#thank you to everyone who has come with me on this wild journey

[zyafics]

play fake | part ten

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a girlfriend in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content series, 18+, eventual smut, angst, jealousy, fake dating trope, ward cameron being a bad father, rafe and sarah rivalry — reader type hyper-independent, people pleaser, smart mouth, stands on business, mysterious past — rafe's characterization insecure, possessive + jealous person, asshole, mood swings

"You're starting to piss me off, Top."

Rafe's agitated. For the past couple hours, he's been in a back-and-forth with his father, talking about the prospects and future of Cameron Development. He hasn't heard anything bad about him, which is an improvement from their last meeting, but he hasn't heard anything good either. It's as if the moment Sarah came back to the picture, Ward Cameron forfeits all care regarding his eldest son.

He needs a break. But he hasn't been able to contact you. After Topper sent him a vaguely-urgent text to come over, Rafe arrives at the Thornton estate with better expectations.

"Me?" Topper gestures to himself, appalled by the declaration. "I'm trying to be a good friend here and help you out."

"By what? Lying?" Rafe snaps, getting a minor migraine due to the music blasting from the inside of the house. This, in combination to the smell of weed and alcohol wafting through the air, isn't helping his journey towards sobriety. "Was this some pathetic attempt to get me to your party?"

"I wasn't lying, I swear to you, man, I saw—"

His words were cut short by a powerful thump. It causes everyone in the room to turn and when Rafe follows, instead of discovering the source, he finds you.

His brows immediately draw together as he takes you in. Disbelief crowning his features. The look on your face is pure panic, as if you didn't expect to see him here. He wants to ask for the reason, the words on the tip of his tongue, but when his eyes finally drop to find a man's hand wrapped around your wrist—it finally registers that you are with someone.

What the fuck are you doing?

Rafe doesn't say anything at first. With a clear mind, he's taking everything in and processing. For once in his life, he doesn't jump to wild assumptions and stew in his own jealousy. He has you to thank for that.

Because Rafe trusts you. He doesn't believe this could be some romantic fluke you're trying to get with. It can't be. With a tilt of his head, almost indiscernible to the rest of the public, he seeks inquiry from you. Your lips part but no words came through.

The Kook beside you—who he recognizes as Garrison from the Island Club—pulls you towards the sitting lounge on the back porch, furnished with wicker sofas and chairs, and settles down at one of the unoccupied seats. You land on the soft cushion with a thud, facing forward, intentionally avoiding his gaze.

Rafe scoffs.

He steps away from his conversation with Topper, not needing to acknowledge the smug look on his best friend's face, before rounding the furniture to stand in front of your date.

"Move." Rafe commands, his voice low and rough, but held enough authority to make the Kook lift his head.

"There's a spot right there," Garrison points to the opposite chair, but Rafe doesn't entertain the suggestion.

"I didn't ask. I said move."

"No." Garrison grumbles stubbornly, leaning back against the backrest and placing a hand over your exposed thigh, a product of your short work attire. Rafe notices your muscles stiffening under the Kook's touch but you don't push him away as he expected you to.

His expression sharp, his anger rising. "If you don't fucking move—"

"Rafe." You murmur, grabbing his hand. He peels his eyes off of Garrison and settles on you, taking in your pleading features, your gentle expression. You're silently asking him to not make a scene, to not do something stupid, and normally, he wouldn't obey. But something about your acknowledgement calms him. "Just take the seat."

With his lips pressed together in a thin line, Rafe reluctantly listens and takes the chair adjacent to yours.

You relax, slightly, but Rafe can tell you're still on the edge. Your leg bounces incessantly against the hardwood floor of the patio deck and you refuse to look at him. Rafe, for the life of him, can't understand why.

But he settles that it's something else. You being here, without notifying him, is something else. It has to be. That's the only thing that makes sense and is keeping him rooted in his seat right now.

"Rafe," Kelce calls out, causing his head to reluctantly turn to his other friend. He holds a beer bottle in his hand and uses it to point at you. "Isn't that your girl?"

Rafe turns back, watching the way your breath hitches in your throat, eyes squeeze shut as if you were just caught. You swallow hard, but you don't answer.

So, he'll do it for you.

"Yeah—"

"It's complicated." You interrupt, meeting Kelce's gaze, but your words firmer than they've been the entire night. This causes Rafe's chest to constrict, him watching your profile and seeing the absolute look on your face. "We're just... trying not to put a label on it."

His jaw tightens, hands drawn into white-knuckled fists. The rest of the Kooks around the patio catch wind of this tension and Kelce lets out a low, depreciating whistle. "Yikes, man."

Now, Rafe doesn't know what to think anymore.

You turn back to Garrison, keeping your voice quiet, but there's an urgency behind your words. "What are we doing here again?"

Garrison abandons his hand on your thigh to throw a lazy arm around the backrest of your seat. "Heard they were gonna smoke," he explains with a flash of a smirk, aimed and targeted at Rafe. "I figure we could take a hit."

You instantly still. "Oh, I don't—"

"You haven't drank anything all night and you don't smoke either? Tell me you know how to have some fun, sweetheart." He teases, the volume of his voice louder than the intended audience. This catches a couple of nosy Kooks to spare a glance in your direction, judgment passing through their expressions, and you go rigid.

Rafe's three seconds away from grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Garrison, but something in him says to remain seated.

"I just haven't had it in a while." You assure with a nervous laugh, leaning forward to put some distance between you and the Kook.

But he doesn't catch the signal. Garrison grins and leans over—too fucking close—to whisper in your ear. Loud enough for Rafe to hear. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Rafe figures this is some dick-measuring contest between him and Garrison; that, after his order to the Kook, it bruised his ego and he's now getting back at Rafe by talking to his girl. By reminding him that you are with him, and not Rafe.

Normally, there's no woman that made him care enough about that type of bullshit, but with you, he fucking does.

Topper and the others settle down around the lounge and start passing around the blunt. They each take a hit and spread it around counterclockwise.

Despite the reluctance, you square your shoulders in preparation to participate. Your eyes follow the lit joint with precision, waiting, anxiously trying to pull your nerves together. When Rafe's nearby neighbor hands him the blunt, he puts it to his lips and inhales a sharp breath. Holding in.

Since you're next, you meet his gaze and extend out your hand.

But it didn't go as planned.

Rafe takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and pulls you close, sliding his hand up your cheek before capturing your lips on his. He expects to be met with resistance—especially with your little date sitting next to you—but you simply melt into his touch. He takes it as a cue to exhale, and the smoke enters into your system.

Taking a step further, Rafe grab your hips, hauling you onto his lap, away from the handsy Kook that has no fucking business touching what his. All of this done in one swift motion, without breaking the kiss.

Complicated.

He fucking hates that word.

When you finally pull away, you choke up with a cough, gasping for fresh air. Rafe doesn't bother to offer you the blunt, handing it off to the next person, while you try to recover against the sleeve of his shirt.

"Really?" You say quietly, feeling his hand rested firmly against your waist. He tips his head back, meeting your gaze, and a satisfied expression settles over his face.

"You shouldn't have been with him in the first place."

"All of this for a pretend act?"

He hates that you're referring to the relationship as fake. That it still means so little to you. He doesn't let it show that it ticks him off.

"At least someone will get the message."

You don't respond, especially when he's pointedly accusing you of something you can't deny. Rafe's expression is inquisitive, waiting for you to fill in the missing gaps, on why the fuck you're with Garrison at all, but you say nothing. Own up to nothing. You simply turn away, unable to meet his confrontation.

Rafe squeezes your hips. "Sweetheart," he says with a firm warning, and despite the word coming off as a caution, you soften at the nickname. The usage spoken by its rightful owner.

You can't believe you're swooning over his possession, but you blame it on the haziness from the kiss, or the marijuana entering your body after years of discontinued use. However, deep down, you know it's something else.

That maybe it's his word and he owns you completely.

"Can we talk later?" You mumble into his shoulders, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. "I'm getting dizzy."

Rafe scoffs, seeing this as a blatant attempt at avoiding the question, but you bury your face into the crook of his neck, almost as if you're seeking refuge in him. He couldn't force you to speak after that.

For the next hour, you remained seated on his lap. You once tried to move off but his grip around your waist was too firm to displace and you didn't bother to attempt again. It made Rafe proud. Like whatever drew you to Garrison in the first place has ceased to exist and you returned rightfully back in his arms.

This beam of pride wasn't helped by the fact that Garrison's been glaring at Rafe. But he had no strength nor power to do anything about it. Rafe scoffs. Fucking pussy.

In the middle of the smoke session, Rafe receives a call. He pulls out his phone from his pocket to see it's from his father. With a short glance in your direction, Rafe pulls you off his lap and you claim his seat while he steps out for a moment to take it.

When he returns, you’re gone.

"Where is she?" Rafe snaps at Topper, expecting one person to have seen you leave, but his best friend was preoccupied with a girl on his arm. When Rafe calls out to him again, with a sharper tone, the blond's gaze shifts to your empty seat, and shock overrides his features.

"Fuck, man, I–I don't know," Topper stammers apologetically, but it doesn't subdue the anger rising within Rafe. His fists bundled at his side, his teeth grinding against each other. It can't be a coincidence that Garrison also happens to be missing as well.

Rafe's pissed at his best friend for not being aware, especially when Topper brought him here in the first place. But he couldn't think about that right now. He had to find you.

"You're fucking useless," Rafe growls, before descending into the crowded house. The music is louder, pinching at his nerves, and the thongs of people aren't helping him narrow down his search. But he's a head taller than most and, with a quick scan of the crowd, he knew you wouldn't be here.

Where the fuck could you be?

He looks through the rooms instead, starting at the first floor. Each time he came across a vacant space, he grew more frustrated and upset. His knuckles ache from how hard he's been clenching down, and his adrenaline is spiking. He was going to lose it if he doesn't find you soon.

Because he has ideas, and he doesn't want to think of any of them.

When Rafe ascends to the second floor, it's much quieter. Emptier. Like you couldn't possibly be here. But when he kick-opens the third door, that's where he discovers you in a bedroom with the Kook, his back sprawled out over the mattress.

You're a few feet away from Garrison, ready to abandon him, when you flinch at the sudden sound of a door slamming into the wall. You freeze. Turning, with all the colors drained from your face, you expect to be caught—perhaps by a friend of the Kook or even the cops—only to find Rafe.

You don't know if that's any better.

Before you could even blink, Rafe grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, forcing a larger distance between you and the drunken Kook knocked out on the king-sized bed.

"Leave," Rafe demands, his tone eerily calm, like the sound of a volcano bubbling before it erupts.

Garrison winces, pressing the heel of his hand into the side of his temple as he drags himself into a sitting position. "God, could you just give me a minute—"

"Leave before I fucking kill you."

The Kook, even with the copious amount of alcohol and weed in his system, wasn't stupid enough to ignore the threat. He knew Rafe’s reputation. Scrambling to his feet, he rushes out of the door.

The air in the room stills, as if all the oxygen was sucked out and all that's left is you and Rafe. His grip around your wrist hasn't loosen, firm and tight—afraid you'll leave again—and when his gaze pulls away from the door and settles onto your face, you hold your breath.

"What are you doing?"

Panic rises as a bile in your throat, constricting your airflow. You can't explain to him what you just did; how shameful you feel because of it. Instead, you deflect.

"What are you doing?" You say, trying to project a stronger voice, to make it sound normal. To pretend everything's fine when it's falling apart. "You said you were done with parties."

He can't believe you're doing this right now.

"I am," he snaps, his breathing ragged as he takes you in. See if you did anything, if there's any signs, but he finds nothing. "Top called me because he saw you at his party and you never show up to these types of things. So, let me ask you again. What are you doing?"

You don't answer.

Rafe exhales sharply, exasperation floods his features while his paranoid runs free. He knew he was going to crush your hand if he held on, so he released you, taking a step back to control himself.

"You wanna hear what I think?" Rafe prompts, his voice low and drawn-out as he begins pacing back and forth, "I think you thought I wasn't gonna be here so it would be the perfect opportunity for you to fuck some other Kook."

That's exactly what you're afraid of.

You wrap your arms around yourself, hiding. "No."

"And you thought I wouldn't find out but you forgot this is my best friend's house."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breathing rapid, as your voice grows smaller. "That's not true."

He doesn't listen, his volume escalating in anger.

"And you're talking about all this breakup shit because you're ready to jump on the next fucking dick that can get you what you want."

You shake your head frantically, wanting desperately for him to believe you, but you had nothing to give. Nothing to shelter him and soothe his insecurities.

All you had was your heart.

But you tried. "No, that's not it—"

"Then where the fuck is your necklace?"

You stumble back, the last delivery was so sharp and vicious, it's as if he struck you.

Rafe's heaving, chest caving into itself. His eyes never strays from your face as he continues to pace across the room, waiting, expecting, wanting anything you can say to calm his spiraling state of mind.

You can't.

You know what this looks like. You know exactly what this looks like. This is why you didn't want Rafe to be here. Because, on top of what seems to be Rafe Cameron's Pogue girlfriend cheating on him with another Kook—you knew it would hurt him if he saw it himself.

But you had to.

You peer up at him with a heavy gaze, and Rafe interprets it as guilt. "I know what it looks like—"

He can't fucking believe this.

He can't stand here and listen to your excuses.

Rafe crosses the room to grab your face, with such abruptness, you flinch and drop the watch. It lands on the ground with a muffled thump and all of Rafe's concerns lowers when he follows the inconspicuous sound, finding the expensive timepiece on the ground beside your feet.

His conclusion draws slowly. "Are you... stealing?"

You don't answer, with widened eyes, you pull back from Rafe's grip and take a step back with a heavy breath. You glance down at the abandoned watch and you're about to recover it—but Rafe is too fast.

He picks it up with litheness and extends it far above your head. Impossible for you to reach.

His eyes on you but they soften considerably once he realizes you weren't cheating. You were being a thief.

His command is simple and resolute. "Talk to me."

Your breath is shaky. "It's fine."

"It's fine?" He repeats, disbelief dripping from his tone. "You just stole a eight-thousand dollars watch and you're telling me it's fine?"

He can't know. He simply can't.

Rafe sees the hesitation in your expression, your lack of response, and he can't believe it. After all the things the two of you have been through, he thought he had earned enough of your trust for you to explain why. Why you're stealing. Why you didn't tell him you needed money. Why it always has to come to this fucking point where he has to confront you and pry the measliest piece of information out of you.

You don't trust him.

And it rips at his chest.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. Disappointment and regret all colliding at once. "You know what, sweetheart? For someone who demands me to talk to them all the fucking time, you sure are a hypocrite for not doing the same."

Your eyes soften. You don't attempt to contest his statement because he's right. He's absolutely right and it stings because you do trust him and you do need him—you just don't let him in.

It's worse.

"You're right." You start deliberately, feeling tears well up in your eyes but refusing to let them fall. You inhale a sharp breath, steadying your voice. "I am a hypocrite."

Rafe didn't expect you to agree so easily. It almost sounds like defeat. He doesn't know which direction this conversation is heading, but he knows he doesn't like it. He recognizes that immediately.

With his guards up, he watches you.

"I..." You stammer to find the words, your emotions overwhelming you. But you don't cry. You can't. "It's not fair to you."

Everything in his head is raising alarm bells. Something about your words makes him panic. The way your voice quavers at the delivery, the fact you're looking to the floor. You don't even seem to care about the watch anymore.

Rafe says your name.

"I think we—"

"Don't fucking say it."

"—I think we might need a break."

"No." Rafe refuses, shaking his head as his arm lowers to his side.

"Rafe, listen, I—"

"I heard what you said," he snaps, his voice raw, and you hear his own emotions lodged thickly in his throat. "I don't accept it. I don't agree. I don't..." He's stumbling to find his own words. To find his own meaning.

I don't want to lose you.

You sigh, dejected. "Rafe."

"No." He turns back to you. His blue eyes are sharp but glossy, as if he's on his own verge of tears. "All you have to do is tell me why and we can move past this. I can understand. I swear."

He's desperate. He's begging you; because if you're leaving him just for this, just because he discovers this, he'd rather you have fucked the Kook than put him in this misery. At least with that he can be angry.

But all he feels is pain.

"Just talk to me."

You exhale deeply, simply shaking your head. "I can't. It's my problem."

"Make it my problem, then."

For some reason, there's a bloom of hope. That maybe he wants you more than what he's told you. So, you try. You try this one time.

"Why, Rafe?" You ask softly. "Why do you care so much?"

Rafe looks at you, searching your face, and while he wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he can't seem to put down his pride. The idea of being vulnerable. You've done nothing but demonstrate to him that he means very little to you, that you barely let him in, and if he says it first, it means he'll get rejected first.

He can't handle that.

So he takes the easy route.

"Because we're fucking."

Your heart breaks even more.

You swallow hard. You promise yourself you wouldn't be the one seeking it out first, especially in this relationship, but you try again. You try one last time. "Is that all?"

He can't look at you when he answers. "Yeah."

You press your lips together, nodding to his confirmation. You got what you asked for: the same fear you're afraid to discover. You're going to take his words at face value because what else is there to do?

"That's what I thought."

It's too painful. To continue to stay in this room with him, after he made his feelings known. After you recognize how absolutely fucked you are regarding your own. You need to leave.

You don't say anything else as you move past him, taking the watch from his loosened grip on the way out. You stop at the doorway, staring at his broad back, hoping, silently pleading, he would turn around and change his mind and confess his feelings right there, but he doesn't.

Because he's Rafe Cameron.

And he simply doesn't have any for you.

You exit out of the door and close it behind you, needing that extra barrier of space. When you descend down the grand staircase, you hear a muffled fuck! so loud, it shakes the entire mansion. 

But you don't look back.

You just leave.

