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teyvat-writer · 5 days ago

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Let's talk about pre-Sinyala Coyle!!

Okay so, I’m really into character design, and I’ve noticed that a lot of people who draw pre-Sinyala Coyle tend to miss out some cool details about his Blackwell uniform. So, I figured I’d break it all down, covering 1950s fashion conventions, how Coyle blatantly ignores them, why he gets away with it, and some extra points about his overall dodgy behaviour. Because this post spiralled out of control.

Before we jump in, a quick note: Because of the comic’s style, there are definitely some inconsistencies, but I’ll do my best to piece things together. If you're into history, fashion, and Leland Coyle, stick around 🖤

First, some historical context.

Whether we like it or not, personal grooming and aesthetics have always played a big role in how we’re perceived. But in the 1950s, fashion wasn’t as focused on self-expression as it is today. Rather than standing out, most people aimed for conformity, with conservative ideals and public perception heavily influencing fashion choices. How someone dressed and presented themselves to the world immediately signalled their social status, character, and values. Maintaining a facade of respectability and adhering to social norms was a priority for most.

After World War II, being clean-shaven became a key part of a man's appearance. This was partly inspired by young men who had served in the military. Veterans accustomed to shaving daily carried the habit into civilian life. Of course, not everyone was clean-shaven, but facial hair was generally more common among older generations, as well as musicians, and actors, people who could flout convention without damaging their reputations.

By the mid-1950s, however, facial hair started making a bit of a comeback, thanks to cultural icons like Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash. Alternative hairstyles, especially those associated with greasers, weren’t widely accepted in professional settings. Instead, they became symbols of rebellion, linked to actors, outcasts, and those who rejected the status quo rather than conventional, well-to-do citizens.

With that out of the way, let's talk about Coyle!

Thanks to the comics and in-game documents, we know that Coyle meets Clyde Perry in a Blackwell diner on February 16th 1956. Based on what we can piece together from his past, Coyle would have been around 33 years old at the time. Perry’s account of the altercation directly tells us that Coyle was well-liked and respected within his community.

Blackwell was (and perhaps still is) an extremely conservative town, where conformity to social norms would have been enforced through intense social pressure. The fear of negative judgment would have kept most people compliant. This makes Coyle’s deviation from 1950s conventions all the more apparent, though when we consider his past, things begin to make a bit more sense.

From both the comics and Coyle’s in-game dialogue, we know he had a troubled childhood (details to follow in a separate post). His adolescent delinquency eventually landed him in a military academy. However, his honourable service in the U.S. Marine Corps during World War II, combined with his undeniable charisma likely convinced most locals that he was a reformed man, paving the way for his position as a police sergeant.

His rough-around-the-edges persona may have only added to his charm, allowing him to get away with behaviour that might have otherwise raised eyebrows, such as openly flirting with a waitress or publicly beating a man senseless.

Although Coyle is primarily depicted as a silhouette in most full-body images, we can still piece together details of his uniform. Interestingly, his attire aligns more with a 1940s police officer than one from the mid-1950s. This could be a deliberate design choice to emphasize how both Coyle and the town he rules over are stuck in the past.

His uniform has a few key features:

Sam Browne belt – A leather belt with a supporting strap that runs over the shoulder and connects to a waist belt.

Standing collar & shoulder boards – Formal elements more common in earlier decades.

Shoes instead of boots – Just a note for the artists in the room.

Utility belt essentials – Includes a handgun, handcuffs, and a nightstick, which were standard for the time.

We get a clearer look at the general appearance of his uniform from some of the police cutouts in the Trials, though none of them feature a Sam Browne belt.

Coyle’s hair defies the social conventions of the time. It isn’t styled into any particular fashion and appears free of product, an unusual choice for a police officer, who would typically be expected to maintain a polished image, if not for personal pride, then at least for professionalism's sake. His hairline is noticeably receding, and it’s possible he combed it forward to disguise the thinning. By the time the events of the game take place, he’s completely bald, whether from stress-induced hair loss or simply shaving it once the recession became too obvious to hide. Pure speculation on my part.

His stubble, mussed hair, and unfastened top button suggest that when he meets Perry, he’s either finished work for the day or, at the very least, on his lunch break.

I found a few references of what I think Coyle's hair would look like because the comic is very bad at keeping it consistent. I went out of my way to find a guy with sideburns too. (Don't say I never do anything for you.) It's also worth noting that Julian Bailey, Coyle's VA had a receding hairline in years past. It's my personal belief that they used Julian's face as a reference for this younger version of Coyle.

As a ‘respectable’ police sergeant, he should present himself as buttoned-up, clean, and tidy, proudly representing the Blackwell Police Department and setting a good example for his subordinates. Instead, everything about his presentation suggests a man who sees himself as above reproach, someone who enforces social conventions but doesn’t feel the need to follow them himself. In fact, one could argue he’s rewarded for breaking them, receiving positive attention from women despite (or perhaps because of) his disregard for propriety.

