#and hopefully i'll be able to finish my other stuff soon :)

[soriastrider]

i've been drawing some valentines day dirkjake nonsense but at this point i probably won't finish it by the end of today. so here's some other dirkjake for now :) 💚🧡

[orcelito]

Me currently out of work and not looking for a job rn bc grief shit But knowing my tax return should hit in the next week (which will let me last like 3 months comfortably) and I'll have half of two life insurance payouts bc of my dad dying Probably within the next month or two (Maybe more, depending) so like I got money on the way, I Do, but I didn't work as much as I was expecting for my last paycheck so I'll be cutting it a little close for rent and such until the payouts hit so I'm like. :] cutting it close here man :] give me my money please :]

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 54 - BETWEEN YOU AND ME

Previous episode | Next episode

phew Episode 54 is finally here! I know it was only delayed by a week, but I swear it feels like it's been an eternity.

This episode was admittedly... really hard to get through. Not for any outstanding reason, just due to a lot of sudden IRL stuff that sort of piled up on my plate at the last minute and caught up to me. I feel bad for not doing more to avoid that plate from spilling over which resulted in this episode being delayed another week but I've been trying not to beat myself up for it too much. Thank you all so much for your patience and kind words while I worked through this hurdle. The good news is, I have an appointment booked this month for an ADHD assessment, so if all goes well, I'll hopefully be able to get on some medication soon to help manage the ADHD-side of my ND brain. It's been very unmanageable this past month and has led to a lot of careless mistakes and subsequent stress, anxiety, and depression that's been making it harder for me to have fun doing what I do, so I'm hoping things will go well on that front and at the very least take the edge off a little.

Anyways, that's enough personal dumping from me but I figured I owe y'all at least an update of how things are going on my end. Thank you so much for reading and for your patience through the delay <3 And of course, a huge thank you as always to @banshriek for being my creative other half in this project. As hard as it turned out to be to get through an otherwise very simple episode, it would have been even harder still to do it alone and so having them in my corner has been an absolute blessing to help carry the weight of it all and hold me accountable to boot. Now that the work is done, it feels great to see it finished, and has one of my favorite panel redraws that I've been looking forward to for ages in it (the scene of Persephone sitting on the rooftop!)

now ima go treat myself to some shitty bar food and play the rest of Dawntrail LOL

[kcamberart]

Development going forward

So in case anyone hasn't heard, Unity announced this morning that they're going to be making some pretty major (baffling) changes to their licensing plans and monetization. TLDR regarding the pertinent info (from what I understand. The company hasn't made another statement at the time of writing, and the FAQ is very vague):

They've removed the cheapest paid subscription tier (Unity Plus) completely, and are altering Unity Personal (the free one) so that the editor needs an internet connection in order to function. If you're offline for 3 days, it kicks you out until you reconnect to the internet again for the software to phone home. This is apparently not an issue if you subscribe to Unity Pro, the $2,000/yr plan.

If you publish a game made using the Unity engine, once it passes a certain threshold of installations and revenue, Unity will charge you a fee for every subsequent installation of your game on a per-month basis (and it's not per-purchase, it's per-installation. So (allegedly) if someone on Steam buys, installs, uninstalls and then reinstalls your game, or if they need to update the game, that's considered multiple different instances of installation and Unity will (allegedly) charge the developer as such). This will go into effect in January of 2024, but will seemingly retroactively apply to all games published before then as well.

If I've misunderstood any of this, please feel free to correct me.

I would not be surprised if they heavily walk back some of this (i.e., "the last time we announced something bad everyone got mad about it, so this time we'll announce something unbelievable and then say that we changed our minds so people will be more willing to accept the slightly less bad thing we wanted to do in the first place"), but it's setting a very bad precedent for using Unity for any future projects.

I'm currently weighing my options on whether to finish Vollema in Unity and then migrate to a new engine for future projects (Godot gets better every day, from what I've heard), or to just take what I've made so far and start over using different software. Honestly, it's early enough in development that the vast majority of what I have finished and ready to implement is visual assets, dialogue, narrative stuff and audio, so I'm leaning heavily towards testing the waters with a different engine. I likely also will not be able to work on or release any smaller games in the coming months for the time being (RIP 2023 Halloween Game, I'll make it up to you) while I make some decisions. Regardless, I'll keep you all in the loop.

TLDR: I'm likely going to be changing game engines, which will definitely set Vollema's development time back a bit (along with my other projects), but development in general will continue regardless.

Hopefully I'll have more positive news to share with you soon! I'm gonna miss my add-ons, though. Oh man, am I gonna miss my add-ons.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

She Comes First (Part I)

This was started as part of @wannab-urs DMAMC fic challenge, but I just did not finish the fic on time (sad trombone)... so here's Part I (the buildup) and I'll post Part II (the payoff) as soon as it's finished.

Please go check out the rest of the DMAMC tags for more delicious fics!! This has been a really fun fic challenge, and I'm still happy with everything I've written so far.

Word count: 10,299 (nobody look at me!) Rating: Explicit, for 18+ only legally (but really ages 35+ only for the vibes, this is adult shit) Outline: alternating dual POV; Frankie “Catfish” Morales x domme!fem!Reader insert (Reader insert is 40+, able-bodied, has boobs and a pussy, wears corporate/business clothes to work, and wears pumps/heels) but otherwise is a total blank slate (no physical description, not white-coded, no blushing, no descriptions of hair or skin) Warnings: Femdom; Frankie is brand new to SSC (safe/sane/consensual) BDSM; characters drink alcohol; curse words and vulgar language (all the good stuff you expect from one of my smutfics); eventual smut; lots and lots and lots of talking about BDSM limits (but I tried to make it hot). 

You settle yourself at the bar, resting your feet on the brass crossbar of the leatherette stool, sinking against the low backrest with a sigh as you wave down the bartender. 

What a week… Fuck the clients and their demands, and your boss’s caving every time they snap their fingers. A drink to start, and then some well-deserved Friday night play. 

Hopefully there will be at least one interesting man tonight, someone you can invite to a hotel room and use as the finest form of stress release. Someone who can be a good boy, who can obey your orders and give you pleasure that you’ll return tenfold when he earns it. 

You look up, using the large mirror above the bar to scan the room behind you, taking advantage of the fact that it’s tilted at an angle, giving you a view not only of people walking behind you, but also the booths and their occupants. You can stare for as long as you like—no one really ever notices anyway, engrossed in their own good time. 

Of course, there’s always one guy who wants to catch your eye, come over and sit next to you and seduce you (ick) but you can see that type coming from a mile away, and they’re not who you’re interested in. Finance or tech bros, ties loose and eyes too shiny with whatever top-shelf shit they’ve imbibed too much of before you even walked in. 

As the bartender places your drink in front of you, you catch the reflection of a booth full of men behind you and a few feet to your left. A young one, very blond and muscled and wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt seated next to another, darker blond man in a sedate navy blue polo, a short, trimmed beard giving him a corporate look. The two seats opposite them are occupied by a shorter man in a black shirt, his dark curls shot through with gray, and the fourth man is different, a little taller and a lot broader than the others, wearing a mesh baseball cap.

He’s wide through the shoulders, arms straining beneath a soft chambray denim shirt, even softer-looking curls escaping from beneath the brim of his hat. He’s smiling and even laughing at moments, but he’s much quieter than the other three, especially the rowdy one you’ve nicknamed Muscles and the smirking dark-haired man seated next to the wall. You see all four of them raise their beer glasses to toast to something, but their laughter is gone, replaced by somber expressions. The shortest one, the smirky one, mouths an “Amen” but you can’t hear it over the din of the bar. 

You consider the group, carefully scanning each of them for tells, little hints that any of them might be of interest, might be a good time for the evening. 

The youngest one—he’s too ebullient, too boisterous for what you want to give. He wouldn’t pay attention, wouldn’t follow instructions and be a good boy. And definitely not the smirker in the black shirt; he’s handsome and he knows it. He’d be a brat, try to wrest control from you, make it a challenge that he’s leading. The other blond, the quieter one; he’s handsome enough, but something about the set of his jaw and the way he carries himself when he strides up to the bar to order another round—that power, that inner peace—this is not his thing, you can tell. And that leaves…

Baseball cap. Soft, kind eyes and a strong nose, plush lips just beneath a patchy little mustache. A little sad, much quieter than the others and much larger. He’s a big boy, all broad shoulders and work-strong arms under that soft blue shirt, his sleeves rolled up his forearms for comfort, but giving a show of how strong he must be. A physique crafted by hard work and daily routines, entirely different from the sweat-slick muscles of the younger blond. That one must be a gym rat or a boxer or something, self-focused when he flexes his bicep at the short, dark one in the black shirt and gets a smirk and a “Fuck you” in return, a playful slap that glances off his elbow as he cackles and lowers his arm.

Baseball cap laughs and shakes his head, eyes flicking to his heavy glass stein, two-thirds full of golden, bubbling liquid, still working on his first drink when Polo Shirt returns with a tray of three beers for himself and the others. He’s savoring, sipping where the others quaff, holding a palm out and shaking his head with an emphatic “No,” that you can read on his lips in the mirror after the younger blonde raises his arms and shouts, “Shots!” loud enough for you to hear it over the crowd. 

Baseball cap is enjoying himself, taking it slow, licking his lips after each sip of beer. It must be his reward for a Friday night, a work week well-done, a rare treat on a night out with the guys. You can tell he’s comfortable with them. It’s not the quiet nervousness of someone awkward, someone new who’s trying to fit in with a louder crowd. These are his friends, and they take him as he is, even when he’s got his eyes down, trailing a blunt fingernail over the graffiti marks on the solid wood table instead of joining in the jovial conversation. 

He lifts his eyes and suddenly they’re locked on yours in the mirror, dark and rich, eyes you could drown in if that was your thing. He flicks his gaze away for a moment and you blink—and there he is again, a little shy after another nanosecond of eye contact, flicking his eyes away and then looking down, taking a sip of his beer with the same focus he probably used for final exams in school. His eyes find yours in the mirror once more and this time you smile, gentle and soft, just a curve up at the corners of your mouth. Baseball cap’s dark eyes go wide for a moment before he swallows hard and looks back down at his beer.

Bingo. 

He’s the one. The shy ones, the gentle giants, the big guys with kind eyes—they’re your favorite. Much more relaxed in middle age than the college boys you sometimes play with, the eager ones who are so distracted by their nerves that they can hardly follow direction. You know that you fulfill some kind of mommy kink or older woman fantasy for them—and you don’t mind, because you know the rules on both sides of the game. But the eager young things get tiresome after a while, and it starts to feel like you’ve signed up to teach, rather than to enjoy yourself. 

You let them down gently but firmly, with a kiss and a reassuring pat—letting them know that they did good, but it’s just not going to turn into a long-term relationship, and maybe they should share those fantasies with a woman their own age. You tell them to look for someone serious, a girl who scares them a little, who they would never normally approach for a date. You know that there are plenty of young women at their university who would jump at the chance to boss them around in bed, and that there’s a girl for each one of those young, eager boys—a stressed-out hard sciences major who just wants to exercise a little control in her own life, and she’ll eagerly wield all manner of paddles and punishments if they ask her sweetly to dominate them. 

You’re tired, too, of the single men who have been in the scene long enough to know what they want—and what they want always seems to be a collar, a lifelong promise of devotion on both sides, and you just aren’t in the market for that. The usual circles of people in this town who are looking for some casual weekend play have gotten stale. They’re mostly couples in long-term relationships—and god, you know it’s selfish, but you don’t want to share. You want someone entirely focused on you, who won’t be thinking about what their own domme might do to them later, who will eagerly come when you call instead of having to ask permission from someone else to go on a playdate. 

And that leaves… fresh meat, new men. Men who you screen very carefully before you start a casual hookup. Men who look like they’ll be a good little pet in bed, if they can follow instructions, if they can shed any of the hang ups they have and go all-in with you for a night or a weekend. Men who have a deeply-buried desire to cede control, who have maybe never voiced it to a woman in their entire life, but who need it just as desperately as they need air. 

They’re just looking for someone to call it out of them, to give them the words they don’t have yet to describe what they’re longing for, what they ache for deep down when they’re fisting their cocks in the shower and replaying scenes from their favorite porn videos in their head. The whips, the restraints, the high heels and the stern voice of their favorite porn star dominatrix. The way she pulls the male actor’s hair when she tilts his head back and spits in his mouth, towering over him as he kneels before her, his hands behind his back and his cock as hard as iron and she hasn’t even looked at it yet, let alone touched it. Those are the men you need, the ones who have desired this for years, but have always been too shy or embarrassed or scared to ask for it. 

And if Baseball Cap fits that mold, you’ll gladly take him home for the night. You could do so much for him, let those desires out of the little box that he’s buried them in, tell him it’s okay to ask for what he wants, put his desires first for once, instead of always trailing behind his more extroverted friends. And, hey, if you shoot your shot and he’s not into that, there are plenty of other subby little fish in the sea. But he looks delicious, and you want to hook him with a lure he doesn’t even know exists right now. 

