#old relics looking brand new

[purplealmonds]

This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.

The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.

I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!

DISCLAIMERS:

Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations! 

—

OVERVIEW:

There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically. 

The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.

Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.

Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.

All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.  

The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.

—

SET DRESSING:

Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations.  And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.

Foreground: 

In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again. 

I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life. 

White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”.  It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy. 

Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways?  I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later. 

The Flood:

Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.

White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.

Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light. 

Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel.  But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.

And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it? 

Furnishings from Home:

I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.

Gaming Setup:

The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing. 

That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy. 

Nostalgia Corner:

On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch.  If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines. 

This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by. 

The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.

The Hanging Mobile:

Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.

This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space. 

IV Stand:

Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.

Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence. 

Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:

“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”

As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover. 

Window:

Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.

Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together. 

Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.

To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.

A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief. 

On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!

Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story. 

Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside. 

Bed:

And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it. 

In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.

The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him. 

Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.

—

CONCLUSION:

There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die. 

#technoblade #Technoblade never dies #Technoblade fanart #techno fanart #sleepy bois inc #tommyinnit #philza #wilbur soot #qsmp chayanne #skeppy #dream #mcyt #mcyt fanart #fan art #purplealmonds #2023

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #monster boyfriend #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #Yandere Minotaur #Minotaur x Reader #Yandere Greek Mythology #Yandere Asterion the Minotaur #Asterion the Minotaur x Reader #yandere fanfiction

[eupheme]

— can’t get you out of my mind

joel miller x f!reader

rated e - 2k

tags: loose structure, flashbacks, jackson-era joel, joel pov, established relationship, light angst, slightly possessive!joel, floor unprotected piv, brief oral, praise kink, 1 ass smack, squirting, come marking

a/n: wip title was ‘reminiscing and railing’ - Joel railing reader while thinking back to their beginning.

The flannel you now wear around your waist bunches in his fist. Using it as leverage, the jerk of his hand as he pulls you back to meet his thrust.

His flannel.

Joel recognizes it. A relic from Lincoln, the green and reds fading with the trail long since traveled. Patched sewn over holes that match scars carved into his own flesh.

Sweat beads at the nape of his neck.

The days have started growing shorter, as the leaves have started to fade into shades of gold and copper.

But the weather still clings onto the last dregs of summer. A morning chill that melts under the heat of the afternoon sun, settling over your skin.

He used to like this time of year.

Barbecues and football. An evening spent in front of Tommy’s new big screen, splitting a six-pack of some cheap, shitty beer - something that would feel like a luxury now.

Back-to-school shopping, the twist in his heart as he pulled up to the old brick building on the first day of school. The smile and wave that he had always tried to match, though she was far braver than he was.

That was a long time ago. The memories have become blurry, ones he reaches for in his sleep. Slipping through his fingers.

Still trying desperately to forget what came after.

His birthday. The outbreak. Sarah.

A permanent stain, ink red. For years there had been a desire to just skip these months. To go to sleep in the heat of the summer and wake up in winter, instead.

But even that wish has started to fade, but only just. Though, it wasn’t time that did it.

Now, layers are shed as the early patrol comes to an end - a reprieve taken within the wall of an abandoned house you’ve come to know well.

The flannel you now wear around your waist bunches in his fist. Using it as leverage, the jerk of his hand as he pulls you back to meet his thrust.

His flannel.

Joel recognizes it. A relic from Lincoln, the green and reds fading with the trail long since traveled. Patched sewn over holes that match scars carved into his own flesh.

His fingers had fumbled, not more than a week ago. Flattening over the curve of his chest, as he peered at himself the in cracked mirror.

Where the fabric pulled a little too tightly over his back. The buttons straining across his stomach. Hard labor in Jackson had thickened his shoulders. The food you made with so much care had nourished him.

Finally a chance to breathe in twenty years - to not rely on ration cards, or his own skill with a gun to guarantee a hot meal.

You had found him like this, your soft smile reflected in the mirror.

He had forgotten all about it, by the time you stripped the shirt from him.

There’s something inside of him that burns, to see the fabric tied around you now. The strips of skin above and below - the catalyst that had kicked off this unexpected break.

Tempted by your bare legs, kicked up on the broken coffee table. A peek of your stomach, as you stretched - before knotting your stolen flannel around your waist.

A reprimand had been on his tongue since this morning. That only layers could prevent a bite, the scrapes and scratches of being in the woods. His own too-hot canvas jacket a sacrifice he was used to making.

Disappearing from his tongue somewhere between the look you had given him, and the floor you’re now pressed against.

That canvas jacket discarded, slipped beneath your knees. Your cheek pressed against the sleeve, the button like a brand against your jaw. A mark indenting your skin, as your eyes screw shut.

His own knees ache, where they knock against the wooden floor. The creak of his leather boot as he adjusts the angle - a leg rising, a heavy foot pressing firm and flat against the ground as he arcs over you.

Your lips part with moan beneath him, the sound strangled as the air is pushed from your lungs.

So deep. So warm - his breath coming in a rough rush as he leans into you. Nudging himself just a little bit deeper, a palm pressing between your shoulder blades for balance.

It had been barely winter, when he’d first found this place. Another month before he brought you here, sheltering from a storm.

Eyes still fixed out the bare windows, at the skeleton-fingers of trees as you had rode him. Your own head thrown back, chest heaving against the mouth that teased at your tits - too intent on your own movements to notice the way his eyes drifted.

Fixing out, into the forest. Unable to help the split attention, with wounds still fresh from Salt Lake City. Hands that had taken, too harsh in the way they had bit into your skin.

The rough slap of his thighs when the sliver of control had been wrenched from you - rolling you beneath him to finish the job.

Now, with the golden sun overhead, the gentle sway of the leaves in the breeze - he gives.

Eyes fixed only on you.

He’s spent too much time looking away. Almost realizing it when it was too late. All those weeks of looking anywhere but at you.

It had been easier, that way. Maybe a part of him had known, deep down. An instinctual inkling of what you’d become to him.

He hadn’t been ready.

Content to know the scuffs on your boots better than the color of your eyes, missing the way they crinkle when you smile at him.

The way they widen, flutter, squeeze shut - just for him. Only for him.

It’s always taken him a little time to come around.

It was winter when you had fallen together. But it had been earlier that spring when the seed had been planted, first taking root.

His first true spring in Jackson - getting to see the shoots push up in the community garden. The main road slowly waking after a cold winter, filling out with people and stalls and coming to life, again.

You were new, slipping in while the town had still slept.

Easily winning Ellie over with your baking, simple cakes made from what they had. Learned from those who had still remembered the before, passing down their memories.

He had been won over, later.

As the days had slowly grown longer, and then short again. Tentative smiles in the summer turning into excuses to stay just a couple minutes longer - when you showed up on his porch, something saccharine wrapped up in the wicker basket at your elbow.

The memory lingers on his tongue.

As sweet as the taste he had gotten between your thighs no more than a few minutes ago, your little gasp as he had groaned into you.

Unable to resist, as his thumbs had hooked around the elastic waistband of your shorts. Pushing them down your legs, letting them twist near your knees.

Seeing how you already arched for him, legs nudging wider for balance. Waiting for his fingers, but he had dipped - ignoring the dull stretch of his back as his lips had ghosted across yours.

His tongue following, where you’re plush and wet as the tip slipped against your slit. Pretty, he had thought, like he had a hundred times before.

You always were.

Under the sun, with the flash of your teeth, the cock of your head.

When your forehead wrinkled with worry, the urge always rising to press his thumb against them - wiping them away.

In sleep - with the flutter of your eyelashes and soft sigh, as you burrowed against his chest.

Your muscles had tensed - shoulders stiff and thighs trembling as you had taken him. A held breath hissing through teeth, turning into a sharp groan as the tip of his cock nudged its way inside.

As he enveloped himself in you, his own words near-stuttered with the way you immediately clenched down around him. Warm and wet and made for him.

“Come on, honey. You can take it.”

“That’s my good girl.”

That last one had you softening. Unable to hide the way his words affected you, your head lolling against your shoulder as his hips finally pressed flush to yours.

The sight will be one that he thinks of often. That twist of green and grey and red around your waist. The arch of your back, already a little shift of your hips as you encourage him to move.

All that soft skin, not nearly as marred as his. His palm flattened over the curve of your ass, a smack that is more sound than pressure.

Your groan filled the room, as he finally began to move. The soft snap of his hips turning sharp, as the memories had washed over him.

The shift of your arm brings him back, now. Eyes half-closed in bliss, the curl of your shoulder as your hand moves to slip between your legs.

Something pricks at him then, the bite of possession sinking its teeth into his skin. An ache to do this himself.

Though he might not need to - he can tell from the way you meet him, the bitten-back sounds you make, that the move was in desperation.

He should have been paying more attention.

No use thinking about the past, when he’s got you here now.

Joel catches your fingers, a broad hand curling around your wrist. Pinning it back against the floor as his knee drops to the ground again.

“Y’ don’t need it.” His chest presses into your back as he leans over you. Close enough for his stubble to scratch against your cheek, feel his weight as he cages you in, “Can come like this, can’t you?”

He says it like a question, but it’s not. Not really. An edge to his voice, your knees inching wider as they scrape against the floor. As his rhythm ticks up - sharper and faster than his lazy rhythm earlier.

Stroking against that spot inside you. Just a tease before, when his mind had wandered. Now he knows he has you there, right at the edge. Just needing a little more.

Something he’s sure he can give you, if you let him.

“Joel.” His name is broken, whined through your teeth. Laced with awe, as if he hadn’t done the same thing with his fingers - teased at your inner walls until you soaked them.

“I think I’m… oh my god-”

Breathless, as his nose ghosts against your neck. As he pins you further, arching your back more. Open-mouthed kisses pressed to your throat, as he feels you shiver beneath him.

“That’s it.” His teeth scrape skin, a ragged edge to his voice, “Know you are.”

Something that tips close to a plea, with the way he needs to feel it, with the way it punches from his lungs, “Lemme feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Come on-”

Your fingers squeeze around his, clinging to him. A lifeline, as the feeling swells and then breaks - as he rips your orgasm from you. That warmth around him turning molten and wet as he feels that tight pulse, how you drip down his cock.

Down to where his balls grow tight, a sharp coiling in his belly. A feeling he tries to hold back, but you’re still moaning his name, eyes screwed shut as each pump of his cock draws your pleasure out.