—

Once you park in the driveway, you stay in the car for the next few minutes. You just needed some time to yourself. To readjust. To figure things out.

You honestly don't know how you made it home. Your mind was on full auto-pilot the moment you stepped out of the Thornton estate, and you can't remember driving down the narrowed roads, stopping at the traffic lights. You're just here.

You know your next step should be to go inside and get some rest. You need it to wake up early tomorrow and go to a local pawn shop to trade the timepiece for cash. Even as you're dealing with the emotional fallout of you and Rafe's argument, you didn't have the time to delve into the specifics of your heart.

You need to remain focused. To stay on track. Remind yourself that you've successfully stolen a watch from a Kook—whom you don't even know the name of—and prayed all the shots you fed him would be enough for him to forget. To wake up tomorrow with black-outed memories.

This is supposed to be a victory.

Why does it feel like a hollow one?

Your fingers clutch the stolen watch in your hands. Your nails scraping across the gold-plated case, the recognition of the brand behind the thick glass. Rafe's right. This alone could afford to pay off a payment to Aaron and he would leave you alone.

You exit from your beatdown car and make the short walk to the porch. The lights inside the house were off, probably because it's so late and your sisters are off to bed.

When you stop in front of your front door, all the hair on your neck stands. Something feels off. You take a step back, hearing the familiar creak in the floorboard of your wooden porch you always avoid. That calms you down for a second. That perhaps you're overthinking it because of the fight.

You pull the keys out of your bag, and you're about to slip it through the lock, when you realize something.

The door is cracked open.

It's a small gap, almost undetectable by a passing glance, but it was enough to disengage the locks and grant full access to your house.

Your heart starts to race once you realize something is wrong and your intuition was correct. You replace the keys inside your bag, your shoulders squared and your stance on defense, before you shove the door open.

And what it reveals is a complete mess.

Furniture is flipped all over the place, broken glass scattered across the carpeted floor. The bookshelves attached to the walls have been ripped off, their decors and old books thrown all around. The screen on the TV has been kicked in, cushions have been ripped apart with fluff all over the ground, and the kitchen cabinet doors have been torn off their hinges with shattered plates.

All you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing while you take in your surroundings, blood coursing through your eardrums. It's all on you.

Before you hear a muffled wailing.

Realization dawns on you.

Your sisters.

You drop everything and run to the source, approaching their bedroom and nearly tripping over your discarded belongings in the middle of the narrowed hallway. Once you reach the room, you kick-open the door.

There you find Amara, standing in the middle of her equally-destroyed room, in absolute tears.

But Leilani is nowhere in sight.

Your panic skyrockets.

"Where's Leila?" You ask your weeping sister, her fragile voice hitched with heavy hiccups and incoherent mumbles. "Where's your sister?"

You sink to your knees in front of her, cradling her soft cheeks, shaking as you brush away her tears. "Please, Mara. Talk to me. Where's Leila? What happened?"

She offers nothing more than the frantic shake of her head. Words unable to spill from her mouth. She can't talk. She can't even stop crying. She just experienced something traumatic and you're over here drilling her for answers.

No, this is your responsibility to bear.

Knowing you won't learn anything, you rise to your feet and rush out the bedroom door, screaming out your sister's name. "Leila! Leilani! Where are you?!"

No answer. The only sound is the low hums of the broken air conditioner, and you go into your room to search. You find a similar mess: drawers pulled out, clothes all over the floor, the mattress on your bed flipped over, but nothing of the twelve-year-old girl.

Your heart is pounding viciously against your heart, so hard, you think it's going to burst. Your hands are growing clammy. Your breathing unstable.

But you can't think about that.

You check in the bathroom, the closet, any places she could be hiding and coming out completely empty. It's almost as if she disappeared.

What the fuck do you do?

It doesn't take a genius to know this is Aaron's doing. His warning. That it's nearing the end of the third day and you still haven't gotten him his money. This is him trying to scare you.

And it's working.

You can't help but think of the worst possible scenarios. Leilani is the most like you. She's growing into her own person but she mimics most of your behavior. She's cautious, and full of wonder, but she talks back without turns and she has this bleeding sense of justice you never want her to lose.

But you're afraid that same attitude you love about her is what got her into trouble. That Aaron might've caught her smart mouth and taken her as retribution.

You can't help but descend down this spiraling theory. Your breathing grows ragged and shallow, like the air is sucked from your lungs, and you swallow hard—but something hard is lodged at your throat.

You can't breathe.

You can't breathe.

You can't fucking breathe.

You run out to the living room, holding onto the walls as crutches and you fall to your knees in front of your bag, searching for your phone. Tears pricking your eyes, blurring your vision, and your fingers tremble as they attempt to type the passcode. You got it wrong twice before being granted access.

What do you do now?

Your first instinct is to call your parents, to dial up the memorized digits of your mother's and seek their help. But you can't.

Because they're dead.

You're heaving with this daunting reality that you have no one. That you can't help no one. And it's absolutely shattering.

Your heart is hurting; throbbing against the side of your skull. You hear Amara's constant sobs between the walls, echoing through the empty house, and your heart is clutched with this indescribable pain from missing Leilani—like you had a limb ripped off your body.

You can't help her. You can't even help Amara.

You can't help anyone.

"Fuck," you swear under your breath, brushing away the blurring tears in your eyes. Exhaustion bleeds through you but you’re still trying to figure this out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

You think you're going to lose it. You're going to breakdown right then and there, in the middle of your disgusting living room, cradling your phone, wishing you still had your parents. It's a rock bottom you didn't expect to have.

But then, you hear the familiar sound of a creaky floorboard.

And you raise your head.

Just to see Leilani with Rafe.

"Leila?" You breathe out, immediately standing on your wobbly knees as you rush to your little sister and cradle her face in your hands, trying to find something tangible to hold onto, before letting out the largest sigh of relief.

She's okay.

Other than a small cut on her forehead, she looks to be in perfect health. She's here, in your hands, alive, and not taken hostage. That's honestly all you could have asked for.

But something in her expression boosts an edge of concern. Not for herself, but for you. You hate the look in her eyes, as if the roles were reversed and she had to be taking care of you.

You refuse to crack. You have to remain strong. For them.

Pulling back, you finally turn to acknowledge Rafe. He stands beside your sister, silently observing this entire interaction, saying nothing, offering nothing.

You don't know how they ended up together, or why, but you were glad she was safe. That she was with him.

And honestly, you're glad he's here.

You don't say anything, staring up to him with this timid, hopeless look, and his heart fucking shatters. He's never seen you like this before, so vulnerable, so scared, so afraid of yourself. It's like he's meeting a version of you he didn't know existed.

And it absolutely kills him.

"Baby..." Rafe says with such tenderness, with such care, as if you didn't have the worst fight of your life an hour prior. As if you didn't have your own heart broken by the same man. For some reason, this offer of gentleness is the very proof that you've been broken.

So you break.

And fall right into his arms.

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[nebuladreamz]

Birthday time :D

I doodled this on the 18th, figured it’d be nice to save for today.

This past year has been the most wildest year of my life. To everyone I’ve come to known, old and new.

You mean the fucking world to me. Here’s for an even better rest of our year, together.

@f0rtunesfuture @amberluvsbugs @garbagechocolate @darkxsoulzyx @kandidandi @just-a-drawing-bean @cacaocheri @bunmuffin @sleepykas @xitsensunmoon @justaduckarts @skizabaa @starsketchez @fernzwing @smoljeanius @ilsole @tuzesdays @magicclownjuice @ohno-the-sun

(If I haven’t tagged you there is a Very(tm) high chance I am either unsure if you’d want to be tagged or too much of a coward to do it anyways but that does not mean you’d mean less <3)

#nebula art and doodles #i was gonna digitalize this but i thought it’d be funny if it wasnt #thank you to everyone who has come with me on this wild journey #only about 7-8 months since i first joined the dca fandom #since i joined ao3 and tumblr #and ever since then i have made some fucking incredible friends #i am so goddamn thankful to every single one of you fuckers /aff #for every goofy bit #every silly question i get #every ounce of serotonin ive gotten for people enjoying my things #you’ve all made my day just a little bit better for everytime i see someone like the things i create #to all my followers #to all my mutuals #to all my friends #thank you for making my life better #thank you for everything #i know for a lot of my moots i dont interact or talk to you #but do know i see you #and i appreciate you for sticking around #feeling sentimental as fuck thumbs up #anyways the fact that i share a birthday with sonic the fucking hedgehog sure is something #gotta go fast i guess

[f-t-e]

I started watching SUPERNATURAL in November 2020. I know, I know. My partner and I had been isolating alone since March. The timing felt right. I went though a wild amount of upheaval and trauma over the next year and SPN was there for me through it all. It was THE show at THE time and it kept me afloat when I needed it the most. Since November 2021 I've written just about 110,000 words of SPN fanfic, a number that seems unbelievable to me, and that too has been a real blessing to my creative life, no matter what haters say. (why didn't I write my own novels in that time? Because I have a hobby, Karen, and I love it.) And I've read about 500000x that much fanfic, which has been the biggest blessing of all. (ETA: oh right, if you want to read my fic, you can find my stuff here, I wrote a fic where Dean reads books. Lots of books.)

I know I'm a nobody in this fandom but I thought on this, our #DestielDay, I would submit my own humble rec list. I've curated this very deliberately: every fic here has just about 4000 hits or less (most under 3000) and all were published in 2020 or after. So, sort of a rec list for some lesser known and newer fics, something you maybe haven't stumbled on yet. Especially thank you to @jewishcharliebradbury, her rec lists gave me a place to start back in the day and I have tried to model the depth and quality they brought to their lists. I tried to link to everyone's tumblr, but if I missed one, let me know.

Most of all, thank you to everyone who has EVER created something for this fandom, from 2005 to 2023. I am so thankful and, honestly, honored to be among your number. You're not supposed to be cringe and say a show saved your life...but SUPERNATURAL saved me, it really did. See y'all when the movie/reboot drops, to quote Ryan Gosling in The Notebook: IT WASN'T OVER, IT STILL ISN'T OVER. And I'm glad.

-----

Finale Fix-It & S15 and Beyond

What The Moon Was Saying by Amiril (@runawaymarbles)

This is hands-down one of the coolest “Dean Rescues Cas from the Empty” fics I have ever read and the concept is brilliantly structured to mirror the literal and metaphorical things Dean needs to give up and let go to get free. Every scenario is very satisfying and they make sense, is there any better feeling? Dean is very open in this, but in a believable way that still has edges. And, oh, the reunion is so good. Plus all the family stuff. Just excellent, exactly what you want in a fic like this: lovely, well-written, smart, fulfilling, all the pieces clicking, the show but better.

Awake and Annoying by skycruise

I love the use and passage of time in this one, it has some real impact, and I love the way Dean gets into the Empty (so smart, fits just right) and what I REALLY love in this one is the way it lets Dean be really clear-eyed and honest about his relationship with Sam, both the strengths and the weaknesses. And the last line, very clever and moving inverse of one of fandom’s favorite things. 

Living the life you chose by allthismusic

THEEEEE post finale Sam Winchester-Outsider-POV this fandom needs. Sam is absolutely awesome in this, the most believable, loving, realistic mix of “I knew all along” and “I had no idea” versions of Sam, landing somewhere I think that’s really true and in character. It fills in and develops so many gaps and silences in what the show let Sam know in the absolute best way. Best Brother Sam is a weakness of mine and he really shines here, there for Dean in the best ways but also coming into his own, I love it so very much. (this author also has a very great 2022 Big Bang fic, hugely recommend that one too.)

your ear to the wound that whispers by EmandFandems (@lazarusemma)

Who doesn’t love a HANDPRINT FIC?!? And boy this is such a good one. It follows Dean and his thoughts on the handprint from the first touch all the way to fixing the finale and it simply buzzes with longing and desire, tenderness and rawness. It’s great insight in lot of ways into Dean’s journey. It’s short but fulfilling and oh that very perfect last line. (this author also has a lot of great Jupernatural content.)  

Somewhere Off in the Dark by magickastiel 

Another awesome fic that traces Dean’s shifting/growing feelings for Cas from when he shows up in his hotel rooms to a HEA fix it after canon. Dean, again, is handled so deftly in this one, his confusion and sorrow at all the times Cas is slipping away from him all the way through the things he won’t let himself know. He feels really true in this one, sharp and tender in the best Dean ways. Also it has an agonizingly romantic end, you love to end up there.

Pins and Feathers by theskywasblue (@buttherewasnogod)

This author has so many freaking good SPN fics, omg it was almost impossible to pick just one to include on this list. Go treat yourself with their entire list because there’s so much good stuff there! But this one, oh I am a sucker for a finale fix-it that lets Dean be this tender. While I LOVE fics where he just jumps right into Cas’s arms (and write them lol) I also feel like this is so true to Dean too: that “maybe I misunderstood, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, maybe he doesn’t still –” And on top of all that, it’s a “they go the beach” fic and it gets the details of it so right, sand in your toes and all. Tender, amazing slow-burn, real, hot, full of heart and longing and everything unspoken and just waiting. Very satisfying!

i loved you first by kalmialatifolia

A set of four short fics that create an entire world of feeling and emotion. These feel like little whispered stories told under the covers, very atmospheric. There’s one very sexy one, a haircutting one (so good) and they’re just intimate. All together a great set and did I mention they’re in the “Cas saves himself” genre which is mmmm an underrated treasure.

no other faith is light enough for this place by anonymous 

A fix-it fic that has a particularly unique and beautiful visual of both how and why Cas comes back. The mechanics behind it are fairly standard but the way this author creates the visual of it, the sheer emotion and force behind it and how it happens, it really stood out to me and stuck with me. It’s Dean being brave enough to really feel and the way that just blossoms – lovely, aching, full-tilt wonderful.

 no proof, one touch by TakeThisWaltz (@watchinghimrakeleaves)

One thing I absolutely cannot get enough of is fic where Cas is hiding out from Dean in heaven. It just hits. And the only thing better is Dean chasing him down and the WAY he does it in this fic, methodically and – well the method (sobs) it is so endearing and OBVIOUS and gives Dean a chance to shout in all the best ways. This one is just real sweet and kind of goofy and if they have to be in heaven, I want them to still be these same two dorks.

Stay by redbrickrose

This is a post S15x18 from Cas’s POV and I think it’s very true to where he would be in the moment of getting yanked out of the Empty: resigned, hesitant about what he has in front of him, still a little in shock. And then. And then. Sweet and simple and Dean gets a chance to say, say, say it. This author has a good post series AU and a lovely little spate of S15 codas, all good. And then wrote this in real-time in the week after 15x18 Despair and right before 15x19 Inherit the Earth aired (could you just sob over the possibilities?!) and then hasn’t wrote anything since and that’s a shame but, like, yeah I get it.

like a one-two punch by Muir_Wolf (@muirmarie)

Don’t you love a short fic that feels like it’s a whole novel? This goes AU after 14x20 Moriah but it is a truly delightful twist on how Chuck could’ve reacted there and it makes Dean sharp as a knife, which is one really resonant image woven through this fic. Great imagery here and so many clever solutions for the lazy plotting of S15, including simply one of my all-time favorites in any fic ever solutions to Cas’s deal (genius) and getting rid of Chuck. Brilliant like a puzzle box yet still full of so much fucking joy.

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes)

The fact that this was written in October 2023 and is so agonizingly good fills my heart with joy and tells me Destiel will never die lol. Cas, in particular, is great in this – he’s having a hard time adjusting to being in a body and with all the fuzz of the world. I love fics where Cas struggles with coming back from the Empty and this uses a really unique approach to it: Cas facing sensory overload and not knowing how to feel but wanting it all. Lovely, hot, Dean is just right in this too.

Earlier Canon (pre S15)

Proverbs 13:12 by starlingcas (@angelcasendgame)

Many might say I am biased because Renu has beta’ed everything I have written in the SPN fandom and they can read my brain and make everything I write better. But it’s not just that. Renu has done something beautiful and delicate in this fic, which is about Dean and Cas getting trapped in a net together (forced proximity trope, yes please) and weaves a web of its own; pulling you in just as they are pulled together. This is set mostly in early S14 (before fixing the finale in the most heart-healing way) and captures that feeling so well. There’s so much that’s unsaid between them yet still conveyed and Renu absolutely nails that, along with the tender longing that was always there. This is a fic to relish.

you may tire of me (as our december sun is setting) by deludedfantasy

You know how the show just sometimes is like “uh so anyway uh then Cas…uh…left.” and it just doesn’t make one lick of sense? FINALLY FINALLY a fic where Dean says “I’ll go with you,” and then goes because he actually would do that. This is a post Tombstone fic so it is exactly where/when he WOULD go and it is tender and hesitant and aching in just all the ways it would be between the two of them at this time. It’s about needing to keep someone in sight, it’s about having another chance to say something so important, it’s slow and soft and just right for the characters in this place. I could read this one about 100 times.

the anatomy of flightless birds by cowlovely (@dollhousemary)

This fic is basically the way you feel when you get all cozy and snug underneath your favorite blanket. This is a domestic-life-in-the Bunker S9 fic where everyone behaves like they are in character and not just like they have to get Cas off screen because the writers panicked. You’ll just want to curl up in this fic and savor it the way you wrap your fingers around a hot beverage on a very cold day, there’s no better way to describe it.

virtue by JenTheSweetie

I think I’ve read this about 100 times and it still gets me everytime? It’s a five things fic about Dean and Cas hooking up and it’s all you’ve ever wished for. This is set in an amorphous S8 and it is not just agonizingly hot but also romantic and very funny. It feels really in character! Sam is hilarious, Dean is clueless but bowled over and letting himself be swept up, Cas is delighting in every second and smarter than he lets on and it ALL feels fated and lovely and sexy and just splendid. (this author only has 3 SPN fics but they are all so good and if you try sometimes, well you just might find is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of Dean learning the differences between “needing” and “wanting.”)

