence through the omission of information (according to both the angels and ruby, lilith was the one who had to complete breaking of the final seal. to sam, killing lilith was morally righteous).

²i do think that sam has a general undercurrent, simmering, and oftentimes outward yet compartmentalised anger that he utilises within his own agency outside of his relationship with john then dean. however, i do think that the very core of it is more related to his Othering, monstrosity, and the loss of control that he feels when his environment responds to his monstrosities. sam admits to this as well—4.16, "well, get angry." / 5.11, "most of the time, i can hide it, but... i am angry. i'm mad at everything. i used to be mad at you and dad, then lilith, now it's lucifer, and i make excuses. i blame ruby or the demon blood, but it's not their fault. it's not them. it's me. it's inside me. i'm mad… all the time... and i don't know why."—and something that really intrigues me about the latter admission is the event preceding it: he's tied to a bed (much like the conditions of the panic room) and his anger is victim blamed with explicit reference to his monstrosity. "you are far too angry to be out there in the real world," is a very pointed and crazy ass line on the 'we kill monsters who fall out of line and into our line of sight' show directly after the season in which he perceivably became the 'them' within the 'us vs them' metaphorical equation. the people that sam bring up are also representations of either his Othering, a loss of control, or his explicit monstrosity. his anger began with his father's abuse and continued long after his death when he passed control of sam's life over to dean who, through his inability to properly handle the past responsibility of parentification, perpetuated it into this request made by john which clashed with dean's existing ideas of monstrosity; sam's existence outside of the existing dichotomy of hunting prompted the stretching of this dichotomy to fit sam (dean’s season two conflict re: sam) rather than the destruction and rewriting of the dichotomy itself and in that way, sam still ended up othered within his existence as a threat to the upturning of their familial hunting beliefs. ruby and lilith (as well as azazel) represent the pretence of control just as much as they represent his unknowing grappling for control (addiction) as well as his monstrosity due to how he employed his monstrosity within his conflicts with them while lucifer represents an entire loss or both perceived or preconceived control—both the idea of sam's monstrosity in an inherent sense, as well as sam's complete lack of control are cemented with lucifer's existence just as much as the preparation (azazel's plans, and it does intrigue me that azazel isn't listed here) leading up to it.

it's foundational to my interpretation of sam that he believes that his monstrosity predated his explicit narrative monstrosity due to the abuse—neglect and isolation most importantly—he experienced as a child and the resulting guilt complex that he's left with, which he then encapsulates within the revelation of his unwilling/unknowing ingestion of demon blood as a baby and i think that with every complex-reinforcing factor that introduces itself into his life, he weaponises/quite simply falls back on his response (anger) to the most original grooming, abuse, and explicit example of a loss of control and Othering in his life—the john-dean-sam dynamic, with an explicit emphasis on john (kind of in a similar way to my idea of dean's reaction to a loss of relationship control, which is to begin recreating the same dynamic). a lot of it comes down to the fact that while he is angry on behalf of himself at these structures—familial, patriarchal, hunting, cycles (of abuse, grief)—he exists within but are both othered and controlled by, the general narrative and sam-dean relationship dynamic pushback against his response to this aspect of his character being that of both adding his response to reasons for/blatant instances of his othering as well as using his response to facilitate the realigning of his non-position within these structures, creates a self-deprecating loop of guilt and results in an anger at himself that echoes exactly the way that these structures demand that his identity be compartmentalised through. basically, it spells either ‘there is something inherently illicit about me. i need information/forgiveness/change (in that order)' or the usage of both this feeling as well as his perceived monstrosity/aspect that he is othered as a result of as agency as seen in season four, five, six, and season eight, is extended onto dean in season eleven, then jack in seasons thirteen through fifteen.

ultimately, these structures' facilitation of sam's non-role involves the depletion of sam's anger and results in his later-seasons characterision that is best (but not wholly) encapsulated within 7.17, "get pissed!" / "i'm too tired," especially when the circumstances of sam's response—in regards to the fact that dean has resouled sam despite his (5.22 and soulless!sam's) explicit doubled lack of consent against it, and while creating the issue that is sam's psychosis, has restored sam/sammy's rightful narrative place within his non-role—not only serve as a perfect example for the abuse dynamics of his and dean's relationship and how it facilitates sam's non-role within said relationship as well as the structures that this relationship is encapsulated by, it also serves as a perfect example for exactly how sam's anger worked, what its purpose was, as well as exactly how and why its depletion facilities his complete assimilation into these structures' atmospheres of abuse. the Whole topic of sam's later-seasons lack of anger (or anger when utilised) is an entirely different post, though.