Each thrust pushes the air from your lungs in a pretty gasp, too far gone to do anything but press your cheek to his coat. Hands trapped in his - one still pinned to the floor, the other biting into his wrist.

He’s too busy watching you to notice the way his thrusts have grown sloppy, off-rhythm in the way he’s racing to meet you.

“Fuck-” Joel’s jaw grits. There’s barely enough time for his hips to move - to pull his length from you, leaving you clenching.

Slick with your release as his fingers closes around his cock. Barely managing two pumps of his fist before he’s spilling over the swell of your ass, dripping down damp thighs.

His groan rough and broken in the empty house, panting breaths with the slick slide of his fist as he works himself empty.

Making a mess of you, your skin streaked with him, shining and glossy. It makes him he almost regret starting this here - that he can’t pull you into the shower, and then bed, after.

Instead, he hovers over you until his heart no longer races. Until he can push himself onto unsteady feet, finding an old rag in the kitchen.

Wiping your skin clean, as you sigh - boneless against the worn floor. Content as the sun streaks through the windows, warming patches of bare skin.

Sweat clings to his skin after, leaving him sticky. Heart still fluttering in his chest as you both finally move - backs pressing against the threadbare couch, clothes mostly fixed in place.

Your head presses against his shoulder, a loose little lean as your legs stretch out. Still just as bare as before, his hand curving around your thigh and squeezing.

Letting time pass, for just a little bit longer.

“Tommy said we would stop by for dinner,” You eventually break the silence - flashing a still-dazed smile, as your fingernails scratch into his forearm, “You wanna go? Ellie said she’d meet us there. Think she’s bringin’ a friend.”

So casual in the way you say it - as if they weren’t going to show up with bruised knees, still wearing his shirt. As if your skin wasn’t still stained with him, patches and still-drying streaks he might have missed.

Moving up to rub at the joints that grow sore with the heat and the cold. Such a small thing to remember, but you always do.

“Sounds good.” He sighs into your touch.

It ain’t a barbecue, but it’s close enough.

Joel used to hate this time of year.

But today… it doesn’t seem all that bad.

experimenting with different styles of writing - I thought of this as a sort-of sister fic to looking back! and thank you so much for reading, it is so appreciated 💖💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

[mitsies]

itoshi rin was born on the 9th of september, 19 years ago now.

that makes him a virgo, he thinks. not that he knows or cares what that means. it’s just another menial fun fact about himself he’s learned through fans. but he’s a virgo. or something.

his birthday used to mean something to him. when he was a little boy, so little, he wouldn’t be able to sleep the night before out of sheer excitement. waking up before the sun, he’d barge into his family’s rooms— his brother first, then parents— to alert them of the joyous occasion. because truly, there was no such event of that kind of importance. another year passed, another to celebrate. coming of life, again, and again.

that used to feel beautiful.

but then rin got older. and he stopped having a brother to wake up on birthday mornings, and his parents grew older. and it stopped mattering. he didn’t have time for a birthday. september 9th became the same as any other day, just a regular monday or tuesday, just another 1 out of 365. as his fame skyrocketed, people began celebrating for him. fans would surprise him with little trinkets and cards if the encountered him, and his parents (who had never stopped trying their bests to keep tradition alive) would tell him they loved him and mean it a little extra.

but for him it was always the same. wake up at the same time, do the same things, eat the same meals, talk to the same people— ones he saw every day, never the ones (or, one) he wanted to see— always the same, same, same. the year he turned 18, he woke up on september 9th having forgotten it was his own birthday. he was only reminded by a text from his mother. she had shared an old, old photo. a relic, really— a little tiny boy who looked so fragile, you could snap him in two, with big eyes and bigger lashes, stared blankly at the camera. a large, brand new kid’s sized soccer ball was held in his hands. and behind him, another child— one with a matching expression, but a little older and with brownish-reddish bangs— glaring at the camera as if he was already too good to have his picture taken. somehow, this picture makes him upset.

itoshi rin remembers the feelings. how wonderful it used to be, to wake up as if the whole world was waiting for you. to look forward to that. and he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel that again, not soon, not ever. joy is a thing of the past, outgrown like a little boy outgrows his first pair of cleats. birthdays are for people worth celebrating, he thinks. and as far as he’s concerned, that isn’t him.

but then he meets you.

march 12. he remembers that day. march 12, of the year he’d turn 20. you observe him from across the room— eyes widened, fixed, starstruck— and it’s nothing he’s not used to except for the fact that he thinks you’re pretty. the coffee shop is quiet, at 7 in the morning. he’s a regular, so he knows for a fact that you’re new around here. everything about you screams it— your posture, shifted to watch everything happening in the small space, how you’ve barely taken a sip of your drink, how you’re alone at the little table with two chairs— and he thinks that if he’s seen you before, he’d remember.

the barista slides him his drink. with a curt nod, he thanks her before retreating to a dark secluded corner to stand in like he’s some caged animal. and now rin knows you’re not from around here, because you pick up your drink and come over to speak to him.

he doesn’t remember what you said to him. he doesn’t remember what, or if, he replied. but he remembers you persisting, through his brick walls, through his shields. he remembers your laugh’s echo within those warm, warm, walls.

a coffee shared turns into two. then three. then a dinner date, and then the movies. then a late-night drive home, and then a first kiss. and then, itoshi rin is in love.

falling in love happens in stages, is what he’s always heard. but he disagrees. he’s always liked you, sure, a lot is he’s being honest. but he thinks he falls in love with you fully, in his entirety, on september 9th of the year he turns 21.

the both of you don’t officially live together, not yet, but you’re at his place so often you might as well move in. his alarm doesn’t go off to wake him. instead, he’s greeted by the smell of coffee (which he recognizes as that from his favourite café) and his clock reading 8:52 in the morning.

and then you come in.

still in your pajamas, you look particularly proud and particularly stressed with a platter of asymmetrical assorted breakfast items. “happy birthday,” you whisper, even though he’s fully awake now.

itoshi rin falls in love with you on september 9th. he thinks that you’ve made it all beautiful again.

#itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #blue lock #reader insert

[vide0-nasties]

Going to be rambling insanely about Ghost and probably what his feelings on the monarchy would be, coming from one deeply damaged povo to another.

Anyway, specifically around the time the parasite in chief in her idiot hat (thanks Eccleston lub u) died and passed said idiot hat on, I was seeing a lot of (fun and gentle-ribbing, mind you!) posts about Ghost getting razzed about the queen croaking and maybe him being sad about it or something - I don’t really remember bc I have shit for brains and I just latch onto what bits my adhd will allow.

SO. I really don’t think Bruv Innit gave two shits about Liz buying the farm, bc he grew up working class in a working class town to a drug addicted, drug peddling dad, and a fairly nondescript mom who likely didn’t have a way to get her and her kids out of that shit situation (per ‘09 MW lore and some presumption). I imagine dude was dragged around a shitload of council estates and his dad’s friends’ shitty crash pads, no stability whatsoever, where food insecurity was a big ass forever-looming deal, mom had no idea if her 20 year old vauxhall was going to make it another trip to her minimum wage part time job, and school was forever on the back burner bc when it came to school supplies/trips vs eating and keeping the lights on. You can guess which one won.

If we’re also going with him being about 35-40ish, he would’ve been 10-12ish or so around Diana’s divorce and then her death. So, here’s this starving, horrendously abused kid, with his starving, horrendously abused mother and little brother, drowning in a system that is pretty much just letting them sink to the bottom, nothing is being done about the evil sperm donor that ruins everything for them, and he’s obliterated constantly by TV coverage and tabloids and radio DJs talking about this goddamned family’s stupid fucking drama. Charles cheated, Diana left, her poor boys in their fancy private schools with their endless wealth and glowing skin and brand new clothes that don’t stink of consignment shops are sad.

Sorrows - sorrows, prayers. 🫶

It’s a story he’s seen countless times, the only difference is money and coverage. And, realistically, the women in the stories he knows aren’t killed in car wrecks, they’re killed by their infuriated husbands who think they’re owed something catching up. Maybe that’s why his mom doesn’t leave the cocksucker that trapped her, she could’ve ended up another council house Diana that no one gave a shit about.

He grows up, becomes a butcher’s apprentice, joins the army. Straightens his brother out, makes sure his mom is set up nice, finally beats the shit out of his dad. And all the while, there looms the most fucking pointless, parasitic family in England: living off taxes taken from the public, god knows how much land and how many castles, even owning all the fucking swans on the island.

Relics, vampires, leeches.

But, you know, twenty years down the road, he’s pushing 40, his services to the country are done in the dark, the family he tried so badly to save were brutally cut down anyway, and when he goes to Tesco, the price of a fifth of piss Smirnoff is insane, and he’s still got Soap swimming in his head mid-rant bc his mam’s fucking knee replacement appeal has been denied for the third time and she can’t even walk anymore, Gaz is moving for the second time in a year bc he just can’t afford to live close to his parents even on his salary, meanwhile there was a stretch where it looked like Philip was surviving solely by being pumped full of virgin blood and straight stem cells.

So, yeah, if anything he probably said cheers when the news broke and cracked a couple extra jokes that day.

“What d’you call one dead Windsor? A good start.”

Edit: This is picking up some traction. @50cal-fullauto-astarion is my CoD blog if you like my Call of Bullshit stuff, this is my main and I don’t really go into CoD here

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare ii #ghost cod #call of duty #mw2 #ghost #I’m mentally ill and I love that he is also mentally ill and probably looks at the monarchy with disgust #if he can vote depending on whether he’s legally dead or not he voted no on brexit #some rando at base is like ‘how can you make a joke like that think about the children they lost their nan’ #and he just goes ‘I’ll hunt those little shits for sport’

[jungle-angel]

Singing and rocking their baby to sleep in the middle of the night with jake. please and thank you!!🤍💐

Rachel......my dearest darling Rachel.......you come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married.....and ask this of me??? (lol). You've made me an offer I can't refuse.....consider this a new addition to your Mob Boss Jake universe.

You lay dead asleep in your bed, completely oblivious to the moonlight that spilled into your bedroom, brighter than the Las Vegas strip. You didn't even notice that your husband's side of the bed was empty, the covers turned down as if in a hurry for something.

You shook away the heavy grog from your head, throwing your silk robe on and plodding down the hall to find the nursery light on. You poked your head in the door, not wanting to disturb the sight that lay before your very eyes.