Romance at the Motel 6 by shelia_amour 

This fic makes me feel like Stefon from SNL. This fic has everything: Cas and Sam pretending to be married, just the right amount of jealous Dean, Dean randomly pretending to be married to Cas, Dean realizing maybe this isn’t so fake after all, motel vibes, Cas in Dean’s clothes, Cas getting bee slippers. If you are not sold on this already, we are very different people. So good, aches just right. (set in a kind of “whenever” of canon, but I like to put it somewhere in S8.)

que sera sera by Purple_Starflower (@hauntedpearl)

The epitome of how fanfic unfolds for us all the things that COULD happen. You can’t PROVE to me Dean and Cas never snuck off to snuggle and feed Dean’s touch-starvation early in S13. I had to check when I finished because I just couldn’t believe this fic was under 4000 words because it feels so full of touch, longing, the things unspoken, and all the ways Dean was reaching, reaching, reaching. The best kind of ache, and everything by this author is lovely. 

the hard edge that you’re settling for by lesspopped (@trekkiedean)

This is some S10 Demon!Dean that made my stomach hurt and my heart ache and I absolutely loved it and I absolutely hated it and it all felt so REAL with who Demon!Dean was and could have been. There’s a TW for mildly dubious consent in this, but to me, Cas was so agonizingly true to who he was/where he was at this point in canon too. This fic is gloriously, claustrophobically intimate. I say unbearable because as a reader you know that this closeness, this intimacy, is what Dean wants/craves/deserves but can only give himself as a demon and the author does an exquisite job at getting all that across. Hurts so good! 

four of swords by sundryvillians (eurythmix) (@perenial)

Can the world ever have enough post 12x12 fic? The answer is, of course, no. Dean and Cas bake bread and in the soft space of creating something with their own hands, get so close to the words Cas said. It’s about healing and anger and making something just because you are so tired of everything breaking. If that alone isn’t enough to convince you, let me also throw in this is another one of those “possible off-screen moments in canon” that gives them something honest and tender and raw and it feels so very possible. 

Fifteen Prayers From the Faithless by koyas_cat

Short, achy, that sweet sting. A set of prayers for Cas from the beginning to the end, full of all the things Dean doesn’t let himself say outloud and just reflecting the changes in their connection over alllll the years. So good.

#spn #spn fanfic #destiel fic #fic recs #destiel day #deancas fic recs #supernatural #destiel #happy anniversary #don't forget you're here forever

[potatounicoorn]

Käärijä's Helsinki live concert, mid-speeches translated

Okay as promised I will try to translate Käärijä's speeches of his concert. I am doing this as training for my English exam so I will make mistakes. Also Käärijä speaks in Finnish spoken language, and it has more slang than written language. So the translations are a polished versions of his speeches. Please correct me on my grammar mistakes! :D

---

"Good friends! Welcome to Käärijä's journey!

---

"Just like that. There is a lot of you. I heard some people have been waiting for a week in there. That requires skills. Thank you for that. Good lord give your self a big applause for this."

"Käärijä in Vantaa. From Vantaa. A sold-out Black box (the concert)."

"Nobody would have believed this. Not you, not me, no one. But accidents happen to everyone and now one happened to Käärijä.

"Amazing, let's continue."

(applause)

"Oh don't start yet, I'll take my jacket off. (A friends name?) take my jacket off."

"This leather is a bad choice for the outfit cause there are flames and everything. Leather against leather.

(The Finnish word for skin and leather is nahka so it's a fun play with words).

"A sip of water and we will continue."

"But one question! Did we come here to have fun? (Crowd cheers) Okay then we will continue."

---

"Thank you"

"Hey! Now there is this thing, and I am hoping that this friend who is coming here has drunk water. So that he won't go into the pyres, because today this one guy has a bachelor party."

(The guy in question appears, and Käärijä speaks to him. The guy wears a monkey suit)

"And I bet. And I bet you don't get any further. This will remain as a bachelor party. And you can start looking for a new friend, a new companion. I hope they are watching this."

"Hey! Here we have a monkey. And so am I."

"This job that we are doing here is really a job of a monkey. (With monkey they mean kinda silly or stupid). Glad to see someone else in this suit and next we have the song Kiertävä sirkus."

"You can go wild but don't go into the flames."

---

"Thank you! (Speaking to the monkey guy). I wish you nothing but the best and good luck."

"If everything went badly because of this, then you can move into my tiny apartment. You are always welcome."

"Okay take that monkey away."

(Speaking to the crowd again)

"It makes me glad. (He said "vetää hiljaiseksi" which means "pulls me silent", but idk how to translate that well)."

"People are wearing green and some people don't have clothes at all on them, but that is fine."

"So, have you been enjoying yourselves huh?"

(crowd cheers)

"Well yes. So I actually went to Eurovision, I don't know if anyone watched it, but-"

(cheering)

"Yes that was, that was like a basic gig in Nivala. Yeah we did that out of the way and- now we are here. So I appreciate all of you so so so so much."

"This is not self-evident, so many people want to see this circus monkey, I don't- I mean I am thinking what is wrong with you all, but it's nice that you are all here. Yeah just kidding.

"I also want to thank you for everything, you guys have made this thing, not me I just made the song. I didn't do much more than that. You guys created this around Käärijä- well I am not sure what sort of chaos this is, but you guys are guilty for that. Thank you for that."

(Crowd cheers)

"And then I would like to respect this guy called Antti Tuisku. " (Antti is a very popular and beloved Finnish singer).

"Sadly I need to tell you that Antti had much more better things to do, than come to Käärijä's concert."

"He is somewhere in Spain, with an oiled chest. Macarena- or what is that song."

"But we are trying to give our respects to him. He is apparently quitting his career, good for me, he made me some room. Thank you Antti."

"Antti was Finland's best live performer, notice "he was". Who is it now? I do not know."

"But- I was thinking we could do it for you guys (his and Antti's song "Auto jää".) We can respect Antti and- this sounds like a funeral speech. He is alive. And is doing well. Is doing better than ever."

"Antti, if you are watching this somewhere, I don't know somewhere. But if you are not watching then all the best for you. See you in Spain."

"Let's get going."

"You can sing along! I have no idea how these lyrics go, but let's try."

---

"Thank you."

"Pity that Antti didn't come."

"Antti did not come and you can't do anything about it."

(I don't know how to translate the word "onpa" but he says that a few times. Basically a word to start a sentence)

"I don't know, this makes me speechless. (the sound is not working) And now my headset is starting to get broken. I am absolutely messed up over here. I am not drunk but otherwise I'm messed up."

"There is- hey (points into the crowd) you put me messages about that hat, didn't you? Yes. Think about this, there is this one person who made a- I don't know how many weeks or months it took you to make that- that hat. Hat. First they were flexing me like "Look at this hat" and I was like oh that is kinda cool "Do you want this?".

(The person starts to point at the hat and ask does Käärijä want it)

"Why would I take it, it's yours!! Dear lord- no I can't- maybe later."

"Quite a hustle and bustle."

"Shall we continue still?"

(Crowd cheers)

"Yes we will continue- I am trying to look if there are any- all of you are my friends. And that much I want to say that welcome to Käärijä's family."

(Cheering)

"Even if you don't want to, now you are a part of Käärijä's family, because you came here. You have sold your souls to Käärijä.

(Cheers"

"And I hope everyone respects each other here, because otherwise I will come there and no one will have fun anymore."

"Because there are small family members here, so I hope they too will see something. So if there is a little Lassi somewhere in there, then take that Lassi and carry him so he could see too. Or then they can come here 10 years later."

"I feel like that 5 year old Lassi is as tall as me. Or what was its name. But I guess-"

"Okay then we will do a few new songs. We released this mixtape and decided to do those songs as well. I am kinda terrified already, (looks at a paper on the floor) and I went to look what were the names of the songs."

"Are they- Are these the songs? Well I guess there is no other choice but to do these."

"Are there anyone who bought that mixtape?"

"Well they did not sell that well but- that is why I am not even wearing a shirt on."

(A pink guy whispers something to him)

"What?"

"Is it the wrong song? That was the wrong song."

"What was it?"

"Well it was Mic mac."

"Sorry for that, I am still kinda in Liverpool, but well just ignore that."

"Let's play Mic mac then."

"If someone knows this legendary dance, you are allowed to dance."

---

"There is a mini Käärijä. Hello."

"That is cool. Is that my missing bolero? That was- you never returned it. But that's okay, it is yours now."

"Who else do we have here. What is that, a Pokemon card, a Bulbasaur- so many gifts here again."

"You guys are- a finnish flag- yes I know where we are."

"Someone came here "Really, Käärijä can't remember. We should show him that he is here in Finland, and no more in Liverpool!"

"Draw me a tattoo."

"Now you are- I will come there at some point. You are- you are- you are going hard over there, there is absolutely no sense in this."

"Dear lord."

"Does anyone else want a tattoo? I have the equipments over there."

"When this career in music starts going downhill, I was thinking about- well I guess I need to have a tattoo shop then, because so many want to take one."

"Alright, let's do more new songs then. Is that ok?"

(Crowd says yes)

"Well this is the first time we are doing these live, so give us some air and mercy. We are a bit confused, but that's the spirit."

"Let's go."

---

"Thank you."

"That went surprisingly well. A bit of confusion, but that is okay. Forgive me."

"And then there would be this "Morgan", has anyone heard it?"

(cheering)

"I can tell you, yesterday when we were practicing it- it was horrifying to watch. Let's hope it is today, just as horrifying to watch."

"So let's go!"

---

"Thank you (starts laughing)"

"Guys, you should never present a song you learned yesterday."

"But that went quite well, didn't it?"

"Yeah, the same thing was with Eurovision. I learned the lyrics a day before the show, and it went well!"

"Hey it is absolutely amazing. Life ain't so serious. It's good to go wild sometimes, but like nicely, no stupid things."

"I also want to say hey to the back row."

(cheering)

"Käärijä's concerts rarely have a back row, but now there is one."

"That is very nice, welcome here. I hope you can see something, I'm kinda a tiny short guy."

"People have been talking about how tall Käärijä is. So you know what?"

"I don't know."

"That's it."

"Let's go to the next song!"

---

"That kind. That song."

"Hey, a question. Always interesting a question like this."

"How many people knew about Käärijä before UMK?"

(Crowd answers)

"Not everyone could have know no. Where have you been those days? When Käärijä sang lonely gigs? In Pudasjärvi, in a corner of a pizzeria. Haven't seen you guys there."

"How many of you, Käärijä was not really known, before UMK?"

(Crowd answers again)

"Well now it badly seems like, people are trying to get pity pints to Käärijä. Same guys who said "Yes I have listened" raised their hands in "I haven't listened"."

"Well it is what it is. That I will never know. Numbers will know."

(The person with a tattoo sign is waving their sign)

"You are still swinging there. We should take a hotel room later, now take it easy. We will make that tattoo."

"Wow. Are there- How many made a bolero?"

(People raise their hands, one guy is jumping, Käärijä points at him)

"You. The same crazy person again here. I can never get rid of you. Now you have some kind of a teddy bear with you. What gig was it- it was Lap- Lappeenranta?"

"This guy stole the whole show."

"You got paid and everything."

"Yes well- yes no wonder Kärtsäri is not driving around with a fancy car when this one guy takes it all (the money)."

(The guy takes his wig off)

"Put that potty back you looked better in it."

"Hey I want to- there is a bolero. I first of all want to thank you- I am usually not the one to say thank you, I am that kind of a person who is not thanking everyone. That's not who I am. Thanking everyone is more of Antti's thing, not mine."

"But I want to say, to all the families that there here. Are there any families here?"

(Crowd answers)

"I assumed at first of course that "Yess there are families here". And nobody came. Let's just say, the smallest family members welcome here, and I hope parents know where they just took their kids. And I try to behave accordingly, today. This is the last time."

"This is the coolest thing that has happened to me, honestly."

(Crowd cheers)

"There- there in Liverpool the fact that there were 15 thousand people and 250 million people watching from TV, this is much cooler. Thank you for that."

(Crowd cheers)

"Even if I lie a lot, I am not lying about this."

"Okay shall we continue?"

"Hey, will any shirts come off? Next up is Paidaton riehuja (shirtless rampage) so will any come off? There! There went one."

"Remember at Käärijä's concert we are all family, so you can take off your shirt no matter gender or who you are. Of course be aware of the smallest family members, so they wont get trauma."

(Points at the crowd)

"What kind of a duck costume are you wearing?"

"You have come to the wrong concert, no but let's go."

---

(Käärijä goes near the crowd.)

"Thank you"

"Like that."

(Someones money drops)

"Your money dropped here."

(A little kid in a pink dress comes next to Käärijä)

"You- oh goddaughter even came here. Go fast to your mother or you'll drown there (in the crowd)."

(People give him stuff. Käärijä leads the kid back)

"Are these for me? Thank you. Amazing. (girl's name maybe?)"

(Käärijä goes back to the stage)

"I'll go back to the stage, I didn't go back home like some of you thought."

(Someone in the crowd shouts something, I am not sure what)

"It will come, it will come. It is the next one actually."

"Let's see. First time ever I had to do a set list. Because there are like 16 songs here."

"I am not sure what these songs are, but here they are."

"What are these songs? Do we even have time to do these all? Hey, before Urheilujätkä, there will be Hirttää kiinni."

"Is that okay?"

(He asks "Hirttääkö jengillä kiinni? Hyvä niin minullakin", not sure how to translate it right.)

---

"Kärtsäri's concert haven't had this kind of a feeling in a long time."

"Old man's pump is starting to fail, I hope our first aid is ready. Okay no that was a joke, no need to worry."

(Watching fan signs)

"What is there? "Greetings to mom and dad" my parents? Do you have something to say to my dad? "Cha cha cha, hirttää kiinni ja Mic mac" very well... "

"That is a cool sign, I need to give you my respects. My apartment is full of drawings, and shoes and socks and... I sleep on top of all the fan made things... and I don't have the money to move to a bigger apartment yet, but maybe someday for sure."

(Points to the crowd)

"Why are you jumping over there?"

"Cool is your bolero, what is it made of? Sheets maybe? No, just kidding, it's amazing."

(Cameraman is filming a fan with a sign "Make a <3 if you think Bojan is hot" Käärijä sadly did not notice :( Love the fan for trying)

"Soon we will give you some cha cha cha. And and well not yet, I tricked you guys a little, but soon."

"Before that, I would like to ask some people- wait I need to check who I was supposed to ask here."

"Yeah my memory left in- I need to say that this journey from Liverpool- no actually from UMK to here has really been a journey of some kind. And you people have made me come through it. I must say that if people think that this kind of life is just some highlight and very cool- this is very cool yes, but there are a lot of dark sides into this."

But I must say that the moment I see so many people here because of me- Dear lord."

"If my mom comes here well that is normal, but this many people, I am not sure how many is just wow. Nobody probably bought their own ticket here. You won your tickets from some cereal packet or-"

"Hey next I would like to ask people here on the stage. First of all I am asking my friend, who is actually the reason why I am on music business at all, and I have learned a lot from him and he is a dear friend. We have been through some hardships but we are still friends and I hope it stays like that, so now with a big applause welcome to the stage Soni!!! (I think it was Soni)"

(crowd cheers)

Soni: "Good evening"

Käärijä: "Pay your debts"

Soni:: "Tomorrow"

Käärijä: "Welcome to the stage"

Soni: "Thank you thank you"

"And next I would like to ask, one friend, who we made the first Käärijä song with and my best friend. Who was with me in Liverpool as an interpreter but he didn't get to do anything cause I became so good in English. My English is kinda good nowadays."

"Yes yes mister worldwide here"

"Applause to Jesse!!!!!"

"And before all this I will go get this one shirt. Where is it? Here."

Soni: "Does anyone have lamps on their phones? Could we get those up for the next song?"

Jesse: "This is the moment"

"This is very awkward to wear this shirt on. But is e here, is uncle Jaska here somewhere? Sportguy himself."

"He is not. Hey now it looks cool. Are you ready before the big final? Let's go!"

---

""Well that was a journey."

Joni: "What a circus."

"Jesse over here has played hockey before. Can't believe he is here now. Well career didn't start on that area and Jesse is not doing anything in this area either."

"Hey a few songs left I hope you have all enjoyed. Tomorrow I will go to a vacation so don't try to contact me. I won't answer. Cause now Kärtsäri needs a vacation."

"A few songs left and then you can all go to home to sleep. Are you ready?"

"I'll go take my shirt of and then we will continue."

(Someone shouts take your pants off)

"Pants off? These pants are stuck in my skin. So they won't leave. If you didn't know I actually sleep in these."

"Journey has been hard and it has a prize and that we pay."

"Next we will have a tense atmosphere"

"So let's continue."

---

(Crowd shouts Cha cha cha)

---

"Thank you!!!!"

"Give a big applause to yourselves! Give a big applause to the dancers! And give a big applause to my pink friends!"

"Do you want it to play again?"

"DO YOU WANT IT AGAIN?"

"Okay let's do it, now everyone goes as hard as they can!"

---

"Thank you!"

"Dear god, thank you thank you thank you!"

"Now my tank is empty and I will go to a vacation. remember to take a break and have a vacation."

"I will remember this always, I don't remember anything from the Eurovision show but this I will always remember. Thank you!"

"And I hope we can take one family photo. Everyone here, YLE will shut the TV soon. Okay good, good. And you can lift our hands."

(Crowd is chanting "Winner! Winner! Winner!")

"Thank you! See you in the future and maybe somewhere else!"

"Thank you, thank you. Goodbye!"

---

And with that I have decided to never translate anything ever again. Why did I think this would take an hour max? Anyway I hope this was useful to someone out there. It was a fun protect and after this, my English exam better be a 10.

GOODNIGHT!!!!! <3

#käärijä #kaarija #eurovision #esc 2023 #eurovision 2023 #finnish #english #translation #käärijä concert

[morallyinept]

A Christmas One Shot follow up to my Joel Miller series, Five Days.

Five Days Series Masterlist

☝🏻It would be ideal for you to read the series first if you haven't yet, as this one shot follows on from this series directly. You can read it as a stand alone, but some things might not make sense.

Summary: Months after the final events in Five Days, you and Joel prepare for the next event in your lives at the commune - your wedding day.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Word Count: 7.7k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M receiving/fingering/angst/mentions of death

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.

☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: An additional festive part, wrapping up Joel and Reader's journey, with a spangly Christmas bow on top. Thank you again to everyone who has read and enjoyed Five Days. Truly means the world. Happy Holidays! 🎄

Enjoy! 🖤

FIVE DAYS SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Your breath fogs the pane, a condensed, misty cloud as you breathe, surveying the view below in the main square.

The small commune square is adorned with makeshift festive decorations, remnants of the world that once thrived with the capitalist depiction of it all. Buzzing with a distinct holiday cheer, despite the lees of the post-apocalyptic world surrounding it just outside the gates.

Improvised string lights hang from makeshift structures with a welcome, twinkling glow, despite the sky still being light outside, albeit a little more grey now. The pleasant threat of more snowfall lingers in the distance.

In one corner, a group of children - some of whose faces you can put names to now - their laughter echoing through the air, work together to craft snowmen from the scarce patches of snow that still adorn the ground from the recent flurry.

This winter hasn’t been as harsh as you’d expected yet, but the winter of your discourse still remains heavy on your shoulders despite finding some semblance of daily normality here.

You even have a job now, tending to the horses. It’s basically mucking out and feeding, but you’re keen to learn and prove yourself as someone who can pull their weight. Plus, being parted from the black mare for too long, whom you rode to and from the outpost, leaves you with a sense of unease.

Her big, glassy eyes fill you with some comfort the more time you spend with her; those gentle head butts into your own, when it all gets a bit much, reassures you she feels your pain and shares it with you. You’ve since discovered her name is Ashen.

You watch, curiously, as a trellis of flowers is lifted by several men and settled into place. A graceful arch, fashioned from salvaged and repurposed wood, and built and sanded down by Joel himself as a project over the last few weeks - a gift for your wedding day. It's now decorated in vines and dried wild flowers, preserved in their seasonal beauty and uniqueness.

You remember rubbing salve into his splintered hands in the evenings, massaging around his stubby thumbs and calloused palms as he winced and groaned at the rawness fading away before those hands would grip onto your skin and leave you gasping with fading imprints. He really is so good with his hands…

“Here,” Sal’s voice rouses you from your heated reverie and the view outside.

Turning, her hair is pinned neatly and she looks younger somehow. More at ease, more feminine than you’ve ever seen her. Flaming red hair matches her lips and her eyes sparkle.

You smile, taking the delicate lace that she holds out for you, and you step into it, allowing her to button you up.

“Are you nervous?” She asks you as her nimble fingers work. Your eyes are still transfixed out the window as rows of unmatching chairs are lined up by working bodies.

Seems like the whole commune is involved in contributing to the preparations.

You shake your head. “No. Feels right.” You say, agreeing with the stringent relief that prevents any butterflies from flapping their sickly wings. “Feels like it should have already happened, years ago.” You confess, smiling as you smooth down the lace around your cuffs.

“Joel’s a lucky man.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m the lucky one.” Luck, despite everything, seemed to have had your back all along. Although the paths it led you down to find it, you’re not so sure about.

“Let me get a look at you.” Sal says as she steps back. You turn to face her and she sighs in awe.

“Christy has outdone herself. This dress is stunning.” Sal murmurs, her eyes glistening.

“She really has.” You say, admiring the mid-length, hand-made, gown that sits snugly against your body. Made from scraps of lace, Christy, the resident seamstress, has managed to make a dress that’s perfectly suited for the occasion. Simple, elegant, but meaningful.

“Look,” Sal says, adjusting the mirror and you catch sight of yourself.

The lace is delicate and stitched with love and envious talent, and weaves across the front of your collarbone and down your arms. There’s a slight dip in the back as it hangs a little lower down your spine before cascading into a waterfall of buttons, some mismatching, some with sparkly gems in the centre, but it’s forgiven and actually adds to the charm.

The dress is simply more than you ever thought possible, more than you probably deserve. More than you ever thought you’d have in this lifetime.

“You’re beautiful.” Sal says, dabbing at her eyes.

“Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”

She laughs, a little choke being swallowed down. “I just wish Kelper was here to see you like this.”

“Sal-” You begin with a choking lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” You shake your head. “I wish he could too.”

You spend a moment regarding one another; her eyes wandering into the painful territory of yours as you both recall the eviscerating loss.

Both thriving in it for a few moments, sharing in the grief that has lingered in the marrow of your bones for the past five months or so. Paused, sometimes, in that moment when Tommy relayed over the walkie-talkie the devastation that Kelper had perished in the fight against the infected horde.

It still seems like yesterday and centuries ago. And you were mad, hopping mad with him for a while after your return to the commune; mad that he could be so foolish, so selfish, as to leave you all without him.

But with time, taking each day, each sunrise and sunset, one foot in front of the other, the anger dissipated into raw grief. And it walks alongside you now, linking arms with all the other’s you've lost in your life.

Another name on a chalkboard above a fireplace, another ribbon tied to a tree. Another splinter in your heart.

While the anticipation of marrying Joel fills you with inexplicable joy and pertinent relief, the absence of Kelper, casts a malignant shadow, a blot on the sun.

The glint of excitement in your eyes is tempered by a soft sadness that hovers like a wailing banshee that’s attached itself to your side permanently it feels; it won't stop screaming in your ear. A tribute to the friend, partner, even soulmate, who had been your anchor in tumultuous times of endurance and survival.

Yet, as you stand ready to embark on this new chapter with Joel in a world that still seems so uncertain at times, still so… frightening, despite being safe behind reinforced walls, you find some strength in the enduring gravity of love.

Kelper's memory, a guiding presence now in some ways when he talks to you when you most need it, whispers words of encouragement, reminding you that even in loss, love persists in this broken world and it’s worth finding and clinging onto.

It’s the reason you’re still alive.

And it's something you hold on to, even if your fingers ache from gripping it too tightly.

Even when the grief consumes and you sob unabashed and uncontrollably into Joel’s broad shoulders in the middle of the night.

And he holds you through it, anchoring you and steering you back to yourself as you work through it; a golden compass bringing you home when you lose your way in the dark.

Sal picks up the make-up brush and hands it to you with a gentle smile as you dab at your eyes, and you chuckle.

“I love you,” she says gently, nodding.

You pull her towards you and cradle her tightly.

“I love you, more.” You say, clinging on and wondering if you’ll ever find the strength to let her go again.

“Well, I’ll be fuckin’ damned.” Tommy says, taking off his Stetson as he ambles into the room.

“Don’t ya say it.” Joel warns with a frown.

“Ya don’t know what I was goin’ to say.” Tommy smiles with an adept grin.

“Yeah. I do.” Joel says, turning, his hands fiddling with the tie.

Joel regards his younger brother narrowly as he steps into the room and bounds up to him. “Was gonna say ya look handsome, is all.”

“Yeah, right.” Joel scoffs. ”Help me with this thing, will ya? It’s all fuckin’ knotted up to hell.” Joel gruffs with a heavy sigh, tempting to forgo the tie entirely, lest he strangle himself with it first.

“Ya comb your hair?” Tommy asks, and Joel ducks as he goes to swipe at it.

“Leave off.” He says, checking it’s still in place.

For once, his unruly curls have been slicked down and back neatly, silver streaking through them that appears metallic in the wet gel, and seems more prominent these days.

As Joel dons the smartest plaid shirt he owns, and his standard pair of jeans that have seen better days, a mixture of emotions play across his weathered features despite his hardest at trying to mask them. It’s getting harder these days to keep it up.

The nervous excitement of marrying you, the love of his life, is palpable, but it dances alongside a more subdued undercurrent of opaque reflection.

“Ya nervous?” Tommy asks, as he straightens up Joel’s tie. He sees how his face is pulled tight in that ever present frown.

Joel nods, then shrugs. “Were you? When you n’ Maria tied the knot?”

“Was shittin’ myself.” Tommy admits with a bashful smile.

“Why?”

Tommy shrugs. “It’s forever, man.”

“But, that’s the point, ain’t it?” Joel queries after a moment’s pause.

“Yeah… I dunno. Maybe.”

“Ya regret it?” Joel asks, peering at his younger brother who still seems to be ageing at a much slower rate than Joel; it makes him grind down on his back molars.

Tommy immediately shakes his head, slick oiled curls tousling as he does so.

“No. S’not what I meant. I love Maria n’ I wanted to marry her. Just feels… different now, y’know? Like, to how it would‘ve been back then. Means somethin’ more than just vows now, I think. Somethin’... profound.”

“Profound, huh?” Joel snorts. He never thought he'd hear Tommy say something like that. Didn’t even know he knew the meaning of the word.

“Yeah, like serendipity or some shit. Wasn't lookin’ for it, n’ there she was. She makes me a better man, Joel.” Tommy says quietly.

He glances briefly at his brother’s eyes, the same dark eyes they share from their mother, and then back to the tie. “Ya lady do that for you?”

“Mm. She does.” Joel agrees, his fingers buzzing slightly at the thought.

“Shit, what did ya do with this thing?” Tommy chuckles, as he fights with the knot.

“I dunno. First time I’ve ever had to wear one.” Joel grits.

“Ya tellin’ me.” Tommy snorts.

Joel remains quiet, thoughtfully contemplating. Thinking about back before the outbreak, and what it would’ve been like if he’d married you whilst you were both still young and fresh faced. When he might've known how to tie a fuckin’ tie by himself.

And of course, he had intended to, even brought a ring; spent ages picking it out, but he never got to give it to you.

You’d left.

He briefly wonders what happened to that ring, where it is now on the planet.

A season of what ifs and unanswered scenarios plague his thoughts with spiked edges. Would you have even said yes back then? Would you have lasted, or would a quick divorce have followed?

He knows it’s fruitless to try and unpick it all whilst Tommy battles with the knot that now feels tighter against his throat, but Joel’s always been a brooding thinker, much to his detriment at times.

But he can't help but think about the journey that’s brought him to this day - the years of separation from you, the trials faced, the things he’s done in the darkest chapters of his life. The loved ones he’s lost along the way.

Sarah’s face flashes in his mind, her soft eyes and gentle smile beaming at him, and he bows his head, sighing.

“Y’alright?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters.

He takes in a slow, deep breath, steadying himself against the swirl of emotions he can already feel lingering in the dark corners, brewing, flexing their claws ready to tear deep gashes in his skin. They never really leave.

Tommy finishes manipulating the tie and he taps Joel’s shoulder affectionately when it’s done.

Joel turns to the small, chipped shaving mirror to get a better look at it, and hums in a mirthed satisfaction. “It’ll do.” He supposes.

“M’happy for you, Joel.” Tommy says, and Joel glances up at him through the mirror. “Ya deserve it, some peace. A good woman to come home to who’ll rub ya feet.”

“She hates feet.” Joel states rather po-faced.

Tommy smiles, breaking into an airy chuckle and so does Joel. The chortles between them sounding so foreign despite their intensity as they mutate into wheezed laughter.

And then Joel does something he feels like he hasn’t done for a long time, and should probably do more often.

He pulls his younger brother Tommy into a tight, binding hug.

“I love ya, man.” Tommy says.

“You too.” Joel mutters.

“C’mon, let’s get ya married.” Tommy states, clapping his back like thunder.

Tables adorned with scavenged tablecloths showcase a humble feast of canned goods, preserved fruits, and perhaps a few hunted game offerings in the Tipsy Bison.

The survivors of the commune, dressed in their best makeshift attire, share muted stories, laughter, and the precious company of one another, forming a close-knit family that has thrown up two fingers in the face of adversity as they pack out the chairs just outside the bar, some standing at the back of the makeshift aisle as the whole commune comes to bear witness.

The nip in the air has them huddling in coats and scarfs, but the atmosphere is incredibly warm and inviting.

Guthrie stands at the head of the trellis, bible in hand and in his smartest pressed shirt ready to officiate in a world where laws are just spoken words now instead of legal documents.

But it doesn’t matter, because in matters of the heart, it's more than binding.

Tommy and Joel wait in front of him. Maria sits with her baby bouncing on her knee, cooing quietly. Max looks on from the opposite side of the trellis, wearing an excited grin that makes his jaw ache.

Hands clasped in front, Joel’s fingers twitch as he clears his throat nervously.

“Not long now, brother.” Tommy says, clapping him on the back again, and Joel swallows thickly through the heavy wind of it.

As Joel stands at the makeshift altar beneath the trellis arch he’d spent days carving intricately, adorned with the dried flowers collected by good natured souls, the weight of the moment presses upon him.

The air, usually filled with the festive sounds of the commune, now feels dense and stifling around him. The tie feels tight once more at his throat as he swallows with a now dry, grazed windpipe.

The trepidation that’s lingered in the corners of his mind crystallises into an overwhelming wave of anxiety. And he hears that little voice creep up again from behind his shoulders.

She’s not coming, Joel. She doesn’t love you. She could never love you.

His heart races, the sound echoing in his ears like a distant drumbeat. The gentle flutter of muted conversations around him and the soft whispers of the cool, crisp breeze seems to amplify, creating a disorienting cacophony that pierces his eardrums.

Joel's breaths become shallow, each inhale a struggle against an invisible force tightening around his chest. Each breath in seems to scrape against his throat, the air refusing to fill his lungs with ease like it once did.

Joel's hands, usually steady and weathered by years of survival, betray him as they tremble uncontrollably. Eyes fixed on the path where you’ll soon walk towards him, Joel feels the world closing in, seeming to warp and contort, and the edges of his vision blur like a watercolour painting in the rain.

The trellis arch, once a symbol of hope and new beginnings containing his blood, sweat and tears, now seems to loom overhead, threatening to crush him; its shadow dancing with an unsettling rhythm.

The vibrant colours of the flowers mutate into a disorienting palette, dying and crisping before his eyes, and the string lights flicker like lightning, their glow suddenly too harsh, too bright.

Dizzy, he sways as he clutches at his chest, and feels Tommy pressing up against him, like a weighted tackle.

“Joel! Joel!”

His voice is distant, sounding further and further away as Joel spirals, the ground coming up fast; his knees cracking against it.

She could never love you, Joel! Not after everything you’ve done!

Rampant beads of sweat form on Joel's forehead, his hands clammy as they tightly grip on the edges of Tommy’s jacket as he wheezes.

The weight of the moment, the culmination of years of separation and the scars etched into your shared history, bare down on him.

The fear of losing this newfound happiness seizes him in a vice grip until it chokes the life out of him and it all goes black.

Told you Joel.

Told you that you were going to die alone...

He wakes to the sound of continual beeping in his ears.

Beep-beep-beep-beep...

Heavy headed and with a really dry mouth, he sits up to feel a hand pressing gently against his bare sternum.

Following the path of it, the arm adorned in faded lace, he finds your face, pressed tight in its worry and concern.

He did it, he let you down. Completely and irrevocably, just like he knew he would.

“Slowly,” you ease, as he sits himself upright against a pillow that feels like it's barely there.

“Don’t fuss, m’alright.” Joel sighs, glancing down at his chest, shirt open and no sign of his damned tie. “S’all this?” He tweaks at the wires curiously stuck to his chest.

“They thought you might have had a heart attack.” You say, gravely.

“What?” His eyes widen and snap to yours.

“It was a panic attack, Joel.” You say, softly. “You’re okay.”

He frowns, his eyes shying away from yours. He feels your fingers knotting into his hand, thumb stroking reassuringly over the thick gristle of his knuckles.

“I ruined our day,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“No. You didn’t." You shake your head. "Hey, look at me.” You sway.

“I can’t. M’not supposed to see ya yet.”

“Joel. Look at me.” You press, delicately.

Slowly, he finds the courage to face you, head on, and he can’t believe what he sees. You, staring at him with the same adoration you’ve had etched into your features since the very beginning.

From that moment your eyes met when you were flighty, little things, when the world was kinder and had less teeth.

The same way you looked at him when you bumped into him outside The Tipsy Bison all those months ago, stunting him and making him believe that a bland, beige thing such as a miracle could really exist.

You, looking at him with those same adoring eyes when he made love to you again, after all those years that had passed between you. Decades of swampy regret and missing pieces that no-one else could really fit into or fill; connected with you again on some other level that could only transcend his mere understanding.

And he knows he's undeserving. That even though he shouldn’t listen to it, that insidious little voice is right. He doesn't deserve you looking at him like this.

But he never wants you to stop.

“Ya look… so beautiful, darlin’,” he chokes out.

You smile and pat his stacked chest. “You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr Miller.”

You lean forward and place a kiss on his temple, just below the spikey, flower-shaped scar.

Joel closes his eyes, savouring the feel of you, your breath settling into his pores. Inhaling the smell of fragrant soap on your skin; the scent of the lavender perfume that’s made in the commune and dessciates the pillows in your bed.

“Ya got all prettied up for me.” He says looking up at you, fingers brushing against the side of your cheek with a dusting of powder to accentuate your skin tone, and a light sheen of highlighter that makes you glow. “Ya glowin’.” He confirms, awestruck.

His lips find yours, tasting the balm on them. Your fingers scratch in the waves behind his ears; his once slicked back hair now ruffled and fluffy again behind his ears.

“Everyone knows? They saw, I-”

You smile, softly. “It’s okay, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Joel. They were all worried, because they care about you.”