¹specifically relating to 1) identity and monstrosities relating compartmentalised through the ‘us vs them’ dichotomy of hunting and how it manifests into a relationship dynamic where sam is dean's little brother, sammy, put on a pedestal of innocence because his innocence became dean's responsibility within his parentification and any indication of sam's monstrosity, as something evil encroaching upon Sammy, is therefore viewed a personal failing despite the unequivocal place it holds within sam’s being, 2) and 3).

[yandere-daydreams]

Thinking about sex doll Scaramouche the scrapped concept and Wanderer the repurposed Sumeru line, and I bring you Kabukimono the unfinished doll. A ScaraWan model that didn't get all the code written up in him properly or completely. He has the IQ of a roomba. He has no idea what his functions or roles should be, them not being programmed in. He has no concept of how strong he is, oftentimes accidentally grabbing objects and shattering them by accident. His owner/maintenance technician is unsure if the robot even understands that it's a robot, or if it's trying to become a human. Kabukimono showing up with a freshly bleeding heart in his hand beaming like "Am I human now? :D"

tw - implied violence, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, disturbing themes.

ahhhhhfdlsjdkjslsjfdlsk the current wanderer lore is that he was formerly a failed cross-over model between the harbingers and the shogunate line who was then mellowed out and released with sumeru's more academic characters, so i can absolutely believe that in the mess of his development and production, there were a few models made that just,,, weren't finished, for lack of a kinder way to put it. he's got an incomplete backstory with plot holes you could drive a plane through, clothes that don't quite fit with the harbinger's cold-war-chic aesthetic or the shogunate's refined elegance, and most of his functions were made, well, functional. you're told all that up-front when you find a badly mangled model at a warehouse sale, but you don't care. he's got that beat-up alley-cat charm, and as a veteran companion-droid technician, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't bring him home.

he works better than you expect him to, despite everything you've heard. his base programming (things like 'humans need air to breathe and breathing is good' and 'don't burn down the kitchen when asked to pour a glass of water') is in-tact, and he still has his verbal faculties, even if he does still get tripped-up on names every now and then. he spends the first few weeks following you around like a lost puppy, watching you fix up other androids and go about your daily routines with parted lips and wide eyes, but once he settles in, he's more of a housepet than a companion droid, constantly either lingering at your side or sitting at your feet, never farther than across the room. sometimes, he tries to help around your workshop, but he doesn't exactly have the gentle touch you need to deal with something as delicate as androids. you've found him elbow-deep in the wiringof other teyvat droids before, and well he has yet to do any damage you can't repair, you'd rather not catch him staring blankly at a nearly disassembled ayato with oil soaking into the clothes him again.

the only things you're genuinely worried about are his self-awareness protocols. he doesn't seem to understand the difference between androids and humans (despite having watched you take apart and put together more than a few of the former), and some of the phrases he uses just don't align with the lines his more official counterpart would spout when given the same prompt, occasionally referring to a 'mother' or a blacksmith he can't remember the name of. you've tried to correct him, to pull out your decade-old anatomy charts and drill a few haphazard biology lessons into his metal skill, but there's only so much you can do to change the ones and zeroes that make up his consciousness. there's not much you can do, but still, you'll wish you'd done more when he comes back from a routine errand with something red and pulpy cupped in his hands, his eyes bright and a wide smile plastered across his lips - when he asks, in the sweet, oblivious tone you've never been able to hold anything against, if this is all he needs to be human, to be with you permanently.

when it becomes clear that his programming was just a little more faulty than anyone thought to tell you.