There was Jake, sitting in the rocker, shirtless and with his tiny little princess, Valentina, in his arms, just three days old, having been born at home and completely brand new to this unfamiliar world around her. She had looked so peaceful, sleeping the day away in her crib and shaded by the spider thin, rose pink canopy that covered her crib. Now in the dim light of the nursery, she looked more peaceful than ever, rested in the curve of Jake's arm and his voice having gone quieter than usual as he sang to her.

"Good journey, love, time to go I checked your teeth and warmed your toes In the horizon I see them coming for you

The mermaid grace, the forever call Beauty in spyglass on an old man's porch The mermaids you turned loose brought back your tears

At the end of the river the sundown beams All the relics of a life long lived Here, weary traveller rest your wand Sleep the journey from your eyes"

As soon as he was sure she was asleep, Jake very gently placed Val back in her crib and covered her with the pink and white crocheted blanket his mother had made for her.

"Hey," you said, smiling sleepily as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"And what are you doing up my queen?" he chuckled.

"Didn't think big, tough mob boss Jake Seresin had such a beautiful singing voice," you purred.

"Oh you heard that?" he said with a smile.

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the two of you gazing at the precious little form snuggled deeply in her crib and barely stirring. "Well if it put her to sleep it must be good."

Jake kissed your lips. "I'll gladly take that as a complement Mrs. Seresin," he purred.

The two of you quietly shut the light off and left Val to sleep for another two to three hours, climbing back into bed with each other and letting that blissful spell take hold of the both of you.

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #mob boss!jake #mob boss!jake x reader #dagger squad

[theresattrpgforthat]

Mint Plays Games: Household

March saw the beginning of a new multi-session series with my home group, and this time we're hopping through a number of different dimensions, using the Planedawn Orphans campaign toolkit. The basic premise is that the characters are hopping into the lives of people inside various worlds, looking for items or relics that they can use to build a brand-new world, a place where all of them can start over. Our first world visited was Household!

Household is a roleplaying game by Two Little Mice, about tiny fae folk going on big adventures in an old, abandoned house. Players choose from four different kinds of folk and five different Professions to determine their faerie gifts and their personal strengths. The game consists of rolling a number of d6s in the hopes of getting pairs, three of a kind, or, if you're lucky, four matching numbers.

We had two different investigations, one looking out for a missing noble's son, and the other trying to figure out where a missing prize bumblebee had gone. Household chosen to represent the "Air" element from the checklist in Planedawn Orphans, so we decided that the relic that made the most sense for this setting was "A Pair of Perfect Wings".

We had two different groups of adventurers, both of them given advice to blend in to whatever events were going on around them when they showed up in the other world. Since some of the players signed up for Household, but not the for the inter-dimensional travel, we decided that their characters would be permanent fixtures of the world, new friends and companions that the Orphans made along the way.

I find the setting for Household to be very charming, and the art certainly helps you visualize all of the different places and main characters. I think the set-up of the game is very good for folks who want a lot of help coming up with adventures, because Household is written as a history that has already happened; the events of the book will come to pass unless the player characters decide to do something about them.

The rules themselves are easy to learn, but this might be a downside for folks who like complex character builds with a lot of pieces that can be tweaked. Your character is pretty simple in Household, and while you'll improve as you gain experience, I don't see a lot of big changes happening over the course of play. Then again, we only played a couple of sessions, so I might be putting the cart before the horse.

Household absolutely delivers on the atmosphere it promises, but based on our limited run of it, I think the world outshines the rules. We're looking at playing another game in the same rule-system down the road, and I'm interested to see what changes have been made, and whether or not they give me more cool things to do. I'd be happy to revisit the House in the future, but I'd also love to run some other rules-systems inside the setting!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #mint plays games #household

[thisisthiago]

WeHeartIt is dead.

It died in 2023, during a sunny June, though the process started taking place way before that date. It’s unclear, though, the reason why it started to happen. And, since I’m not a journalist, I might focus on why it meant so much to me for so long.

WeHeartIt, famous for embracing thousands of people around the idea of creating personal galleries and sharing them with friends, was born in 2008 from a Brazilian developer. He came up with the idea of creating a platform where people could save, share and, most importantly, heart images.

And didn't that work out? At its peak, the social network had 25 million monthly users and partnered with brands such as Teen Vogue to promote content and increase that reach. Of course, there was always Pinterest, but this wasn’t it. WeHeartIt was a hot mess of posting and hearting and expressing ourselves through the images we saved or the postcards we sent or even the collections we built. Of course, you could open Pinterest and organize your ideas, wishes, and... crochet templates, I guess? But at WeHeartIt, what looked like a mess would then become a gallery with layers of meanings and feelings, resembling the rings of trees. Our profiles, as rings of trees can tell us about a harsh winter or a particularly hot summer, would have layers composed of travel dreams, romantic ideas, or heartbreaking moments. It was safe and, as a 2018 article from Women’s Forum would point out, it was a mood booster.

Can you imagine such a lovely mess? "Dancing On My Own" was at the top of the parades (at least for hipsters worldwide), Tumblr was the next most favorite network, and Facebook wasn’t as cringe as it is now. In the middle of all that, WeHeartIt was thriving. Saving us from the boredom and helping us all to create a gallery where we could go back to see (and feel) all that was there to remember.

But then, things started to go somewhere out of the road, and we learned that good and new features don’t necessarily mean improvement. The app didn't have to try and be anything else. Of course, a design refreshment is always welcome, but some of the updates were simply needless or had no sense at all. All of that led to what we encounter today when we go into the platform website.

I won’t refer to all of the annoying-but-still-not-changing-the-core-of-the-app updates and features. I’m talking about ads, postcards, articles and yes, podcasts. Though all of these were meaningless and even annoying, they never interfered in my possibility of using the core functions of the app: managing my profile, visiting other people’s profiles, and hearting images.

Then, all of a sudden, WeHeartIt starts rolling out a message saying that the app will now focus on other features and so, they would do part with profiles and hearting. Yes, you read that correctly. The owners of the app decided that the main functions of the website should no longer be available, in order to redirect the main focus of the app to photo editing.

As I said in a rather harsh review of the latest version of the app in Apple’s App Store:

The so-called "photo editing" capabilities are laughable, barely a patch on dedicated apps in that domain. It's utterly disheartening that even a relic like the 1967 app surpasses WeHeartIt as a creative tool at this point. There appears to be an overwhelming lack of satisfaction with this so-called "upgrade."

Though scattered around the web, many of the platform users have shown their discomfort with the current state of the app. A quick search on Twitter, Reddit, App Store Reviews, and even Tumblr shows us. Even though some users still try to make some of the old features of the service work, it’s only a matter of time until the database is updated and we no longer have access to any image at all.

It’s sad that WeHeartIt is dying. The idea was great, and the execution worked for a while, but now it just looks as if the owners of the platform are looking for an excuse to shut it down permanently. We might as well just end up with a page like the former ffffound.

#weheartit #ffffound #we heart it #grief #hipster #vintage #aesthetic #tumblr #pinterest #love

[tu-es-gegg]

Forever retreats to the old office, he leans over the desk, clean enough to see the pristine wood that used to lay unnoticed. His fingers trail the surface to the back and he was disturbed how barely any coffee stains lay permenant in the wood, it's as if all remnants of him had vanished without traces or whisper

Frustrated, he takes a hand through his bleached hair and ducks his head down; until his eyes trail to a drawer left ajar. He steadily pulls on the handle far enough until he sees a leather bag with familiar initials scratched on the flap. His throat tightens at that exact moment.

Hastily he opens the bag to find that old black camera again, scratches still on the edges yet still kept clean. One could mitake such an aged relic to be brand new, a reflection of how much care its owner gave to such equipment. Such a polarising, pristine-looking accessory that used to accompany his disarrayed and frazzled friend, now left incomplete without the other half. Like a light without a shadow. A moon that has no sun. Forever tries to fit the camera in his hands, but it doesn't quite feel right. They don't have the same callouses that moulded to the seams and curves, not the same flex to reach the smaller buttons across the top. It's not his camera to use; he almost forgets how Cellbit used to hold it.

Another look back in the bag he sees something under the spare lenses and microfibre cloth, some dots of colour that seem to permeate through the dim lamplight. Carefully, Forever plucks out those faded colours and cradles that polaroid gently; as if the stagnant printed memories in his hand could turn to ash any moment. The picture has all of them. Pac. Mike. Felps. Cellbit. And there he is in the middle holding up Richarlyson closer to the lens. Forever looks again in the bag, there's more photos of memories long past he had almost forgotten about

Forever slides out of the chair and onto the floor with back against the desk, he holds the collection close as he looks through all of them. He notices how glaring the sun was in every shot. How even in faded hues the colours shined most prominently. How wide those toothed grins used to be back then.

Forever smiles slightly with each passing photo, legs pressed to his chest like his heart would fall out of his ribs. He tries to touch the colours with his thumb, as if he could touch and feel the warm hands that radiate glowing euphoria again. But all he can touch is the plastic film.

#qsmp forever #qsmp cellbit #qsmp #txt post #hihello goodbye #listened to photograph by ed sheeran once and was elminated

[lunapegasus]

This was a terrible idea. Really, it was. With how many times she’d been rejected it was practically ridiculous that she thought this would go over well. And Amy was well aware of how low her chances were. But she just couldn’t help it. Besides, he was far too reserved to ever ask her out. She had to be the one to do it.

Amy sighed and looked at her dress in the mirror again. It was a medium length white dress covered in a leafy pattern in various green hues and even had a ribbon to match. It was brand new. Which she may or may not have bought for this specific occasion. An arguably unnecessary expense but Amy justified it by telling herself she needed something nice to boost her confidence. 

But… what if it was too nice? If she got rejected then it would have all been a waste and every time she saw the dress again she’d be filled with disappointment and heartache and loneliness and-

She panicked and darted over to her wardrobe and began to frantically look for a possible alternative. How foolish she was to buy such a dress. What if he didn’t even like green!

Amy startled suddenly at the knock on her bedroom door and a young rabbit poked her head inside.

“Amy, aren’t you supposed to be on your date?”

“It’s not a date, Cream. Well, at least not yet. But hopefully, it will be.”

“I’m sure he’ll say yes! I have a feeling this one's gonna work out. And I don’t need any fancy tarot cards to know that!”

“That’s right! I should do a reading and then I’ll-”

“Amy!” Cream shouted, cheeks slightly puffed up in frustration, “You already said you were gonna ask him. You promised me you wouldn’t back out again.”