He frowns again and squeezes your hand. “M’sorry. Don’t want ya to worry.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with my worry.” You smile.

“S’not too late, ya know.” He says, tentatively with a small voice.

“Too late for what?”

He sighs heavily. He turns towards the machine that’s beeping annoyingly in his ear and jabs at a button, but it doesn’t silence it.

“If you even think about saying what I think you’re going to say, you’ll be spending months in here, Joel. Multiple broken bones.” You warn and he shakes his head, unable to contain the small smirk that threatens to tear up the corners of his mouth.

“M’not gonna say it.”

“Good.”

“But, it’s not too late.” He reminds you anyway with a gruff peep.

“Is that what you want?” You question, your heart is already trying to make a run for it out of any orifice that will allow its escape.

“God, no.” He looks at you sincerely, eyes deep and reassuring in their richness. "I always want you."

“Then stop being a dork.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Dork…”

You squeeze his hand and he places his other on top of them both.

“What’d we do now?” He queries and you can still see the weight he carries behind his eyes.

“I have an idea. Can you walk?”

Joel nods as he pulls off the sticky patches from his chest, and the infernal beeping finally stops.

Ashen comes to a halt at your gentle command, and Joel helps you off after dismounting the tan stallion that he rode with you up to the outpost those few months ago.

Since then, settling into a gentle sway of life in the commune had been a constant that you never knew you needed, or missed so much, as you began building a new life with Joel by your side.

But there was a mild fidget in you that couldn’t be settled; a part of you that always remained on alert, and Joel sensed it in you because that same sense lingered in him too.

Life experience had taught you both not to rest so easily, to leave a limb out of the tub and not fully submerge; to leave a backpack stocked with supplies by the door in case you had to go quickly in the night.

Old habits die hard.

But shared with Joel made them easier to accept, to shoulder the weight equally instead of alone. It could be left placed and fuzzy, in the peripherals to fade out for a while, but it was always there.

You both walk a few paces up a short incline, your dress is covered by a coat and scarf, and Joel’s shirt has been rebuttoned with a sweater and a coat of his own thrown over the top.

You feel the heavy weight of the handgun in your pocket, knocking against your thigh. Joel’s own is holstered to his waist under his coat.

The wind is a little harsher in its nip up here, but the view is worth it.

Looking down into the valley, the Wyoming mountains spread out in the distance with their snowy caps like shark's jaws on the landscape; the commune seems like a tiny dot in the centre of the horizon.

“It’s beautiful, no?” You say wistfully, as the wind pulls tendrils from your styled hair that stick to your lips.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Joel says, his arms wrapping around you. You feel him plant a kiss on the side of your cheek and it warms you, from your toes up.

“Look,” you say to him, and you pull him gently with you towards the shelter of a large tree, its branches, almost shed full of its leaves, swaying rhythmically in the breeze.

Under the canopy of the majority of its stripped branches, your fingers place Joel’s onto the rough ridges of the bark, trailing them towards some carvings.

“What's this?” He asks as he studies the letters.

“You made the trellis for me, for us in our garden. Well, this is my wedding gift to you.” You say with a warm smile.

Joel runs his fingers over the letters, a familiar S as he reads the name Sarah carved into the wood. Underneath, another name is carved. Kelper.

“This is what ya did with my “missin'” tools, hmm?” He queries with a cocked brow.

You grin coyly. “If I told you my evil plan, you'd have put the kibosh on it.”

“S’like ya know me so well,” Joel nods. “Ya came out here by yourself?” He frowns.

“I’m a big girl, Joel.” You remind him and he reluctantly nods after gritting his teeth.

He glances up to see ribbons fluttering in the breeze, and reaches up to feel their silkiness between his fingers.

“Ya did this, for me?”

You nod. “This is the highest tree in the valley. I’ve been all over this valley the past few months trying to find the perfect one. I was safe… Sal was with me.” You assure him when you see his nostrils flare.

You turn to look at the names on the tree. “They’re both looking down on us, Joel. From all the way up here. Sarah and Kelper.”

“Darlin’,” he says, as your eyes mist over.

He reaches for your hand and pulls you in close. He looks at the names on the tree, smiling into your hair as he imagines Sarah indeed looking down on him and smiling proudly.

At least, he hopes he’ll be able to make her proud going forward - the past, he’s doubtful about that.

“Ya amaze me every day.” Joel says.

“I just wanted a place that was ours, to remember them. They should both be here today. And this way... it’s like they are.”

Joel nods. “Marry me, here.”

“Right here, now?”

He nods as he strokes your arms. “Yeah… feels perfect. With them.”

You smile at him, wondering how you made it. Wondering how life, despite it's cruelty, had given you this perfect morsel of happiness.

“Have you got the rings?” You ask him.

He fishes into his jeans pocket and opens his palm to reveal two gold bands. Both a little misshapen from years of wear.

“I wonder who they belonged to,” you say, smiling at the metal hoops looking so dainty and small in his gargantuan palm.

“Two people that were very much in love, I reckon.”

“Yeah. They were. Utterly mad for each other.” You agree.

“Probably drivin' each other mad too,” he smirks.

“You like it when I keep you on your toes.” You remind him starkly and with a brewing grin.

“Mm-hm.” He murmurs. “Like a hole in the head.”

You reach into his palm and take the bigger ring and take his opposite hand in yours.

You glance at the tree for a moment, smiling, remembering. Then you look up at Joel. Look at the man who carried you on through this world, even if he wasn’t physically there for most of it.

“Joel,” you begin, letting the words flow freely. “I never thought in my wildest dreams we’d be here. I never thought that all those years of fighting, surviving… enduring. I never thought that they’d lead me back to you. Fate sure is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“I sure as hell ain’t laughin’.” He says and you smirk.

You place the ring on his thick finger, sliding it all the way down. “I love you.” You say looking at him. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you, until I die. And even then, I’ll still love you, Joel.”

Blushing, he smiles. Then he takes your hand, the remaining ring poised at the tip of your finger.

“Darlin’... I don’t think there’s anythin’ I could say that would make it feel truly real. Still feels like a dream sometimes. But then I wake up, and ya there beside me. And I don’t know how that happened, not really. It’s somethin’ I just can’t even wrap my head around, y’know?” His voice carries a blend of warmth and sincerity.

“I know.” You smile.

“Two lucky son’s o’ bitches. But you’re real, you’re here. I found ya. God willing, I fuckin’ found ya again. And I promise to cherish ya, darlin’, in all ya strength n’ vulnerability. Your stubbornness-”

You giggle and he smiles, tucking a wisp of wayward hair behind your ear.

“You're my home in this unpredictable world… I love ya, darlin’. Not just for who ya are, but for who we've become together." He gulps, holding back a choke as you watch his eyes glisten.

"Ya make... ya make me a better man. The kind of man I wanna be for ya. M'bound to ya. Ya have me bound to you, forever.”

“Joel,” you say as your own eyes water, and he bends to kiss you, taking your lips in his as the wind whips around you both, and pulls you tight into his warmth. Pulls you deeper into his heart.

I knew he was a good man, Goose.

You glance over Joel’s shoulder to see Kelper standing there leaning against the tree grinning at you.

You smile, nodding gently at your old friend before closing your eyes, tears falling from them like tiny diamonds scattered over Joel's shoulder, and clinging on tighter to him.

Joel inhales the scent of your hair, holding you hard in his arms as the breeze billows around you both and he swears he's never been more elated, more satiated in his bones and flesh.

If he were to die now, he would die happy, and it's a thought that now comforts him, whereas for so long, it's been one that terrified him.

He lets himself bask, lets himself wander further into this pastel dream and stay there, ruminating for a few more moments in the calm bliss of your arms.

Dad.

He’s roused, eyes snapping open as he hears the familiar voice; a voice he had thought he had forgotten, and then a face he was convinced had slipped his mind also is there, smiling at him.

Familiar eyes, that scent of coconut shampoo filling his nose, and frizzy hair that he could never tame in the way she liked when she was smaller, billows in the wind.

Sarah, his daughter, is smiling at him, clear as day, a few feet in front, and he feels it lurch in his chest.

So do you, as you feel his body stiffen under your embrace, and he steps forward, confused to be met with nothing again.

“Did you…?” Joel murmurs out, his voice lost on a confused gasp.

You turn to see what he’s looking at so intently, but there’s nothing there except the whisper of the wind.

“You alright?” You ask, pulling away from him to look at his face, eyes staring a little way down the hill and filling with water that he frantically blinks away.

“Yeah.” Joel turns to you, stunned and speechless for a few moments. The familiar, expected stab in his heart rearing its ugly head fails to ice him over.

Instead, he feels awash with a sincere warmth, from where it emanates, he’s not entirely sure.

“Y’know what? For the first time in a hell of a long time, I really think I am.” He says.

You smile at him as you nuzzle into his neck.

“Jesus…” he mutters as he wraps his arms back around you. “Thought I saw I fuckin’ ghost for a minute there.”

You smile, knowing that he saw what he needed to. The same as you do when you need it.

He rubs at your back. “S’getting a little cold, we should head back soon.”

“Can we stay up here, just a little while longer?” You ask gently, as you both watch the winter sun setting slowly behind the mountains.

“We can do whatever ya want, darlin’.” Joel murmurs, smiling into your shoulder.

By the time you and Joel made it back, the celebrations had moved into the Tipsy Bison as the expected snow started to billow from the sky.

Candles flicker on the tables, creating an intimate atmosphere that contrasts with the harsh wilderness beyond the commune's borders. Handcrafted Christmas decorations and salvaged ornaments add a touch of festivity to the surroundings, creating a unique blend of the old and the new world.

As the night unfolds, Joel and you move through the crowd, your smiles radiant with the joy of your unity as everyone wants a piece of you both.

The celebrations carry on with a mixture of traditional and improvised festivities - a dance floor, a communal song led by Max and a beaten guitar, with a surprisingly melodic voice which awes you at his secret talent. Guthrie dances with you, twirling you around as you smile and clap.

The large Christmas tree in the corner twinkles with gold, glittery lights that reflect in your eyes as Joel looks into them as he sways gently with you.

Impromptu speeches that celebrate love, survival, and the strength of the human bond follow with laughter, and Tommy leads a toast to the both of you with minimal embarrassment for Joel, much to his relief.

But despite the laughter, the warmth, you catch Joel’s face a little later, and the familiar need for a moment of respite creeps over his features as the frown tugs further at his smile somewhat as the night moves on.

His smile hides years of pain underneath it, convincing you he's fine when you ask him. Some days, he believes it himself.

But he doesn't want to spoil this for you, drag you away, but he also wants to have you to himself; be selfish and attenuate that need that flourishes hot in his veins.

He searches you out as you’re engaging with Sal, Max and Guthrie, and catches your eye, quelling everything loud around him.

In the middle of the chaos, there’s you.

You know him too well, even after three decades of separation, you can still read him without words, and you decide too, that you’ve had enough of smiles and wine.

You both slip out, leaving your expanded family and friends to celebrate as late as they want without you both.

In the secluded corners of your home, away from the festivities, you and Joel allow the weight of your tumultuous journey to fall free from your shoulders and leave it outside.

The echoes of the after-party seem distant, drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ears.

Once inside the warmth of your shared home, the safety and privacy of the walls Joel had built once upon a time with his bare hands, those hands of his take to your waist and pull you towards him as he attaches himself to your lips.

He dips and slants, moaning softly against your mouth; pulling your head closer to his with a giant, swamping hand, slipping his other around you and drawing you closer against his taught body that always has a slight tremble to it.

Behind him, the lock on the door clicks shut as you reach for it. Your heart rate speeds up as you melt into him, skin melding together like melted candle wax.

You and Joel are very alone and very close, pushed up tight against one another; bodies reacting and heating up. His broad chest crushes into your own as you feel the increase in his heartbeat against your own rib cage.

You run your hand down his chest towards his groin, searching out that thick hardness you can already feel pressing against you.

Then, you feel him lifting you; arms swooping under you and pulling your feet off the floor.

“Joel!” You squeal as he heaves and steps forward.

"It’s tradition.” He says, stepping forward quickly towards the bedroom.

"Your back!" You wail, giggling.

You cling on around his neck, and he clumsily falls with you onto the bed laughing.

Your hands find his face as he lays on top of you, staring intently into his deep brown eyes.

“What?” He questions as you trace his lips with your fingers, watching as he kisses the tips of them.

“You’re so fucking strong. Do I ever tell you that?” You say with awe.

“Sometimes… not nearly enough.” He chuckles.

“Lay back, old man.” You say, winking at him.

“Oi, less of the old.” He says as you shuffle out from underneath him.

“It’s hot.” You say.

He watches you crawl over him. “Ya wanna be in charge do ya, darlin’?”

“Mm, is your back gonna let you lead?”

He scoffs, and then nods in defeat, retreating hastily backwards on the bed as you straddle him.

“Didn’t think so…” You smile, as you kiss him.

He slips his tongue inside your mouth, the remnants of a few whiskeys in celebration lace his gums.

His hands slide down your waist to cup your ass, squeezing it; pressing you against his crotch as you kiss him deeply, leaning over him. He breaks off, burying his face in the soft column of your throat that feels clammy already with anticipation.

He licks the salt of it, scraping his teeth against the soft perfumed flesh there, licking and nipping, sucking it between his lips hungrily.

"Ya too good to me, darlin’."

You keep your eyes on his face, noticing the way the tip of his tongue teases the middle of his upper lip as he looks hungrily at you. How his Adam's apple bobs with each thick swallow in anticipation.

How those deep, trusting eyes lance at you as you unbutton his shirt.

Joel watches as you trail wet, lingering kisses over his skin; skin mottled with freckles and silvery hairs, a liver spot here or there.

How you kiss and lick each scar delicately that he bears; the one on his hip from where he was shot at on outbreak day. The one where he was gutted trying to save Ellie from raiders.

He shivers as you explore every weak spot he’s ever had, birthing new life into the dead skin.

Watches keenly as you run your tongue around his nipples, sucking over them gently as he hisses in response. Shudders as you kiss down the centre towards his navel, swollen with age around his tummy that you lavish more affection and desire all over, running your cheeks against it.

Joel hitches his breath as you unbuckle his belt and free him from his jeans.

He’ll never get tired of watching you do that, of taking his throbbing, thick cock so slowly and hungrily into your mouth; hearing you whine in satisfaction as you taste him again.

Feeling how it tingles down to the root of him as he slides down your throat and packs you out until you can’t breathe.

He’s moaning like a dying man as you suck him with eyes that meet his with unspoken praise and worship.

He reaches down, weaving through your hair, letting it fall free of the pins that held it precariously in place all day. Combs through it as you lick up the length of him and suckle on the head of his cock, feeling it throughout your own body, the heat travelling in the streams of your arteries.

“Take this off,” he says tugging at the hem of your dress, and you’re soon naked on top of him, bodies growing warm and slick together as you kiss deeply and grind subtly against one another.

“Too long since I was inside ya.” He laments into your ear in a hot whisper.

“It’s only been a couple of days, Joel.” You smirk.

“Too fuckin’ long.” He corrupts.

He runs his thumb over your stiff nipple and cups your breast gently inside his warm palm. "Ya so beautiful, darlin'." He breathes.

He reaches down between your legs and slides his finger against your clit, watching as you jolt with the gentlest of brushes.

“So sensitive, aren’t ya?” He cajoles.

“Mmm,” you nod, hands on his chest as he slips in; finger stroking inside your wet folds.

He pulls out and slips another one in, marvelling at how you arch and mewl above him as he pumps slowly.

You wind you hips, pushing against his fingers as he fucks you keenly with them. Pressing deep against the right spots and stroking you closer with each curl of them.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ beautful.” He groans. "All for me, all mine."

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, fingers gripping into his chest meat as you feel yourself bunching tight already.

Grabbing his cock, he guides his engorged head between your puffy, wet pussy lips in place of his fingers.

“If ya gonna come, ya come on my cock, darlin’.” He pushes in gently, thick head notching into you slowly, letting you suck him in. Sliding slowly and purposefully so you can feel all of him.

Savouring, appreciating, falling further with you.

“Joel!” You gasp, the pinch of him still present as he enters; a sensation that’ll never falter.

He reaches up, mouth grazing over your breast, nipple between his teeth and gently sucks as you slide down the full length of him, taking him in deep, where he belongs.

Joel belongs inside of you.

He pulls you up, large hands crossed around your lower back as he lifts you up and down on his cock, sliding almost the full way out, leaving just the head precariously lipped inside you, until he brings you back down onto the full hilt of him, bottoming out each time he does it.

He grunts with you; warm breaths pelted into your skin like ink blots where they spread, staining you with him.

He begins slow, measured thrusts up into you; you push back, grinding with him, the tightness of your hole now slickly wonderful around his thick cock. He draws out a few inches at a time before pushing in deep, to the sound of plentiful, needy whines from you.

“Fuck, ya feel so good around me, darlin’,” he groans into your chest.

Laying back, giant hands caressing your breasts, he lets you work, lets you take control. Watches keenly, as you ride him deeply, with a heated fever as the sweat starts to slick down your back.

His hips push up to meet you when he senses you’re losing it, losing your control as your gasps pitch higher, becoming more frantic in their raspiness as your cunt tightens around him.

“Joel!” You gasp like you’re sobbing; the cadence stripped from your throat as he grunts in agreement with you at how good it feels, how good it feels to have you on the end of his cock soaking him with all the pleasure that he feeds you.

And it’s something he’ll never tire of. He’ll never want to stop giving you this, giving you all of him.

“There ya go, darlin’...” He ushers. "Ya close, ain't ya?"

“Mmm, yeah…” You can feel it, that glitter starter to gather under your eyelids, the bones in your spine pulling tight and ready to crack open the moment that hot bolt travels down it and into your core.

He winds you tighter around that spool, the slack almost unbearable. Your toes curl inwards, your thighs shake and your whole body tenses up.

"Come for me!" Joel growls, encouragingly.

Over and over he fucks into you, his fingers digging into your hips where they’ll leave bruises that he’ll kiss later.

Your voice is shaking as you stutter incoherently, a babbling mantra of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel…”

“Ya keep sayin’ my name. This cock s'makin’ ya feel really good, hmm?” He grunts into your face.

“So good, Joel… Oh my God, don’t stop!”

“Are ya gonna come for me? Ya gonna come all over my cock, darlin’?”

“Yeah… I’m coming. I’m coming, Joel! Fuck!”

A warm, desperate shudder pours out of you at his command; your entire body convulses, fingers gnarl around his skin. You cry out, your lungs disintegrate into mottled dust as it leaves you; punching that glitter out of your back once more into the air for you to breathe in and choke on the metallic fragments.

“That’s it. Give it to me… All over me. Like that. Don't stop comin’."

His lips chase yours, brushing sweetly against them with a peck and smooch to remind you he’s still there; your tether, no matter how high you fly above him.

You clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into the tanned skin as he pushes you back down on his cock, filling you up again. The constant symphony of his pants fill your ears, that subtle weakness in them; that tremor at the back of his throat as he draws closer to his finish.

“That, right there… fuck,” he grunts.

“That feel good?” You groan as your hips swivel intently.

“Yeah… s’way ya look at me like this.” He moans.

“How do I look at you, Joel?” You breathe.

“Like ya love me.” His voice cracks at the sound of it in the air. The realisation, the acceptance, The finality of his being.

“I do love you. I love you so fucking much.” You gasp.

“I love ya too, darlin’. Fuck, do I love you! Shit!” He strains, his muscles pulling tight, the tension in his jaw locking.

“Come for me, fill your wife up, Joel.” You urge.

"Fuck!"

He yanks you towards him, face tumbling into him as he catches you in a kiss as he whines against your lips as he comes deep inside you. Soft whines flow from his plush mouth into yours as he twitches and empties.

His thrusts gently still to an eventual stop, feeling the warmth of his spend flooding around his cock inside you.

He kisses you intently and for what feels like a lifetime, just connected to him; breathing him in down into your respiratory system where he'll always stay.

You stroke away the sweaty, grey curls from the sides of his face and temples, and he smiles at you; a smile he saves only for you, with glittery eyes.

You glance at the clock on the bedside table reading just after midnight, and smile excitedly at him.

“You know what day it is today, right?” You query with a grin, resting your chin on your hands as you lay across his chest, still connected with him inside you.

“Right now, I don’t even know my damned name.” Joel breathes with a heavy chortle.

You feel him slip out as he laughs, the wet warmth of him dripping out of you. “Jesus, ya kill me.”

“It’s Christmas Day.” You whisper to him, and he runs his thumb against your lower lip, watching as you kiss it gently.

“Well then, Merry Christmas, Mrs Miller.” He smirks, crushing you further into his chest.

You beam back at him, finally understanding your place in the world.

Finally understanding why you endured and survived as you take his hand in yours, the glint of your mutual wedding rings reflecting in the dim glow from the string lights outside the window.

You know it was to get to this exact moment, right here, where you're in Joel’s arms again, and nothing can get you anymore. Nothing.

Smiling, you lean up to your husband’s face and kiss him gently on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

The End

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who was tagged in the original series.

@secretelephanttattoo @morgaussy @darkheartgatita @sp00kymulderr @survivingandenduring @sin-djarin @lilmizmoz @yazsos @ryangoslingstanktop @barbellpedro @givemeth @anavatazes @alwaysmicado @the-blind-assassin-12 @kirsteng42 @missredherring @gasolinerainbowpuddles @millennial-teenybopper @maggiemayhemnj @harriedandharassed @stevie75 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @chaoticfestninja @reddedmiller @doughmonkey @sonderosa @magpiepillsjunior @chronically-ghosted @pedroswife69 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @marisemonteiroo @everythingiwanttoread @jjhayhay20 @nerdieforpedro @perennialdoll247 @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @sscorpiiio @untamedheart81 @srmacaroni @violinchick @orcasoul @lucyeyelesbarrow @mandrillusphinx @loveisacowboyyy @suzmagine @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @within-the-depths

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #christmas stories #five days series #jett's writing

[comicalfont]

Undertale is for Everyone

Happy Valentine's Day! Yesterday marked five years since the day I first started playing Undertale. It's led me to dwell on what exactly I would say the game has meant to me, with how loaded a question that is. There's so much I owe to Undertale, and the joy it's brought me is something everyone is as deserving to be a part of. Despite some recent fandom events, all members of the fandom need to know that the game celebrates and welcomes them with open arms, which I'll get to more in a bit.

I first played Undertale at a period in my life with a lot of unanswered questions, both for present me and future me. I'd managed to not give it a try in the first few years it was around, but after running into enough Deltarune fan content in the wild when it came out, I played Chapter 1 and loved every bit of the atmosphere and characters, and I wanted to play Undertale right after. After accidentally killing Toriel and starting over, I was immediately drawn into the story it told and the friendships I was making. My appreciation of Sans was there from the start, and here I am, many reader fics with him later, and the rest of the main gang felt like buds I'd been hoping to meet some day. Even the minor characters meant so much to the journey, and by the time it was done and I'd seen what Frisk/the player's kindness and want for peace can do, I was completely hooked and the game rented a free condo in my brain.

What I wasn't expecting was the other ways Undertale's touched my life. I'm trans, and before I'd played, it had only really been associated with discomfort and a wish for things to be better, without much of a light at the end of the tunnel to look at. Undertale's queer-friendly themes and the characters' insistence on being themselves opened me up to thinking about a future where my own kindness and, well, determination can lead me to being the true me. While my trans story was far from done, it helped me see the future as something I can smile about, rather than needing to be afraid. The fics that I've written about Undertale, and especially the bone-friend, since I played have also led me to meet the people I consider my closest friends, as well as being a gateway to other fandoms that have captured my interest. These connections I've made through the game are ones I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

So, where am I going with all this? Undertale has invited me into a better path than the one I'd been taking, and that's an opportunity I'll forever be grateful for. Unfortunately, there are some in the fandom space who have shared hateful views about people simply for who they are, and everyone should know how far those views are from the truth. Undertale is a game about love and growth, and it is the responsibility of those who participate in its community to follow its footsteps and celebrate everyone for their traits; not just tolerate, but celebrate. For fellow trans people in particular, I've been thinking about this the most; you are real men, real women, and real non-binary identities, and all of those things are represented in Undertale itself. Celebrating trans lives isn't just the right thing to do, it's a part of this wonderful game we're all enjoying together.

Maybe this reaches just two people, or twenty, or more if I'm lucky, but whoever does read this far, thank you for taking the time to see how much Undertale has meant to me over these five years, and I hope you know how much you mean to the community. We're all making it a better place by being ourselves, and I hope the game keeps lifting people up for many years to come. Now, go read that new volume of the Undertale/Deltarune Newsletter!

#undertale #deltarune #undertale fandom #sans #ao3 #sans x reader #trans positivity #trans rights #trans pride #ut characters are canon trans supporters #calcium cat #calcium-cat #iykyk

[fandomsoda]

So… we’ve come this far, huh?

Today is officially the one year anniversary of my time on Tumblr, and the one year anniversary of my friendship with the lovely person who is @/dinosaurzzz (the slug cat on the right is its sona!).

It is honestly incomprehensible to me that it has been a full year since I got on this site and honestly it has completely changed my life. I have grown more as a person in this year than I believe I ever have in my whole prior life combined. I have found a community where I am loved, where I am safe, and where I am given the space to learn and grow from my mistakes, and that is completely fucking invaluable to me. And I will forever thank Dino for being the final thing to push me to finally get on this site that I already figured would be perfect for me. It has been such a wild ride, and even if Tumblr has muffled the reach of my posts at the moment, I am going to scream this one from the rooftops, and try to show appreciation for everyone who has helped me along this journey.

First of all shout out to my incredible partner @wishtale-blogs, she is the love and light of my life and she truly understands me and has my back. I never, ever thought that I would meet someone who both gets me completely and contrasts me perfectly and having her in my life is something I would never trade absolutely anything for. When you’re young it seems like destiny for partnerships to fall apart simply by nature of it being so early in life, but I genuinely feel as if this is unshakable, and I’m just.. so happy to have her.

And with that I’d next like to shout out our adoptive sons, @karineverse and @the-selfmade-gods. Both of you are absolute angels, lights of my life and people that I would protect with my life. Thank you so much for being here for me and being here for all of your friends and staying strong through all you’ve been through. I’m proud of you, truly I am so proud of you and I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood.

Now, I am going to list out every single person I can think of whom I consider a friend. There will not be elaboration here as this post will be long enough as-is, but just know that I could write a blurb for each of you for why I adore you so much, some of you a whole essay. If your name is not here and you consider us friends, do not hesitate to message or ask me about it, I never want to leave people out and I know how anxiety-inducing it can be to not wind up on one of these lists with someone you care about. That being said, here are the names of all of my amazing friends, in no particular order:

@twinklesporkle, @justanidiotartist, @nyxus-nyx, @jupiter-nwn, @rib-rabbitmask, @still-got-no-idea, @liliallowed, @ashburntcat, @ponnedapple, @person-of-many-names, @itzcherrybonbon, @spamsbylee, @nevil-gonslek, @duckielikeserror, @psycho-chair, @letsatomicbanana, @starmonsterrr, @midnightstarshadow, @colorfulpaintspills, @kenopsia-ksp, @autisticseapanda, @hiro-doodlez, @cherrio-krispz, @emerald-onion, @the-save-star-anomaly, @everydaygremlin, @dreamsb0u, @skylerfurmaniac, @meimeikyu, @silly-inksans-stuff, @sketchingstars03, @shenanogram, @sargentvenipede

And with these friends, I’d also like to take a moment to thank followers of mine who I’ve never known super personally but still value immensely. I don’t truly know you guys, but you seem amazing, thank you so much for being here.

@hex0code, @cherrifruiti, @gloomywoomymoon, @atherflame-theconcubus, @neonordream, @finleyforevermore, @epicnightm, @youracecard, @pearbranch14823, @palisadewasp @wolvesbaneandbuttercups, @crunchontoast, @bloomyspring

Thank all of you so, so much. There would probably be more names but there is a mention limit of 50, so I had to cut some down. Either way, thank you all a million, you all mean so much to me and I think this day is truly going to be the start of a new beginning.

And to all the people who would have been here, the friends who should have been here but aren’t…

if it’s simply because we haven’t talked in a while, I hope you’re alright and I miss you.

but if it’s because you’ve harmed me, I still hope you’re alright and growing as a person. I’m sorry we didn’t work out and I promise I miss the you that I knew. I wish that things had happened differently, and even though you’re likely not seeing this I hope today can be the start of new beginnings for you too. Thanks for the impacts that you’ve left on me, even if those are scars. You guys have also helped make me into who I am, and without hardship it would be hard for me to learn.

Here’s to a new day, and any more lovely years to come.

#original art #digital art #blogaversary #one year on tumblr #my sona #sona art #friend’s sona

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’ve been dreaming of the Spearman of Spades.

The journey was tough, and the battles tougher. At the height of his success, he's his own worst enemy.

With this spear and his strength, he will dutifully serve his sovereign.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Deuce hardly recognizes the young man in the mirror.

It's him--it's very obviously him: navy bangs, aquamarine eyes, the spade mark on his left eye, Heartslabyul uniform--but it doesn't feel like him. Not the same stiff, awkward first year that had stumbled onto Night Raven Campus, all his rough edges still not sanded down. The time had flown by, rounding him out.

Second year Deuce is different. Built studier, packed with more muscle from track meets. The wild glint in his eyes is tamped down, shielded by a certain seriousness.

It’s still me… right?

Deuce swallows, anxiously fidgeting with the brim of his hat. It's a keepsake passed down from his senior.

"I won't be needing this for my internship. It's yours now," Trey had told him. "Wear it well, okay?"

"... Do I deserve to?" he mumbles to his reflection. Me?

"Of course you do, idiot. Quit doubting yourself."

Deuce startles--but calms once he feels an arm sling around his shoulder, and a familiar cheeky face joins him in the mirror. Ace hangs off of him easily, the two troublemakers peas in a pod.

"Hey. Nervous?" his friend asks with a smirk.

"More than ever," he confesses. His breathing is shaky, despite his best attempts to wrestle control of it.

"Well, don't be." Deuce rolls his eyes at the simple, snarky response. Very Ace of him. "I don't care what anyone else says, you'll kill this." A pause. "If you don't pass out before then, that is."

"Thanks for the encouragement." The sarcasm is palpable.

"Don't mention it!" Ace replies cheerily. "Where would you be without me, huh? Better put in a good word on my behalf."

“Can’t guarantee that.”

“Ah, come oooh! Cut your buddy some slack here. I’ve been behaving myself recently, I deserve something nice.”

“Being nice should be its own reward.”

“Bro, you sound like the headmaster,” Ace remarks, wrinkling his nose. Clearly, not a compliment.

Ding!

Deuce lifts a brow. “Is that…”

“Huh? Oh—it’s my phone.” Ace whips out his mobile device, checks his messages, and groans.

“Something up?”

“Yeah, uh… It’s a special guest we’re receiving. You know! For today’s ceremony. They got lost in the hedge maze, so they told us they miiight be running late for this very important date.”

Deuce frowns. “We’re starting in a few minutes and Rosehearts-senpai can be really strict about punctuality.”

“Don’t worry about it!! I’ve got it covered. All you gotta do is go to that ceremony and soak up all the praise.”

Before Deuce can protest, the fanfare of distant trumpets meets their ears. It is a victorious song, one ushering in new beginnings. He shares a look with Ace, who grins wickedly.

"Aaaand there's your cue. Talk about timing.” He aggressively smacks Deuce on the back. "Go ahead, everyone's waiting for you. I gotta go help out our special guest, but I’ll be in the crowd! Catch ya later!"

"See you…” He has barely finished speaking, but Ace is already gone.

Deuce sighs and fixes his posture, shoulders squared and head held high. He runs a hand through his hair, letting his locks fall back into their natural place. His gaze is deep, contemplative—an ocean wondering whether to let a wanderer sink or swim.

A generous gulp of air for his shaky confidence.

Out with the old and in with the new.

With that, he steels himself and makes a bold stride into the gardens.

Heartslabyul students stand at attention, making way for his entrance. Their best tablecloths and decorations are set out, and a band is in full swing. Even the rose trees seem celebratory today, letting loose a scatter of petals dancing in the breeze.

The sunshine, a solitary spotlight illuminating his path.

All eyes on him.

Deuce follows the road paved for him by a crimson carpet. His dorm leader, in all of his finery, awaits him at the other end with a scepter and a stern smile. When he reaches Riddle, the redhead clears his throat.

At once, the trumpets cut off. The song, at its end at his command.

Deuce immediately lowers into a kneel. His eyes are kept trained on the ground, both to steady his stance and to keep from being ill on the spot.

Riddle looks to the waiting crowd, his authoritative voice projecting outward. “Students of Heartslabyul! We are gathered here today to witness the ascension of one among you: Deuce Spade.”

“Yes, dorm leader!”

“He has proven himself worthy countless times over,” Riddle continues, glowing with pride. “Deuce entered this institution with a crude attitude and barely comprehending basic mathematics—but with time and rigorous study, he has risen from delinquency to the ranks of the honor roll.

“What’s more, Deuce has demonstrated immense honor and strength of character. Countless times has he held true to his own moral convictions, defending the weak and the downtrodden. His goodness is immeasurable—a model for us all to follow.

“Deuce Spade wholeheartedly embodies the spirit of strictness extolled by our dormitory. I can think of no better man to have as our next vice dorm leader.”

Riddle gently brings his scepter down upon Deuce. First on the right shoulder, then the left.

“You may rise.”

He does, newly knighted.

“Heartslabyul!” Riddle lays a hand on Deuce’s arm, spinning him around to face the audience. “Your new vice dorm leader!”

The students erupt into applause and cheers. Card suits of all kinda, gathered to celebrate him.

How far he has come.

“Congratulations, Deuce! Congratulations, vice dorm leader!”

“Th-Thank you!” he manages. His nerves are still in control, and his next sentence seize in his throat.

“Any words for them?” Riddle asks quietly. “Something to inspire confidence.”

An acceptance speech?! Deuce completely locks up. I-I didn’t prep for this…

“Um, I’m not sure if I…”

But he sees the eager faces of his peers, thinks of the expectations places on him. His eyes frantically search, seeking another way out, another answer. Then—

In the corner of his vision, figures darting out from the rose maze.

It’s Ace, sprinting as fast as his feet will take him. His cheeks are cherry red from exertion. He falls in line at the back of the crowd, doubling over, hands on his knees, and gasps for his breath.

Ace is followed by a woman, her bobbed hair streaked with blonde and navy—a navy not unlike Deuce’s own. She is dressed modestly, her cap and jacket stamped with a white rabbit logo, aquamarine eyes piercing through the shadow of her hat. Her lips painted a golden brown, a spade dangling from an ear.

Their special guest.

Mom?

"Deuce!!" she calls out, waving an arm at him. "I wanted to be here--to see you on your special day! I'm not too late, am I?"

"Mom...!" his voice rings out, carrying across the garden and to her. "Of course not. You..."

You're always there for me.

Deuce straightens, his courage gathering. He is a flower, freshly watered and reinvigorated as he addresses the onlookers.

“For a long time, I thought I was a bad kid... that I would always be a bad kid, no matter how much I tried. But I'm here. I've made it."

Deuce glances around the assembly. At Ace, at his dorm leader, at Riddle, at the spaces once occupied by his upperclassmen.