[runnning-outof-time]

The Silver Lining | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & daughter!reader

Summary: (Y/N) Shelby's always been the 'forgotten one' in her family, but there may just be a silver lining in all of her suffering.

Warnings: strained familial relationship (father/daughter), mentions of minor character death

Word Count: 1633

A/N: I’m a bit rusty with the daughter!reader stories, so I’m hoping that this is good and was wanted. It’s also a bit of a sad one, but ends happy (or so I think). Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

From when she was young, (Y/N) Shelby wished that she was part of a different family. Not even a different family name; she'd be fine with staying a Shelby...she just wished she would be going home to a different parent; a different father at night.

The only thing that (Y/N) did thank her father for was for taking her in. She'd heard terrible stories of orphanages and what happened within them. The fact that she had a place to call home, when she very easily could not have, made her grateful for that.

Her mother died after childbirth, and that side of the family wanted nothing to do with the baby after it was born, so Tommy Shelby decided to take his daughter into his home, accepting the help of his aunt in raising the child. (Y/N) was grateful for it because it was uncommon for the father to do something like that...most just sent the children away when the mother was out of the picture.

But as time went on it seemed like she was the furthest thing from Tommy's mind. Tommy and his brothers came from the war back differently. (Y/N) was left to be with Polly and Finn as he delved deeply into business, making that the highest importance in his life.

And then he met a woman. Grace Burgess quickly became the apple of Tommy Shelby's eye, putting yet another layer of separation between him and his daughter. (Y/N) was still a child herself when her half-brother, Charlie was born. A part of her felt jealous of the young boy; who seemed to get more attention from her father than she ever did.

At least she had the servants that had been hired on to talk to now, and that her father had thankfully listened and allowed her to have a piano teacher. Tommy never had a problem in monetarily giving (Y/N) what she desired...he just seemed to have no desire in actually bettering his actual relationship with her.

Things sort of plateaued for a bit when the family moved into Arrow House. (Y/N) joined the rest of her family for dinner - because she was expected to - and had free roam of the estate's expensive halls and grounds. Sure, it still hurt that at times she felt like she'd been ostracized from the family...that she didn't fit into the family that her father <wanted> to have. Being able to get lost on her own made up for it in a way.

Things took a sharp turn for the worse when Grace died. Tommy sequestered himself away from everyone in the family, only giving the bare minimum to everything that wasn't business. In a dark, twisted way, (Y/N) was kind of happy that Charlie was now getting a taste of what she'd been dealing with her entire life. But, of course, Tommy eventually began seeking his son out again and having meaningful moments with him, whereas with (Y/N) it just seemed like he was going through the motions; having the necessary conversations with her. The fact that she expected no less from her father scared her slightly...it meant that she was getting used to it.

As she got older, (Y/N) threw herself into her studies. She enjoyed reading and writing, and oftentimes would keep herself busy with either of the two. These two hobbies stuck as she made her way through the schooling system. Another thing that she was thankful for was her father's ever-rising status. He may have not been the most open and willing parent to her, but he did still make sure that she attended the best schools and had all of the proper help that was needed to excel in her studies. It was only what was fit for a Shelby.

As it was nearing the end of her secondary school career, (Y/N) found out that she was at the top of her class. She felt exhilarated by this news, and as soon as she got home, she just had to share it with Lizzie. Lizzie was Tommy's second wife, and the only person who seemed to really, truly care about what (Y/N) was doing. It was because of her that (Y/N) even chose to send out some letters to different universities with the hopes of being accepted into them. Her father was spending more and more time in his office due to his job in Parliament, so even if he had an inkling of interest in the things that his daughter was doing, she wouldn't know it. So she stuck to sharing the news with her step-mother.

One day towards the end of the school year, Frances stopped (Y/N) as she was walking through the front door. "Your father wants to see you in his office," she informed (Y/N), her expression not really giving much away.

Not saying anything, (Y/N) nodded and made her way to her father's office. She knocked on the mahogany door before opening it just enough so that she could peek her head through the door. "Frances told me that you wanted to see me," she announced her presence, hoping that her father would hear her and look up from what he was typing on his typewriter.

"Yes, come," Tommy answered her, waving her into the room with a flick of his wrist, his eyes just barely shifting from the work he was doing.

(Y/N) nodded before she opened the door further so that she could properly enter the room. She closed it behind her before silently moving over to the two armchairs that were sitting, facing his desk. "What is it that you want, dad?" she asked him once she was sitting in one of the chairs.

"It's, uh..." he started, pausing to slide the carriage of the machine back over to the start so that it'd ring out, before he looked over at his daughter. He cleared his throat before continuing, "it's been brought to my attention by this letter here that you have been in correspondence with Oxford." He clasped his hands together on top of what (Y/N) could only guess was said letter as he finished speaking.

The breath got caught in the young woman's throat as she nodded her head, hoping that her voice came out steady when she started to speak. There were no clues as to what her father was feeling or thinking at the moment, and she was preparing herself for the worst. "I applied for their writing program. It's been said that it's one of the best in the country, and I feel that I have what it takes to excel in it," she gave her reasoning behind what she had done. There was no use in denying it, he was the one who brought it up. What she did leave out, though, was that she also applied to this particular university because of the substantial distance that there was between its campus and Arrow House.

Tommy kept his eyes fixed on her as she spoke, listening intently to what she had to say. He didn't respond right away after she was finished. Instead he let silence hang in the air for a moment as he looked away, flipping through the papers that were sitting on his desk. The time felt like it was dragging as (Y/N) waited for what he'd say next.

"This letter was sent in response to what you sent them," he finally told her, holding a stark, white envelope out to her then.

(Y/N) looked at it for a moment before accepting it from him. She tried her best to steady her shaking hands as she went about opening it up and retrieving the letter from inside. She read it over slowly, not wanting to jump ahead of herself. But the first line was all she needed to read: Congratulations, Miss Shelby. It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into our accelerated writing program... She stopped reading there even though there was still a good bit of the letter left. Her jaw went slack as she re-read it a few more times, checking to make sure that what was printed was true.

Tommy knew what the letter held from her reaction alone. "Congratulations, (Y/N)," he offered her his own congratulatory statement.

She looked up when she heard him speak, happy tears stinging the edges of her eyes as everything sunk in. Sure what he'd said wasn't deep or very thought-provoking, but the fact that he'd said something at all was more than enough for her at that moment. "

"I knew that you'd be able to achieve this. You'll do great things, love," he told her, the smallest smile teetering on his lips.

He knew that she didn't need it, but he put in an extra word for her at the registrar’s anyway. It was the least that he could do for her. This would be the silver lining in her bleak life...her opportunity to get so far away from him and the past that he'd given her. She could make a wonderful life for herself once she stepped out from the shadow that was currently hanging over her; that had been hanging over her from the moment she was born.

And so when (Y/N) stood from the chair she was sitting on and stepped around the desk so that she could hug Tommy, he held onto her as tight as she held onto him. They were hugging each other for different reasons, reasons that if you looked at them in such a way, would show that they're actually the same.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @sunsetbeachesandwriting @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel

MASTERLIST

[icarusredwings]

i *live* for your agere wade omg 😢🙏🏻 i also age regress there's just something about your favorite character being like you that makes me smile :) your writing is absolutely wonderful as well!! :3

Hi hon, Im so proud of you for doing what's good for you, and I am so happy that you've found something to enjoy that makes you feel good about yourself.

Thank you so much for the support. I've seen more people mention how excited they were to find cute, mild, and nonnsexual regressions for Wade, so I've decided to put it on A03 for more people to enjoy.

I actually was nervous about posting them in general because of the stigma around it but seeing how supportive you all have been (I dont know why im even shocked) it's made me a little more confident in my writing. I was abused quite a bit as a child, and while I don't regress, I do have a special attachment to my stuffed animals and find comfort in kids' shows. Annnddd, as someone who was working towards becoming a geneticist? It's comforting to know that some very intelligent and successful people also do.

While you're waiting for me to write more or upload to A03, have some HCs:

Depending on what's going on, he fluctuates between 5-8.

Wade has 3 caregivers, Al, Vanessa, and Logan. He loves them all so much but certian care givers are for certain things. Al (Mama) is he goes too for booboos, Ness (Mommy) is who takes him out the most, to the park and doctors (If things get too out of hand, she can pull the "He's my disabled son you bastard" card, and Logan (Kitty) is general. The one youll find when wade is casually colouring or playing tea party with.

He'll take "sippies" but hes a bit too old for them because he chews the tops off.

Cereal, mac and cheese, pizza, bassically anything he already eats as an adult, including spicy tacos.

He doesn't have a lot of toys (and if he does, they're from a give away or a dumpster) so is very possesive of them and will instantly get upset if you try to take them away or "hurt" them.

Wade is the type to just chill with you on the couch and eat snacks if you don't have the energy to play or take him to the park. Even as a child, he was very emotionally intelligent, and it shows.

Most kids would have tantrums, but he seems to either be understanding or go cry in silence while isolated (its what hes used too)

As much as people say he's a potty mouth, I don't see it. Not yet anyway. Sure he'll say "bad words" sometimes but as someone whos used to being screamed at to shut up all the time, I believe he talks so much as an adult BECAUSE he wasn't allowed as a kid so he's more of an observer unless you are unfortunately his favorite and then hes going to tell you random facts.

Oftentimes, the "perfect child" are ones that are independent, quiet, and who monitor their emotions/ actions around other kids and adults. This means being forced to act older than you actually are, walking on eggshells around adults and trying to do things by himself.

He likes to wear clothes that are too big for him rather then tight. (Bonus points if they're a hoodie or a sweater)

He likes baths and sometimes will tell you that his "Skin hurts" when really it's just itchy/peeling/ needs lotion.

He's not big on babytalk but "puppy" "mama" "mommy" "park?" "Kitty scratch bad guys" "I watch tv?" "Go home?" "Play horses?" Are common. Its either small unfinished sentneces or endless rambling with full sentences that repeat themself. Logan has once heard "Did you know-?" 30 times once all in 10 minutes

He has a stuffy of a Wolverine named Fluffy from Kitty, a unicorn named Buttercream from Mommy, and a bear shaped dog toy from Mama. In her defense she didn't know it was a dog toy (because shes blind and cant read duh) but Wade loves it more that it squeaks.

Because kidWade (He is "NOT little", he's a "Big boy") is bigger than them, he has issues playing a little... rough... with other kids. He has infact shoved a kid into the sand while playing tag.

Wade is very erm... possesive.. over his caregivers and will act out if he believes Kitty is ignoring him. Because of their history, hes even more prone to acting out with Ness and has gone as far as telling someone they looked like a burnt quesodilla that "had a baby with a wrinkled cucumber" before (and will do it again)

Flappy hands. Giggles. Screeches. That is all that needs to be said.

Wade likes music, arts, and crafts. Physical exercise is nice too but naps are needed afterwards.

Naps must be willing. If you tell him to go take a nap he'll just stomp his feet and cry that hes "being good" so "doesn't need one" bassically, naps are punishment.

Tw for sensitive topics such as mental and physical health

The worst part about having Wade isn't that he is a "brat" or "bad", no infact wade barley ever is a brat. He's very people pleasing because he just wants as much affection as possible. it's the fact that you can't trick him or keep him from doing something. He's too smart.

"Come on baby, we're going to the park"

"Yay!!- wait.... Mommy... Mommy the park is that way...Mommy this is how you go to the mean doctors! They're gonna rip my teeth out!"

It's even HARDER to care for a kid who can escape literally anything and can run all the way home if you upset him too badly. The only thing really you can do is call a different cg and double up on the reassurance. (And maybe a bribe)

Another thing is that just because he's in this headspace doesn't mean his issues are gone. Between the nightmares, the flashbacks, the scary hallucinations that he can't understand, intrusive thoughts about harming a person, impusive thoughts, and just straight up having to deal with cancer on top of it all, etc.

Do you know how hard it is to explain to a child that they're nauseous and exhausted because the cells inside of him are eating the other cells, dying, and healing all at the same time?