“I know, I know. You’re right,” Amy sighed and wandered over to her drawer and pulled out her old deck of cards, “These cards have just really helped me out a lot, you know? I’ve had them nearly my whole life. If I hadn’t listened to them and left home then I never would have even met him, or anyone else, or even you.”

Cream quietly wandered over and sat down on the bed next to her friend and waited for her to continue.

“I’d been alone for a really long time, which was why I was traveling the world. I wanted to find a new home, somewhere I belonged… I’d read about Little Planet before, they used to call it Miracle Planet. It sounded like a beautiful place, “a world that defies time itself”, relics that create miracles, I couldn't ask for a more perfect place to call home… But just like everything else, it was temporary.”

Cream frowned as Amy sat down on the bed beside her. The little girl watched as Amy shuffled through her deck before finally pulling out a single card and handing it to her. The image depicted a brave looking knight valiantly standing upright with a single sword in his hands.

“But then I pulled this card,” Amy said, continuing her story, “The Knight of Swords. It represents action and says that if you propel yourself through ambition you’ll be rewarded. That’s when I knew that if I continued to trust my instincts, the same one that brought me there in the first place, then I would finally get to meet my knight in shining armor!”

Cream giggled, “And you did! Even if it was a little messy at first.”

“Heh, a little, but you gotta admit, he really knew how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

The two giggled some more before Cream suddenly sprung up from her feet, “Amy! You’re gonna be late! You need to hurry!”

“Oh Chaos you’re right!” Amy jumped up from the bed and hurried out the door, but when she reached the doorway she paused and looked back towards her friend again. “So, you really think he’s gonna say yes?”

Cream walked over to her and gave her a big smile, “Of course I do, Amy! Things are changing now and so are you. You’ve been the princess in the tower already, now it’s time for you and your knight, your real knight, to have your happily ever after!”

Amy returned the smile, gave her friend a big hug, and fought off the tears she felt forming behind her eyes, “Thanks Cream, you always know just what to say.”

The two waved each other away and Amy took off, and as she closed the front door behind her she couldn’t help but smile.

This was it. She was finally going to ask out the blue hedgehog of her dreams. It was finally time to ask out Metal Sonic.

[idea by @khalewren]

#sub 800 words #sonamy #uh huh that's what it says #that is what this is about #this is a totally normal sonamy fic I prommy I would never lie to you come closer #JUST FUCKING KIDDING. I’M IN MY MISSIONARY ERA AND I'M CONVERTING YOU ALL TO METAMY #you thought this was about sonic? I don’t even know who that is anymore! #I've a s c e n d e d #(to those in the sonamy tag finding this and are possibly genuinely upset then I will say I am sorry for invading your tag however Im just- #-really silly so I think charges should be dropped) #(no hate to y’all of course I hope you’re having a fun and silly day!) #amy rose #metamy #sth #my fics <3

[singguks]

the unbearable lightness of being ✩ knj

✩ FIRST CHAPTER OF EVERYTHINGOES

which includes... fluff and slice of life content ⏤ 822 words.

━━━━━  NEXT !

in which... he feels the heavy weight of his routine and serendipity goes his way !

Spring was turning around the corner and somehow Namjoon’s life felt dull and bloomless still. 

He had been strolling aimlessly all Saturday, thinking if he should take a break from his job starting Monday. Or maybe just run away from his manager for a while. Do something else with his life. Go to another country, and live a brand new adventure. That’s how he came to know the little vintage library tucked on the corner of a busy street—because of his equally busy brain and restless feet. 

There was no one inside besides him, a kind-eyed grandpa behind the counter, a calico cat, and tons of dusty books—just how Namjoon liked them. And yet the books weren’t what he felt pulled toward to inspect. 

On top of two piles that were flooding the floor, there was a ham radio. The aged equipment had a collection of space stickers adorning it which only contributed to filling Namjoon’s brain with nostalgia and fond memories. A long time ago, when he was still a kid, he got to know about the existence of such a radio. Later on, it resulted in tons of questions about its functioning, something that his Physics teacher was eager to provide the answers to. 

He heard the old man clearing his throat snapping him off his down-to-memory-lane trance. “If you like it so much I’m more than happy to see it go.” 

Namjoon had to double-check on the smiley grandpa behind the old wooden structure. It was a fact that he would be glad to display the device around his house next to the art he collected… It was inspiration after all. Something to connect him with his inner child, even if the equipment wouldn’t work anymore. But not a week ago his mom teased about his house looking like a science fair museum and he wouldn’t want to contribute to that statement. “How much for it?” he asks while pondering and the elder dismisses his offer, going around on the counter. 

“Oh no. That one isn’t priced,” he said as he approached with some difficulty. “I would be glad to see it go to a new home after so many years!” 

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks and then looks at the device. “It’s a relic now, sure, and that’s why it should have its price…” he regarded, feeling bad to take the offer without paying something to the old man. 

The grandpa let out a chuckle, eyeing him with fondness. “And that is precisely why I’m giving it to you.” he continued with a look that told Namjoon he had already lived plenty to know what he was talking about. “Everything goes, son. But it’s when you know the value of things that you are considered worthy enough to keep ‘em.” he gave Namjoon a gentle tap on his broad shoulders before turning around, “Take it. It was already yours, to begin with.” 

Namjoon went home that Saturday with a ham radio underneath his arm and a little paper bag holding an old edition of The Unbearable Lightness Of Being by Milan Kundera. A book that he had already read many times before but upon the gentleness of that stranger, it seemed the right thing to do or the right price to repay. 

✩ April 7, 2018

…

“Can someone hear me? Hello?”

…

“Ugh. I swear this will never work…”

...

“Um… Hello?”

...

“Oh, my God! Hi! Can you hear me? Is this real?”

...

... 

“Uh… Yes? I can hear you”

...

“Thank heavens! It’s been a week already. I couldn’t pick up anyone’s frequency…”

...

“I’m Hyori by the way!”

...

...

...

“Hello?”

...

“Sorry! Uhm, yeah, nice to meet you! But uh… What do you mean by anyone’s frequency?”

...

“You do this regularly? Like a channel or something?”

…

“Oh gosh, no. *laughs* I’m currently developing something for the company I work with, that’s why the radio.”

…

“A friend of mine suggested it since I need the opinion of strangers… He said this is how he did a survey back in college, so I thought… Let’s risk it!” 

...

“Wouldn’t it be easier doing it the obvious way? Don’t get me wrong! I like the effort *laughs*”

...

...

...

“I thought about the newspaper as well but I don’t know, the idea seemed gnarly…”

…

“What’s your name again?”

...

“*soundly laughter* you’re funny!”

…

“And I’m Namjoon.” 

...

...

“Namjoon… I like it! Nice to meet you, now officially” 

...

“Same!” 

...

...

“Listen, I really gotta run but um… If it’s not asking much, would you please tune in at this frequency tomorrow? It would literally save my life!”

…

“It’s just some silly questions about routines really… Please?”

...

“I mean… Yeah, sure. I see you when I see you or…?” 

...

“What? Nevermind- Are you sure? Can I count on you?” 

...

“Yes, *chuckles* you can”

…

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! This is stellar!”

…

“Are you ok with tomorrow by, umm, 4 o’clock?” 

...

...

“I’ll be waiting.”

✩ ━━━━ everythingoes' masterlist here !

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x oc #bts x oc #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fluff #bts scenarios #bts series #bts fic #namjoon smau #namjoon imagine #rm x reader #rm fanfic #bts au #rm x y/n #.everythingoes

[rpgsandbox]

Are you ready to return to The Wood?

The Wood surrounds and divides the realm and anyone (or anything) that has not yet sworn fealty. The Wood is not one forest, but all forests. The Root is the realm of mystery and horror underneath, and does not care for the petty divisions overground.

Cairn is the DriveThruRPG Platinum Best Selling adventure game about exploring a dark and mysterious Wood filled with strange folk, hidden treasure, and unspeakable monstrosities. Character generation is quick and random, adventures are tense and reward careful exploration, and combat is frantic and deadly. The first edition rules are freely available here, and should be familiar to any fans of Knave and Into the Odd.

The definitive second edition has been freshly revised and developed, and includes an expanded Player’s Guide, a brand new Warden’s Guide, and a new adventure Trouble in Twin Lakes in a robust and lavishly illustrated boxed set packed with useful gaming tools.

Digital mockups, final presentation may differ.

If you’re looking for a rules-light, player-forward system for classic fantasy roleplaying, look no further. Cairn 2E includes everything you need to get started with a minimum of setup and zero hassle. A simple 3-stat system and roll-under d20 resolution makes it familiar to old-school gamers and new players alike, marrying the best of the OSR and 5E mechanics.

The first edition of Cairn was a simple, 24-page Player's Guide that provided the basics of character creation and dice mechanics. For the second edition, we've greatly expanded upon and clarified the rules for players, starting with the backgrounds. Each character background now includes its own unique set of equipment, abilities, history, and relation to the world of Cairn. With 20 backgrounds and 36 possible ways to build each, that means over 700 different characters can be made before gameplay even begins. 

While Cairn 2E is bigger, bolder, and weirder than its predecessor, it remains as simple and easy to jump into. Character creation is a quick, four-step process: 

1) First, roll or choose a background from such creative possibilities as the Beast Handler or Fungal Forager.  2) Now, roll or choose from an array of tables to fill out your specialties, histories, and magical equipment.  3) Roll 3d6 to determine each of your three Attribute Scores—Strength, Dexterity, and Willpower—and 1d6 for your Hit Protection, or HP.  4) Lastly, you'll name your character, determine their age, and array them with a selection of traits and bonds to establish their place in the world.

A Beast Handler, Bonekeeper, Half-Witch, and Aurifex take a quick break from dungeon delving.

The Player's Guide is a 5.5" x 8.5" perfect bound softcover of approximately 92 pages.

In addition to the expanded Player's Guide, the Cairn 2E Boxed Set comes with a dedicated Warden’s Guide, which includes everything you’ll need to create, populate, and manage a game in the world of Cairn. Inside you’ll find: 

Advice and guides on designing and running a forestcrawl, pointcrawl, or dungeon delve

A bestiary of strange and foul creatures your players will encounter in the Woods and Roots

Spellbooks and relics, magical artifacts from a bygone age with their own strange powers and personalities

Rules for character advancement through personalized quests, downtime activities, and relationships with the people and creatures of the world

The world of Vald, Cairn’s first detailed setting and the perfect place to begin your adventure

And much more! 