You decide to play a game, to see if you can get his attention and keep it. 

He’s so sweet, glancing up at you in the mirror when he thinks you’ve turned your gaze away, only to find that your eyes are still scanning him, gently assessing him, an appreciative little smile on your lips. Then he ducks his head and goes back to his beer.

His cheeks go pink after the second round of this game, his ears after the fourth or fifth, starting flushed and then blazing red. He’s a cutie, shy and growing more bashful by the second as his friends catch wind of what he’s looking at and start to rib him for it. 

Muscles cranes his neck over to look, his playful eyes wide as he sees you in the mirror. He turns back to Baseball Cap with a shit-eating grin and says something that makes Baseball Cap hide his face behind his hand. Polo shirt goes for casual, turning his gaze to the bartender as if he’s gauging how busy the line for drinks might be before he slides his eyes over you without a change in expression. 

Smirky gives you a big grin and a very flirty wink in the mirror and you drop your smile, raising one eyebrow with a shake of your head. Not you, Smirky.

You shift your gaze to look at the reflection of his friend, making sure that Smirky can see your eyes trailing from his work-worn boots to his hips, all the way up his arms to the top of his well-loved baseball cap. Smirky gets the message and elbows Baseball Cap, leaning down to murmur something in his ear that makes Baseball Cap sit up with a start, shaking his head and pulling on his earlobe in nervousness. 

Smirky elbows him again, hard, and you’re delighted when Baseball Cap turns back to look at you and catches your eyes in the mirror, bashful hope written all over his face, the shyness dropping away bit by bit as his interest grows. You smile again, tilting your head at the empty stool next to you at the bar and he turns back to his friends, eyebrows raised for help, seeking guidance. 

Good boy, you think… What a good boy, asking for help when you need it, opening up to the idea of coming over here, seeing what the pretty lady wants with you. 

He looks back at the mirror, sees you still looking, then takes a larger gulp of beer before rubbing his hands nervously on his denim-clad thighs. He braces his legs and then slides out of the booth, turning his back to you for a moment to look at his friends for a final bit of guidance. 

All three shout, “Go!” to him in unison, you can hear it over the din, and just as he turns to approach you… a slimeball slides into the seat next to you, wrapping one arm over the back of your barstool as if he has any right to your personal space or attention. 

Your heart falls when Baseball Cap takes in the scene, his hope fading to disappointment as he looks away and then strides off to the restroom, as if that was his plan all along. 

“Wha’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone, sweetheart?”

You take a sip of your drink and swivel toward him, knocking his arm off the back of your chair with a scowl. 

“Not interested. Please leave.”

Slimeball’s confused expression slides over his face slower than it should, a clue to how inebriated he already is. This was going to be irritating, the drunk ones always making more trouble than you want. Not that any man took rejection well… you could count on one hand the number of men who had taken your “No, thank you,” gracefully and apologized for bothering you before disappearing back to mind their own beeswax. 

“What d’ya mean? I’m just trying to make a little conversation, s’all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Baseball Cap’s three friends start to slide out of the booth. Trouble-stoppers, good guys, you can tell. You’re grateful for their presence, even if you can handle this sort of thing entirely yourself… just in case it gets ugly. They stay standing near their table, watching carefully and taking their cues from you instead of rushing in to white knight the situation—and that’s even better than just being willing to step in. They seem like men who care about and respect women, green flags all around. 

“But you shouldn’t have to drink alone, pretty girl. M’just tryna save you from a boring night.”

You narrow your eyes at Slimeball and lower your chin, scowling at him like you’re an angry bull facing off a threat, and then… oh no, here comes Baseball Cap back from the restroom, stopping abruptly when he sees his friends focused on you, watching intently as Slimeball tries to put his hand on your thigh. If looks could kill, Slimeball would have a hole in the back of his head right now. 

In the corner of your vision Baseball Cap looks pissed off, but you sense it’s not uncontrolled anger. He’s quiet in the way he settles his body, one hand waving his friends back into their seats while the other hangs at his side, making a loose fist and releasing it, over and over. Not immediately springing into action, not itching to start something ugly in the crowded bar, but prepared just in case—the rest of his body still, taut, alert… ready. 

You slap Slimeball’s hand off your knee, then you raise your volume and lower your pitch, making your voice deep and loud, hoping the sound will carry to Baseball Cap and his friends, letting them know you’re okay and can handle it. 

“I said ‘no’ and I meant it. Leave. Now.” 

Fortunately Slimeball takes the hint, his face dropping into a disgruntled pout: he’s just a little boy who thinks the world owes him something, that women are vending machines that he can put kindness or attention or flirting tokens into and get guaranteed sex in return. A little boy whose Mommy didn’t say “no” enough, a boy who never learned that women are human beings, and that every man who is lucky enough to walk the Earth was born of a woman and he better damn well respect his origins.

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch.” The waft of his pathetic liquor breath hits you and you turn back to your own drink, making a show of being entirely unbothered. 

“Slut,” spits Slimeball as he moves to dismount the stool and almost slides to the floor. 

Ah, a classic, the final paradoxical rebuke from many a damaged man—you won’t put out for him, so you must be a slut, secretly fucking every other man in the bar and withholding your public favors only from him.

Slimeball turns and lurches toward the back hall, heading for the men’s room, or maybe the exit to the alley where he can vomit and regret his life choices—you don’t care which. You shake your head to yourself and look up in the mirror. 

Baseball Cap is sliding back into the booth, and when he looks at you again, there’s a small smile and a nod, acknowledgement that you’re capable of handling jerks and idiots by yourself. He tunes into the conversation his friends are having, and he looks like he’s lost interest in answering your call from before, no longer riding the wave of brimming courage he had built up just a few minutes ago. 

You sip the last of your drink and ponder your next move. Maybe it was time to be more bold, more direct, except… now Smirky is needling his friend, talking intently to Baseball Cap, but only succeeding in making him more and more defiant, his head shaking so hard it seems like his hat might come right off. Muscles joins the pile-on, while Polo Shirt puts one hand out across the table, entreating Baseball Cap in a gentler way. 

He shakes his head again, and Smirky shoves him, launching Baseball Cap halfway out of the booth, making him stumble a bit until he rights himself and stands up. He moves to sit down again, but Smirky slides across the seat and blocks him, staring up at him stubbornly with a stern, “Go,” that you can lip read in the mirror. 

Baseball Cap sighs and wipes his broad hand down his face, then reaches up and lifts the cap a few inches to sweep his hair back before he squares it on his head and takes a first, hesitant, step toward you. 

You watch in the mirror as he approaches, long legs clad in faded denim, moving slowly but smoothly toward you. Good boy.

Baseball Cap sidles up to you at the bar and you turn to him, smiling so that it reaches your eyes, so that he knows that he’s welcome to approach you, that you’re eager to talk with him. He’s much broader up close, and his eyes are so soft. A sudden image pops into your mind: your legs thrown over those shoulders, his face buried between your legs while you grip his hair, and you feel electricity begin to tingle in your core. 

He clears his throat and swallows, eyebrows knitted slightly, his plush lips parting with a quick flick of his tongue as he takes a deep breath.

Oh, he’s precious, so nervous and hopeful. Eager boy. This is going to be so much fun. 

“Hi, I’m—” his voice goes scratchy and he clears his throat to try again. “I’m Frankie.”

He puts his hand out and you grip it firmly. 

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. I was hoping you would come over and talk to me.”

He smiles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, but not much. Still unsure of himself, uncertain of what this might be after getting a front-row seat to your swift handling of the other man’s unwelcome advances. His brown eyes go crinkly at the corners when he smiles, and you guess he’s probably forty, give or take a few years. 

Excellent. A man who has some years under his belt, who won’t be afraid to have an adult conversation with you, someone on your level for once. Fully grown, experienced, handsome. A man. 

“So, do you live around here, or-”

You put a hand up and cut him off. You don’t want Frankie to try to charm you, to make small talk because he thinks he has to. You smile as warmly as you can so that he doesn’t think you’re upset.

“Actually, Frankie, I’d like to skip the small talk and tell you that I want to have sex with you. Is it alright with you if we just talk about what I’m interested in doing? See if you’re open to it?”

Frankie’s jaw drops, his beautiful mouth opening an inch or so, and it makes you want to bite his dimpled lower lip, make him speechless again and again, reduce him to a quivering, happy puddle.

You hold his eyes, watching the gears turn quickly as he snaps his mouth shut and blushes furiously, trying to recover from the shock.

“I—um, yeah… I mean yes. Yes, please.” He smiles and ducks his head, then meets your eyes again as he relaxes totally, all nerves gone now. “I’d like that. Thank you for being so direct.”

Your heart sings. What a polite guy, respectful and eager and appreciative.

“You’re welcome. So you’re up for talking a little more?”

He nods, perfect white teeth showing in his soft smile. 

You hope he’ll be receptive to your next command, another little screening tool of yours. Small commands, reasonable things, before you pull the curtain back all the way and tell Frankie exactly what he can expect if he decides he wants to go further.

“In that case, go tell your friends they can take off without you.” 

You tilt your head in their direction, and Frankie grins, all happiness and dimples, now that he knows he doesn’t have to wade through the usual chit-chat and awkward “getting to know you” questions. He doesn’t have to try, he doesn’t have to calculate the odds of striking out, or figure out a way to rebuild his confidence if this falls apart.

You know that simple, direct commands can bring relief, remove the stress of having to make decisions and weigh consequences. It’s a gift to the right man when you flip the gender-norm tables and show your strength and your assertiveness, let him know that happiness and gratification are just on the other side of following directions.

And Frankie seems to be receptive to it.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile, watching in the mirror as Frankie lopes back to the booth, stands with his back to the bar and hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate to his friends that he’s ditching them. The butterflies between your legs flutter harder.

Muscles exclaims “Whoo!” like his favorite team just scored a touchdown, and you chuckle to yourself as you see Smirky pass a folded twenty-dollar bill across the table to Polo Shirt.

Frankie returns to sit in the empty stool next to you. You raise your hand, signaling to the bartender for a refill while Frankie peruses the menu to see what else they have on tap. Within thirty seconds his friends are standing up to leave, and since Frankie has his back to them he can’t see Smirky approaching with a mischievous look on his face. 

You look over Frankie’s shoulder at Smirky and shake your head once, firm, mouthing a stern, “No” at him. And thank god he’s not stupid, he just makes a little moue, a pout of disapointment but pairs it with a nod, understanding that his intrusion would not be welcome.

Smirky follows Muscles and Polo Shirt to the front door, and then they’re gone and you’re finally, blessedly alone with Frankie.

And now the real fun can begin.

Frankie can’t believe his good luck. His head is still spinning from your bold and direct manner, not to mention your sparkling eyes and winning smile. He can’t remember the last time a woman knocked him off-center this fast, and he welcomes it. 

Frankie trails his eyes over the bar menu, wondering why more women don’t just… say what they want. He could have saved so much time, skipped so many bad dates and hookups if he’d met a woman like you decades ago. He settles on a lager, and after he places his order with the bartender, you touch the back of his hand softly, just a graze, and he turns his eyes back to you.

You’re so… intense is what Frankie wants to think, but that word has negative connotations. And you’re definitely not a negative experience, you’re just so specific and present in the moment—direct—and the more Frankie thinks about it, the more he likes it.

“There’s a booth that just opened up in the corner,” you nod your head toward it. “I’m going to go sit down. Please bring the drinks over when they’re ready?”

Frankie nods, eager to please. “You got it.”

You smile, and Frankie feels like he’s just done something good, something that makes you happy. He’s surprised to find that he wants to do it again and again, and as you slide off the bar stool, he reaches his hand out to help you down, get you steady on your feet so that you don’t wobble in your office heels.

“What a gentleman,” you say. You shoot him another warm, soft smile, and Frankie swears his heart is going to explode with pride.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Frankie is so fucking thankful that he came over to talk to you. (He’ll never tell Santi it was his shove that finally did it—his ego is already big enough, the asshole.) But Frankie is already counting his lucky stars as he watches you walk away, hips swaying gently, mesmerizing him until he’s startled by the bartender plunking two glasses down in front of him.

Frankie opens a tab (hoping he’ll have much more time with you this evening), and carries the drinks over to you as carefully as he can. He sets them on the table and then pauses, a thought occurring to him.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Frankie tries to keep his voice even, steady, but it seems to want to crack and go higher, his heart fluttering in his chest with the hope that he can do more for you.

He doesn’t know why. You’ve already told him what you want—to talk more about having sex with him—so it’s not like he needs to court you or gain favor. But something about you, about your assertiveness, makes Frankie want to please you. You’re clearly a very strong woman, you know what you want (and heaven knows Frankie is still wondering why you want him), and that strong personality of yours is calling to him like a siren song.

You shake your head. “No, but thank you. Sit down.”

That smile again, your sparkling and curious eyes… you’re intoxicating. Frankie tries to hide his disappointment, but he’s hoping that later there will be something else he can do for you, get for you, hell—make for you that will please you again.

“So…” you take a sip of your drink and meet Frankie’s gaze as your eyes sharpen. Not mean, just intelligent and direct. No bullshit.

It’s a breath of fresh fucking air as far as Frankie is concerned, and he feels just as floaty as he did back on that frozen mountain in Colombia, where the air was thin and ice cold. He smiles and waits, his instincts telling him that you’re about to blow his mind, and he won’t interrupt you while you’re in the middle of it.

“I wanted to talk with you more, Frankie, because what I’m looking for is very specific.”

Frankie swallows a sudden lump, worrying that he’s not what you’re looking for. It’s the result of damaged confidence born of too many conversations with girls whose wide eyes suddenly turn to Benny when he walks by. And far too many bored and disinterested women who get Frankie as their consolation prize when Santi hooks up with their best friend, and the happy couple (for the night) shoves their two wingmen together out of pity. Are you about to dismiss him?

But no, that couldn’t be right, because you had asked him to stay, invited him specifically to talk about sex. You’d already chosen him. And that thought cheers Frankie immensely. He thought he had read your signals correctly, he just wasn’t absolutely sure, so he talked himself out of coming over to you about nine different times. But now… now there is nothing to misread. You chose him, invited him, selected him. He’s wanted.

Frankie takes a deep breath, raising his eyebrows and nodding to you, holding your eyes with his own even though yours are almost too pretty to look directly into. But he wants you to know that he’s listening, taking you seriously.

You smile again, mysterious and secretive, and Frankie’s gaze flicks to your mouth as you open it to speak again. Whatever it is that you’re looking for, whatever specific thing you need, he’s determined to give it to you.

He wonders for a moment whether that’s crazy, whether he’s too far gone already for you when you’re still basically a stranger. And then he suddenly realizes he doesn’t even know your name! But Frankie knows, feels it with a conviction that he hasn’t felt in many years that he’ll be what you want, do what you need, twist himself into any shape that you’re seeking.

As long as you keep looking at him with those sharp eyes, that discerning smile. As long as you let Frankie stay in your orbit, he’ll be whatever kind of “specific” you demand.

You cock an eyebrow, “What do you know about dominant and submissive relationships?”

Frankie blushes, ducks his head and takes a sip of his beer, collecting himself. Your direct and plain language is doing things to him, and he wants to answer you just as frankly and matter-of-fact as you deserve.

“Ah, um… I know about them, a little bit about them, but I’ve never been in one. Does that answer your question?” Frankie hopes it does, and he feels a sweep of relief when you nod.

“It does.”

You smile again and Frankie can’t tear himself away from your eyes. He wants to make them sparkle like that every day. He smiles back at you and feels… happy, proud. He did it right, answered you correctly, and he wants to do it again.

You sip your drink, and Frankie watches you flick your tongue across your lower lip to catch an errant drop. He’s mesmerized, could watch you do that over and over again. 

You continue, “And from what you know, would you be interested in that dynamic? In taking part in a sexual relationship with one partner being dominant and the other partner taking a submissive role?”

Frankie feels his ears turn red. He’s never been one to be “mean” in bed, to do anything that might hurt his partner, and now he’s not sure if this is the right answer or not, but what the hell—

“I’ve never really thought about it. Everyone kinda knows about it from that book that came out, but I just— I honestly don’t think it would turn me on to tie a woman up…” Frankie trails off. Was that the right answer? Are you going to be upset?

He’s reassured by your chuckle and the way that you lean closer, grasping the back of his hand with your soft one, giving him a quick squeeze and a pat before you let go to take another sip of your drink.

“Good. Okay, that’s good for me to know.”

Frankie wonders where this is going, because if it turns out that he’s not what you’re looking for… he might just swear off dating altogether, become a monk and go live out the rest of his life somewhere remote, somewhere that would wipe the stain of utter disappointment from his psyche.

“I’m actually not looking for someone to tie me up,” you smile.

And Frankie is relieved again, happy to continue the conversation as long as you’ll keep smiling at him like that. He relaxes his shoulders, trying to drain the tension built up from the rollercoaster of unease and happiness that he’s been riding for the past thirty minutes. He wishes he was cooler, more like Pope, more outgoing like Benny, as self-assured as Will—then maybe he would stop psyching himself out and just be able to go with the flow.

“And I’m not necessarily looking for someone that I can tie up, but I do like being in charge.” You wink at him, and Frankie feels something warm behind his sternum. Interesting.

“Would you be open to that, Frankie? Would you like me to be in charge of you?”

His cock immediately stirs at that, and Frankie swallows hard. Images of you standing over him in a vinyl bustier and stiletto-heeled boots suddenly flash through his brain.

A blindfold. Handcuffs. Spankings.

Frankie feels lightheaded, all of his blood rushing south as he opens his suddenly-dry mouth and closes it again, blinking rapidly to try to come up with something that isn’t just heavy breathing and awkward noises.

He nods, having no clue about where this idea has been all his life. Of course you would be in charge, you’re so perfect for it.

A parade of ex-girlfriends marches through his mind, and now it’s like a spotlight is shining on his memories, showing everything in crystal clear detail. Frankie recognizes that his favorite women, the ones he had fallen madly in love with throughout his life—they were the strong ones, the bossy ones—all the way back to his first crush in elementary school.

A girl named Maria with long, straight black hair in a ponytail had chased him around the playground, taunting him with threats of a kiss. Frankie had been embarrassed when he tripped and fell, the other kids laughing at him, one boy shouting that he had brought the dreaded curse of ‘girl cooties’ upon himself. But when the girl kneeled over him, blocking out the sun, she was backlit perfectly and looked just like Frankie had imagined an angel would. She kissed his cheek with a loud smack, Frankie’s heart did a flip, and he wondered why her strawberry lip gloss suddenly smelled so good.

When she ran off to find another victim, disappointment flooded his chest. Frankie had felt the phantom kiss lingering on his skin for days, wondering if and when he could get her to chase him again. Whether he could earn another kiss, another brush with sweetness.

“Yeah—” Frankie’s voice cracks again, and he swallows hard.  “I—fuck, yes. Sorry for my language, I just… how did you know?”

Your mouth turns up and your eyes flash amusement, but he can tell you’re not laughing at him, you’re just pleased with his answer. And there goes that warm sensation flooding his guts again, his heart beating just a tad more rapidly at the images that are now somersaulting through his brain.

You, fully in charge, dressed for a day at the office. Frankie on his knees in front of you, naked and vulnerable. Your soft hand cradling his jaw. Your firm voice calling him a ‘good boy,’ telling him he’s done well, telling him you’re proud of him.

Frankie bites his lip, huffing out a breath to calm his racing thoughts.

“Well, I’ve been doing this for a while, and I’m not shy about asking for what I want,” you smile.

You shrug. “It’s not like I’m psychic. If you’d said ‘no’ there would be no hard feelings on my part. I’d simply pay for your beer and send you on your way.”

Frankie chuckles and shakes his head, full of wonderment at how perfect you are. How you seemed to read him so well and pull him in, make him want to do things for you, serve you, be whatever you need him to be. It doesn’t feel manipulative—it feels like it’s meant to be. Fated. Predestined. And Frankie wants to follow you wherever you’re about to lead him.

“So,” Frankie grins. “Where do we start?”

You chuckle at Frankie’s eagerness and squeeze his hand before walking him through the basics. Testing. Contraception. The ins and outs of the arrangement you’re looking for. You introduce him to a confidential online sexual preferences quiz, guiding him through how the website will take his answers, compare them to yours, and the list of results will only show things that you both agree on. You’ll build out your domme/sub agreement from that list, and you also make it very clear to Frankie that he’s in charge.

He quirks an eyebrow at that. “Me? I thought… I guess I don’t understand. Can you explain that?”

You smile at him, so proud of this man for speaking up already and telling you what he needs. He’s so good already, and while you came here tonight with the intention of picking up a casual fuck who might be interested in a scolding and a spanking, you’ve pivoted to introducing Frankie to the bigger picture, walking him deeper into the forest, showing him the possibilities of long-term involvement. 

You don’t want to move to the bedroom too quickly, Frankie’s going to need a deeper understanding before you start linking his sexual desire to the dynamics of this kind of relationship. Ground rules first, build that anticipation, then you can start connecting wires in his brain and making sparks.

“I get it, it can be confusing if you’re just learning.” You take a sip of your drink, catching how Frankie’s eyes drop to your mouth, and the throbbing between your legs gets a little louder. “But I’m proud of you for asking. It’s a good sign that you want to learn more before jumping in with both feet.” You wink at him, and his reaction is note-perfect. 

He sits up straighter in the booth, smiling like he just won a prize. You couldn’t have planned this better, and you thank your lucky stars that the Universe saw fit to send this man into your life tonight. 

You lean forward and rest both elbows on the table, crossing your forearms in front of you. “While the dominant partner is ‘in charge’ during a scene, the sub actually holds all of the power in the relationship. You decide when you’re ready, you decide when you’re done, and you ask for what you want. I get your consent for every single thing that we do, and you get to turn your brain off and enjoy it.”

Frankie flushes pink again, and you reach out and take both of his big, work-worn hands in yours. “You’re doing so well for me already, Frankie. I like how you ask for what you need, and that’s a really good quality in a submissive. It’s not just about taking orders; you have to speak up for what you want at every turn.”

He gulps hard, his eyes brightening as he opens his plush mouth. “I don’t—I don’t mean to sound rude, but what do you get out of it?”

“Me? I like taking care of my subs. I like making sure that you feel good, that you get exactly what you need, and I like seeing the effects that a good domme/sub relationship has on the rest of your life.”

“What do you mean?” Frankie knits his brows and tilts his head a fraction, and his great big brown eyes put you in mind of an eager little puppy. The electricity buzzing through your core increases, and you have to stuff it down before you break all your rules and drag him to the nearest hotel. 

Control, you remind yourself. Dommes like you stay in control, both of the scene and of themselves. Breaking rules only confuses a sub, and more than anything, submissives need consistency. You’ll (hopefully) get a chance to make him make those big puppy eyes again soon, as long as you stay in control.

“Well, a good, healthy dynamic between a dominant and their sub builds trust, and when you have trust—something you can rely on—it carries over into the rest of your life. For me, it provides a sense of control that I may not have in other areas of my life, and it makes me feel good to make you feel good. Those good feelings lift me up for days afterwards. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods, encouraging you to go on.

“And for a sub, a rock-solid relationship with a dom can increase your confidence, build good discipline, and give you an outlet for all the other stress in your life. And I think you would agree that self-esteem, good habits and routines, and stress relief are all really important in life. Subs just get theirs from a different place than most people.”

Frankie nods thoughtfully, then licks his lips and ventures a question, his eyes flicking down to the table, nervous. “And what—what if I, um… how do I know if I’m any good at it? What if I do it wrong?”

You squeeze his hands, make sure he’s looking at you while you smile reassuringly. “You can’t screw it up, Frankie. You’re in charge, remember? There’s no secret test, there’s no hidden ‘gotcha’ moment. It’s all about what you want and how much you want to try. There won’t be a pop quiz or a grade on this, trust me.”

Frankie swallows hard and looks skeptical for a moment, then nods again. “I trust you.” 

He smiles and squeezes your hand before leaning back.

After making sure that Frankie has digested all of the important information and that you’ve gotten his number, you tell him firmly to go home, sleep on it, and only fill out the online quiz tomorrow, if and when he’s ready. You shoot him a text so he has your number, and as he’s opening it, his mouth twitches and his eyes dance with amusement. A dimple appears in Frankie’s cheek, and you chuckle. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, handsome?” 

Frankie flicks his gaze to yours and you nearly crumple at the sight of his crow’s feet, the adorable crinkles highlighting just how much his smile reaches his eyes. “Just—I mean, I realized I said yes to all of this without even knowing your name. So what do I call you? What name should I put in my contacts?”

“Missy.”

Frankie nods. “I like that. Is that short for anything?”

You grin, “It’s short for ‘Mistress’.”

Frankie blushes, hot and fast, and you see the shiver that runs through him, his broad shoulders quivering as he sits up a little straighter. He smiles softly and types rapidly, then slips his phone into his pocket. 

“And Frankie?” you add. “If you change your mind that’s entirely okay. You haven’t committed to anything tonight, and I really won’t have any hard feelings if you decide that this isn’t for you after all.”

“I’ll text you either way,” he says with a serious nod, and you know he means it. Then he stands up out of the booth, gives you a quick handshake, and heads for the door. You clock the new spring in his step, the way his shoulders are squared and steady, no more nerves or self-doubt weighing him down. 