Coyle placing his hat on the waitress is a particularly bold move, especially given the strict dating conventions of the 1950s. Historically, a man placing his hat on a woman's head was a flirtatious gesture, a subtle but effective way of ‘claiming’ her, particularly in cowboy culture (Coyle’s parents were cattle ranchers, cowboy Coyle is canon).

In this context, it’s unlikely to be a genuine display of interest. More than anything, it’s a power play, a deliberate act of pushing the limits of propriety while asserting his dominance. The real impact comes when Perry walks in, seeing Coyle has already ‘marked his territory,’ immediately undermining Perry and ensuring he feels off-balance in the face of Coyle’s effortless machismo.

At the comic's conclusion, while Perry is driving away, injured but alive, he looks back to see Coyle standing outside the diner, wearing his police cap. At some point, he must have retrieved it from the waitress, likely with a charming, offhand apology for making a scene. Coyle doesn’t need to kill Perry to send a message, because letting him live IS the message. And Perry hears it loud and clear.

A quick side note, this isn’t so much about Coyle’s appearance, but rather his character.

When Oklahoma became a state in 1907, it adopted prohibition as part of its constitution, remaining a dry state up until 1959. Alcohol was largely banned, though moonshiners and speakeasies operated in secret, often with local law enforcement turning a blind eye. As a consequence, one of the only widely acceptable alcoholic beverages was “low-point beer” a drink containing just 3.2% alcohol, considered non-intoxicating under state law.

Perry states that Coyle ‘drank heavily’ before their encounter, but the fact that it was low-alcohol beer explains how he could be four pints down and still completely in control when it came to beating Perry.

It’s possible Coyle was pulling a deliberate ruse, letting Perry believe he was drunker than he actually was. If so, it wasn’t just about drinking, it was a test. Coyle may have wanted to see if Perry would try to take advantage of what seemed like a weakened opponent, only to prove that he was never at a disadvantage to begin with.

For a police officer to drink so openly in a conservative Christian town flies in the face of everything he’s supposed to uphold. Yet no one seems to care, or at least, no one dares to challenge him. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s respect. Either way, Coyle knows exactly what he can get away with, and he enjoys every second of it.

There are plenty of inconsistencies in the comic, and the art style doesn’t always make the details easy to see. Honestly, I could spend forever picking it apart and analyzing it, and one day, I probably will.

But in the meantime… I hope it's been informative. And I hope that some artists who draw pre-Sinyala Coyle will start depicting him in his Blackwell uniform. As much as I love a leather jacket, I’m a sucker for those military-style uniforms.

I hope you enjoyed this little dive into Coyle and his antics. Before I wrap up, I’m leaving you with a picture I annotated—it was meant to be the main image for this post, but... it’s awful. Apologies in advance if it hurts your eyes.

If you enjoyed my descent into madness, please inflict it upon your friends. I welcome friendly and constructive conversation in the comments. And hey, if you think I’m talking out of my arse, that’s your prerogative! This wasn’t meant as a critique, just the ramblings of someone who spends far too much time pondering the hows and whys of this man.

Well done if you made it this far, and thank you for reading!

As usual big shoutout to the Coyle Crew @misa-bun @decayinghost @soggy-bean for enabling me

#reblog #OHHHH I LOVE A GOOD ANALYSIS #this is actually so cool and like... holy shit man i didnt even think about the hat thing like that #i just thoight it was an offhand kinda thing but GAH #what a fascinating creature. i am putting him in my microwave.

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teyvat-writer · 5 days ago

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Do you know that town?

#reblog #crying oh my god this is STUNNING

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teyvat-writer · 7 days ago

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STARRY MY LOVE I HAVE THE BEST FUCKING UDEA

Can you do headcanons of the MW crew of when they find that the reader has drawn the most down bad positions of them and the member of the crew? Then When they're asked about it they try to just write it off as anatomy practice?

YES YES YES!

C/W : Suggestive! Smut for goonsuke... Fweaky sex positions and yeah!

Daisuke:

your major was art, times were tough so you got an internship at pony express. when you boarded the tulpar you brought a sketch book so you didn't get bored. you became very close with daisuke almost instantly, he matched your energy so well he was literally you but a male, anyways, you were on the couch in the "living room" one day and you were drawing.. Drawing freaky stuff.. You liked to practice anatomy but you feel like you spaces out and drew two figures 69ing...while standing up.. And then you looked really closely at it and the male figure looked like daisuke and the women looked a bit like you.. Then as soon as you came to that Realization, daisuke walked in

"Hey dude! Whatcha up to? " you quickly sat on your sketch book and started a conversation with him

An eternity went by and you guys were laughing

"I gotta piss" you said abruptly, you sat up and skipped to the bathroom then he notices the sketchbook sitting on the couch and got curious and flipped though it

He flushed a bright shade a red when he saw the detailed position on one of the pages.. Then he looked closer and closer and saw that it kinds looked like.. HIM?! Shit.. What would he say to-

"DAISUKE! PUT THAT DOWN!! " you ran and hopped on top of him in an attempt to get him to put it down

"S-sorry I-i- got curious!! " he said as you hop on him

"That's - it was just- anatomy practice!! I swear!! "

"I-i- believe you !! "