With a few rolls of the dice, you can now generate entire sessions worth of content for adventures in the dark forests of The Woods, the stygian depths of the Roots, or even spruce up existing modules for a classic dungeoncrawl. Or perhaps your players would prefer to spend that session in town, following up on leads and training up their skills to better tackle the next leg of their quest. In the Warden’s Guide, you’ll find everything you need to really bring the world of Cairn to life. 

The Warden's Guide is a 5.5" x 8.5" perfect bound softcover of approximately 120 pages.

Trouble in Twin Lakes

Two weeks ago, Aldra, the beloved butcher of Isthmus Town, suddenly vanished without a trace. Some days later, a local teen reported seeing a man swallowed up by the earth near Deadmill. Others have also gone missing. Now, the townsfolk are left wondering: Who might be next? Trouble in Twin Lakes is the first in a brand new series of adventure for Cairn, set in and around the Twin Lakes area.  Trouble in Twin Lakes is a 5.5" x 8.5" saddle stitched zine of approximately 24 pages.

The Adventure Anthology

We've got THREE more adventures in the works as stretch goals. At a certain funding level, these three adventures will be collected and printed together as The Adventure Anthology, and included in each boxed set.

Digital mockups, final presentation may differ.

A first for Cairn and exclusive to this boxed set, the Warden's Screen is meant to inspire and inform in equal measure. It features a new, full-size illustration by Bruno Prosaiko on the front and tables galore on the back to help Wardens run their best game of Cairn ever! We're hard at work behind the scenes to determine the most relevant and useful information to put on this board, and our final design will be revealed in a future update.

The Warden's Screen contains five 5.5" x 8.5" panels made of thick gameboard, with art on the outside and reference text and tables on the inside.

Digital mockup, final presentation may differ.

The new Cairn 2E Character Sheet Pad feature art by Licopeo and are perfectly designed to show off your character's skills, stats, and assets. Backers at the Cairn 2E Boxed Set tier will get a whole pad of sheets that can be torn off as needed (useful in case of a sudden TPK).

Digital mockup, final presentation may differ

Collectors and enthusiasts will appreciate the robust box with unique art from acclaimed artist Bruno Prosaiko. Made of sturdy cardboard made to withstand years of intense gaming sessions, it'll contain everything you need to run a game of Cairn: just supply pencils, dice, and friends. 

The Cairn 2e box also includes a handy lift ribbon inside, to access all your books and papers easily without needing to upend the whole box! 

======================

Kickstarter campaign ends: Fri, April 26 2024 3:00 PM BST

Website: [Space Penguin Ink] [twitter] [instagram]

#RPG #kickstarter #Cairn #Space Penguin Ink

[ririya-translates]

Suzu Orimaki's Story

Huge apologies at how delayed this post has been. This is Suzu's concept art short story (original). It was written by Shin Towada (lead game writer) with concept art by Lownine.

I had another version posted earlier to Twitter closer to Suzu's birthday (Jan 19) but it was a difficult time for me so I wanted to post the cleaned up version @otomemories so kindly helped me out with editing. Please check out her NejiKisa doujin translations! This story takes place before the first play so spoilers are quite minimal.

A young man is brought to the gates of Univeil by an image of true radiance he once saw shining on its stage. He is guided by this brilliant aura until this moment when the theater he has so admired stands before his very eyes.

The sun’s rays beam down heavily on him, as if piercing through the bright blue sky. He leans against the railing, his body bathing in warm light. His name is Suzu Orimaki and he’s a brand new student at Univeil Drama School.

The weather is as sunny and lively as Suzu himself. He has always had an eye-catching brightness to him- one strong enough to make him stand out from his fellow Quartz classmates just by being there. His exuberant energy alone is enough to earn him a promising new future as a Jack. After a long day of grueling classes, he has finally earned himself a break.

“This place really is amazing…” Suzu mutters to no one in particular with a slight turn of his head. Towering above him is a large art fixture. At Univeil Drama School’s all-boys dormitories, every class resides in a separate dorm, each designed with a distinctly different style by various well-known artists. The unique features of each class are conveyed through architecture that overflows with imagination, and of course, the Quartz dorm is no exception. The outer glass walls can be seen filled to the brim with sunlight, and near the top of the building stands the Quartz namesake, an enormous crystal designed to look as if it were piercing the heavens. Suzu enjoys the rooftop not only because it grants him the ability to spot other people, but also for its brilliant view of the entire city that his campus resides in- Tamasaka, built halfway up the side of Mt. Oodate.

“Another busy day today…”

A winding downward path stretches from the school to the station. It’s filled with a mixture of shops and restaurants, as well as time-worn buildings shadowing the city’s days as an old post town-- relics of a bygone era. A town like this entices not only residents, but also thousands of tourists flocking to see the city's symbol, The Tamasaka Troupe. Of course, Univeil is considered a part of this as well.

Long ago, Suzu himself had made the long climb from the station up this hill to see a Univeil performance. His vision shifts from the town back to the campus’s theater.

“.....”

Suzu backs off of the railing, pushes against the ground with the tip of his left foot, and then smoothly spins around. After happily surveying the scenery, his face tightens and a powerful voice comes from his lips.

“All right!” Pushing his toes up against the ground, Suzu waves his arms high above his head. As his feet hit the floor, the momentum gives his powerful steps a burst of energy. Jumping, falling, jumping, falling… a rhythm begins to form. In the back of Suzu’s mind, he visualizes the dance moves an older student demonstrated for him. Doing his best to recreate it, Suzu continues to dance. However…

“Ahh! It’s no use!” Suzu grasps his head in his hands and arcs himself backwards. He just can’t seem to get his movements to match correctly.

“Hah… I really can’t figure this out without him. But we’re running out of time until the newcomers' performance…” Suzu leans against the railing once more, this time with his head held low.

Univeil holds five performances a year. In the first one, the Newcomer's Performance, first-year students are required to take the stage as leads. In less than two months of prep time, he would be standing on the Univeil stage- the very same stage that once enraptured him from the audience.

“I’m not gonna lose to something like this!” Suzu screams while forcibly extending his drooped body.

“Wha-!?” Someone meets his shout with a surprised gasp.

“Hmm? That voice…” He bends down over the railing, leaning down to take a look at the person gazing up towards him. Their eyes collide.

“Yonaga! I thought it was you! Hey!”

“Hey, Suzu.” It’s another one of his fellow Quartz first-years. Soshiro Yonaga’s face softens as he looks up at Suzu. He is the type of person to face anything and everything with complete seriousness; his vivid imagination allows him to delve deeply into his creativity, but he often struggles with caring too much about trivial things. To Suzu, he's a classmate and a familiar face.

“Oh, are you by yourself, Suzu?” He asks as if looking for someone.

“If you’re looking for him, he’s not here.”

“Ah, I see. He wasn’t in the practice room, so I thought maybe he’d be out here with you.” The conversation continues without either of them ever specifying the name of the person in question, but they both know that they are thinking of the same person. He’s another Quartz first year with a delicate demeanor that’s the polar opposite of Suzu’s. He has the full potential to become a Jeanne. The three of them were often together as a trio.

Yonaga is his childhood friend who always seems to be worried about him no matter how busy things get. Unfortunately, Yonaga's attempts to help often end in him being helped instead which often upsets him. Suzu, on the other hand, sees this person as a partner in crime who always encourages him when they're paired up together as Jack and Jeanne. Even the dance Suzu did just moments ago was meant to be performed with another person at his side. More than anything, it's a friendship where they can inspire each other to improve. After thinking about Yonaga’s words for a moment, Suzu remembers something.

“Oh, right! He went to the music room.”             “He did?” Yonaga asks, subtly pressing for more details.

“Yeah, for singing practice! Man, he’s incredible…no way I could hit notes that high! He’s different even from the other Jeannes!”

“Uhh, y-yeah…” Praise for his childhood friend seems to make Yonaga uncomfortable.

“How’s it going on your end? With practice and stuff?” Upon hearing the conversation be redirected towards himself, Yonaga’s head suddenly droops like a wilted flower.

“Otori… was saying a bunch of things again today.” “What? You too!?” “Huh? He talked to you as well, Suzu?” Otori is yet another young man who shares both their year and class. He is one of Quartz’s top students, but during rehearsal, he is as critical and irritable as he is handsome.

“Man, he sure is sharp…”

“The things he says are definitely accurate, but he always says them so harshly…” Yonaga seems to take Otori’s criticisms far too seriously for his own good.

“Don’t worry too much about it, man! Just think about how good it will feel to prove him wrong! You’ve got this!” Upon hearing Suzu’s encouraging words, Yonaga lifts his head.

“You’re right. I’ll go practice too.”

“Alright!” Suzu exclaims with energy as he watches Yonaga walk away with fresh determination, finally able to return to his solo practice after the change of pace. Batteries recharged and full of newfound energy, he decides to take in one last glance at the rooftop view before heading back to the dance room.

“Hmm?” Suzu narrows his eyes at another student making his way to the dorm. There’s no mistaking it-- it’s the friend that he and Yonaga were referring to earlier. But he isn't alone; standing off to the side is a tall boy donning the same uniform. It’s none other than his nemesis, Otori, who upon noticing his friend, quickly starts walking in that direction. Suzu has a bad feeling about this.

“That jerk…” With a strong push off the railing, he leaves the rooftop and flies down the stairs towards the dorm. His friend, walking while deep in thought, has yet to notice Otori, who is just a few steps away from closing the distance between them. “Heeey!” Suzu’s loud, booming voice hits his friend’s ears and snaps them back to attention. Their eyes meet.

“I was hoping we could practice together!” He quickly blurts out. The other student’s eyes go wide as he senses something is amiss.

“Sure, okay.” Without looking back, Suzu’s friend quickly runs off towards him while Otori furrows his brows with a harrumph. He was definitely planning to throw around the same heartless words he had aimed towards Suzu and Yonaga, and glares at Suzu in frustration over having his plans thwarted. Suzu only responds with a laugh as he and his friend make their way back to the roof.

“Ah, so that’s why you looked so nervous!” After hearing Suzu explain himself, his friend quickly understands the situation and thanks him.

“Having a rivalry with a classmate is one thing, but… this is more like straight-up harassment, don’t you think!? We’re all working on the same performance, so what’s the point of getting in everyone else’s way? We should all just do our best, you know? Suzu lets out a sigh as his friend nods and approaches closer. After hearing his kind voice, all the previous anger feels silly now.

”I did mean it when I said I wanted to practice, though! Do you wanna?”

“Sure, let’s do it.”  