He’s gorgeous, and you know that even if he does decline, that you’ve at least infused Frankie with some confidence that he can take with him the next time he goes out to a bar. 

But, god, you hope he says yes.

Frankie gulps, then looks around behind him as if he isn’t alone, as if there were anyone standing behind him who could see and judge what he’s doing. 

He shakes his head and huffs a laugh at himself. He’s a grown man on the far side of forty, and he’s hunched over his laptop in his own home trying to hide the half-chub he’s got going in his boxers like a teenager. He presses the flat of his palm down against his cotton-clad arousal, trying to stave off the throbbing long enough to finish this damn quiz. 

But it’s not his fault, everything he reads sends images of you pinballing around in his brain. Every. Single. Question makes him want to stop and rub one out, just to have the mental clarity to continue. But you had said ‘no touching,’ and damn if Frankie was going to fuck up and disobey the very first order that you gave him.

“Okay,” Frankie murmurs, “Question five: Give partner an erotic massage? Yes, fuck yes…” The mere thought of getting his slick, oily hands on you, feeling the warmth of your skin under his palms, being asked—no, being allowed to touch you and bring you pleasure makes him weak. Shit…

He takes a deep breath and swears he can still smell your perfume from the bar invading his senses. The urge to reach his hand down into his boxers and give himself a firm grip is overwhelming now, and he’s still got dozens of questions to go. His lower belly churns with desire, and he’s so horny it almost hurts.

He loves this. Then he hates how much he loves it. It’s sweet, exquisite torture, and Frankie is giddy, nearly nauseated at how excited it makes him.

His eyes had popped open at 5:30 in the morning, the way they always did after so many years of active duty. No alarm except the morning wood that was raging in his underwear, barely able to get it to go down enough to pee. He had woken to thoughts of you, memories of the bar last night, of the way you had taken control of the conversation and opened his eyes to something that he hadn’t even known was possible.

Frankie had done his best to distract himself, doing laundry and dishes, taking a quick jog and doing 200 push-ups and then showering, filling the hours until closer to 8:00, a decent time when he could text you. His thumb hovered over the ‘send’ arrow, still unsure of the text he was about to blast into the ether, two words he’d finally crafted after a dozen drafts, each sounding more pathetic than the last.

His heart palpitated as the words flew to your phone, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief when his sparse, direct, “I’m in,” was met with a simple, “Good boy,” and a few short instructions. 

Take the quiz. Answer honestly. Don’t touch yourself.

Frankie’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head at the last one, and he briefly thought about pushing back, but he realized this was his first real opportunity to show you how good he could be, how well he could listen. There was no way he was going to disappoint you if he could help it.

He shot off his reply breathlessly, “Yes ma’am,” and bit his lip as he waited for a response. All he got was a “thumbs up” appended to his text, but he reasoned that any response was good, although he did feel a little foolish. What had he expected? A novel? Gushing praise?

Frankie shook his head, reminding himself to temper his expectations. 

He races through questions eight, nine… twelve… fifteen. All “no.” No, he does not want to tie you up, spank you, or use degrading language with you. He doesn’t want to do any of the dominant actions himself, he knows this. 

But question sixteen arrests him in place, and suddenly he can barely breathe. Have partner use restraints on you? makes his tongue swell in his mouth, and his cock twitches violently as it steals more blood from his brain. He can’t click the “yes” button fast enough. Questions seventeen through twenty-four are all “yes,” because they are the opposite of the previous questions. 

Yes, he wants you to spank him with your hand, yes he wants you to tell him what to do in the bedroom, and YES, he wants you to call him pet names. 

Have partner use a belt/flogger/paddle on you? and, Have partner call you degrading names? both get a “maybe” but they make him salivate all the same.

Frankie grips himself through the black cotton of his boxer-briefs, and he wonders if this is going against the “no touching yourself” rule… but he also can’t proceed with the rest of this questionnaire without doing something to try to tamp down his raging erection. Just a quick squeeze, strangle the fuck out of his goddamn traitorous cock for a few seconds, and maybe he won’t pass out.

Frankie tries to remember the last time he was this turned on, but nothing since puberty has even come close to this. The anticipation, the mental imagery, the sheer desire that you’ve ignited in him is practically cruel, and he thinks about asking if he can see you tonight. And if that’s pathetic… well, then he’ll embrace being pathetic, because he needs to see you again more than he needs his pride.

He steels himself against the throbbing in his groin and finishes the questions.

Your phone chimes with an incoming text, and you nearly throw your knife down on the cutting board in your haste to grab your phone from the dining room table. You expel a few curse words at your foolishness. No need to cause a kitchen accident just because you’re eager to see if it’s Frankie. 

“Down, girl,” you scold yourself, and you grimace at how unlike you this is. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You’re the domme, you’re in control of yourself, and you’re not ever this wound-up over a guy. Frankie is a very handsome, very broad guy, but a guy nonetheless. Guys are playthings, scene partners, subs. Guys are people, too, but at most you get sexual satisfaction from them and give them some, along with spectacular aftercare. There’s no feelings involved. Not since… not since you realized that you prefer being the dominant one, not since Nick—

You refuse to go there. Ancient history, old enough to buy itself a drink at a bar by now. Feelings aren’t part of the deal, not since forever ago, and you refuse to examine why there’s a little flutter in your tummy when you pick up your phone to see that Frankie has checked in, a quick, “Done!” accompanied by his unique code for the online sexual compatibility quiz.

You bite your lip and wonder if you should text back… but you wouldn’t even know what to say, so you give his text a thumbs-up, then watch as three little bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear again. What’s Frankie up to? Is he changing his mind? Your stomach sours at the mere thought of it.

The bubbles disappear again and don’t re-appear, so you sigh and force yourself to finish chopping the vegetables you were working on and shove them in the fridge to cook for dinner later. During cleanup, you realize you’ve had one ear out for the phone this whole time, and you shake your head at yourself. 

This isn’t a high school crush. He texted what he needed to and that’s it. Stop being silly.

You dry your hands on a kitchen towel and grab your phone, settling into the couch with your back against the arm rest and your feet propped up on a pillow. You catch an anticipatory grin spreading across your face at the thought that you’re about to see inside of Frankie’s head. 

You enter his unique user code, and you know that you’ve used this online quiz enough times that you’ll fly through the questions. At the end of your answers, the app will generate a list consisting of everything that you and Frankie matched on and email you both. A single “no” is a veto, and that item won’t appear, but everything that’s a “yes” for both of you, or a “yes” for one and a “maybe” for the other will land in your email inbox in just a few moments.

Your heart thuds as you refresh your email for the third time. Is the website taking longer, or does it just feel like it because you’re giddy with anticipation? Where is that stupid email? 

Just as you clench your teeth and growl, the email appears, and your heart suddenly clogs your throat. You wriggle to sit up straighter on the couch, and you’re almost afraid to open the message. Will he be into what you’re into? Will you only match on three things? What if this is a mistake, and Frankie’s just not ready for this kind of arrangement? 

You breathe, sucking in air as slowly as you can, and then out twice as slow. Your eyes water as you stare at the subject line, and you tap your phone screen before you can talk yourself out of it. 

And there it is… 

He’s perfect. You knew it, had felt it in your bones last night at the bar. You didn’t want to believe it, to place so much trust in something that might fall through, but here it is in front of you. Frankie is your perfect match. You couldn’t have designed a better sub if you tried. He’s into everything that you could want, and now you’re drooling at the possibilities.

You arch an eyebrow at a few of his answers. Frankie’s apparently an adventurous boy, and he’s checked off a few questions that surprise you, things that you wouldn’t have thought he’d be ready to try. But those can come later. 

Right now, you’ve got an aching throb building in your core, and you sigh and plop your phone down on your stomach, wondering if it’s too soon to text Frankie and ask him to meet you somewhere. And just as you’re trying to figure out how to phrase it without sounding too desperate, your phone pings.

You pick it up to see the notification, and a wide grin spreads across your face. It’s from Frankie, and you swipe hurriedly to open the text, your heart fluttering as you read it once, then again, and again. 

I don’t want to sound too eager, trying to stay cool here. But I would really love to see you again. Soon.

You sigh, bite your lip, and try to stop the butterflies that are exploding in your gut. You know this isn’t normal, and you can already tell that these feelings—this crush you have on the tall, broad, eager man—are nothing but a recipe for disaster. But you can’t bring yourself to deny it… 

You’ve got it bad for Frankie, and you’re typing out an equally eager response before you can stop yourself.

Frankie paces, trying to ignore both his erection and the nerves that are shredding his stomach. He refuses to stare at his phone and wait to see if you’ll respond to his desperate, pathetic message… so he just treads a path from the kitchen, to the living room, to his bedroom, and back. Frankie keeps his eyes pinned to the ceiling or the walls. Anywhere but down, to avoid the sight of his fucking ridiculous hard-on.

Don’t be a dumbass, Morales. She’ll text you when she texts you. You just gotta—

His head buzzes when he suddenly remembers the second half of the quiz process—the email showing what you matched him on—and he practically runs back to his laptop, stubbing his toe on the coffee table, landing awkwardly in his rolling chair and nearly tumbling out of it. His fingers shake, fumbling to open his email program, looking to see if the results are there, and oh, shit… there it is, top of the inbox. A detonator that could blow his whole world wide open.

Frankie’s heart races in his throat, and he’s suddenly scared of what he’ll see if he clicks to open the email. 

Does she…? Will she want…? What if…?

He gulps, and his pupils blow wide when he sees that you’ve matched him on nearly everything that he’s been fantasizing about for the past twelve hours since he left you at the bar. Fuck.

He leans back in his computer chair to give his cock some breathing room, and his eyes scan the list as his hand drifts across his stomach to his—no!

“Fuuuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Off-limits, Morales. Don’t fuck this up.”

Frankie shakes his head as if that will clear the tumbling swoops of desire that are still torturing him. He breathes deeply, counting to four on each inhale and exhale, until he feels clear enough to proceed with reading the list. But he knows it’s futile, knows he won’t feel anything close to calm until he sees you again, and he hopes against hope that you’ll agree to meet up with him soon. 

And, shit, was that message too much? What if that turns you off? But what if you say yes?

And just as he’s trying to talk himself out of his worries, Frankie’s phone pings in the other room. *** The hotel bar is dark, buzzing with chatter as Frankie navigates his way between tables and guests. He dodges a few servers and busboys who are tidying up after a jubilant group of what he assumes are work conference attendees, based on their lanyards with plastic badges dangling from the ends.

It’s a few minutes before 5:00, and Frankie is still nervous, but at least his hard-on has gone away. He’d spent the entire day distracting himself with the tiniest of errands, the flimsiest excuses to get out of the house, whatever it took so that he wouldn’t spend his afternoon drooling at the list of quiz results or grinning like an idiot at your response to his pathetic, overeager text. 

How about tonight? 5:00? And a map to the hotel bar linked just below it. 

He’d responded with a cool, collected, “See you then” and then ran to his room to fret over what to wear. Frankie’s wardrobe wasn’t extensive, so at least the torture had been brief, and he’d settled on a new-ish pair of black jeans and the tropical-print shirt that Santi had ragged him about for years. 

“You look like you’re modeling for a men’s cologne sold at a gas station, pendejo.” 

Frankie rolled his eyes at the memories of Pope’s playful insults, then spent the intervening hours cleaning his Jeep inside and out, returning library books, and shopping for groceries before heading home to start getting ready. 

But the nerves had stuck around, and somehow Frankie’s hand slipped while attempting to trim his scruff, resulting in a patch so uneven that he’d had to shave the whole thing off. He’d cursed at himself, but then reasoned that if a clean-shaven face and a too-wild shirt were enough to turn you off after everything so far, maybe he wasn’t the guy for you after all. He’d polished his least beat-up pair of work boots and then hit the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel the whole way, his stomach half eager butterflies and half churning knots. 

But when he catches your eye across the room, everything settles. You wave at Frankie from your perch on a high stool, tucked into a table in the corner, and when you smile his whole world stills. There’s nothing else in Frankie’s mind but you. No more clattering of glassware, no more tipsy strangers talking too loudly, no more bodies blocking his path to you. Frankie feels like he’s floating as he crosses the last few steps to your table, and his heart leaps as you slide off your chair to greet him with a hug.

He folds you into his embrace, and when he catches a whiff of your perfume, something in Frankie melts. He wants to propose marriage right then and there… or at least pledge himself to you like some kind of knight in a fairy tale. You’ve been the focus of nearly all his waking thoughts for almost 24 hours, and even a few of his sleeping ones. 

He’s not sure what’s coming next, but he’s all in, and he can’t even find it in himself to care if this goes bad or he ends up brokenhearted. Whatever you want to give him, Frankie will take with open arms, and he only hopes that he can give you back everything that you deserve.

[lesbianherald]

Please. Please. PLEASE! You HAVE to continue Coming home (But Not to You). Don’t get me wrong the ending was perfect, magical, and astonishing. But I need more! The way your able to deeply express each of their feelings making it feel like we’re feeling it with them, your attention to detail in being able to let us know even a slight change in their breathing is amazing! Other fics are good but believe me when I say they don’t compare to yours. After finishing the read it left me with an empty void that no other stories can fill. I just need more! I need a book with thousands of pages. I just need to hear more lol I want more of your perfect description of jayvik. :(

hello friend ! this is just so so so kind ! it means so so much to me that people feel this way about my work. I am so grateful for the kindness sent my way.

that being said there are some just phenomenal fics out there that are so so worth it like the one I just posted about :).

I'm far from the end all be all of jayvik writers. There are so many writers who approach things in a way that's simply not in my wheelhouse and so many writers with so much heart, soul, and skill!

So, while I appreciate the sweet words, I'd love to exist in a space where we aren't compared with each other, you know! These writers are my friends, my community, not my competition. As kind as the sentiment is, I don't want my work to be called better or worse than anyone else's. I want it to be good on its own with other people's work being good and with merit as well.

Again, its an incredibly kind sentiment! I am so so aware you probably just meant that coming home was special to you, and that means so much to me. Just comparisons, even broad ones like this, can be tricky in fandom where we're all doing this out of passion and we can all see each others posts and what people say about us :)

i'll be posting a fic rec list sometime soon so look out for that . hopefully, that'll give you a good jumping-off point.

re: coming home

I will be posting a couple of one-shots for sure. coming home will always have sentimental value to me and I left a couple of small loose ends in there so I could come back to it when I felt like it.

buttttt..... chapter 14 will be the end of coming home proper. i wont be posting new chapters. I worked hard to design that ending as an ending. It may sound silly because its just a fic and one that I call a "silly project" multiple times, but I want to have enough respect for the story and for myself as a writer to know when to let it go. its hard, but I think its a really important part of having creative integrity.

also, i'm simply ready to move on to other passion projects. There's so much tonally, concept-wise, and genre-wise I really am looking forward to exploring as a writer and exploring through these bizarre fictional scientists in the sort of fun and low-pressure (ish) form of fanfic.

Fanfic for me as a writer is a really fun way to learn. Seeing what in my stories works and what people respond to is so exciting It's like a crash course for me, and sticking with coming home outside of a couple small one shots would be like staying in the same class.

I doubt any of my future stuff will have the same sort of appeal as coming home. My past stuff hasn't either. and it might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I'm okay with that. :) I think the months I spent on coming home and the 118,000 words is enough and its time for me to move on. It is such an honor that people want more, but I feel I gave it my all.

Thank you so much for your words and encouragement. I'm so sorry if I came off as unappreciative. I just love my fellow fic writers a lot <3 and I also have so many more facets to me as a writer than coming home that I'm really excited to continue to explore.

[taffywabbit]

it feels weird to finally get a year where I get to say this but I think maybe 2024 actually WAS my year. hopefully not the last, but it really feels like the first, at least in a long time. I was stagnant and static and drifting without much momentum in any direction for quite a while, and then suddenly this year:

I finally moved into a solo apartment and am no longer living in a house with an ever-shifting pool of like 5 roommates. having my own quiet comfy space to cook and relax and be nocturnal without bothering anyone has been HUGE for my mental health

I worked very hard to recoup the money I lost from that move and got myself in a fairly stable and comfortable position again, work-wise

I finally started HRT in June, after about 5 years of waiting/struggling to find a doctor/fear/general motivation issues. which absolutely kicks ass and is probably the highlight of the whole year if I had to pick just one

I also finally got diagnosed with ADHD and (with a little trial and error) got medicated for it, which is another thing I've been trying to sort out for like 6 years. hey did you know executive dysfunction and problems with memory/task management/motivation make it really hard to go through the process of getting treated for the cause of those symptoms? wild huh

I rekindled a much closer relationship with a couple of my younger siblings, especially the elder of my two sisters, and we have really nice chats fairly regularly now (crazy considering we did nothing but fight constantly for like 20 years lol)

I came out fully to my family, for better or worse, and MOST of them have been surprisingly chill and supportive about it

I worked on a little game project with a friend for a couple months! it didn't end up working out but I learned a lot from the experience

I started doing WAY more personal art and kinda rediscovered my passion for it, and as a result I've progressed a lot stylistically and technically within the past few months

I beat Pseudoregalia 94 times since the first time I tried it in February. not really an achievement on the same level as all this other stuff but I'm still proud of it

like idk! there were a lot of rough patches this year and I was honestly pretty burnt out for the first half of it, but 2024 still feels like the year where I bundled up all my frustration about going nowhere with my life and achieving none of my goals and turned it into fuel to just blaze through a bunch of stuff in the back half. I wish I'd done a lot of it sooner, but life has been reminding me a lot lately that it really IS better late than never, so I'm trying to keep that perspective in mind and not let the idea of a ticking clock intimidate me like it used to. I am trying to be optimistic that 2025 will allow me to continue this momentum. we'll see I guess!

idk if I really have any resolutions per se? I guess I'd really like to make music more often in 2025, even if it's just small things I do in one or two sittings occasionally instead of full songs. I started writing a song this year, with lyrics and everything, and then didn't finish putting it together, so at the very least I'd like to make THAT happen soon. I think finding a way to get myself back into animation casually would be neat too - I have a lot of mental hangups and personal roadblocks holding me back, largely from my awful college experience, but I think if I can just find some tools that are comfortable for me then I'll be able to conquer those and hopefully start enjoying it again on my own terms. there's other stuff I'd like to pick up this year as well but honestly I'm keeping my expectations small for now and we'll just see what happens! let's do it, wahoo

[the---hermit]

29|04|2024

In the end I chose to stay home this week and avoid the two lectures of today and tomorrow. It's just what is better for my mental and physical state at the moment, and as soon as I can I will be emailing the professor to ask her if I need to work on additional materials. I was planning on doing that today, but of course my uni has to fuck stuff up and momentarily blocked ALL student's email addresses so I have no way to communicate with the professor until the end of this week. I can't even use another email because the uni email addressess cannot recieve emails from the outside it's a nightmare. WIth this being said my mood was a bit better today and I was also more productive than expected so I am happy about that. Not only I finished my reread of the play, but I also found so many (too many) sources to use for my paper. I also organized said sources and starting tomorrow I will read and annotate them which hopefully won't take too long. I cannot wait to get to the writing part because that will mean I will be close to the end, and I'll be able to move on to other tasks. As for non uni related things I am in a book limbo since yesterday I finished what I was reading and I haven't picked up my next fiction read, and I have no idea what to pick.

today's productivity:

read first thing in the morning (and since I haven't picked yet my next novel I started the day with an historical essay which is great but not necessarily how i'd like to start my days)

finished rereading and annotating The Merchant Of Venice

looked for new sources for my English lit paper (so far I have 17 sources including two books, ya kid has a lot to work on rn)

organized the sources I found and created an attack plan (yes that is how I am calling my study organization)

worked on my cross stitch project

daily Irish review on duolingo

📖:L'Idea Di Medioevo by Giuseppe Sergi, The Merchant Of Venice by Shakespeare

[mcntsee]

Letters to her

prologue

summary: kaz’s letter to y/n throughout the years.

warnings: Kaz’s past is kinda mentioned, mentions of death, cursing

note: I tried to express kaz’s feelings and growth with every start and finish of all the letters, hopefully you guys understand it too. I added a little something at the end, hope you enjoy! <3333

first letter:

Deer y/n

My da said you can came come play wheneber you want to come play with my me again can you please come play with me soon pleas?

I miss you and Jordie miss and da and the little kitteny miss you we all misses you very much

Love Kaz!

(I drawed a pist picture of you and me and spots playing)

2nd letter

Dear Y/N,

I hope you're doing okay. I wanted to say a big thank you for being there when we said bye to my da. It made me feel better knowing you were there, even though it was kinda sad.

Guess what? Jordie said we're gonna move to Ketterdam. He says it's cause he wants me to go to a good school there. I'm not sure about leaving this house, but Jordie says it'll be good for us.

The cool part is that you live in Ketterdam! That means we can hang out more and play together. Remember when we used to build forts in the living room and pretend we were pirates? Maybe we can do that in Ketterdam too.

I'll miss this house a bit because it's where we played hide and seek and had ice cream parties, but I think Ketterdam will be fun too. And I'm really happy cause we'll get to see each other more often!

I will see you soon, okay?

Love, Kaz!

3rd letter

Dear y/n,

I'm really, really sorry I haven't come to see you yet. It's not 'cause I don't want to, I promise. You're still my bestest friend ever. It's just that things got a little crazy since we arrived.

Jordie met this guy named Jacob Hertzoon. And guess what? Jacob offered us a whole bunch of money for our house! Jordie said it's a really good thing 'cause we can use the money for important stuff. But it also means we're super busy.

I didn't want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I miss you a lot and I still want to see you and play together. Maybe once we're all settled in our new place and get the money, we can have a big adventure like we used to.

Thanks for being the best friend ever. I promise we'll hang out soon, okay?

Love, Kaz!

4th letter

Y/N,

Are you okay? Please write back! Jordie is gone. I need to know you're alive.

Kaz.

5th letter

Y/N,

I heard you went on quite the journey to Shu Han just to retrieve my cane. I assume the trip was bearable. Your efforts are appreciated.

It's curious how life unfolds, isn't it? One day we're children playing in the streets, the next we're scattered across the world for various reasons. Yet, here we are, still connected by some thread of familiarity.

I imagine you'll return from your expedition when the time is right. Until then, business with the dregs continues as usual. The city keeps turning, and so do its dealings. As for me, well, I have my own matters to attend to as soon as I’m able to walk again.

- K.B.

First note

Get well soon! Let me know if you need anything else.

- Love, Y/n!

6th letter

Y/N,

Your letter reached me, and I must admit, it contained more substance than I anticipated. Word travels fast in the Barrel, and it seems that Haskell has taken quite an interest in your recent endeavors. His words carry weight, though they seldom come without a price.

If his assessment holds true, and you manage to prove your worth in the upcoming job, it could indeed elevate you within the ranks. Haskell’s recognition of your potential is both promising and concerning. The higher one climbs, the more treacherous the fall can be.

In the midst of this, know that I await your return.

May you navigate these challenges with the same tenacity that has carried you thus far. I wish you the best of luck, Y/N. Tread carefully.

- K.B

7th letter

Y/N,

You certainly have a talent for uncovering promising recruits. Jesper Fahey. The word on the street is that he’s got a steady aim that’s worth noticing. The skills he possesses could indeed be valuable, particularly in the line of work we find ourselves engaged in.

However, I must tread cautiously when it comes to individuals entangled in debts and vices. Jesper Fahey, from what I’ve heard, is no stranger to gambling. His tendency to wager recklessly has garnered quite a reputation, one that isn’t entirely favorable. The loyalty of a man buried under the weight of debts is a precarious matter. Whether his skills can outweigh the burden of his choices remains to be seen.

Your perspective on recruits is valued, and I’ll certainly keep a watchful eye on Fahey. I trust your judgment, and I’m willing to entertain the possibility. In the midst of all this, remember that your return is anticipated and your presence missed.

Return safely,

K.B.

8th letter

Y/N,

Do you remember Jesper? It’s almost comical how, after discussing him in my last letter, fate seemed to conspire to validate our conversation. Not long after I sent those words to you, I found myself intervening to prevent Jesper from getting himself thoroughly thrashed due to his gambling debts.

I hope I’ve made the right call by extending a hand to Jesper. It’s a calculated risk, one that I’m hoping will pan out in our favor. There’s potential there, no doubt, but potential doesn’t always translate into reliability.

This letter is short, I know, but I will tell you more about it when you come back.

Stay safe,

K.B

9th letter

Y/n,

It’s been days since your last communication, and the weight of uncertainty presses heavily on me. The quiet absence of your presence has stirred an unease I’m not accustomed to.

I’ve seen you handle insane odds, and I know you’re more than capable. But here I am. My mind keeps wandering to places I’d rather it not go, imagining scenarios that could have unfolded, and none of them are sitting well with me.

I hope that this silence is a result of strategic detachment, that you’re immersed in the intricacies of the job and haven’t had a moment to spare for correspondence.

I’m not accustomed to this vulnerability, nor do I care for it. Yet, here I am, plagued by the absence of information. I ask you, if you’re able, to dispel this uncertainty. A simple message, a token of reassurance – anything to quell this rising tide of apprehension.

I await word from you with an intensity I hadn’t thought possible. May it come soon.

Expectantly,

K.B

10th letter

Y/N,

I received the coat you sent, and I must admit, it's a rare occasion when I'm at a loss for words. It's unlike anything I would've chosen for myself, yet somehow, it feels surprisingly fitting. I can't deny its utility either – I appreciate it.

Jesper and Nina have managed to cultivate a special talent for driving me to the brink of exasperation. Their camaraderie is both amusing and bewildering, a chaotic symphony that I'm still attempting to decipher.

Today was no different. Jesper's antics at the club bordered on audacious, and Nina's unbridled laughter was enough to turn heads in our direction. As I tried to navigate the sea of chaos they create, I found myself, unusually, yearning for a return to some semblance of normalcy.

I must confess, the prospect of your return holds an allure I hadn't anticipated. There's a steadiness in your presence, an understanding that's often a rare commodity in these tumultuous times. The chaos, the hustle – they feel more manageable when you're around.

Till then, I'll persevere in the sea of antics that Jesper and Nina stir up, counting down the days until your return.

Until then,

Kaz

11th letter

Y/N,

Your mention of the jurda parem caught my attention, no doubt about it. It’s a name that carries weight, and I’ve got a feeling we’re treading on some dangerous ground here. It’s the kind of thing that’s best left untouched until we’ve got a better handle on what it entails.

Listen, I won’t preach, but I’ve got to say it – be careful and keep an eye out for trouble. The city’s not known for being kind to those who don’t tread carefully, and I’d hate to see you caught in something you didn’t see coming.

I’ve got a job for you. One that’s right up your alley. It’s always better discussing these things face to face, so when you can, make your way back. The sooner, the better.

Until then,

Kaz

12th letter

Y/N,

I’ve never been one for words, as you well know. My tongue seems to have a mind of its own, often saying the wrong things at the wrong time. And when it comes to matters like these, I’ve found that my eloquence takes a swift exit.

So, here I am, writing this letter in hopes that the words come out right, that they somehow capture what I’m feeling. I’ve spent years navigating the intricacies of this city, and yet the complexities of my own emotions have managed to elude me.

I’ve always valued our connection, from those early days of childhood mischief to the present. You’ve been a constant in my life, someone whose presence brings a sense of order to the chaos that surrounds us. And somewhere along the way, that bond transformed into something deeper, something I’ve been grappling with.

I find myself wanting to say more, to articulate the thoughts that remain half-formed in my mind. But it’s difficult, Y/N, and this letter might be the best I can manage.

What I’m trying to say is that you’ve become more than a friend, more than a partner in crime. There’s a depth to my feelings that I’m only beginning to understand. And if I’m being truly honest, I’d like to explore where this path might lead.

I understand if you need time, if my sudden candor is a lot to process. But I wanted to put these thoughts down, to let you know where my heart is at. And if you’re open to it, if you’ve felt even a fraction of what I’ve been feeling, then maybe we can navigate this new terrain together.

Kaz.

Second note

I’d like to explore where this path might lead too.

Love, y/n!

13th letter

Y/N,

I can't thank you enough for stepping in when I couldn't. I hope the contractor in Lij wasn’t hard to handle.

Now, I have a proposal of a different kind. How about we put our skills to use in a more relaxed setting? I'd like to take you out to dinner. No heists, no secret dealings, just you and me, navigating the menu instead of the back alleys.

I've made reservations for us at a place that's a bit more reputable than the Barrel's taverns. Consider it a step toward normalcy, a chance to enjoy an evening without looking over our shoulders.

Looking forward to your return,

Kaz

14th letter

Dear Y/N,

Your letter reached me, and I've got to say, the way you put it into words – how much you miss me – it hits home. The distance is a constant reminder of the warmth I've grown accustomed to, and I find myself missing you more than I thought possible.

This job is driving me insane, and my thoughts often wander back to Ketterdam, back to you. It's like a pull, a magnetic force that tugs me back to the life we've been building together.

I bought something with me – a box of those chocolates you can't seem to get enough of. The catch? I'm hoping they survive the journey and don't turn into a gooey mess.

I want you to know that with every sunrise and sunset that passes, I'm getting more restless to return to the city that's been our canvas, our backdrop. Until then, my thoughts are with you, and I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can wrap my arms around you again.

With all my longing,

Kaz

3rd note

I apologize, it seems the chocolates didn’t fare too well. I hope they’re still somewhat salvageable and that they manage to satisfy your sweet tooth.

- Kaz

15th letter

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you on the mend, wrapped in warmth and taking good care of yourself. It pains me to know you're unwell while I'm away, unable to offer even the smallest comfort.

My love, get well soon. I miss your laughter, your presence – they're a part of my life I can't bear to be without for long. The distance feels heavier when I know you're not well.

Today, during the heist, I saw a small brown cat with delicate white spots. The sight of it was like a reminder of simpler times, of moments when things were less complex. It stirred memories of my old cat "Spots," whose antics used to provide a reprieve from the realities of the Barrel.

As I look around, I find myself yearning for the day when I'll return to Ketterdam. Until then, my thoughts are with you, my love. Rest well, recover soon, and know that I will be there soon.

With all my affection,

Kaz

16th letter

Dearest Y/N,

There are times in life when words are inadequate, when even the most eloquent phrases fall short of capturing the depth of one's emotions. Today is one such day, and I find myself grappling with a sentiment that defies my usual precision.

I love you, Y/N. There, I've said it, though the words seem almost insufficient to convey the weight of my feelings. You've woven your presence into the very fabric of my being, and I find that I'm navigating uncharted territory, stumbling upon emotions that have long remained dormant.

In a world marked by uncertainties, you've become my constant, the one I turn to when the winds of the Barrel grow fierce. I cherish our bond, our shared history, and the future we're forging together.

As the days pass, my conviction only grows stronger. You've touched a part of me I thought was unreachable, and I find myself grateful for the warmth you've brought into my life.

Love,

Kaz

4th note

I love you too, more than words can express.

- Love, y/n!

17th letter

My Love,

I've stumbled upon something while on my trip to Lij, a revelation that caught me by surprise. My old house is up for sale. I confess, it's a notion that's been hovering in the back of my mind, a possibility I've been toying with.

And then, as if fate had a hand to play, it occurred to me – what if we made it our own? Y/N, would you consider it? The thought of creating new memories in a space that's intertwined with my past is something that holds a certain allure. A place where we could carve out our own sanctuary, away from the schemes and chaos that surround us.

If this notion speaks to you, let me know. It's a step I'd only take with you, a shared decision that would mark a new chapter in our journey together.

Love,

Kaz

18th letter

This is to certify that Y/N L/N and Kaz Brekker is (are) now registered as the absolute proprietor(s) of the land comprised in the above-mentioned title, subject to the entries in the register relating to the land and to such of the overriding interests set out in section 30 of the Registered Land Act as may for the time being subsist and affect the land.

Kaz Brekker __________

19th letter

My love Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, even though I’m far away in Shu Han. I wanted to share something with you – I stumbled upon the perfect dining table. It’s a piece that seems to embody the essence of what we’ve built together, a symbol of the life we’re crafting, even from a distance.

As I stand here, thousands of miles away, my thoughts are never far from Ketterdam, from you. Every corner of the city is a reminder of our shared journey, of the future we’re molding. And with every passing day, I find myself longing to return, to be by your side again.

The plans we’ve made, the dreams we’ve spun – they’re a driving force, propelling me forward through the challenges that Shu Han presents. I promise you, Y/N, I’ll be back soon enough.

Until then, know that you’re in my thoughts, my heart, every moment of the day.

With all my affection,

Kaz

20th letter

Love,

I’ve come across some interesting information that might be of use to you. It seems that there’s a rumor circulating about a certain merchant in the Fifth Harbor. This merchant, it’s said, has been trying to make deals with both the Merchants Council and the Whitecrows, something that has my interest piqued.

I’ve also managed to uncover some details about a potential source of counterfeit currency that might be making its way into the hands of certain unsavory individuals. The source, surprisingly, seems to be tied to a printing press hidden away in the Barrel. It’s a curious development, one that could have far-reaching consequences.

And finally, I’ve received word that a shipment of goods has gone missing from a storage warehouse near the docks. This might not seem significant at first glance, but it’s the timing that intrigues me. A missing shipment, coupled with the merchant’s deals and the counterfeit currency – it’s all connected, I’m certain of it.

Stay vigilant, stay cautious. And know that even in the midst of our separate tasks, you’re in my thoughts.

I miss you, and I love you.

Love,

Kaz

21st letter

Y/N,

Listen to me, and listen carefully. You need to come back to Ketterdam, now. What you walked into, it was a trap – calculated, deliberate. I can’t explain it all in this letter, but trust me when I say your safety is in jeopardy.

I don’t care what you’re in the middle of, what plan you’re executing – drop it, and make your way back. I can’t lose you, not now, not like this. The threat is real, and the longer you stay where you are, the more danger you’re in.

I’m begging you, Y/N, hurry back. We can sort through the details, I’ll explain everything, but right now, all that matters is your safety. Don’t delay, don’t second-guess. Just come back.

Kaz

22nd letter

Love,

I’m pleading with you, begging you to reach out, to let me know you’re safe. This silence, it’s a torment I can’t bear. Every thought is tinged with worry, and I find myself grappling with scenarios that are far too grim.

I don’t care about the details, the reasons – they pale in comparison to my overwhelming need to know you’re okay. We’ve faced down darkness together, navigated treacherous waters, and I can’t accept the idea of you being lost in the midst of it all.

Please, Y/N, come back to Ketterdam. If you’re reading this, if you’re anywhere, find a way to let me know you’re alive. I’ll make sense of the rest later. Just, my love, come back to me.

Kaz

23rd letter

Y/N,

I can’t wait any longer. The silence is a weight on my chest, a suffocating reminder of the unknown. I’ve agonized, I’ve begged, and still, there’s no word from you. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.

Please, hold on. I’m coming. I hope you’re okay, I hope you’re just out of reach, waiting for me to catch up. It’s a risk I have to take.

I love you.

Stay strong, my love. I’m on my way.

24th letter

My Dearest Y/N,

It's been a week since you left us, a week of darkness and aching emptiness that nothing can fill. I know you won't get this letter, that these words will remain suspended in the void, but I find myself needing to put them down, needing to release the feelings that have taken hold of me.

The pain is suffocating, a weight that's settled into my bones. I still can't grasp the reality, can't accept that you're gone, that your light has been extinguished. It's a void that stretches beyond comprehension, a void I'm stumbling through.

The memories are a double-edged sword. They're a balm, a reminder of the moments we shared, of your laughter, your warmth. But they're also a blade, a reminder of what's been taken from us, of the future that was stolen away.

I want you to know, even though you'll never read these words – I love you. I always have, and I always will. You were more than a partner, more than a confidant. You were my anchor, my solace, my reason to keep pushing forward.

It's impossible to fathom life without you, Y/N. Your absence leaves a void that can never be filled. I can only hope that wherever you are, you're at peace, free from the pain that's gripped my heart.

Until we meet again, my love,

Kaz

25th letter

My dearest Y/N,

Six months have passed, and the ache of your absence has only deepened. The city, our city, is a different place without you. The crows, the ones you brought together, are slowly finding their separate paths, their separate destinies. It's as if the world itself is reshaping in your absence.

I found the little box where you kept all those letters. Your letters, my words – I'm surprised, in a way, that you kept them all. It's a piece of you that I'll treasure forever.

It's in these moments of solitude that I find myself yearning for your presence the most. Your laughter, your insights – they're still very much alive in my memories, and they continue to guide me through the labyrinthine twists of this world.

I miss you, Y/N. More than words can say. The void you left behind is as vast as the Barrel itself, and there's a hollowness that's impossible to fill. I can only hope that, wherever you are, you've found the peace that eluded you in life.

Until the next time we meet, my love,

Kaz

26th letter

My Dearest Y/N,

Time has continued its relentless march, and two years have slipped through my grasp since you left us. The city, once our canvas, has taken on a different hue, a different weight. The crows have scattered, their paths diverging, and the life we built together feels like a distant memory.

I wanted to share something with you – I've made a decision about the house, the one that once held the echoes of our shared history. It's a decision born out of the reality that without you, it's ceased to be a home. The walls, the rooms – they're empty without your presence, and it's a stark reminder of what's been lost.

Putting it up for sale again, it's not just about letting go of a physical space. It's about acknowledging that our time together, our shared moments, live on in memories, not in bricks and mortar. I carry you with me, always, but it's time to release the hold the house had on me.

Life continues to move forward, though it's a path I tread with a shadow that can never be dispelled. I hope, wherever you are, you've found the peace that eluded you in life. And I hope, wherever I am, you're watching over me, your presence a guiding light through the darkness.

With a heart full of love,

Kaz

27th letter

My dearest,

It's been almost three years, and some days it feels like it was just yesterday when I last saw you. I miss you, fuck, I miss you so much. It's like this gaping hole, this emptiness that can't be filled. No matter how many schemes I plan, no matter how many crows I put to work, it's like there's this void that's always there.

I was gonna do it, you know? I was gonna ask you. I got this ring, this small little thing that I bought just a month before you fucking died. It's funny, you know, I never thought I'd be the one to feel this way, to want something that much, to want to stake a claim in this shithole of a world.

But I guess that's what you did to me. You turned this cold, calculating schemer into someone who wanted more, who wanted you. I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner, that I waited, that I let time slip through my fingers like sand. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one you deserved.

You were my light, Y/N. You shined a light into my darkest corners, and now that you're gone, it's like the shadows have returned with a vengeance. I need you, I need you so fucking much it's like a knife in my gut every damn day.

I don't know where you are, what's out there after this life, but I hope you're somewhere better. I hope you're at peace, and I hope you know that I'm here, waiting in this shithole, missing you every fucking day.

I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I wish... I wish I could've showed it more when you were still here.

With all my shattered pieces,

Kaz

28th letter

Deer Y/N,

This will be the last letter I write to you, and as I put pen to paper, I’m filled with a mixture of emotions that words could never truly capture. The passage of time has been unkind, separating us by years that have felt both fleeting and eternal.

It’s strange, the way grief works. It’s a steady ache that never truly fades, an ache I’ve grown accustomed to carrying. There’s an emptiness in my heart that’s become a part of me, a void that can never be filled by anyone or anything else.

I’ve learned to navigate this world without you, though it’s been a journey fraught with challenges and moments of unbearable pain. There’s a longing, a yearning, that can never be quenched. You were my constant, the force that kept me grounded, and now that you’re gone, there’s a piece of me that will forever remain incomplete.

As time marches on, I find myself grappling with a heartbreaking reality – the sound of your voice is fading from my memory. The way you felt, the touch of your hand in mine, it’s becoming harder to recall. It’s as though the vibrant details of your presence are slipping through my fingers, leaving behind a hazy impression.

And oh, Y/N, the thought that your laughter will never again reach my ears, it’s a pain that reverberates through my very being. Your face, once etched in my mind with unparalleled clarity, is beginning to blur around the edges. The little details that I once treasured, the nuances that made you uniquely you, they’re slipping away, like grains of sand carried by the wind.

I love you, Y/N. Those words have become a mantra, a whispered refrain that echoes in the corners of my mind. I carry your memory with me, every step of the way, and I hold onto the hope that, wherever you are, you’ve found the peace that eluded you in life.

As I place this letter alongside the others, a part of me hopes that somehow, somewhere, you’ll receive these words, that you’ll know that you were loved, that you’re still loved, even in your absence.

I miss you, “we all misses you very much.”

Love, Kaz!

[anamoon63]

RL and Sims update post + a thank you note

(Warning: long post ahead, read at your own risk).

I wrote this post to thank you guys for all the likes and comments you keep leaving on my posts, even though, as you may have noticed, I can't be here as often as I used to. Real life has taken over almost completely, as I think it should. There are too many things going on, with me, my family, my country, even my sims and other games, lol.

I'm not going to bore you with daily life problems, much less with sad and depressive stuff, or with previews of a story I don't know when/if I'll ever finish, the only thing I can tell you is that I'm still busy with a lot of work, (fortunately) and family stuff; plus, I (finally) started going to therapy (yes, at my age). So right now, I'm juggling even more things than I already was.

And so I wanted to thank you for sticking with me, for continuing to read the chaotic stories of my wacky characters without judging them; thank you as well for each and every message you have sent to my inbox, be it questions, or flowers and love; and to all of you who continue to tag me both on sims stuff and cute games, knowing that I most likely won't be able to answer you, really, thank you for continuing to think of me. Your messages soothe my heart in difficult moments, and I wish to answer them all, I just don't know when I will be able to do that, hopefully someday.

Now, my sims story. For those of you who might remotely still be interested, I'm currently revising the next few episodes of Time Traveler which I wrote earlier this year. To be honest, I don't know when they will be ready, I just know the story goes on and as soon as I have reviewed these episodes, I'll start taking the pictures. When will they be published? Frankly, I don't know. It could be early 2025, but no promises, as I don't have much free time on my hands now. I manage to write in the evenings, but in-game photo shoots are quite time consuming and have to be done in peace and privacy, of which I don't have much at the moment. So, if I do decide to publish these episodes, it will likely be early next year, and at a rather slow pace.

About my gameplay, in Sims 4 we will continue with the Wilsons until the end of the season (coming soon), and then we will take a small break. As for The Sims 3, we just finished Patrick's story in Bridgeport, so now we'll go back with The Cho Brothers. First, we'll take a brief trip to Lucky Palms with Terence and Cynthia Cho; then we'll spend a rather long time in Hidden Springs and Starlight Shores, to see what has happened with Tyron, the eldest of the Cho brothers. And last but not least, we'll go back to Uni with Dale and Kelly, who I hope will FINALLY graduate this year, hahaha.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I am not gone (yet), that if one day I decide to retire I will make a special post about it, I won't leave without saying goodbye, but that day seems far away at least for the moment. 

Now, regarding Inzoi…

I admit Inzoi has captured my interest. As usual, I'm late to the comment party, but I still want to put my two cents about this amazing game. Seeing the trailers and all those beautiful Inzois created by other simmers got me so excited, and at the same time, terribly frustrated to see that the demo didn't contain any gameplay. I need to actually play the game to give an opinion on it! So far it looks beautiful, though I must say that the character creator disappointed me because the sliders are Sims 4 style, which I've always found a bit complicated, I'll forever prefer the Sims 3 sliders, but hey, I had a lot of fun creating my own Inzois.

Hopefully the graphics and gameplay are as good as seen in the previews and its developers won't “break” it into multiple or turn the into a malfunctioning cash cow like EA did with The Sims 4, and to a certain extent, also with the Sims 3 in its time. I hope with Inzoi they'll go for a complete game, no matter if it's expensive, if I consider it is worth it, I'll give them my money as soon as it comes out.

That being said, it is important for me to clarify that I will not abandon The Sims 3 (or even Sims 4 though I don't play it much) for Inzoi. Ever. Neither do I plan to recreate my sims OCs/games in it, because my sims are exactly that, sims. If I ever get to play Inzoi it will be with entirely new characters, although I confess, I did try to reproduce two of my most beloved sims (a boy from the future and a college girl who is a model *wink*) and they turned out pretty well, but nowhere near as adorable as they look in The Sims 3. Plus, the environments in which those two OCs currently move could not be reproduced in Inzoi, at least as far as I know.

Okay, enough of Inzoi. In short: I'm not gone, I'm still here, I'm still reading all your stories, only at a much slower pace, two or 3 simblrs per day at the most. I'm going to read them all, just bear with me, and forgive me again if I don't always comment. Sometimes I don't even have the time or the energy for that. Believe me, 2024 has been an intense year in every possible way, sometimes I really need a break, but I try to be around and will always find a way to keep in touch, even if at times it seems like I'm nowhere to be found, I'll get back to you at some point.

That's all, thanks for reading this far! Have a nice and beautiful start of the week. 💗

P.S. I wrote this post three days ago, wish I had published it earlier, that way I probably wouldn't have gotten a notification that some Simblrs Community 'removed my membership'. When I clicked in said Simblrs Community icon, it said the community was 'private'. I don't know if that's some kind of automatic Tumblr thing, if there's a committee that decides about this, or if it was just a glitch in the matrix; whatever it was, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to be here to keep said membership. I didn't even know Simblr was a private membership. For what it's worth, it wasn't neglect or lack of interest for my part, just lack of time. I hope one day to be able to qualify again and be worthy of this membership. At any rate, I thank you for thinking of me and admitting me in your community in the first place.

[according2thelore]

HOLY shit you should write a time travel fic!!!! I want to see them all locked in the bunker together….. ES Sam and LS Dean watching their alt selves sew themselves together with horror and jealousy. ES Sam seeing LS Sam and thinking it’s the worst saddest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

I also think LS Sam and Dean fight more violently when they do fight? At least if we’re comparing season 1 and, like, 10, but even like s14. ES them watching that with a mixture of fury but also like. It’s unfortunately hot.

hello!!!!

i have actually been gently nurturing a ES!Dean and LS!Sam fic for months like coaxing a deer out of the woods. It's slow work and every time I open the doc it flees but ARGH!!! I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THEM!!!!!!!!!!! hopefully i will be able to finish it soon

but all of them TOGETHER??? omg...your brain...is so big...let's discuss

ES!Sam would be ripping himself apart in jealousy, and would not even really know why. both deans flock to sam like he's the axis of the world, like he's the only person to ever exist, like he's some kind of god that drips sun from his fingers.

he's never seen his dean this vulnerable and weird and desperate for approval (not even recognizing that dean has also been desperately seeking his approval but whatever), and he HATES LS!Sam for it. he's openly hostile, and keeps making rude comments at him that make ES!Dean so angry lol.

bc LS!Sam also gave up on their dream! he doesn't even pretend to want to get out of hunting. he lives in a secret bunker and sleeps with guns under his pillow and talks of their father with warm hesitation like 'yeah he was messed up but he was good' and sam can't stand him. and he looks at his brother (both of them now, young and old like some weird mirror) like he's never seen anything more worthy. it makes sam sick, because he sees this as a defeat. LS!Sam is a coward, who gave up. not for wanting dean, but for betraying everything he's stood for for twenty-odd years.

(he doesn't know, of course, that sam has the life he wants)

LS!Dean, however, would know exactly why he's so fucking furious. and because ES!Dean is still dean, he'd be so mean to his younger self lol. he'd purposefully stop talking when his younger self walks in, keeps trying to separate he and LS!Sam, keeps trying to leave him behind on stuff so he can have 100% of sam's attention and love and concern again.

which i think LS!Sam would not tolerate lmao. he sees the kicked-puppy-earnest look in young dean and it's like sticking a steak in front of a starving man--he cannot resist!!!

LS!Dean makes ES!Dean more appealing to LS!Sam by being mean to him and ES!Sam makes ES!Dean more defensive of and devoted to LS!Sam by being mean to him lol

it's a lot of deans and sams to keep up with but they would be so tangled and messy

ES!Sam and LS!Dean keep catching each others' eyes when LS!Sam and ES!Dean are being sappy or open w each other, lips curled in jealousy. and at first it's some kind of twisted camaraderie, but at the end, LS!Dean walks up to ES!Sam because, god, he'd dreamed about this kid for years.

he's missed how angry sam used to be, how much faith he had in himself and his convictions, how passion lights him up all the time and not just when they're alone.

and maybe he claps a hand on sammy's shoulder and god, when did dean's hands get so big? when did he develop smile lines and crow's feet and scruff at his jawline? and why does it make sam feel like this?

the first time that LS!Sam&Dean fight, ES!Sam&Dean are absolutely gobsmacked. bc every fight with them is An End Of The World Fight. it's messy and personal and hurtful, only low blows, and barely-not-teary and you're-my-brother-i'll-let-the-world-burn and when did they start saying that shit out loud?? and dean watches the way LS!Sam towers over him, how his fists clench and his eyes flash and his lip curls and...uh-oh. and sam can't look away from how strong LS!dean is, how he carries himself like a blade and not a person and jesus christ.

LS!Sam&Dean would see the way that ES!Sam&Dean dance around each other, but how painfully earnest they are all the time, how cocky they are, and how narrow their idea of "things that can go wrong" is and it's heart-breaking but also...bolstering? reassuring? hopeful?

not to woobify dean, but i genuinely think that he Would Need LS!Sam's Approval Like He Needs To Breathe. i think LS!Sam would genuinely be charmed by this like one is charmed by a dog tripping over its own feet. and ES!Sam and LS!Dean are sick with jealousy abt how openly they let themselves need each other.

anyway. this is probably nothing. it's word vomit. but you get it!!!!!! anon <3 lovely anon <3 mwah

-lizzy

(ES = early seasons, LS = later seasons, for those who missed the last post here)

[howdy-folks-its-showtime]

Howdy Cobalt here! So I'm sure you guys noticed that last month didn't have a dev log. I apologize for the silence, it's just that I was very busy irl and I became anxious posting yet another dev log I felt was disappointing. So me and my partner decided to merge these two months together so we would have more to show to you guys! I also went through hell trying to get my adhd meds as shown above.

Programming wise, I didn't do much, I was taking a bit of a break before I got into the more intense tasks at hand.

I did however reprogram how cutscenes work to make them better to manage and easier to work with. I also finally made the cutscene skipping system work so the game keeps track of which cutscenes you've seen and then allows you to skip them and such!

I did a lot of writing for things I've been meaning to get done this month, some of them game stuff and some of them more general organization for stuff like tasks and notes I need. Soon I'll be doing stuff like writing a proper format for the character bios that accompany their refs, writing a proper format for intro posts on different social media and generally rewriting the bio, summary and other stuff I have on the social medias for this game. Since I think a lot of them are flawed. That and I wanted us to be able to post more character refs but also make the bios not as long.

A lot of 2D art got done these months! We got some concept art for the [In-Universe] JDS Logo and some of the Bendy posters.

We have been working hard on the cartoon characters designs, here's a sketch for Boris!

And finally we have finished the cartoon designs for the butcher gang! You'll be seeing them on posters, cut outs, etc in game and god am I absolutely DELIGHTED with how they turned out. They're so so cute and bursting with personality! I hope you guys like them as much as I do! Roddy has done an AMAZING job with all the designs for this project and hopefully one day you'll get to see all of them!

So it's a new year, I gotta say it is so horrifying to see the year come to an end, but I would also say it was a super great one for us! I have quite a few goals for this next year, most of which are related to game development so I hope you guys are excited for what is to come! We've got so many fun things in the works so hopefully next year will be a super exciting one for those of you invested in this project! Happy new year everyone! And here's to seeing you continue to follow our progress into 2025! Cobalt out!

[c0smiccom3t]

AND NOW.... FOR A SPECIAL 3RD ANNIVERSARY UPDATE. (6/1/2024)

Hello friends, hello mutuals, hello dimension dyfenders fans and hello people who like indie cartoon/comic stuff in general! Comet here. Once Again. and this time i've got something ig this year. This was supposed to release on May 29th, but due to Ren not coming back for a long time because they needed to prioritize irl stuff, of course, we had to delay it.

But, but, BUT! thankfully I had a few things ready after all, however as for some other things else, we'll get to it much later, when the moment calls. Now, let's get off with the first one.

(warning, in case this update gets too long, i'll make a part two where i'll be able to link it through here.)

You Kinda... Look Different.

You may have noticed that Dislexo looks a bit different than usual (darker skin, a bit of shorter hair, etc.), in case you're wondering why... Yeah, you're about to find out.

So, while I was thinking and drawing up some D.D related stuff, I was brainstorming a little by my lonesome. All of the sudden, as I was making a new render for a character, I was like... "Wait a minute... What if I give Dislexo a new look which is a mix between a secretary and a butler but keep it's elements from what made their design unique?" and So, the new and improved Dislexo was born!

Honestly i'm proud of what they look like now. I just hope i won't (or will) get to redesign ALL of the cast again so suddenly lol! Anyways, thats just a small change I made, nothing too big. Now, let's get on something else... which is...

Pocket Adventures' current status + how's minisode 1 coming along

You might be asking inside your minds, "i wonder when more of minisode 1 will drop", "where are the new parts?"- Well, i got the answer. It'll only come only when im completely finished. However i havent been working much on it aside from making a few pages a few months ago, but hopefully this summer i may get back to it and finish it all up if i can. The final script is 73% percent complete, as for the comic itself, let's just say its 58%. I promise you i'm taking my time with delivering everything i can for this minisode. However i might republish the minisode with the series' current artstyle if it ever comes out physically (or either when I'll have the time or energy to do it.) So, now, you may be wondering: "But Comet, what do we do while we wait." Well you're not gonna believe this.

No, it's not an extremely late april fools post! We got new stuff coming soon, recently i've been brainstorming some ideas for brand new content, and you know what? It came to me, HERE'S WHAT'S COMING!

MORE TOONIES COMING YOUR WAY!

THAT'S RIGHT, after months of hiatus, Toonies is coming back with more strips! This time, since summer's coming around, i'll try to post and make more of them and even schedule the finished ones! We got even more covers for it coming, but for now, here's one of them!

More comics are not only gonna explore more of the Dyfenders' and the Dajo Crew's everyday lives in-and-out of their superhero/Villain occupations, we are also going to focus on much more on other characters (at least some of them), and some will last for a few more pages longer! No arcs though, sorry. But hey, you're getting more wackiness as a treat! Now, i know i said this year is not gonna be big like the other two years we had, but...

NEW SPECIAL CURRENTLY IN DEVELOPMENT!

THAT'S RIGHT! We're working on a new special to commemorate our three years! Thought it'd be a nice adiction to this year, we may not reveal the logo and it's title yet, but we can tell you what the sypnosis is about!

You're all invited to the biggest night in the Omniverse, right across it's stars, cosmos, galaxies and portals! Both the Dimension Dyfenders and the Dajo-Crew are crossing the red (or should we say, blue) carpet in this brand new 3-part special! Prince Dajo-Voo has a new plan on how to take over the gala, all while he tries to self-control himself from doing the same explosive incident he did back then. The Dyfenders may be having a great time at the gala, but rest assured, they'll be sure to keep a close eye on him. Here's to a Rift-errific and (hopefully) trouble-free gala!

As a bonus, when the production on all three parts are done, we'll be posting Toonies comics related to the special, which may feature a new character who will debut later on in Pocket Adventures! We don't know when it'll exactly be out, my guesses would be either summer, september or next May 2025. But rest assured, we'll be working on it, but we won't rush it out.

So... What's next?

Honestly, i can't really tell. But I can assure you i still have so may plans for this series, plans that will be put in action in the far-off future. What i really hope to do is to make animated shorts as well, not just Toonies strips, pocket adventures minisodes and comic dubs of it. Maybe if we'll ever make a backerkit or a kickstarter for it and get a budget, it might happen (along with more VAs joining in.) Speaking of VAs, in case you're a VA and you haven't auditioned yet, anytime is the right time! (this is still a test leap, but if it succeeds it may go further.)

but for now, we're sticking to comics, and then, if possible we'll get to comic dubs and so on.

That's all for now! I hope you're all looking forward to what's coming for this series. I'm sorry that it wasnt as big as the last years, but we promise that things will arrive when they can.

Happy (LATE) third anniversary, everybody!! Thanks for reading!

By the way, HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!

[fishsticksloser]

Can i request rottmnt platonic child!fem! Reader & April one-shot?

April sign up to babysit reader for hours from 3 pm to 8 pm, however reader manage to escape from the apartment thanks to mayhem teleporting her accidentally, so now April go on a wild goose chase to find reader before her mom (reader's mom) come home.

Babysitting Disaster

April + gn!reader

Warnings: kids, losing said child, swearing, kinda short

A/N: This was gonna be posted yesterday, but I was just not feeling good. Also if you haven't yet, check out my Discord server where you can hang out with like minded people, share fanart/fanfics, and get updates before they're posted here.

Everything was going well. In April's opinion at least. She headed over to babysit you right after her last class and you were a pretty easy kid. You were quiet, respectful, and sweet. April immediately thought that she'd babysit you again if there was ever a need.

You and Mayhem got along really well, playing with each other. For the first time in a while, Mayhem was being friendly with someone else (he doesn't hate the turtles but doesn't really like them either).

Right after dinner though, she was cleaning up when April saw a flash of light. She wondered for a moment if Leo just showed up and went to check it out. But she didn't see anything when she went into your room. In fact, she didn't hear anything either. At first she thought nothing of it, you were a quiet kid.

Soon though, she realized you weren't in the apartment at all. Neither was Mayhem. "Shit..." April grabbed her jacket and rushed out. She had no clue where Mayhem could've teleported them, but she did know someone who might be able to help.

"You're conversing with Donatello." April hears as she finally makes it out of the apartment building.

"So... Remember how I was babysitting that toddler?" April asks, hearing his brothers in the background so they'll probably hear her predicament. Donnie hums in acknowledgement. "Mayhem may or may not have accidentally teleported them somewhere..."

"You're telling me you lost a kid?" Donnie snorts. April hears his brothers stop talking for a moment.

"April lost a kid?" Raph asks, his voice full of worry and concern.

"Technically..." April closes her eyes, waiting for Raph or even Mikey and Leo to yell at her. But all she hears is a heavy sigh.

"Sigh... I guess I can look at any crazy activity and hopefully find the kid." Donnie huffs, making his way to his lab. "You're lucky I figured out how to track that mystic stuff."

"If we're able to catch them in like... An hour, that'd be fantastic." She pleads, starting to walk down the street.

"Yeah, yeah..." Donnie waves off her concern, getting the system running. "The others are coming to hopefully help, but knowing them..."

Donnie stayed at the lair while his brothers joined April in her search. Someone had been close a few times, but ultimately Mayhem teleported himself and you away. April was growing desperate and scared that she wouldn't get you home before your mom got home.

Thankfully, Leo's portals saved the day. He managed to separate you and Mayhem. Leo teleported April, himself, and you back to the apartment.

"Thanks, guys." April let out a relieved breath when Leo placed you back in her arms. She took you to bed while Leo and the boys went home. She tucked you in tight. "You scared me, you could've gotten hurt. Next time, stay where you are and I'll find you, okay?" April tells you sternly, but her voice is still soft.

You fall asleep not long after and April finishes cleaning up before your mom comes home. Next time, Mayhem was staying home.

[citrinekay]

Hey! I’ve been meaning to reach out and say hi for a while! Finally, I got a re-blog from you, tysm!! I’ve seen quite a few of your JCW posts (and also your stuff on various fandoms on AO3) and I know you’re quite the JCW fan – me too! Actually, I wanted to message to let you know that I think what you’re doing with the Andy/Revolver fanfic you’re writing is amazing. I read the first chapter a few days ago and am interested to see what you do with the story. The way you are dealing with some very sensitive topics is so well written, and I love the thought you have put into Andy’s character to give him this dark backstory. I’m looking forward to reading the rest when it’s completed, I never do well with chapter by chapter!! Also, well done for being the first to post for the Revolver fandom, I remember a short time back having to do that for the Pachinko fandom and I was nervous as hell. You are a very talented writer for sure, so I know the Revolver one will be a good read. Hopefully you’ll be inspired with Gangnam B-Side too once we see more. Anyway, sorry for waffling on, but if you ever wanna enthuse about JCW feel free to message ❤️ ~ take care 

Hi!! I've also seen your name popping up on AO3 too whenever I go to publish something JCW-related, like oh there's that one other person who loves him as much as I do😊lol I watched Worst of Evil last October and just fell completely in love him/ haven't been able to get back out of the obsession spiral since then thanks to pretty much every work he's done being worth watching. I don't expect the fixation to end any time soon haha

I'm genuinely so happy to receive feedback on my Revolver fic! Before I started posting, I made peace with the fact that it wasn't going to get much engagement since I had to create the fandom tag myself, but of course I do want some people to read and enjoy it. I was also fairly nervous about approaching those sensitive topics, so it's a relief to know that the way I'm presenting it doesn't feel offensive or tactless. It's always my intention to show the dark sides of human nature and relationships in a compelling but empathetic way. I couldn't stop thinking about the crumbs they gave us about Andy and Grace's relationship after I finished watching the movie, especially that final scene on the mountain when he begs her not to leave him and Madam Jung's comment to Suyeong that there's "rumors that he's her lover." She doesn't even allow people to know he's really her mom, which in and of itself could be pretty damaging to someone's development, but it seemed to me that the toxicity between them goes further than just this secret. They were clearly manipulating each other in that moment when she starts to walk away and then he cries and begs her not to leave. I thought that it seemed as if they had been through this type of push-and-pull before, a vicious cycle from which there is no escaping, and I really wanted to examine what had led up to that point.

It also really struck me that even though Andy is a privileged, wealthy person, he is drinking alone when Suyeong first meets him. Nobody rushes to his rescue when she's beating him and nobody really cares that he got hurt afterward (not even Grace, she's just mildly annoyed!) While it's true that his behavior invites getting his ass kicked, I think that anyone acting with such conscious disregard of their own life and everyone else's might have serious trauma that has never been addressed. Anyway, I totally understand waiting to read the fic until it's complete and I hope you enjoy the rest once it's done. I'll be updating weekly, so it shouldn't be too much longer.

Also, absolutely yes about Gangnam B-Side. I watched the first 2 episodes on Wednesday evening and my brain is already tickling with many thoughts about Gilho. As always, JCW is delivering a performance full of depth and nuance 🖤 I'll wait until the show has finished airing and I have all the character details to start writing but atm I can almost guarantee there will be some fics coming from me!

[ceydoessillystuff]

is the story for your inside out superhero AU similar to the plots of the first and second film.

also, I'm already loving this AU for just how unique it is. hope to see the other characters get introduced:)

Oh, thank you so much! I've been really busy studying and stuff, so I haven't been able to sit down and finish my designs yet, but hopefully I'll be able to at least doodle them! I already have my Joy design which I think looks very fun, I wish I can show her soon! For now I only got this messy picture of her face.

But answering your question, yes! I wanted to make an AU where the emotions could be human and feel like so without them loosing what makes them... Them? (This is something I fear to do in every fandom I'm in honestly) And the plot still being like, about mental health. I'm not sure how to explain it! And besides that, I thought that them actually being superheroes was a really funny idea, I mean, the Headquarters already gave me Teen Titans vibes so I thought, "I have to doodle this..." And here we are!

Joy had her differences with Sadness just like in the first movie, and Anxiety and her crew just appeared "out of nowhere" too at some point in the Headquarters. It's just that in my AU this events are explained by worldbuilding and sometimes they happened in a different way, so the plot can give a message that isn't related to Riley, but it's about them instead.