Goonsuke:

"Is that me "____"?? If you wanted to do something like that with me then you could've just said so~"

So with your consent he waited till everyone went to sleep and did that EXACT position with you, just because he's young does NOT mean he lacks arm strength. He literally used to beat his shit everyday before the tulpar(and he's a baseball player 😻😻)

"Fuck you taste so fucking goo- ah-! "

Curly:

If you're being honest, you're terrified of curly, He is a really big guy and he looks like he could totally pound you into the concrete if he wanted to but your perspective on curly changed the second you accidentally walked in on him changing.

you drew as a hobby to pass the time and you thought you were pretty good at it, you definitely liked realism more than anything else and you kinda... zoned out? and when you looked back at your sketch book it was a RAUNCHY position,, specifically of you and curly, he was holding you, like up while slamming you onto his cock, you had to hide this before anyone could come snoop-

"_____? you in here?"

shit

"U-uh no!!"

But it was to late.. He was already in here

"Whatcha drawing kiddo? "

"NOTHING!? "

"Nothing?? C'mon lemme see" he snatched your sketch book and his eyes widened... Oh you're cooked

"C-captain! Put that down please!! " he just ignored your pleads and continued to examine the drawing

"... That me sugar? " he looked down at you with a lustful look in his eyes

"I-it was just anatomy practice!! "

He set down the sketch book and and grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up on your desk like it was nothing

"Curly?? "

"You wanna recreate that with me baby? "

Anya:

You were anyas intern, she was a super sweet lady, you and her got along well, you enjoyed her company, when she wasn't all shy and quiet she was super sweet and funny, at the moment you and her were sitting in the medical room chatting late at night and you brought up your drawing hobby and she wanted to dabble in it! So you got your sketch book and showed her some of your sketches, then... She flipped to one page....

"Ah! Uhm!! S-sorry "___" I didn't mean to flip to-"

yet she continued to stare at it, and she purposefully moved into a position to where you couldn't retrieve the sketchbook

"A-anya! give it back"

"Im looking! gimme a sec!'"

you hop on top of her, causing her to fall back on the medical table

the sketch in question? just you. and anya! ,,,,,scissoring and she was just enamored with the drawing, even when you kept trying to take it

Now, anya was feeling bold, she hooked her legs around your waist and brought you closer

"So? Is that how you really feel about me? "

Jimmy:

Jimmy hated you and you hated him. It had always been like that, he was a dick, the LAST thing you wanted was to be his friend, especially on the tulpar.

He would constantly make fun of your art. He thought of you as "mediocore" so you'd usually only draw when you were alone because Jimmy was EVERYWHERE!

You were at the tiny little desk in your quarters and you were drawing what came to mind, you didn't really know but you could wing it.

Finally!! You were finished!! Leeeets take a loo-.... What is that.. AH! WHAT THE FUCK!! YOU DREW YOU!! AND- AND JIMMY HE WAS ON- ON TOP OF YOU WHILE YOUR LEGS WERE OVER YOUR OWN SHOULDERS- damn. You were NOT that flexible. You didn't really realize this before but..jimmy was actually really- attractive?? Before you could comprehend... Jimmy walked in

"Hey! My laundry got mixed up with - dude what the fuck is that?? " he pointed to the sketch book

"Nothing!! "

"Nothing my ass! Is- is that me?! "

"NO! GET OUT!! "

"What the fuck??.. Is this who you really are? Just some slut? " well that was actually really hot and you didn't even know you were into that

"I-it was just anatomy practice! "

"Bullshit... You really are a slut" he moved closer and backs you up against the desk, hands on either side of you

"Yknow.. You've never looked as good as you do now.. I guess it's when you're being a little pervert.. Now..we're gonna do that"

A/N FINALLY!! I'M DONE!! I'm sorry it's taken me forever to get this out because oh my god. I've been so freaky sick, we have a bug going around😣😣 and I've had to get back into therapy so I haven't been doing all that great 😮‍💨 BUT I'M ALIVE! I'M SORRH!! ENJOY! N

#reblog #the way i would straight up draw the most gooner art of me getting rawed by jimmy...

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teyvat-writer · 8 days ago

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One-shot: "Forget me not"- Jimmy (gn/nsfw?)

Disclaimer: unreliable narrator, Jimmy being Jimmy, implied SA in the ending.

Side notes: I knooow I've said I'd post it yesterday, but I was on four hours of sleep and completely exhausted from work so sowwy guys. I've tried my best to fix as many mistakes as I could so sorry again if you see any, I'll probably edit this fic again later but for now... enjoy!

Today, Jimmy would make sure you would never forgot him again.

First he just had to wait until it was the night time on the ship, when it was darker and quieter, without any extra pairs of eyes and ears putting a wrench in his plans. Standing in the doorframe, the man observed you like a beast it's pray — you were writing a report about your performance in the common rooms. You often got out of your own room to sit there, same old walls giving you an eye sore, you once said. You used to turn around, wave at him when he passed by, but now you didn't even acknowledge him when he finally entered the room — Jimmy had to tamper the sudden pang of annoyance that shot through his body and instead appear to be as nonchalant as he could master.

Turned out there really was just a single step between love and hate, Jimmy though to himself. It was a shame things couldn't be the way they were at the beginning.

Before all that, when you first boared Tulpar, you were just a temporary crew member assigned to be babied with until the management decided to throw you on another ship. Something instantly clicked for Jimmy when captain Curly introduced you to the crew, and no wonder: you were smart enough to stick to Jim — not too close to the sun, but not crawling in the dirt.

Jimmy didn't show it, but he quickly noticed how you sought after him more often than the others, turned up to him for advices about work related matters and laughed at his quips and jokes that he made. Hard work really does pay off, Jimmy would think to himself, while laying on the bed with his brand new piloting license gleaming like a precious gem in his hand. Unlike with other people, everything about you felt so genuine, so seamless and easy, Jimmy didn't need to try hard for you to look up to him. He could be himself.

Best thing was, the signs told Jim that the feeling was mutual. You were the first one to greet him with a good morning, last one to part with a good night. Looked at him with shining eyes, smiles lingering longer than they should. If you sitting almost thigh to thigh next to him on the couch wasn't the obvious signal from you, then Jimmy didn't know what was.

Even ship's underwhelming conditions turned out to be a blessing in disguise when the AC system broke down, forcing you to work with your blue jumpsuit peeled off from your shoulders. The man never missed the way you tugged at your yellow t-shirt, suddenly his own coveralls feeling a bit stuffy and uncomfortable to be in. At his playful suggestion for both of you to strip you merely laughed, but never disregarded the idea...That evening Jimmy, however, let his hand and imagination run wild with the thought of your hands exploring everything covered by the pesky blue suit and a plain white shirt he wore.

Problems started to arise when Swansea took a note of your budding chemistry. He usually would run his trap hours on end, complaining about this and that, patronising as ever with his "age and experience" seemingly giving him permission to preach and lecture others.

"If I were a green fool like ya I would stay a mile a way from our "watchful" co-pilot. He's more bark than bite, but all the pain in the ass." Jimmy overheard Swansea call out to you when you two stood together to get the melted sweet treats from the vending machine. Said co-pilot clicked his tongue in annoyance, throwing back a jab at the uninvited mechanic, fortunately prompting a laugh from the old man. Ignorant of both men's concerns you simply chuckled at the sight, not digging any deeper. Despite this, you begun dressing a bit more modesty, robbing Jimmy of the opportunity of gawking at you. That damn Swansea.

Days, turning into weeks passed uneventfully. You concluded your training, which meant now you were officially just another cog in the corporate machine. Same all routine settled on the same old freighter ship, except for a few things. The captain seemed to finally acknowledge his esteemed co-pilot by dropping onto him his own "important captain assignments". Which was false, Jimmy knew Curly was just growing too exhausted to fulfil his daily quota, though the reason eluded him. Another odd thing was regarding you. Jimmy had a feeling he saw you less and less with each passing day, without counting the times you spent actually performing your work. You were the first one to finish the meals, the quickest one to get out from the shower and the space ship manual practically never left your hands. Jim hated it to admit this, but he missed you.

The pieces fell right into their places when Jimmy entered cockpit one ordinary shift to hand in the paperwork he did in captain's stead.

To be frank, Curly was slowly getting on Jimmy's nerves for some time already, this whole "all capable and reliable" act seemingly never ending. However, no feeling of irritation could compare to only what could Jimmy describe as betrayal running through his veins when he saw you bowing and shaking captain's hand with "thank you". His "friend" was standing way too close to you and you — to him, no, straight up leaning in.

Suddenly snippets of you two hanging out in the common room flooded Jimmy's mind, you skipping out of the cockpit with a smile on your face a few days ago, you asking Jimmy out of blue what Curly was like when he was younger and Curly praising you for your efforts during the piloting--

"Am I interrupting something?" escaped Jimmy's mouth faster than he could register. His nails left marks on cheap rough papers he clutched, sweat blurring away the ink, all the boring tedious work done for nought.

"Oh hey Jim. No, not at all. Just helping out our new college with excess workload." Jimmy gaze hardened over the fact that it was Curly who stepped up first to clear things up. "You know how it is with Pony Express: setting high standards with small deadlines and...." Jimmy stopped listening to anything else that left Curly's mouth, his focus shifting entirely to you. You refused to meet his gaze by staring dumbly at the metal floor.

Why were you silent now?

Why did you avoid looking in his direction?

Why did you turn up to Curly for help and not him?

You, who followed Jimmy like a puppy prior, buttering him up with empty talks, asking him a favour after favour. In the end only to abandon him when you raised high enough on the ledder to turn up with your issues to the captain himself. And Curly, whom he considered his closest friend, instead of helping Jim tried to snatch you away. Being well respected captain wasn't enough, he had to lure away you too....

Jimmy should've figured it was all too nice to be true.

The man didn't wait for Curly to finish or you to start, instead he just threw the papers onto the fax machine and waved his hand in dismissal as he left, lessons learnt and mood completely spoiled for the rest of the week.

It hurt. But Jimmy had to keep going forward. Curly crawled back to him eventually like he always did — reminiscent of a dog with its tail hidden between the legs. At least Curly seemed to take the hint and grew distant from you, pushing the professional approach all the way. The captain managed to make amends, he had to, if it meant keeping the peace on the ship.

No, Jimmy didn't care about his friend's betrayal. What drove him up on the wall was your reaction, or the lack of it. Because you pretended like nothing happened, resuming your busy day to day life, but this time avoiding Jimmy almost entirely. Ignoring you in return wasn't an option as the relationship between you two didn't reach the point where you'd feel anxious without his attention. Jimmy felt sick — he grew too comfortable around you and it bit him back in the ass.

Here he was, struggling to keep his composure without hearing a familiar lazy "good morning" coming from you at the dinning table every day. Any attempts at catching your gazes never resulted in anything other than a pit heaving in his stomach. Jimmy begun skipping game nights altogether when you found yourself a new spot at the armchair near the massive screen. The man grew desperate enough to eavesdrop on your unimportant daily chit chats in distant hope to get anything out of them to use. Rummaging through your stuff also proved to be fruitless. Everything to no avail.

Jimmy grew sick and tired of waiting for you to come to him. It was time for him to come to you.

"We've got a fax message from the corporate. You might wanna check this one out."

Luring you out was too easy, the man almost felt bad for abusing your innocence. But it was your fault for being an ignorant fool and trusting a person you slighted. Jimmy never said it was an update about your placement, just a message from the management — everything else was your wishful thinking. You proded co-pilot for any information on your way to the cockpit, but the later remained tight lipped and instead chatting you up about the most mundane things happening on Tulpar. If you hadn't lowered your guard down, you would hear the click of the lock sealing your fate.

"Alright, let's have a look at what those higher ups prepared for me" you said with a sigh, landing on the free seat with a paper in hands.

Jimmy humoured you a little further, standing right in front of you with his arms folded in the waiting stance, observing impatiently how your eyes skimmed through the text.

"Uhh...Jim this is just a general reminder that our haul is reaching it's destination in 30 days."

"I know" he flatly replied.

"Sooo why did you invite me here then?"

"Man, I can't believe some people can be this dense. Goes to show we can't trust others with anything. Even reading the room." Jimmy grumbled, yanking the document from your hands and letting it settle down onto the floor. Suddenly the man buckled over the pilot seat you were sitting on, both strong hands forcing your wrists down on the leather armrests. "Do you still not understand why I've dragged you here?"

This got your full undivided attention — you shrunk in the armchair, trying to slip your arms away from the bruising hold. You were akin to the fish thrown out of water with how your mouth opened and closed, before you gathered back your thoughts to respond.

"W-wait what are you talking about. I don't understand...." Jimmy searched for anything that could resemble a lie in your frighted eyes, but came up with nothing. You really were painfully oblivious to all his suffering this whole time.

"Is it that easy for you to discard people from your life? Hm? Must be nice to go about your day without a care in the world while I'm left to wonder what I have done wrong to be treated this way."

You remained silent, simply staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. God, just why he had to deal with someone as slow as you.

At last it clicked in your mind, your brows knitting together.

"...you don't mean us spending less time together right? Or is it about that one time with Curly? I just have my own work to take care of, and the captain has already told you that we were j--"

A heavy slap landed on you cheek before you had any time to finish. The sting wasn't going to hurt as much as other things Jimmy had in store for you — you didn't know it just yet.

"Don't try to bullshit me now. I know exactly what was your plan from the very beginning" uttered Jimmy, bringing his face right in front of yours. He wanted to see you cry so badly, beg for his forgiveness — Jimmy was almost willing to beat you up with his bare fists if it meant getting what he desired. "If you really think you can screw me up and not suffer any consequences you are dead wrong. I was being nothing but kind and patient, even taught you things no-one else would, and that's how you repay me? By going behind my back to fuck your way up by using Curly? Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not even in his taste."

Once again the man could read complete bewilderment from your facial features alone. Burning pain on your cheek all but forgotten, you raised you face to meet Jimmy's. Tiny drops of glistening tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you lower lip instinctively bitten and chewed on from the tension. It had to be one of the most beautiful faces you've ever made: full of confusion, fear and submission.

"Jimmy... you got it all wrong, please just listen to me." You've tried, earnestly tried to calm the man down, to find a way out of the situation you were forced into. But there was no reasoning, no bargaining, nothing left.

Jimmy leaned in to where your ear was, letting out hot puffs of air as he spoke. "You had a chance to explain yourself, but you've missed it. Don't forget that you brought this upon yourself. You"

Jimmy saw you gasp in horror before he smashed his mouth against yours with such force your head hit the back on the chair. Your lips have already been parted so he wasted no time tracing your lower lip with his tongue, hot and slick from all the waiting. That wasn't what Jimmy initially planned, but it felt right at that moment. All pent up emotions suppressed for god knows how long suddenly taking a hold of his better judgement. Actually, this would work too — it would make you never forget about him ever again.

You squirmed against Jimmy's hold once again, trying to turn your head away to the sides. Jimmy had to crawl on top of you to secure your head against the leather pad of the seat, fully inserting his tongue to violate your mouth. He lapped at you like a starved man, not caring about his stubble scratching at your skin or about the saliva seeping down your chin.

Jimmy caught a sights of your eyes squeezed shut which he didn't like at all. It seemed like his words didn't get through your thick skull after all, so he dug his knee right into you groin, making you jolt, stilling your struggles momentarily.

"Don't. Ignore me." Jimmy growled staring straight into your eyes. "If you want this to be over then just do what I say. Understand?" he finished, waiting for your response.

If it wasn't for the twisting ache in your throat, you would say something to Jimmy, but instead you gave a jittety nod.

This prompted Jimmy to finally smirk: a dark variation of a smile you were used to seeing whenever the man was about to say something witty. You instantly regretted your choice, cruel hand zipping down the fly of your blue uniform in a swift motion — from your chest to your abdomen, only setting the regret deeper and deeper...

"Then do me a favour and stay still, will you?"

#reblog #OUUGHHH THIS IS SO GOOD

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teyvat-writer · 8 days ago

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server couldn't stop laughing at how Jimmy walks in that one bizarro scene so I added a little personal charm to it

#reblog #NO BCS LOWKEY I WAS LAUGHING AY THIS SCENE AND I FELT SO BAF #BUT ALL I COULD UEAR WAS THIS FUICGN SONG PLAYING IN MY HEAD

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teyvat-writer · 9 days ago

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i know he’d never be able to afford it but could you imagine jimmy as a motorcyclist … him with the leather gloves, all black helmet and a black compression shirt fgggggfffffggggfgghhhhggghhh

#reblog #ouughhhh i would actually be all over him oh my god

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teyvat-writer · 9 days ago

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Something that really bothers me is how people write Jimmy to be this horrible, all knowing cruel entity that isn't human.. but also write in the fact that he actively enjoys being like this too. At no point in the game does Jimmy ever express he's having fun or enjoying himself doing what he does.

People write him like he's intentionally harmful, abusive, cruel and selfish when all he ever expresses in the game is an overwhelming sense of shame, self doubt and anxiety over everything he does. Paranoid, flighty, escalates situations for no reason, constantly on his back legs getting ready to bite and kick all the time. Doesn't this all line up with the potential of him to being apart of the cycle of abuse?

Jimmy isn't a crazed maniac with a insatiable bloodlust, to me, he seems like a caged, wild animal that just scratches and bites everything it can, protective of itself to a fault in self-destruction, but so wrapped up in his self-loathing and inferiority complex. Making him out to be a ruthless, pathological abuser and a murderer right from the start discredits everything about his character and the people that are like him, the people that find relatability in his panic and temperament.

Jimmy is a victim too, of his own self-destruction most definitely, but he is very much apart of the abuse that is the capitalist hellhole he lives in, even if he momentarily benefits from it.

#reblog #THIS!!!

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teyvat-writer · 9 days ago

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Imagine celebrating Jimmy’s birthday for the first time! He’s probably not a big birthday person because all his childhood birthdays have been awful (except the ones he celebrated with Curly’s family), so he’s not expecting much when you two get together. But then he gets a knock at his door at 12 am on the dot and he goes to yell at whoever the fuck is at his door and he sees you with pizza and a homemade cake. He still yells at you for waking him up (“This couldn’t have happened in the morning??”) but he does have the pizza and cake with you (and he may or may not tear up when he takes a bite of the cake but you pretend not to notice)

Mouthwashing Jimmy x GN!Reader fluff

Jimmy is in that state of complete and utter relaxation in his bed, closer to sleep than not, when the knock comes at his front door. Ripped so unceremoniously from his sweet hypnagogia, he is washed over with irritation, but remains lying with his eyes closed, cursing silently, hoping the interloper will get the hint, maybe check the time and fuck off -

No dice. After a minute, right as his body begins to relax once more, the knock comes again, somewhat more insistent this time. Jimmy's anger swells as he whips the sheets off him, storming out of bed and cursing out loud this time as he stomps barefooted to the door. He doesn't bother with the peephole, it's been scratched to shit on the outside long before he even moved in, so he turns the deadbolt, and with his hand on the doorknob the knock sounds again. "Jesus fuck, I'm here," he seethes, and yanks the door open with the most withering expression he can muster on his face. "What-"

"Happy Birthday, Jimmy!!"

It's you. Standing there, in a glittering cone shaped party hat, face gleaming with toothy ecstatic joy, a burst of vibrant colour against the muted and musty background of his apartment building hallway. A low expression of annoyance escapes his throat as he turns his face to the ceiling, praying to a deity he knew wasn't there for strength...

"Seriously...? I was fucking sleeping, this couldn't have possibly waited until the morning?" He blurts out angrily, but shame and regret tears through his chest when he watches your expression fall, your shoulders slump just that slight angle - he knows you're trying not to look as crestfallen as you feel. In your hands you clutch a pizza box with a round white grocery store cake in its clear plastic dome balanced on top. The icing echoes your words: "Happy Birthday Jimmy!" it reads in cursive, with little multicoloured heart shaped icing balloons and party streamer curlicues represented on the top.

He runs his hand over his weary face and pinches the bridge of his nose while he turns his head to the side, right as you begin to apologize in that small voice: "Oh, I'm sorry, Jim, I was just so excited... I figured you're usually up for at least another hour anyways and we've never-"

He sighs and wordlessly steps aside as he swings the door open, gesturing for you to enter the dark apartment. His face is turned to the floor, he's almost afraid to look at you, but still manages to meet your eyes, gazing up at you through his eyelashes beneath pinched eyebrows. And your expression softens again as you tentatively cross the threshold, a small smile, warm eyes. It hurts. It hurts because he's always waiting for the time when your eyes remain hard, brimming with pain. No matter how he fucks up, you always step willingly into his life. If only you would just turn your back on him, then at least he would know what the fuck to do.

But no. He's still following you blind, through life, into his apartment, into this impromptu birthday celebration, not knowing the boundaries until he inevitably crosses them. Your grace makes him all the more comfortable, just as it makes him want to bolt. He remains suspended exactly where he is, on a tightrope, in the air.

He flicks the lightswitch on as he closes and locks the door behind him, and meets you at his kitchen table where you've laid out the pizza box and the cake side by side.

"I wish I had gotten you a gift but... It was literally yesterday afternoon when Curly messaged me, 'so it's Jimmy's birthday tomorrow, what do you have planned?' and I was like, 'it's fucking Jimmy's birthday?! Tomorrow?!'" You turn to him, mirroring the incredulosity in your voice and expression that you must've had yesterday as you put your bag down on the floor - the bag you bring when you spend the night.

For a moment he doesn't respond, just looks at you as he feels the remorse creep uncomfortably up his throat. "I'm sorry," the apology comes out of his mouth, sticky like vomit. "For shouting at you." That's all he has in him.

You look up at him, a pinched smile on your lips. "Don't worry 'bout it. I woke you up, I would be pissed off too," you concede, reaching up to rest your hand on his arm. Then realization brightens your face: "Oh! I almost forgot!" You grin and reach up to the party hat on your head, moving to take it off but - there were two stacked atop each other, you lift the top one and release the elastic band from under your chin, and before Jimmy can even think, you sweep your arm out and place it on his head, snapping the elastic underneath his chin.

"OW! Fuck," he exclaims as his skin begins to sting, you cringe before him and hiss an apology through your teeth. He rubs at the tender line along his jaw, swallows down the barrage of curses that want to leave his lips. "At least these are more eye catching than the ones they provide on the Tulpar," he mutters, "been the same ones for years, we have to put them back when the party ends. I don't even wanna know how many years of strangers' hair grease is absorbed into those things."

"Your job only gets more glamorous the more you talk about it," you intone with irony as he scoffs, giving you a humourous side eye as he turns to lift the lid of the pizza box.

He feels a rush of simple pleasure, the greasy and savoury smell curling through the air, as he lays eyes on the pizza, laden with all his favourite toppings. "Wow," he drawls, "You remember." He pulls the chair out and takes a slice, drawing long strings of melted cheese out as he tilts his head to the sky, dropping the trails into his open mouth before he bites the tip of the slice.

"You order the same thing every time." You seat yourself beside him and take your own slice.

You eat in relative silence. Occasionally you share small talk, a tidbit from your day. Otherwise it's quiet. Jimmy likes that about being with you. Not having to be "on" all the time, not having to perform the constant babbling meaningless niceties that his every other failed relationship expected of him.

"...You know, I do wish you would open up more sometimes, Jim. I mean, when I think about it, it's kind of crazy that we've been together this long and I didn't even know when your birthday was until the day before. Had Curly not said anything to me, it would have just passed by."

He doesn't meet your eyes, just stares silently into the half eaten pizza, thinking, eyebrows drawn together.

"I'd have loved to do something a bit more special. I just kind of panicked, I was so short on time."

Jimmy feels so extraordinarily vulnerable as your words wrap around him. "Yeah, well, you've heard my sob story," he says, strained. "Doesn't take much to realize my birthday's always sucked." He gathers the strength to look you in the face, give you a smirk. "It's better not to expect anything, you know? Makes it easier for everyone."

It doesn't have the effect on you that he'd imagined. A look of poignant sadness crosses your eyes as you search him. It almost irks him, the last thing he wants is your fucking pity. He feels uncomfortable, pinned under your gaze.

"It doesn't have to suck anymore, you know? I want to help make it... not suck," you say simply, and he turns his eyes down to the table again. It was an option he had never considered. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd given up hope of having a nice birthday. He'd long since driven Curly away from celebrating, because he was never able to feel particularly celebratory, saddled with all the terrible memories, year after year after year of disappointment. Today was a sore day for him. But you have this strange tendency to make everything better. Maybe he could let you try.

"...I guess we can start by eating this cake," he yields. He turns his head when he hears you eject yourself from your seat, sees your beaming grin right before you wrap your arm around his shoulder and press a big kiss to his temple.

"Yes! I'll go get plates and forks. And a knife!" He watches you bounce around his kitchen from cupboard to drawer, before you return with the aforementioned supplies. You hold the knife out to him, gripping it by the blade between your fingers and thumb.

"You're the birthday boy, it's your cake. You gotta cut it," you state matter-of-factly. He snorts, drawing his lips together as he takes the knife, pushing the pizza box out of the way while he drags the cake container right in front of him. He takes the top off, it's deafening plastic ripping noise sounding out in the night as you take your seat next to him, putting his plate and fork next to the cake.

"Should I sing for you, Jimmy?" You tease with a smile.

"God, no. Please," he insists. "This... this is more than enough." He looks from the cake, to the pizza, to your fingers curled around the edge of the table, drumming expectantly. He lines up the knife and sinks it into the cake, cutting one slice, putting it on his plate. Cutting another, that he placed on yours. He watches you lift your plate gleefully and dig in.

He turns down to his own plate, takes a forkful and eats it, savouring the sweet and airy standard vanilla grocery store cake. 'It's good', he thinks, 'guess that's why they still manage to sell these things.'

Last time he got a "cake" from his own family, he had turned nine. It was a little cupcake, fresh out of the plastic wrapper, with a single candle unceremoniously stuck in at a lopsided angle. They'd stopped singing Happy Birthday for him a few years earlier. He blew out the candle and ate it down in three bites. Went to the kitchen to find that the other 5 that came in the box were already long eaten. Next year his dad figured since he hit double digits, he was old enough to not need a cake anymore.

He stares at the cake, its' white icing, the red heart shaped balloon piped onto the top (was it a design they offered or did you request them specifically for him?), the custard between its layers, the sliced off words, Happ Bi J, all of it swimming and wavering in his wet eyes. Was it as stupid as it felt to be so emotional over a grocery store cake?

It's been a long, long while since he'd let tears fall, and he certainly wasn't going to now. Still, he sniffles, thick and wet, and the sound is so obvious, he turns his head towards you and catches you just as you look away, nonchalantly slicing through the cake with your fork and eating the bite.

He puts his plate down on the table. "Hey," he says, quietly grabbing your attention. You look at him and hum in question, so very pointedly casual, even though he knows you know, and certainly you can see his gleaming blubbering eyes if you didn't.

'...Fuck it,' he thinks, and leans over to take you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you close as he hides his face in your shoulder. He inhales, a shaky breath, no, he's still not going to cry, but he is going to bask in the warmth of your love as he rides through it.

"Thanks," he chokes out in an almost silent whisper against your shirt. "...I love you, y'know?"

Your arms move to embrace him, pulling him tight to you as your hand goes up to smooth and stroke his hair, to press his face into your shoulder as you lean your head into his, enclosing him in your warmth, your smell. He grasps at the fabric of your shirt as you turn to press a kiss to the crown of his head, to nuzzle into his hair as you caress his shoulder and back and the back of his head, the nape of his neck, and whisper softly in return: "I love you too, Jim."

#reblog #OUUGHHH THIS IS SO CUTE WUWHWHWHHZHHSHCKSBS #i love....ilo ve he ...

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teyvat-writer · 9 days ago

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🚨URGENT🚨

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child🥺

My son Mohammed is in critical condition after being shot by Israeli drones. He has been taken to the operating ⛺️ and urgently needs treatment outside the Gaza Strip.

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .

I need your help please donate and share, evry contribution, no matter how small, brings us hope in these dark times.

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

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✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein & Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

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#reblog #important #vetted

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teyvat-writer · 9 days ago

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Traumatized in Ireland While my Family is Facing Death and Starvation in Gaza

Note: Vetted by:

1. @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi # 151 on the spreadsheet of Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List]

2. @riding-with-the-wild-hunt Here .

I contemplate the happy faces of people around me here in Ireland and reminisce about the happy normal life my family and I had before the war. A life that turned into a distant memory for us and was replaced by an unending series of horrible nightmares.

Unlike my family in Gaza, people here have access to drinking water, all types of food, electricity, and a roof over their heads. Above all, they are safe, and I cannot help but wonder if they genuinely do appreciate these blessings in their lives enough.

People seem relaxed and laughing wholeheartedly around me in Ireland. I wish I could laugh too, but I am crushed way beyond recovery on the inside. I was evacuated by my Irish college after five months of living the horrors of war in Gaza. I hope you will never know what it feels like to live in constant fear and worry and be horrified by the most sickening and scary nightmares every single night while you are far away from your family in such circumstances.

When did my people in Gaza cease to be human beings worthy and deserving of a normal life? Has it become normal now for my family in Gaza to be starved and killed while the whole world is watching the genocide? If that is the case, then you will have to excuse me if I seek every avenue to bring them to Ireland and start a new normal life like all people here around me.

I was assured by the Irish Reugee Council (IRC) and lawyers in Ireland that there is hope I can reunite with my family in Ireland. In difficult times, it is hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. For me and my family, you are literally our light and hope for a better life.

SOS!

Please donate, reblog and share.

Tagging for reach <3

Please consider boosting my campaign.

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