Up on the roof, their two silhouettes begin to dance. The dance that was so unsure before begins to burst full of energy between the two of them. In the back of Suzu’s mind, he recalls the image of the Jack Ace dancing on stage with the charming Al Jeanne. 

“I knew we could do this!”

Hearing Suzu’s brimming happiness, his friend laughs and wipes the sweat off his forehead. Suzu laughs back. There's a pounding in his chest like he's never felt before.

#jack jeanne #jackjeanne #suzu orimaki #otome #otome game #translation #i'm sorry i'm late suzu ily #precious genki boy

[gnarlystarships]

@taznovembercelebration I got the card "playlist"!

I put entirely too much time and effort into this and probably could spend days more on it but I have to force myself to just release it now LOL. Thank you so much @ghostslazy for letting me use your picture for the icon! I am not brave enough to make a picture of my own yet lol.

The playlist is meant to be chronological to Barry and Lup's romance, so it starts happy, and then gets a little sad, and then gets happy again!

I explain my reasoning for the songs under the cut here, if anyone is interested!

1. I’m a Believer - The Monkees This is just the general realizing they’re falling in love song.

2. Words - F. R. David Their concert where they found it easier to “start the conversation” by playing music together

3. Something That I Want - Grace Potter Lup leading Barry away to finally actually talk

4. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash Just meant to represent their time being happy together during the stolen century! I originally had a lot of songs here but I whittled it down to this one only lol.

5. The Way - Fastball This is meant to represent their lich ceremony. This was them officially deciding to be together forever no matter what. “It's always summer, they'll never get cold, they'll never get hungry, they'll never get old and gray” In any other circumstance a human and an elf falling in love would be a tragedy but they had so much time together and they decided to never let it end. This is the most important song on the playlist to me.

6. Somewhere Only We Know - Keane My first instinct was to place this earlier in the playlist, to be a part of “Hey Barry, do you want to go and talk somewhere?” but there is a melancholic tone to this song that just doesn’t fit with that. Particularly the end, when it says “This can’t be the end of everything.” I think this better fits Lup’s misery at the end of the stolen century when they distributed the grand relics. I think this is about more than just Lup and Barry, but about Lup’s love for the others in general and about her “Back soon.” note before disappearing.

7. Wildfires - Mariachi El Bronx This song encompasses many things. It’s about Barry and Taako desperately looking for Lup after she disappears. It’s about Lup getting herself killed and trapped. It’s about Barry having Taako kill him when their memories started to be erased. In general, it’s about the misery and drama that happened in that time period.

8. Could Never Be Heaven - Brand New Barry misery era lol

9. Dedicated To the One I Love - The Mamas & The Papas Lup trapped in the umbrastaff

10. Vanilla Twilight - Owl City Somewhat the same sentiment as the previous song, but I think more from Barry's POV as he tries to be productive in solving what Lucretia is doing, and wishing Lup was with him

11. Foxglove - Murder by Death Barry in the final stretch when we first met him in Here There Be Gerblins and while he haunted the THB throughout the campaign. I take the beginning of the song about burning to be when he couldn't quite remember what the passion he was feeling was while in his first human body that we met; and the end about the cool drink of water to be when his newest body being innoculated, and also him finally being reunited with Lup.

12. First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes The first feelings of relief with finally being reunited.

13. Past Lives - BØRNS Another song about being reunited, but I think with more passion and confidence than when Barry first became sort of cognizant and Lup recovered from being freed.

14. Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now - Starship They're back together now and they're fucking unstoppable! They're gonna save the world!

15. I Melt With You - Modern English Another song about saving the world together, but to be frank this is here to calm down the energy just a little bit from the previous song lmfao.

16. High On a Rocky Ledge - Moondog Sort of represents the bargaining with Kravitz. I’m not sure if my vision is understandable here but most important is that last line “If you've the yen to pluck, then pluck us both; for we who have lived as one wish to die as one.”

17. Forever in Blue Jeans - Neil Diamond Does this need an explanation? They’re together forever happily ever after. I think they did okay, forever in blue jeans, babe <3

Bonus notes:

The original playlist I had of just songs that generally remind me of Blupjeans has over 40 songs so it caused me great agony to narrow it down this much but I did my best. I saw that post recently about how a really solid playlist shouldn't be that long and took it to heart lol. But god it hurt everytime I deleted one for realsies

I removed various songs that were way off base for the general genres represented here and also ones that just did not match the vibe.

Anyways if you actually read all of that ummmmmmm. I love you. Blupjeans forever..........

#You guys have no idea how much effort I put into this stupid playlist 💀 #taz november celebration #taz #taz balance #ograt

[clumsiestgiantess]

Chapter 16 of the Other-world Universe. Girls kissing? More likely than you think. Girls having a hard time moving on in life after traumatic events? Even more likely then that.

All chapters linked here

(A little bit of spicy stuff in this one; just some more passionate kissing now that they’re together and all)

[The smallest sensations]

Unfortunately, I didn't get much sleep even with Erica off my shoulder.  I just couldn't.  Every time I got close to dozing off, I'd get a pang of fear that somehow she had been taken again.  Then I'd get up and double check the cliffside.  Erica was always there, but I still checked every time.  Sleep did get the better of me eventually, and I was out like a light.  However, the moment the sun shone over the horizon, I was woken by the rapidly brightening sky.  All in all, I probably got two or three hours of sleep if I combined all the little naps I managed to snatch between anxious surveillance.

As the new day dawned, I continued my watch over the ruins.  There wasn't a soul in sight.  I wasn’t sure wether to be sad or relieved about that.  Once my morning scouting duties were complete, I made myself breakfast with the new box.  A plate of freshly made waffles and still sizzling bacon appeared at my very thought of them.  Wow, I really could’ve had this the whole time.  A few minutes later, Erica awoke, no doubt aroused by the wafting smell of my conjured breakfast.

Sleepily, she wandered over to the cliffside next to me.  "Can I have some of that?  It smells delicious."  I nodded, using one box to create the food and another to shrink it.  Balancing the tiny plate on my fingertips, I handed it off to Erica.  "Mmm.  No offense, Alexis, but I think the box makes better food than you do."  I chuckled and finished off my first decent meal in the other-world.  "I would take that into offence, but I have to agree with you."  As she smiled up at me, I couldn't help but wonder what was running through her head.  Surely anyone from her world would call her insane for even so much as befriending me, and yet, she'd had the courage to try the first kiss.  I was still baffled by the fact that she would rather live out in the ruins with me than in the secret little town I'd discovered.

After breakfast, we dug through the remains of the mansion.  Erica insisted there wasn't anything left worth keeping, but I proved her wrong after digging up her old dresser.  Most of her clothes had been mangled in the collapsed walk-in closet.  However, there were a few older pieces still laying clean in the drawers.  "Finally!  I can wear my own clothes!" Erica cried as she yanked open the first drawer.  "Ok, I take back what I said.  Maybe there are some useful things in there."  She ducked behind one of the larger portions of the house that was still standing, and returned wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a graphic tee with a logo I didn't recognize.  It was probably some random brand from the other-world.  "Damn, I haven't worn this in forever," Erica noted, looking herself over.  "Probably because I stashed it in there," she gestured to the dresser.  

We spent hours sorting through the leftover junk in the mansion.  Now, Erica was convinced we'd find more useful items somewhere in the wreckage.  Of course, I helped her search through everything.  Most of the ruins were too big for Erica to lift herself, but with my help, she managed to get to every last inch of space.  

"Hey!  I found something else that isn't completely destroyed!" she called, "Come get this piece of wall off it, will you?"  I happily obliged, easily pushing the three inch long piece of debris out of the way.  "Oh, it's.. that."  Erica's voice fell as she recognized what she'd found.  The infinite money box sat in the midst of the ruins almost mockingly — a relic of the time before I recognized the awful backlash behind what I was doing.  We both glanced at each other simultaneously, briefly making eye contact before quickly turning away.  "I.. should get rid of it," I stated nervously, reaching for the small object.  Erica watched in silence as I picked it up and pocketed it.  

"You seemed so horrible back then," Erica said quietly, unmoving from the spot where she stood.  "I used to think you were some invisible being from another dimension, playing god with creatures beneath yourself, using me like a character in a game to interact with my world.  Seems silly, huh?" a bitter laugh escaped her lips.  "I really believed I'd never have control over my own body again."  

Erica shuddered, then turned to me.  Her stony expression softened when she saw how distraught I looked.  Silently, she motioned for me to come closer.  I timidly knelt in front of her, resting my chin on the lawn where Erica stood.  "You were not the first person to make me feel so helpless like that.  However," she added, stepping closer to me, "you were the first to apologize for it."

I stilled as Erica walked the final few inches between us.  She closed her eyes and leaned into me slightly; her forehead came to rest on my brow.  "Thank you," she whispered, "for letting me rely on you.  Stay with me, please. Y- You probably want to go home by now, but I’m not ready for you to leave yet."  My throat began to burn with oncoming tears, but I swallowed the feeling back.  Pulling away from her embrace the slightest bit, I delicately kissed her cheek.  Being so big, my lips covered half her face.  It was so enthralling yet so nerve-wracking at the same time.

"I wouldn't trade your company for the world, Erica,” I promised her, “I’m not going anywhere."  Her eyes fluttered open as she stepped back in shock, hand raising to touch the place where my lips brushed her skin.  She gave me a thankful smile and pulled a few of my fingers into a small hug.  I folded the rest around her, trying to reciprocate it the best I could.

After a brief moment, Erica let go of me and moved away slightly to wipe her misty eyes on the back of her hand.  Once she’d composed herself, she nodded at the pile of various items we’d pulled from the ruined mansion.  “I’ll finish sorting this out, but once I’m done I’d like to practice balancing myself on your shoulder.”  Before I could utter one syllable towards talking her out of it, Erica held a hand up to silence me.  “Don’t ruin the mood,” she said with an air of authority, “Last night you promised me I could try it again.  How am I going to get better if I don’t practice?”  

I sighed; with Erica staying with me, her demeanor became fearless.  A little too fearless for her own good.  Now that I’d vowed to protect her, she’d been a lot less concerned with protecting herself — leaving that job for me.  On the one hand, it was gratifying to see Erica so unbothered for a change.  She needed time to de-stress and do whatever she wanted after so long being unable to.  On the other hand, it was tiring and slightly stressful for me to take care of both of us.  Then again, I was used to taking care of her.