"So... thank you very much for giving me a second chance...! For this opportunity! I promise, I'll keep doing my very best from here on out and get better and better every day!"

He bows.

The audience is uproarious. A sharp whistle--from Ace. Riddle nods approvingly.

His tears well in spite of himself.

When he at last raises his head, he sees his mother is sobbing too.

So proud of him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Deuce Spade #Riddle Rosehearts #Ace Trappola #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Trey Clover #twst anni #twisted wonderland anni #twisted wonderland anniversary #twst anniversary #I’ve been Dreaming… #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown

[kedsandtubesocks]

AU where Gojo as the god of winter saves you during a blizzard because he admires your heart and now you’re stuck under his protection okay that’s all thank you bye!!!

- ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ -

“You have to be careful, young one! The storm is dangerous! The god of winter will not be kind to you!”

The apothecary’s words haunt your very soul now as the wind now starts to blow harder. The blizzard is coming, but you will fight through it. You have to.

“Well now, aren’t you a stubborn one!” Out from the wind itself, a twinkling voice calls out to you.

Stopping mid step, you turn to the side.

A mysteriously cloaked man watches you as he leans casually against a tall tree. The robe he wears, thick and heavy, even has a hood fully covering his face.

“This storm is going to be getting worse soon. And yet…you’re out here?” The twinkling curious voice continues speaking to you.

“So are you.” You glare at the stranger who suddenly laughs so bright at your words.

“You’re right! But what’s a cute thing like you out in these wilds? And even without a horse!”

A horse would be too much. And the money you had needed to be spent on the medicine.

“Just a traveler on the road.” You mutter and continue on your journey. This discussion is slowing you down after all.

Instead of leaving you to your journey, the hooded figure stays in step with you.

“So what’s a cute traveler like yourself doing out here during this storm?” His words are curiously perked up.

“Are you going to rob me?” You now flat out ask.

“What?” The hooded figure stands up straighter, almost confused. “No.”

“Because if you are then I’m already warning you I barely have any money and I won’t be worth much.” You think about the hunting knife your father left you and how you might need to grab it soon.

“There must be something valuable in that bag. You’re clutching it as if it’s dear life.” The stranger comments rather intuitively and his words make your heart drop.

You clutch your satchel tighter and freeze mid step.

“It’s medicine.” You answer truthfully while a wave of fear chases into you. “I’m sure it won’t be valuable to you.”

You swallow hard. “Please, please just let me go.”

The stranger stops and a pause floats through the air.

“Who’s the medicine for?” The stranger asks.

You sigh shakily. “My sister.”

Suddenly the hooded figure nods slowly.

“So you’re out here…trying to bring her back medicine.” He comments gently.

You nod. You know it’s foolish. Everyone has told you so. Yet you would brave this storm a thousand times for her.

“Well then, I guess you better get back on your journey.” He says so brightly.

You simply nod and wish him a safe travels.

You walk a few steps, hear the crunch of the snow beneath you. Then when you turn around to check to see if the mysterious man is there - you find he isn’t. Fear fills your chest and you begin walking even faster now.

You hope to at least make it to the next town. You have to.

But the snow comes fast. The wind howls fiercely and you can’t fight against its strength. Your fingers burn. Your body aches. You trip over something in the road and collide into the piles of soft snow. You cry out.

No. No, you have to get up. You need to. You can’t let your body stop you. But the storm has other plans. Your vision becomes blurry and you think it’s because of the wind, but tears sting your eyes.

“You damn stubborn little thing!” The stranger.

His hooded figure comes before you, a striking blot of darkness against the whirling white. Your vision begins fading.

“Medicine...I gotta get home.” You sob out not even fully realizing what you’re saying.

Someone yells at you. You can’t fully process who. But when you blink up you find the hood of your mystery man is whipped off.

You spot hair so white it blends with the snow and the bluest eyes, like the clearest summer sky, stare down at you. He’s gorgeous. You don’t even know if he’s real, especially with how unearthly beautiful he is.

Then your vision goes dark. And the next time you open your eyes, you’re back in your cabin back home.

Who? How? Did that actually happen? And more importantly - the medicine.

Ignoring your grandmother’s yells about how you need to still rest, you instead scramble to your older sister’s room. Still on bed rest, there’s more color in her cheeks as she sleeps peacefully. The medicinal herbs sit on the small table and you fight back the tears.

What had happened?

Your grandmother tells you everything.

“You simply arrived at the door half frozen as if the wind itself carried you home! I still can’t believe it!”

Neither can you.

Later that night when you go to grab more firewood - you swear a hooded figure peeks out from one of the trees and you hear a twinkling pleased giggle that floats through the icy winter wind.

#this was born out of me walking out of my house during the freeze and being so down for Gojo I’m SORRY #Gojo 🩵 #Gojo x reader #also tagging this as long post just in case #long post

[sitp-recs]

Hello! I saw that you have a lot of drarry enemies to lovers recs, but I wondered if you had any specifically heavy on the mending and gaining trust aspects. Angst with a happy ending where they have a lot of growth to do. Where it’s not easy for them to come together because they can’t forget what’s happened. Something hard won. I love when it’s easy, but right now I want to read it when it’s hard. I so appreciate you, and the work you put in to put these together and the ask is, as always, utterly optional. ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for this lovely ask! I do love myself a long and cathartic fic exploring the hardship of becoming friends after everything they’ve been through. There’s so much room to explore that aspect with Drarry, which is probably one of my favourite things about this ship. The one fic - a personal all-time favourite - that immediately jumps to mind is Lettered’s By the Grace. That one represents the ultimate Drarry redemption/forgiveness journey to me. Here are some other recs for you!

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by punk_rock_yuppie (T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Wild, orphaned (E, 93k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Changing Tides by carpemermaid (E, 109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

#asks #Drarry reclist #slow burn #redemption arc

[respectthepetty]

Hey. First, just wanna say that, just like you, I'm living for Dangerous Romance. With so many shows on the weekend, this is the one I look forward to the most. If I had the time I think I would gif the whole episode, cause their faces are giving me everything I need.

Anyway. I came here because I just wanted to talk about Kang. That boy is just so touch starved. And also starved for everything else. But that's a whole other story. His reaction both times that he was hugged by Sailom was of someone who doesn't know how to deal with that. Specially in the pool, his face, it's like it's the first time someone hugged him like that. He seems uncomfortable both times he gets hugged by him, not because he doesn't like it, but more because he's unfamiliar with the gesture. At least that is my read. What do you think? (thanks for the space)

@nothingsbetterthancoffee, I've been looking forward to 1) seeing Joke and Jeng cry all week in Hidden Agenda

2) getting to know why Top and Sand are the Taylor Swift and Katy Perry in Only Friends aka "Bad Blood"

and 3) Laws of Attraction healing what it broke so beautifully last week.

But above all else, I needed to know how A Sugar Daddy & His Baby The Series would handle Kanghan's shift from wanting to see Sailom beg at his feet by any means necessary to actually getting Sailom to beg at his feet and having no idea what to do with all those feelings™.

So I'm thrilled the show leaned into this starting with Kanghan yelling up at Sailom like every lovesick prince calling out to his lover.

Then we moved into Kanghan's facial journey going from smiling to contemplative as his friend explained "love tutoring."

Which caused Kanghan to awkwardly stare at Sailom while Sailom was focused on his work before he collected himself and approached his crush tutor.

Because as much as I'm with everyone else that Kanghan seeing the reality of Sailom's life snapped him out of his bullshit, I think the real kicker was all the feelings™ it brought up in Kanghan, and we see it happening here.

When in danger, Kanghan knows what to do - protect Sailom.

He threatens the gang members, he punches the tourist, and he grabs Sailom, with minimal hesitation if any.

Kanghan is an aggressive kid, so, in a sense, he knows how to deal with a threat because he has always been the threat.

But he has never known how to handle Sailom's responses because Sailom isn't a threat, or at least that's not what his head tells him.

The thing that most people are discussing is why Kanghan is so fearful of his father. Kanghan's grandma shows him affection. It seems like Kanghan's dad loves him and isn't abusive, so why the ominous music when the father is around? Why did Kanghan's entire demeanor change when his father walked in, both times.

And why was he so anxious? Why the father's response?

I, surprisingly, don't have any wild ass theories, but the show is telling us to watch the boys' hands, especially Kanghan's, because that is where the truth lies.

Strangely, Kanghan and Sailom have the same dynamic that Never Let Me Go's Palm and Nueng had, but for the opposite person. Nueng was the brain and rich. Palm was the body and poor. Here, we have Sailom who is the brain and poor, and Kanghan who is the body and rich, so Kanghan would struggle with English, while Sailom would thrive. It's words. But Kanghan knows what to do with his body.

Even the way he pushed Sailom in attempt to protect him was aggressive.

So what can he do with his body when it isn't needed to protect? What does he do with his body when he isn't the threat? What does he do with his body when it's Sailom holding him?

We saw this in the first episode. Kanghan doesn't know what to do.

I don't think he's touch-starved, but I do agree that it's unfamiliar. All roads lead to GayVille to me, so Kanghan's reactions seem more about feelings™ than anything else. Kanghan knows love. He knows touch. But when it comes to Sailom, he doesn't know how to respond because he doesn't know *this* feeling.

He is not a boy of words. He is not a brain.

He is a body that takes up space, even in his own house.

So these feelings™ that surface whenever Sailom is around are unfamiliar. When Sailom wouldn't acknowledge him, it pissed Kanghan off more. He needed Sailom to look at him because to Sailom, Kanghan isn't just a body taking up space.

To Sailom, Kanghan is a safe space.

And being someone else's safety instead of a threat, being a wanted space instead of useless space, being a body needed for comfort rather than protection . . .

That must be terrifying.

Mostly because he doesn't even know he wants it.

#dangerous romance #long post #sailom x kanghan #I'm in my feels #and so is Kanghan

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Dndads friends, speeches (and maybe some news 👀) will come for you soon lol bear with me. @sexiestpodcastcharacter Well, first and foremost, congrats to the Night Vale/Carlos fans! And also to the vengeful Lovelace fans 😏 (meant teasingly but affectionately), you guys' memes genuinely got a good laugh out of me and plenty of the other glennfuckers, so thank you lol. And genuinely, best of luck to you next year! (oh mod if you wanna share the captain poll again when you rb this you may- she has my vote lol)

OTHERWISE- TMA FANS DO NOT DESPAIR I will *probably* still complete the compilations I mentioned even though Glenn didn't reach the goal, because you guys were very nice and I think you're cool haha (and I want the compilations too lmao). You are not immune to propaganda, and I am not immune to compliments on my marketing techniques. Peace and love! ✌️

Of course a HUGE thank you to everyone who supported Glenn throughout the entirety of this journey, whether it's because he's the hot sexy demon dilf who transed your gender, because you were successfully bribed, because you didn't want your character's loss to be in vain, because you saw how *damn* hard we were trying, because you clicked the poll on accident, or any other reason! It's been a wild ride, and we couldn't have gotten as far as we did without all of you!!!

An ENORMOUS thank you to everyone who joined our cause by offering art, or pet photos, or music, or heartfelt speeches, or punctuation hehe, or anything else!!! This competition brought a ridiculous amount of cool stuff into the world, and I think that's fucking sexy as hell. People who literally don't know who Glenn is but urged people to support him anyways out of respect for the grind or anything in that vein, I love you???? Thank you!?!?!?!?

And most of all, thanks to you mod, for running this entire circus, >:] and putting up with us little troublemakers for so long ("troublemakers" not including the people who actually said or did genuinely offensive things throughout the course of the tournament, yikes! Fuck that!)

Cheers to all of you! 🍻

#:] thanks everyone #dndads #tma #<- so they can get the news lmao hiiiiiii #dungeons and daddies #sexiest podcast character poll #hot glenn autumn

[triplesilverstar]

One year

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: mentioned smut, sharing a bed, retrospective

Word count: 1.9K 

A/N: Well it’s been one year since I started this series. If you told me a year ago when I first posted affirmation while drunk that it would prompt me to still be writing a year later I would have never believed you. So thank you to everyone that has been with me through this journey be it from the beginning or last week, every comment, every kudo, and well honestly every hit on the series has made my day. I still have a long way to go and thankfully the chaos is still brewing in my brain for these silly characters.

Laying there in bed as the low noises of the town rumbled in through the window that was opened a crack, it was the middle of the night and there were still a few souls out roaming around. 

You were passed out for your part. 

Tucked up against Vash who was wide awake watching you on his side. That hadn't been his plan. No his plan of turning in early and enjoying a long night of sensual touches and intercourse followed by falling asleep in each other's embrace. You’d hit three out of the four points. After the two of you had cleaned up the mess you made, you had slipped into slumber almost instantly, and Vash. 

Well, the blond was finding sleep rather elusive. It reminded him of the nights before you had come along when he barely slept, tossing and turning with his nights plagued by memories and nightmares that made him dread the thought of slumber. 

Those memories reminded him of other times as well as his flesh hand glided along your side after brushing a tuff of hair from across your forehead. It's been one year since the events in the crashed spaceship. 

One year since you had learned what he was. 

One year since he had been certain you were going to freak out and leave him.

One year since you told him you loved him. 

He'd never been so happy to be so wrong. 

You'd come into his life like a wild tomas, he never knew if you were going to throw him or sit on him. Chuckling to himself at the memory of waking up hog tied to a Tomas and you scowling down at him telling him to stop squirming so much. The first meeting at Jenoera Rock had been far better, he'd seen the ghost of the smile on your face with the look in your eyes telling him you knew far more than you let on sitting at the bar looking every bit the drifter he now knew you to be. 

You were something else and thoughts of you faded away when he didn't see you after that brief meeting in the bar. Just another wander. 

He thought it would be the end of your meetings after he tied you up and left you in the desert with your Tomas, wondering if you really were truly that bad with directions. Shaking his head at the memory as you shifted in your sleep drawing closer to his body. 

You surprised him the second time. He was used to having to weasel his way out of conflicts in town by talking to a group or just running away. Sure people had gotten the drop on him lots of times in the past, but no one had literally gotten the drop on him. It had been refreshing to have someone to banter with as the two of you had your short tussle even if he couldn't remember the words to save his life. He did remember that he apologized for the way he left you and how it made his throat tight at the time. 

“You really could get lost anywhere couldn't you.” Smiling as he whispered the words thinking of you leading him to the front of the bank instead of the sheriff's office. It had been after that little showdown with other bandits he found you more interesting than he first thought. Laying down on one of the rooftops as you paced around the building looking for him and speaking to anyone that had been nearby asking if they had seen him. While he couldn't see your expressions that well from the distance he could see from the way you moved about the space that you were putting the puzzle of how he escaped together. You were clever. So as you moved on he felt the briefest flicker in his chest as he wondered what your next interaction would be. 

Over the next few months, he found himself growing worried. He hadn't seen or heard anything about you and the concern was gnawing at his gut. What if those bandits had escaped and followed through on the threats they had made against you? Were you buried in some shallow grave in the desert? Left as food for the worms? So he let the local kids bully him into playing with them, not that it took much convincing but he needed the distraction. Something to take his mind off of you because deep down he knew his concern wouldn't make a difference if you were gone. Another person he failed. 

Only for you to land right in his lap during that firefight in the bar with the bandits that wanted that little girl to ransom back to her father on behalf of the dirty sheriff. He didn't know why you were there, just that his heart started thundering in his chest like mad and a blush started burning on his cheeks. Praying to every being he had ever heard of that you wouldn't notice the tightness he was starting to feel in his pants at the close contact. 

As the the two of you talked about the situation he felt those brief flutters of his heartstrings die as you stated how five was better odds than against seven. His assumption about you being just like another bounty hunter rearing itself once more, only to be turned on an axis when you fired back a response about them learning from their mistakes, and for a brief moment he thought he could see Rem behind you. 

You truly were full of surprises as you bantered with him back and forth and he watched the way your eyes crinkled as you thought and came up with a plan both of you could pull off. Vash really had thought thinking back you had him that time, only to see the mistake when you handed him off to your guide. They made the same mistake you had and he used his prosthetic to slip away once more and left you another note.

The gap between seeing you next was a lot smaller, watching you roll into town before he slipped away back into the restaurant. Watching you through the tiniest gap in the panel of that wall between the kitchen and dining area that the family had made for him a long time ago. The comment about his cooking had his stomach doing a funny little dance while he tried to keep his face neutral, even if it hadn't been said to him directly. 

Looking back at those times Vash could see that in hindsight, there was a pull to you that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Leaning against his fist as you let out a soft snore when his fingers placed just a bit more pressure along your side. At the time he pretended it was an idle curiosity because of how different you were from other bounty hunters, and as the quick draw competition was quickly revealing itself to be a showdown between the two of you he had wanted to test you. Unaware that part of that test on his part had been to see if you were as clever as you let on, to see if the three days you had been in town had been enough to make you realize the owner of the restaurant needed help and what you would do. 

On the surface, he told himself it was just to see if you were different like he thought, but now looking back he had to wonder if even then he wasn't starting to feel some sort of comrade with you. You were far more than just another bounty hunter and he knew that. 

That night he did remember one thing clear in his mind. It was a lot harder to slip away than it should have been. Well and he needed to stop using the alias John. P. Smith if he wanted to avoid you. Chuckling to himself, that had been a brief interlude before the two of them started traveling as friends. Well, sort of. He was certainly ready to call you a friend while you kept trying to give him the slip with the tables turned. 

Another sweep of his fingers through your hair as Vash stared at your sleeping face, he'd thought he’d almost lost you three times now. Two of them were far more serious and both had resulted in him taking you to see a doctor, one against your wishes and the other while you were unconscious. He understood your reasons for your dislike now and respected to it an extent. He would never tell you he was willing to face all the ire you could throw at him if it meant keeping you alive. 

The ghost of his feelings that first time he almost lost you still made him sweat. It had surprised him. Taken him fully unaware when you disappeared from his sight in that decrepit building as parts began to fall away from the explosion that had rocked it down to its foundations. 

A blind panic. 

He should have taken the chance to run, but like so many times before his body moved before he knew what he was doing. His boots thundered over the unstable space and slid on his stomach to the gap above where he had last seen you. The way his heart was hammering he could feel his blood pumping through his vein with elation as his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Seeing the strain on your face as you had tried to hold on with just the strength of your fingers. 

It struck him then. He wanted to know you as more than the bounty hunter who was after him, he wanted to get to know the person under the gruff exterior that was the closest anyone had come in years to catching him. 

Looking back he knew that was the moment when those first few flickers of affectioned started to smolder in his chest. An affection that grew with time that he didn’t regret. 

A groan from you as you crack one of your eyes open when his hand brushes too close to your ear. “Vash?” Your voice is heavy with slumber as you peer up at him as if confused. “Why are you up?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Truth ringing in the air before he smirked. “Too lost in the gem that came into my life, Mayfly.” 

“I’m gonna hit you for that cheesy line later Sunshine.” Adjusting your body so you could run your hand along the edge of his chest. “Any reason you can’t sleep?”

Smiling down at you as Vash hears the concern lacing your voice for him, probably worried he was having nightmares again. “Just thinking of what’s important. Like how we’ve been together for a year.” 

A slow blink as he watched a gentle smile grow on your face before your palm rested against his cheek. “A full year? Feels like yesterday when I told you I thought I loved you. I guess it’s true what they say.” 

“Oh?” 

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” A yawn from you before curling more into his body. “And you are oh so fun my Sunshine.” 

Blushing a shade to match his coat it’s his turn to groan. “You’re ridiculous Mayfly. Good thing I love ridiculous.” Vash doesn’t fall asleep as quickly as you do again, but he does eventually follow you off to dreamland. 

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp #vash x reader #vash x you #one year later

[telekitnetic-art]

The beast approaches!!!

As of today, I am now 20 whole years old!!! Wild!!!!

My journey as an artist has been a chaotic and unpredictable one and I can't say for certain what my path will be. But I do know that I wouldn't have gotten as far as I have without the encouragement, appreciation, and compliments from my friends and mutuals and everyone who's reblogged my art and left their own sweet comments and thoughts in the tags!!!

Misiyh/thank you to everyone who's supported me along my artistic journey so far, it means so much to me!! I never would've predicted how far I've come, and I'm excited for the potential projects ahead of me!!!

That's all for now, now i gotta go finish more uni grad prep stuff... (And also if you wanna get a 20% discount off stuff in my shop, the discount ends tomorrow!!)

#job hunt is still going. I've gotten a couple ghosts but I'm hoping I'll snag a bite eventually!!!! #For now though I just wanna celebrate being two whole decades old #I have a lot of plans and ideas for future projects that I'm so excited to share #and hopefully life will be smooth enough for me to commit to them!!! #telekitnetic's silly mind box #indigenous artist #weirdfur

[telomeke]

EUGENE LEE YANG IS LEAVING THE TRY GUYS

Eugene talks about how he's currently too stretched creatively, and is leaving the Try Guys to focus on his other projects. (He has two films in production, as well as a queer fantasy novel and a graphic novel in the works.) His departure does not appear to be happening with any rancor, but what he says about the difficulty in keeping up a public, onscreen persona is also very heartfelt and moving. Nonetheless, he's also kept the door open for guest spots with the Try Guys in the future. And he's only leaving after the current season, so we can still catch him in Try Guy videos for now.

Full transcript of the audio follows, if you'd like to speed read through:

- [Rachel] You ready? (Eugene sighs) - Dear friends, well, it's my time. I've wanted to have this heart to heart with y'all for quite a while now. It is with immense gratitude and unconditional love for Zach, Keith, our partners, our staff, and all of you who have supported us that I'm announcing my official departure from The Try Guys. After 10 profoundly impactful years, my time here on YouTube has come to an end. There's no version of this announcement in which I can properly express how emotional this moment is for me, how hard it is to close such a meaningful chapter of my life. But in the spirit of so much of my digital work, I'm gonna give it one last try.

I want to preface this by giving my heartfelt thanks to Zach and Keith, my bespectacled baby brothers, my tall and tiny nerd. I have no idea how we ended up on this wild journey together, but I couldn't have asked for better, smarter, weirder, funnier, and above all kinder individuals to have ridden alongside. It's been a great irreplicable honor that I will always treasure. And though our time in viral videos may be over, our friendship is forever. Even if I'll hate it when your spawn call me Guncle in the future, I shall train to become the best goddamn gay uncle in recorded human history.

Keith, you are such a shining light, truly the most physically gorgeous specimen alive with those long legs and huge mouth. After today, you are undeniably the hottest Try Guy. Zach, you're an absolute rock star. Every opinion you have is 100% correct, and I want to proclaim on record that I am the Letty Ortiz to your Dom... Guys, come on. I'm not saying all of this. - No, this is so much better than I ever imagined. Keep going, keep going. - Yes, the more emotional you get, the more everyone's gonna be okay with it. - Can you cry on cue? That would be so good for this. - Oh my gosh. Crying in the thumbnail. That'd be tits! Give it to us! (everyone laughs) - Rachel, will you please make them stop? - Yeah, you can't do this. It's a sincere video. You can't make him fake cry. - Okay. - Make him take off his shirt so we can objectify him one more time. - You being naked would be tits! (Zach laughs) - If y'all are gonna keep doing this, then just come over here and join me in presenting a few points. - Okay. So should we do the whole three guys one couch? - Absolutely not. - Dang. - Kind of invented the couch, but, okay, whatever.

- That being said, the three of us have always held a mutual, empathetic understanding about when the right time was for me to take a bow. - Some of you may have seen this coming for a while, as Eugene's schedule has gotten busier over the past few years. We thank you for your patience regarding a formal clarification. We wish we could have told you sooner, but certain circumstances outside of our control kind of challenged the three of us to come together in solidarity, and I'm very glad that we did. - Me too. So I'd like to reiterate, in case anyone misinterprets this as some kind of interpersonal ill will, that this is the furthest thing from drama. We have been through the worst version of that together. And all of my decisions have been made in consideration of what we built. And these two will always have my undying support, even if it happens to be from afar. - As you've witnessed with other notable goodbyes this year, there's a myriad of motivations for YouTubers to step away. Some are retiring, others are burnt out. Many have issues with the platform itself, as you've heard us talk about before. But again, our shows, they're not leaving YouTube at all. - Yeah, we're staying. I mean, he's leaving. - He's leaving. - I'm leaving. They're staying. But it's still a very personal decision for me, which I'll expand on later in this video. Rest assured the three of us have been discussing and planning these major changes together for a very long time now. - Of course, there's really no perfect time for this. This was always gonna be bittersweet, and we know that. We agreed though that now makes the most sense considering all the exciting new things that are happening at the company and in our lives. - Speaking of which, I just wanna say that I'm so, so, so proud of these two and our staff for your vision. Did I just elbow your stomachs? - Yeah, elbowed my belly. - I'm trying to express affection. - It was good. - You're almost there. - What do I do instead? If I go down... - If you go down it will be less affectionate or more affectionate, depending on the type of affection you like to give. - You were telling us how proud you are. - I was. Okay. Speaking of which, I am so, so proud of these two and our staff for your vision and hard work for the next era of 2nd Try. Now one of our long-term goals has always been to use the privilege of our platform to expand into a wider cast of diverse voices. - So we like to think that we're not really losing Eugene, but we're gaining so many more perspectives that deserve the opportunity to shine. However, we cannot let Eugene go without filming one last season of classic Try Guys videos. - And you can watch those episodes starting tonight at 2ndtry.tv. They're also gonna be here available on YouTube for free at a later time. Either way, I'm gonna miss you, buddy. - Yeah, 'cause, you know, we love you. - Oh. I love you all too. Come here. Come here. - Okay. - Come here. - Let's go for it. - This is a real one. - This is nice. - All right, now, if you would be so kind, I'd like to spend my last moments here with our beautiful, incredible audience. - Makes sense. - Cool. - [Zach] Okay. - I... (Keith and Zach giggle) - [Keith] Wee! - [Zach] Woo! Where do you wanna get lunch? - I'm the one leaving. This doesn't make sense. - [Zach] Oh, it's so bright. - [Keith] Oh my god. - It's fine. Okay. I'll wait till their bit's done. How are they gonna get back inside?

I want to be fully transparent about my reasons for leaving YouTube. And some of these have been difficult for me to find the confidence to express, but y'all deserve a comprehensive explanation. Well, first, in regards to my time, which is the primary issue we've cited, yes, I have become enormously inundated with work. I'm the busiest I've ever been in my entire life, and I'm so, so thankful to be committing my blood, sweat, and tears into projects that mean the world to me. Projects that have been in rigorous development for many years, which I'll elaborate more on in a bit. Now, as you know, once they required my undivided attention, I couldn't appear as often as I used to in videos. And it hasn't gone unnoticed how much my gradual withdrawal has upset some of you. And I am truly sorry for that. To express this as simply as possible, working full-time here became untenable, and it's evident that I can't continue keeping one foot in. So this amorphous arrangement where people end up asking the very fair question, "Is Eugene even a Try Guy anymore?" that will only disappoint all parties involved, especially you, the viewers who have stood by us. So for clarity's sake, we've decided to establish a clean break because clean breaks are ultimately better for the healing process. And I sincerely hope to guest star in future videos, and I don't wanna risk them being tainted by any embitterment. I want us to collectively look forward to those reunions with joy.

Now onto what I've been working on. My primary passions are writing and directing in the film and literary spaces. And my focus has always been on fiction, behind the camera and the pen. And that has never changed. And to hope to achieve any success in those spaces, gosh, it requires a lifetime of commitment. And first, my feature film. I've been writing and developing what will be my directorial debut for some time now. And we are in the active stage of packaging, and I am thrilled to be bringing it to life. The incomparable creatives at Killer Films believed in my script and have been working tirelessly with me for the past few years to get to this critical point. And I can't share more yet, but believe me when I say that it is the unbridled expression of my soul, and I have never been more determined and inspired. Now if you're unfamiliar with the industry, it's an exceedingly rare and blessed opportunity to be able to, one, get a movie produced at all, and two, gain the trust of others as a filmmaker. It requires 110% of my investment, both physically and emotionally. And I'm finally at a place in my journey as an artist to tackle this with unwavering conviction in my vision. And on top of that, the same can be applied to the literary world. I hold tremendous reverence for the writing process and am committed to proving myself as an author. So many aren't afforded this extraordinary opportunity, and I really don't want to squander it. As some of you know, I've been hard at work writing my novel, which is the first in an epic queer fantasy duology with the brilliant folks over at Macmillan and Feiwel & Friends. Due to certain unforeseen circumstances, we've had to push the release date. So you can expect it to be available next year in 2025, and I cannot wait for you to read it. Separately, I've also been writing my first graphic novel with Vault Comics, a twisted horror fantasy musical titled "Buckaroo". And you can expect more news about that and many other developments I can't mention yet in the very near future. My devotion is to creating original stories that will fundamentally thrive in other mediums.

This all brings me to a crucial message that I humbly want to emphasize. While yes, these projects are time consuming, I haven't necessarily prioritized them because I view the digital space as somehow beneath them. No, no. I have worked here online proudly for a decade and will always champion how profound and spectacular this medium can be. But after this past decade of work, of being invited into your homes, of having the privilege of getting to know so many of you, I've come to terms with the fact that this simply isn't the right space for me. The internet can be a fun, rewarding, fantastic place where many creatives shine, including my colleagues who are so, so talented at what they do. In truth, more often than not, I've experienced the opposite effect and leaving will be the best decision for preserving my mental health.

Now it makes me wildly uncomfortable to divulge all of this as I don't want to come off like I'm complaining. I can never stop repeating how deeply fortunate and thankful I am to have ever, ever been on this platform. But I'm going to try to open up as eloquently as possible because I really do care about all of you watching who might have come to care about me. I was always a private person, which has continually been at odds with the demands of being an online personality. Relatability, vulnerability, accessibility, all keywords you're familiar with about what makes a great YouTuber. Unfortunately, these weren't second nature to me, even though I tried my best. I really tried. I already contend with a complex relationship with my identities, so to have to casually discuss and publicize them at length, often in a positive and humorous manner, was exceptionally tough. This is an unscripted comedy channel after all, and that is why I removed myself completely from podcasting. I was trying to find ways to set boundaries and protect myself. But as someone who heavily saturated your screens for so many years, it might have come off as me growing distant and disinterested.

And if you have ever felt that way and if my colleagues have ever felt that way, then please know that that was never ever my intention. In all honesty, I was enduring more anguish, especially after involuntarily going viral for something so agonizing and demoralizing. Demand for my openness only grew. Strangers have been quick to tell me that I owe them my feelings and that I owe them my time to appear in content and that it's all just part of the job. Now contrary to the brave face I try to put on, I've always been profoundly aware of others' expectations. And if I'm unable to satisfy those expectations while staying true to myself, then maybe it's just not right. And many of you watching have probably experienced something similar in your own lives, that poignant moment when you know deep down that it's time for a change. Even if it hurts and even if it's hard, you know what? That change can be wonderful for everyone involved. And that is why I know that this simply isn't the right space for me and that that should be okay. I sincerely hope that it will be okay for all of you. And how I best express myself has been through narrative projects and ones that I can be fully immersed in, ones that can be guarded and intentional, long-term and precious, because that's where I'm most comfortable and energized, when I'm translating my identity, cultures, family history, and demons into work that can be dark and radical and strange and provocative. And while I also have made so, so many memories here that I'll always cherish, in the end, I can't stay. I wish I could be better at all of this for you and for my friends here at 2nd Try. I wish I found an alternative way to make this work because many YouTubers manage to flourish while protecting their peace. But the best, brightest version of myself is the me that can disappear behind my work, and that should be okay.

I chalk some of that up to how I've always had to navigate my privacy and presentation, which tends to be an integral part of the queer experience. It's why I've always relished experimenting with fashion as it's a way for me to transform into an alternate higher version of myself that's dazzling and powerful and self-possessed. You witnessed me learning how to paint my fantasies through clothing in real time. I bring this up because I don't want the summary of my issues to diminish the countless occasions where I have genuinely felt growth, connection, and happiness. A vital aspect of my time with y'all online was my coming out journey. That was undeniably raw and real. And I have grown so much louder and prouder about such a controlled, buried part of myself that was largely due to how emboldened I became because of so many of you out there, and I am eternally grateful for that.

I've also become uncompromisingly secure and appreciative of my representing of Asianness, of my Asianness. So much of that is thanks to the climate I was incredibly lucky to be a part of online where we carved out spaces to show more multifaceted, nuanced aspects of our unique backgrounds. To even be considered a voice in our community is an honor I hold dear every waking moment because I was someone who had always felt so voiceless before.

Fuck! I'm not supposed to cry. Overall, I've undergone an invaluable kind of education that could only happen through social media. It's inspired me to champion progressive values even when the world tries to stamp them out. I fully embrace the power of activism, and I'm more dedicated than ever to lead projects that explore and employ underrepresented talent. My time here with you has helped shape those principles, and I aim to never ever lose that energy. And although I've confessed the more stressful facets of my 10 years on YouTube, if I ever happened to make you smile or laugh or cry, then please know that you were instrumental in keeping me going 'cause you inspired me. Because regardless of the platform, to be able to share essential parts of myself, to garner an emotional response, and to have a spirited discourse, all of that qualifies as art. It constituted a meaningful relationship between us. And it ended up making me learn how to smile and laugh and cry too. And you, my dear friends, have my profound thanks for the opportunity and privilege to have been a part of your lives. Thank you, thank you, thank you. In conclusion, I want you to take away this one incontrovertible truth. You, all of the fans, and everyone here at 2nd Try could never be the reason I left because you were all the reason I stayed. Well, that's it. I hope y'all enjoy my final season of videos ahead, but this is my official sign off from the internet for the last time as a Try Guy. And as a guy who still has much to try, I know we'll meet again. Love, Eugene.

- That's a cut and that's a wrap on Eugene Lee Yang. (everyone applauds) Wait. Come hug him. - No! - [Rachel] Yes! - [Keith] We did. - No. - We didn't order you a lunch though. Are you cool with that? - One last time. - Taco salad. - Congrats. - I love you all. Now just the hugs to the camera. (everyone laughs) - [Rachel] Miss you most of all. - [Eugene] I'll miss you most of all.

#eugene lee yang #the try guys #Youtube

[ramonag-if]

Life Update: 20 March 2023

Hello lovely followers 🌼💖

It's been a hot minute since I last checked in on Tumblr properly so I'm here to pop in and let you know what's been happening behind the scenes (screens?).

Job wise - I'm nearly done with my temp contract (it ends next week) which means that as of April, I will be free to pursue Chapter 7 with wild abandon 😂

Come May, I may be starting a new job but I will keep you updated with how it goes. As it is a work-from-home type of gig, I shouldn't be nearly as tired afterwards for writing 😅

I'm also working on Crowning Glory, a side story/game as a thank you for all the support I've received in the past few months. Can you believe I'm close to 3K followers on Tumblr? Neither can I 😱

It'll be released to Patrons first then to the greater public 😊 The game follows the events after the main game's plot and features your favourite horse, Crown and the MC as they track down the last of the Blood Guard soldiers.

Anyway, thank you to everyone who has been with me through this journey of writing an IF game that got larger than it was ever supposed to be 😅 It truly means so much to see your messages and support, which only motivates me to write more.

#ramonag-if #crown of exile #life update #March 2023