In the mess that was once the mansion, we'd managed to find a few more outfits Erica had stashed away, as well as various other household items, though most were useless without electricity.  Erica's phone had long since been taken from her, but, much to her annoyance, her phone charger was found completely intact.  She was far too distracted by the promise of a ride on my shoulder to bother with many of her newfound items, however.  Soon, she stood close to the cliff's edge, waiting expectantly for me to give her my hand.  I was hesitant, but eventually I let it rest on the lawn so Erica could climb on.  "Hold on tighter this time, alright?" I asked as I lifted her up to my shoulder, "I don't want you to fall over backwards like you did yesterday."  "I know, I will," Erica responded absentmindedly as she settled into a good position.

I started by walking slowly over the empty suburbs, then swapped into a more normal gait after Erica practically begged me to go faster.  It took a day or two of walking aimlessly through the other-world with Erica before she could properly balance herself without a single mistake.  Unfortunately, her record didn’t remain spotless for very long.  

On our last day of training, Erica fell forwards by leaning too far out after I'd pointed to something in the distance.  Thankfully I'd managed to save her from falling very far.  However, I reflexively pinned her to my chest in order to catch her.  I held her there for a heartstopping moment, my brain still processing the fact that she hadn't actually fallen very far, until I felt Erica squirm under my grasp.  Carefully, I released my grip and let her fall into my open palm.  Her face was flushed as she sat stunned for a moment.  "Yeah, that's what happens when you don't pay attention to what you're doing," I commented, thinking her nearly deadly mistake must have been the reason she'd froze.  

Slowly, Erica lifted a hand and placed it back onto my chest, eyes widening with amazement.  Suddenly, I doubted she'd even cared that she'd fallen.  "Your heart's beating really fast.  I can feel it; it..  sounds.. nice," she added awkwardly, drawing back slightly in my hand.  Clearing her throat, she waved a hand nonchalantly and gestured to the cliff where we'd set our camp.  "I'm ready to go back now.  I- I think that's enough practice for today."  I gave her a curious look, but nodded in agreement and headed towards camp.  

The strange tension dissipated shortly after we returned to the ruined mansion.  Erica and I started planning a return trip to the house with the generator so we could use the small bit of power to get laundry done.  I’d have to leave for a while to wash my own clothes, or at least change into something different, but Erica let me go, understanding — at least somewhat — that some things I just couldn’t do in her world.

After dinner, Erica sat near the cliffside, watching me do my nightly check for the scientists or survivors.  The moment I sat back down, she shifted closer to me.  Noticing how she drew herself closer, I turned so my head rested on the cliffside.  Erica glanced at me.  Recognizing my silent invitation, she stood up, walked over, and leaned against my cheek, happily stretching herself out over its soft surface.  We hadn’t bothered making a fire that night.  It was warmer than usual, and we didn’t really need the light, so I was the only heat source available.  I closed my eyes on the darkness, focusing on the small yet wonderfully overwhelming feeling of Erica’s form pressed lightly against mine.  She gasped, and my eyes flew open, heart racing.  My concern was thankfully cut short as I watched Erica point at the lawn behind me.

The grass was dotted with tiny lights that lazily drifted between one place to another.  You could never tell exactly where they went, though; their presence could only be noticed in second-long bursts of yellow light.  For someone as big as myself, they would be impossible to catch.  I instinctively reached out anyway, shifting on the rocky slope.  All the lights disappeared the moment I moved, my hand quickly diminishing the amount of space they had to roam.  It took a minute after I brought my hand back for them to reappear.  I sighed, “They’re always so.. enchanting, aren’t they?  When I was younger, I would sneak outside past my bedtime just to catch them.  I’d always release them the next day, of course, but that night I’d have a little sparkling jar beside my bed.  I would stare at it for hours.”

Erica sat up and scrutinized me curiously for a moment.  A small smile drifted onto her lips as she stepped out into the field.  I watched in lovestruck awe as she paced around in the dark, clasping her hands over the minuscule floating lights in the air.  Stepping back over to me, Erica offered me her cupped hands.

“I got you something.”  “What is it?” I asked, playing dumb.  Her smile grew wider, “Hold out your hand and find out.”  Smirking, I slid my hand beneath her arms, gently brushing them with the very tips of my fingers.  A small gasp echoed in the night, and I could feel Erica flinch at my touch before leaning into it.  She gently opened her hands, releasing two or three little fireflies to float around my palm for a moment before darting off into the sky.  I watched them go without sorrow, my gaze drifting back to the small woman in front of me, who, instead of watching the lights, had been watching me.

With a gentle touch, I eased her open hands into the palm of my own, nudging them between my fingers.  “Thank you,” I whispered gently, guiding her closer.  “I have something for you, too.”  Easing my head down beside Erica, I pressed my lips against her cheek, breathing in the distinct unmistakable scent of her.  She stood frozen for a moment, pulse pounding in her neck — thrumming against my lips like life.  Moments later, it softened, and she turned to me.  

Gently, Erica pressed her lips to the bottom of mine, but after what seemed like the briefest moment in existence, she pulled away.  “I- I don’t want to sound greedy, but can I have a bit more?  It’s so.. big.  But I can tell you’re holding back.”  “I don’t want to hurt you…” I mumbled.  Erica shook her head slightly, reaching for me.  “You won’t.”

I exhaled slightly, my breath ruffling her hair.  “It’ll cost you extra.”  Erica rolled her eyes, but they widened in an instant when I caught her chin on the side of my finger, tilting it up ever so slightly.  We locked eyes briefly, and I was shocked by the hope I saw in them.  She was so small, yet she wanted more of me.  I thought anything stronger would scare her off, but looking at her — she wanted it so badly.  Leaning down, my lips drifted over hers, leaving a slight gap between them that was immediately filled with the smallest sensations.

Erica groaned slightly as my tongue brushed against her lips.  She stepped closer, her body pressed against mine for the second time that night.  I just barely let my tongue slide into her mouth, scared that anything more would be too much for her.  Erica didn’t seem to mind; in fact, she opened it wider and pulled me close.   I could feel her tiny tongue slide over mine as we locked strangely together.  Erica exhaled as I leaned in and filled her mouth easily.

At last, I fell away from the cliff’s edge to take a proper breath, and Erica stumbled back, nearly falling over before quickly righting herself.  Her whole face was wet with saliva.  “That was..” she paused with a breathy laugh, wiping some of it away.  “That was a really good gift.  Mine kinda sucks in comparison.”  I shook my head, gently reaching out to caress her arm.  With a bit of my shirt, I carefully cleaned off her face.  That look of hopeful longing came over her again once I let her go.  Suddenly, her eyes lit up with an idea.  

Quickly dragging over her sleeping bag, Erica caught my receding fingers and held one to her chest, sliding into bed with it tucked close.  I inhaled softly at the feeling.  I could feel her shifting around beneath the covers, twining my finger between her arms and legs as her head came to rest on the top of it.  Snuggling the digit closely, Erica glanced up at me, searching for my reaction.  “I- I know it’s not normal, but I uhh.. don’t think anything between us will be.  Not that that’s a bad thing!” she added quickly.  “You can have your hand back if you want-”  I shook my head quickly, “Keep it.  At least until you fall asleep.”

Carefully keeping my hand steady, I curled up beside the edge of the cliff, sliding her little sleeping bag over until it was nearly pressed against me.  “I don’t care what we have, as long as we have it together,” I told her quietly.  “I’m so glad you confessed, though I know it was probably hard for you.  I don’t think I ever would’ve said anything if it weren’t for that.”  “Why?  Were you scared of me?”  I laughed slightly and she frowned.  “Don’t take that the wrong way, but it was the opposite; I was worried you would be afraid of me.  I didn’t want to end up forcing you into something you weren’t ready for or didn’t want… again.  I do love you, Erica.  I never want you to feel helpless against me.  Not ever.”  My voice steadily grew out of a whisper, rising with meaning.  “If you ever feel like that, tell me, ok?  I’ll stop whatever I’m doing.  I promise.”

Erica jumped out of bed so suddenly she startled me.  I barely had time to react before she ran up to me, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt and pulling herself close — her face buried in its fabric.  “Thank you,” she said so softly I could barely hear her, “God, it’s nice to have someone I can trust again.”  Cautiously and gently, I hoisted her up into my hand, pressing the backs of her legs ever so slightly to get her to sit down.  

Turning over, I settled in with her tucked to my chest.  I felt Erica sigh and stretch, readjusting herself so she was curled up in my cupped fingers.  At once she seemed so much smaller and fragile.  No, not fragile, delicate maybe?  With my fingers pressed warmly around her, I could feel her chest slowly pulsing with miniscule rhythms — the rise and fall of her lungs and breath, the steady rhythmic beat of her heart thrumming so close to mine.  I could even feel the tiny twitches of her moving just slightly, getting comfortable in my soft grasp.

There were so many nights where I dreamed of this.  So many nights I spent wondering what it would be like if she loved me as deeply as I loved her.  With her resting comfortably against me, I finally got to feel what that was like.  And I didn’t doubt for a second that she was playing along just to keep me happy.  She wanted to be as close to me as I wanted to be close to her.  My heart stung, but not from longing.  I wasn’t sure what it was, but it filled me up warmly until I was grinning from ear to ear.

After a moment, Erica stifled a laugh.  “You look so happy for once,” she told me, straightening out until she was laying down.  “I am happy.  Are you?”  Erica nodded enthusiastically, “Never been happier.  You think we can make things work this time?  I’m feeling really good about all this, which.. isn’t actually normal for me.”  A soft throb eased away the stinging of my heart, replacing it with something tender.  I lifted her up to kiss her, but she stopped me, holding my face at an arm’s distance.  “Just.. stay like this,” Erica told me, resting her body on my lips.  She whispered something even softer that I couldn’t hear, eyelids sinking heavily.

I let her sit like that a long time, even after she’d fallen asleep.  Eventually, I guided her unconscious body back into my palm, thumb pressed gently in the space where my lips used to be.  Erica had been trusting me with her little unconscious self more and more lately — that alone was intimacy in itself.  I tucked her back in, making sure I moved her back away from the cliff’s edge before finally getting to bed myself.

Honestly, I don’t think I’d been happier in my life than I was over those few days after we learned we loved one another.  Apparently, Erica felt the same way I did.  The moment I got up, even before I could say or do a single thing but lean over the cliffside, she leapt up and hugged one of my fingers snugly to herself.  “Oh!  Erica!  Good morning.”  “Good morning, Alexis.  I.. missed you last night.”  Oh.  It’s one of those again.  

While we hung around the cliff as she recuperated from her time in the city, Erica had gotten into the habit of saying that phrase to me as her way of telling me she’d had one of those awful nightmare-memories.  It had started with her accidentally saying that phrase to me the first time.  After a bit of confusion, she’d had to explain her whole dream to me to get me to understand.  Not wanting to go through that again, she stuck to simply telling me that, and I’d understand.

“Are you alright now?” I asked, gently sliding a few more fingers around her in a strange-looking hug.  “Yeah…  It’s.. something that won’t happen to me anymore.”  I lowered myself down until my chin rested on the ground beside her.  Erica stepped back just slightly to make room.  “I’m here, Erica.  And they’re long dead.  So will everyone who tries to hurt you like that.  I won’t let them.”  She smiled, eyes quickly glazing over with tears.  Her expression crumbled into an awful grimace as I brought my hand behind her and gently pulled her into it.  I watched with deep concern as she tried to tell me something, but couldn’t make it past the tears choking her throat.

With her head buried in the pad of my pointer finger, she let out a shaking breath.  “I just want it to be over,” Erica whimpered, “It’s been over a month of nothing but you treating me kindly, but I-  The nightmares haven’t stopped!  They- They’re further in between now, but never gone.  Just when I think I’ve gotten rid of them, bam!  One hits me just as I’m starting to feel better for once.”  I sat and listened to her, stretching my thumb up to rub delicately over her back as she spoke.  Honestly, I wasn’t sure her nightmares would ever have a definite end — certainly not anytime soon.  Though I’d been trying my hardest to ensure she felt safe again, the events were still horribly recent.  It had been a month or so since I’d found her.  That was all.

“That must be so frightening,” I mused, coaxing her to take her face out of my skin before I could accidentally hurt her.  “I- It is.”  “I’m sorry those memories keep coming back.  I don’t really know how to stop you from having them, but I do know how to keep you from making more of them.”  Erica took a few deep breaths, then smiled softly up at me.  “For that, I can never thank you enough.”

The rest of that day was spent drawing up plans on what to do next.  I didn’t have to worry about food with the new box, so Erica eagerly began brainstorming ways we could hide away and live together.  Despite wanting to be with her in every single one of her little fantasies, I began to get melancholy over the whole thing.  Was I permanently going to stay in the other-world?  I don’t want to, though.  I just want to stay with Erica.  Her world is becoming too messed up with the weird scientists.  What about the weird scientists?!  What can I do about them?  How do I keep them from destroying everything?

All these questions refused to leave my head even long after the conversation on what to do ended.  By that evening, my thoughts were so jumbled that I found myself longing for my own world.  There were still plenty of things for me to worry about there, too.  However, they were normal, non-apocalyptic and life-altering things.  One crucial part of me would still be missing, though — a tiny part who would grow into an utter mess if I left her behind.  There she was, laying in her sleeping bag with my finger tucked beside her.

Desperately, I wanted to fall asleep like that.  No, desperately I wanted to fall asleep like that.  I wanted to be beside her, not just a single finger.  But it couldn’t happen, so after a moment, I cautiously slid my hand away from her until I was freed from her grasp.  A wave of heartache stung my chest as I watched Erica frown subconsciously — her arms grasping the empty covers beside her.  For a while, everything was blissfully simple and perfect, but I knew it wouldn’t last.  I’d have to return to my own world eventually.  I’ve already been gone for over a month.  

#omg bonding time with the girls? #No way! #g/t #giant tiny #other-world universe

[jaxteller87]

love bug

Jax’s POV

The roar of motorcycles echoed off all the houses in the neighborhood as I pulled into the driveway. The rest of the gang continued, heading to the clubhouse with the gritty scent of motor oil lingering in the air. Generally, I would have joined them for a little mischief and a bit of whiskey, but I had other things on my mind, more important things. Tossing my cut onto the kitchen table, I noticed a playpen out of the corner of my eye. As I got closer to it, I saw a delicate pink bow and a note written on some pale yellow parchment paper. A while back, Opie and I had stumbled upon this old thing while cleaning out the shed, a definite relic from the past but with a new purpose, seeing as how we needed to make room for the newest addition to the Teller family.

“Cleaned this up and thought the Teller family could use it. Lots of love, Donna and Opie,” the note read.

I had to admit, it looked almost brand new. In fact, if I hadn’t seen it covered in dirt and cobwebs a few weeks ago, I’d probably think it was. I wasn’t sure whether or not Amber had seen it yet, but I felt the urge to find some cute little stuffed animals to throw in there anywhere. On the off chance she didn’t already catch a glimpse of the surprise, I could surely sweeten the deal and send her over the moon in a good way.

Amber’s POV

I ran my fingers over my stomach, acknowledging the thoughtful gesture from our best friends.

“This was so sweet of your aunt and uncle, Love Bug,” I said, rubbing my belly. The cute little cat and dog stuffies that Jax added looked just like two of our current fur babies, which really made my heart melt even more. The next day, before my shift, I wanted to swing over to Opie’s and visit Donna to express our thanks. I knew they would never take any money from us, so Jax had told me to slip it into their mailbox with a note from Clay stating it was a little extra for a run they had pulled a few weeks ago.

After a sluggish day at work, I set a course for home. With exhaustion dragging behind me, I barely made it to the couch before I felt my eyelids getting heavy. Even though it was a tough day, if I’d take a nap now, I’d just be up all night, likely getting into stuff and keeping Jax awake. So, instead of catching some shuteye on the sofa, I made it my point to complete a few chores around the house. Just as I started to fold laundry on the bed, I heard a car pull into the driveway. It was Donna, most likely stopping by to see how I was getting on with Jax running some late-night errands for the club.

“Hey, girl,” I greeted her, wearing a tired smile.

​“Hey!” She reared back for a moment, “Sweetie, don’t take this wrong way, but you look like shit.”

​“Well, nice to see you too,” I joked, welcoming her in.

​“Ah, you know I didn’t mean anything by it, but you really can’t keep pulling all these long shifts in your condition. You’re going to wear yourself too thin.”

​“I know; I don’t want Jax making all the money. I want to contribute financially too, plus I like to stay busy.” I wheeled myself toward the kitchen, “Especially when Jax is out doing club stuff.”

“I get that, it’s just—”

“Seriously, Don, I’m fine,” I opened the fridge and grabbed some juice. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, that’s okay. I just came by to check on you and Baby Teller,” she replied, settling at the table. “Did Jax say anything to you about Clay forgetting to pay the boys for the last run?”

​I knew she was hinting about the money in the mailbox, and I hoped I wasn’t too tired that I couldn’t keep up the act of playing dumb. “I think he mentioned it. I guess Bobby messed up the split, and they were just seeing it right.”

“Oh. Never knew Bobby to mess up when it came to money,” the look on her face wasn’t entirely clear whether or not she bought it or not, so I quickly kept the conversation moving.

“As for me, everything has been,” I found myself pausing, and I wasn’t sure why exactly, “good, actually.”

​She nodded, but I could feel her eyes on me as if they were pleading with me to dive a little deeper into my thoughts. “Alright,” she said in a long, condescending sort of way. “Can I take a look at the nursery so far?”

​“Of course!” I exclaimed, leading her back the hall.

As we walked into the freshly painted room, she had a surprised look, “Wow, Amber! This is beautiful!”

“Yeah, it’s coming along,” then the hormones hit me like a truck, and I burst into tears. “What if Jax doesn’t want this baby, and he leaves me?” I confessed, blurting it out and letting my vulnerability break through the fragile armor I tried to keep.

​“That’s the pregnancy talking if I ever heard it,” she put her arm around me and rubbed my shoulder.

“But, we conceived the baby, little Love Bug, while he was locked up, in front of two guards even, do you know how embarrassing—”

“Hey, stop that stuff right now. You know the SOA life is anything but glamorous. Just be glad that you and I lucked out and were able to tame our bad boys.” Donna, one of the few privy to the actual circumstances of my pregnancy, reassured me. “It could be worse…”

“Oh yeah? How?” I asked, wiping my nose across my sleeve.

“I don’t know. Like Tig could have been the father or something,” she playfully gagged.

“Yikes,” I thought about it for a minute and realized she was right, and I was most likely overreacting.

“Besides, after Love Bug is born, I’m certain Jax is going to shower you both with so much love that you’ll be the envy of every single mom in Charming.”

“You hear that, little girl? Aunt Donna knows your daddy is going to love you,” I whispered, my hand tenderly caressing the life inside me.

“Woah, hold up, you’re going to have a girl!?” Donna shrieked.

“Yup, found out yesterday. Gemma went with me,” I smiled through the tears that seemed to be a constant companion. Then, the emotions overwhelmed me once again, and I found myself with the waterworks pouring down my rosy cheeks. “Goodness, these damn hormones. I wish they would stop making me cry at the dumbest things. The other day, I cried because I forgot cereal at the store,” I confessed, trying to laugh through it all.

“Yeah, that’s the part of being pregnant I don’t miss,” Donna chuckled, “That and not being able to paint my toenails.”

“Fair point,” I chirped. It wasn’t even that funny, although very accurate, but her remark caused me to laugh like I just heard the funniest joke on the planet.

“But really, Amber, you don’t have anything to worry about. Jax is gonna love her and spoil her; love you and spoil you. I can see it now; she’s gonna have her daddy wrapped around her little finger,” Donna winked and wiggled her pinky in front of my face.

“Thank you for this,” I laughed, feeling the warmth of family support.

“Hey, anytime. That’s what family’s for,” Donna smiled.

A few months later, the hospital room filled with anticipation. I lay there, gazing at a family of orange butterflies outside the window—reminding me of the surreal and symbolic dance of life amid the chaos of childbirth.

“They haven’t left, have they?” Jax asked as he held our newborn daughter, Mary Lynn, in his arms.

“No, they haven’t,” I sighed softly, exhausted, watching the persistent fluttering.

“You want her back, Mom?” he said, flashing his pearly whites at me.

“Of course,” I smiled at him through my tired eyes and reached out for our little Love Bug. Jax carefully stood up from the seat and ever so slowly transferred our sleeping baby girl into my arms.

“Welcome to the family, Mary Lynn Teller,” I smiled, pressing a tender kiss to the top of our daughter’s head. At that moment, surrounded by the gritty echoes of the outlaw world we live in and the delicate dance of butterflies, the Teller family welcomed its newest member.

#jax teller fanfiction #jax teller fluff #jax x oc #jax teller x disabled reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller