#drew this forever ago and never found the right time to post it

[cabi-leodrann]

Cabi! Big fan Joffrey here!

I wanted to ask, every time I see your art not only am I stunned by the quality, but also by the sheer uniqueness in style and character design. I've never seen a lamb designed quite like yours, it's so perfectly yours. What went into the inspiration behind the characters design, especially facially? Did you try and mimick a real lamb, or was there a more fantasy-element that you veered toward?

I can't specifically put my finger on it, but it gives me vague Warframe vibes. It's such a beautifully odd design and I can't get enough.

Love your work, love everything you do, can't wait to see what's next!

Hope you're well, stay safe, take care!

First of all, your ask is one of the biggest compliments I ever had in my life, I will keep it forever. You're an absolute chad! Second of all, those are very interesting questions, and I will be very happy to answer to them!

It started more or less with this drawing I made *look at the date* 2 years ago apparently. Way before I even thought of an AU- I didn't had much in mind, beside doing something that looked cool tbh.

I was very happy with the flow of it, and how it came out. And when I drew the Lamb again, I would try to nail THIS design.

The thing is, with time, I had a really big problem: Lamb looked way too young when I thought of them more as an adult. I had too much of the original game design guiding me, making a Lamb that was too cute and childlike for what I wanted. (And also, the head did not go well with the rest of the body holy shi-)

Came those drawings! I was happier with the look, Lamb was older! And I found the colored design quit nice! (I used a sheep picture as reference, but I don't think I used it well, compared to now. I used the reference for details, when I should have gone for overall shape first.) I still wanted something simpler to draw tho. The colored design was nice for an illustration, a one time gig, but I got pretty annoyed pretty fast at trying to nail the face every time. And from those attempt, you get the sketches on the right. (I also wanted to get away from other artiste's interpretation of Lamb, and at the time of those drawing, I didn't felt like I was away enough)

From those previous sketches, the idea for THaB started to emerge. I also still had problem with Lamb's design. Especially the hair. I was inspired by black hair, which is usually not a problem, but I was never happy with how it looked on Lamb specifically. I can draw black hair, I can draw black characters, but this mother-fucker would never feel satisfying to draw or finish 👀

And one day, as THaB was solidifying in my mind, I made a series of sketches that I posted! And one of them was the most important in Lamb's final design. This lil guy! (this design didn't came out of nowhere tho, Lamb was evolving into this as I kept trying. But I wont show those sketches, because those are spoilers =3)

And soon after, I made a comic that was supposed to only be a one shot, just a POV of Lamb and there reaction to Nari' telling them to die for him. But you know, things got out of hand lol

As I continued the comic and doodles on the side, I finally made myself a reference board, with real life images that were close to the vibe of this head drawing. (And I cannot stress enough how those references solidified Lamb's design as a whole. Draw with references, it is life changing. The more reference you get, the more your visual library will get diverse, and the more interesting detail and shape you will add to your art in general.) (I'd also add this: understand what you are drawing, make research and stay curious for every bit of info on everything. You never know when these nuggets of knowledge will help you as you create)

As I kept drawing the Lamb, they evolved! Things changed, slowly, like the shape of the nose, the shape of the eyes, how the hair flowed. You see those change at the face, but also on the body! As the idea of THaB's Lamb got clearer, the design got more specific. (I also got better at drawing! This comic make me draw way more often then before, and it shows)

Something before I finish: the other Cult of the Lamb character's design are way more inspired by their animals, when Lamb is more in the human spectrum. I thought of changing Lamb at some point, to make it fair/coherent, but I loved the design too much to change it again. This AU is something I do for fun, and even if it would have been more logical to change them... I don't want to-

As for the vague Warframe vibes: I play the game! And I found the character design absolutely stunning. So I am definitely influenced by the game without knowing it lol

Thank you very much, again, for your kind words! I also wish you the best, and see you next post =D

TL;DR: Lamb design, at first, wasn't inspired by much, beside the game and my style at the time. But as I retried to make them, added more intent, they got more refined. What really nailed the idea was to have real life references on the side.

[pearlofthewoods]

Gen-Z, inconvenience and how fanfiction teaches gratitude.

So I’ve been seeing a really interesting discussion crop up on TikTok over the past few weeks, and what particularly drew it to my attention is the fact that I’ve been seeing precisely the same phrasing crop up in both fandom and non-fandom discussions. 

That phrase is ‘Gen-Z doesn’t know inconvenience.’

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think these original posters are right. This is an attitude we’re seeing pervade all areas of our community and our lives. I’ll link the TikTok posts I’ve seen below, and quote the relevant sections.

(on the state of friendships in 2024)

-“There seems to be this idea created and pushed forward by people who haven’t been on the internet for as long as I have….that they can never be inconvenienced.”

-“I feel like Gen Z/Millennials, we don’t know inconvenience.”

Two of these TikToks are about people’s current attitude to friendships, whilst the other is about fandom, and the sense of entitlement some readers have towards fic writers (particularly with expectations about uploading schedules and completed fics).

The common denominator here is community. Both of these examples take place within our personal relationships and our few remaining non-capitalist spaces. 

And I think this has to do with the discussion around the lack of third spaces in our modern world. I’ll give you an example. I am 23, and live in the UK. I am old enough to remember when there was a youth centre in my small village. The building was maintained by the council, who also put on some activities there, but there were also many activities there for young people to access that were volunteer led. Either way, these activities were almost all entirely free. 

This was a space for children to learn how to engage with community outside of the transactional nature of other for-profit spaces. (This is not to bash on activities such as dance/sport that require small fees to cover their costs). But there was a time where this third space was free, accessible and a valuable learning tool for young people.

The youth centre closed down about 10 years ago under the Conservative government, when there was found to be asbestos inside. The building was demolished, and the youth centre was never rebuilt. There wasn’t any funding to replace it.

This is the sort of thing that has been going on for years now. Due to lack of funding, community third spaces just close down and never reopen. Thank god we still have our library (just about).

And what I think has happened, is that there are loads of young people now who do not remember, or cannot fathom community spaces and activities that are not transactional. They take part in activities, sure, but all their activities are paid for. They’re used to paying for a service, which (as a paying customer) they are then entitled to critique it and expect a certain return on their investment.

We see this attitude often in the fanfiction community, where we have to remind people that fanfic is not to be treated the same as a book that you paid for.

Even when we educate people about the fanfic community, the allegory we often use is that of the ‘potluck’, one of the last free community events/third spaces that many young people can conceptualise. (Although, to be truthful, I’ve very rarely gone to a potluck either). 

So to be honest, I’m not surprised that many Gen-Z don’t quite understand the dynamics of volunteer-run and community third-spaces. Fanfiction might be the only one they’ve ever experienced.

Instead, they’re used to Amazon, streaming services, social media and access to whatever content they want at the click of a button (as long as they’re willing to pay for it.)

I think this phenomenon was also further exacerbated by the pandemic. During that time, many community spaces closed their doors forever and never reopened. Teens who’ve grown up since the pandemic might never have experienced these places, due to lockdown and the failure for the spaces to reopen post-pandemic.

But what I think is fascinating, is that precisely during this time, the use of A03 and fandom spaces skyrocketed into the mainstream, particularly amongst that age group. There is a burning desire for third spaces amongst young people, and I’m so glad that we in fandom are one of the last places to provide that. 

But this is why I think it’s so so important to be loud and vocal about fanfiction etiquette. I see so many people online talking about how many of the young people newer to fandom entered ‘through the back-door’ so to speak, (in comparison to the thorough introduction to fandom many millennials experienced in online message-boards and fanfic sites, before they were ever permitted to start posting fics of their own). I’m not saying we should gatekeep fanfiction, I’m very pleased that it’s open to more people now. But we do need to be vocal about how this community works. 

AO3 and the fanfic is a place where young people can learn how to navigate volunteer-led community. And learning to sit with inconvenience is a huge part of that. 

Since fanfic writers are not paid for their work, we cannot be expected to adhere to a consistent upload schedule, nor are our readers entitled to completed fics. This inevitably causes discomfort and inconvenience for those who have to wait patiently for that fic to update, or experience the disappointment of it never updating at all. And Gen-Z are not used to that.

These things are distressing, yes, but they are also a natural part of volunteer organisations. Writers have lives, we cannot always prioritise our writing. 

Obviously we cannot force people to read WIPs, if you want to filter for completed works only, that’s your prerogative. But it undoubtedly has a knock on effect on fandom. I see many people saying that writers wanting kudos, comments and engagement on their WIPS is akin to writers asking for payment from the community. But personally, I think they’re not really comparable. Payment is money. Money allows people to live off their art, and to focus the entirety of their time on creating that product for you. Neither kudos, comments nor engagement can do that. Fic writers will always have restricted windows in which to write and other jobs, because we can’t devote all our time to this. If you cannot pay us for our time and our labour, we must support ourselves another way. If you cannot pay for a fic, you are not entitled for it to be completed. 

Instead, I think that comments, kudos and engagement fulfil a role that has always been fulfilled in communities. Giving back. Supporting the community and allowing it to thrive. People who have benefitted from volunteer organisations, activities and charities have always given back by volunteering themselves, fundraising, you name it.

That is what allows the community to continue. You receive, and then you give. So don’t be surprised if, when no-one engages with WIPs anymore, the cycle of give-and-receive begins to falter. If no-one reads and supports people’s WIPs, we will have fewer completed works. That’s just a fact. So if you want the fanfic eco-system to thrive, invest in it, with your love, attention and care. 

I think we should also encourage young people to feel inconvenience, because there’s value in learning patience and experiencing discomfort. There are learning opportunities to be had from falling in love with a WIP, waiting patiently for it to update and then feeling that rush of gratitude when it finally does.

Because gratitude is an emotion so deeply tied to our community. Gratitude that someone gifted you their work for free, and gratitude that you get to experience it.

This doesn’t happen nearly as often in for-profit reading spaces. Instead of gratitude, you feel entitlement to the work you purchased and therefore also an entitlement to criticise it, should you feel your money was wasted. And why wouldn’t you? You paid for it after all.

But personally? The only thing I feel when I open up a fanfic is gratitude, even if I don’t enjoy it. Because that’s okay, I didn’t pay for it, that fanfic’s just not my cup of tea. But I’m still grateful that the writer gifted it to the community.

And in the end, I think that is what it all comes down to.

Patience and gratitude.

To me, they’re two sides of the same coin. The tantalising wait makes a fic update feel even sweeter when it finally arrives. But that’s the beauty of fandom. We have the chance to teach patience and gratitude to the next generation, if they don’t get to learn it elsewhere. Let’s not waste that opportunity. 

[crueltyserpent]

              As I shove the knife through the underside of the skull of the hotel concierge, I think about that old saying, “love what you do, and you never work a day in your life.”  Every knows this is bullshit.  Sure, in the striping the shirt off a recently deceased busty woman and cutting through her bra with a knife still covered in her brain matter is, abstractly, the type of thing I love doing. The routine I’m doing now, slicing through the fatty tissue of her chest to make a gruesome spectacle of her lovely rack, is a thing I did just a few weeks ago as a spur of the moment decision.  The thing that makes it work though, is this time it isn’t a spur of the moment decision.  The high power lawyer found with her tits sliced off in her million dollar apartment was such a huge news story corporate wanted more, wanted this to be a new Brand Name Killer, that every girl in America would be thinking about every time they stepped into Victoria’s Secret. It was stupid, honestly.  Sexually brutality, as much as I enjoy it, is a powerful force in a singular kill; violate a woman in the right creative way and people will talk about it forever.  Try and make a pattern of it and it becomes just another horny serial killer story people have heard a million times. I’ve argued this before, corporate disagrees every time, I’m always right, and they never admit it. That’s what makes it work.

              If I was doing this my way, she’d be alive while I cut her up. I love the panic in their eyes at times like this, the realization that all that’s left of their lives is a few minutes of sexual agony, the helplessness that they can do nothing about it, the screams leaving their throats. But this isn’t killing for fun. I’m a goddamn professional, and I’m going to get away with this whole stupid plan my manager drew up, and so she dies silently and gets mutilated post mortem.  I’m not even going to fuck her corpse.  Maybe one of my other victims tonight, if I have time (I won’t).  I take from her the thing I’m really after, not her life or her body but a master keycard that will unlock every room in the hotel.

              Working for a secretive, supernatural corporation that uses me to spread fear via gruesome callous death of the innocent is a mixed bag. Somethings, I get amazing supernatural solutions to; on my inner thigh, I have the “Mark of the Slasher” tattoo’d, which lets me sense the location of nearby, vulnerable women, amongst a few other powers.  This lets me walk down the hallways of the hotel, sense which has a suitable victim inside, and begin my work.  All that magic though, and I still have to rely on swiping a keycard from the front desk. Can’t just snap my fingers and open the doors.

              On my third victim, a brunette who was rubbing herself to some truly heinously boring pornography, really how do straight girls survive this world (this one won’t) I realize the actual power to this story.  There’s a lovely sort of violation to breaking into someones hotel room.  There’s no other space that both has that sense of being a public space people move in and out of and also being somewhere you can jack-off; and assumption of privacy and safety that I’m denying that cuts almost as deep into this straight girl, who shouts and covers herself with blankets, as my knife will seconds later. If corporate was smart, they could really make something of the Hotel Slasher.  I could still set it up, if given time. Mess these bitches up enough that the tits aren’t the main takeaway anymore.  But I can’t, because corporate wanted a dozen corpses in one night (which is more than my contract demands of me, but they have other ways to twist my arm) so basically as soon as I’ve got the room gory enough that my boss won’t complain I’m out the door.

[orangesartblog]

I couldn't sleep, so I drew this

I want to warn you, this post gets sad.

And I'd scroll if you don't wanna hear sad things today.

This is my cat. (I don't usually draw animals, please excuse any wonky proportions. I'm also not running on a lot of good sleep)

Her name is Angelica, she was adopted by my family, and I grew up with her by my side.

She was born in 2004, and was put to sleep a few days ago.

She made it to a whole 20 years old, she was such a sweet old lady.

I love her so much, more than words, and images can describe.

I'd known her my whole life, she was my everything.

My sweet angel, my baby girl.

I miss her so much. I'm just glad she's no longer in pain.

I just wanted to share her, share her legacy, and make this post a memorial to her in a way. I want her to be remembered.

I think you all would have liked her very much, she was so sweet and loving.

I'll put some stories and photos of her under the cut.

🐾

🐾

I believe she came from the RSPCA?

My dad saw her first, she was with her sister Faith, they had no mother, and we adopted them both basically as soon as they were able.

I never met Faith, at least not while I was a conscious human, but I hear she was a lovely kitty.

They would both charge throughout the house, thudding up the stairs and shooting through their cat flap.

Faith would walk gracefully along the fences, picture idea of a cat, while Jelly would stumble and flop off.

She was never very stable on her feet. She fell off window sills and chair arms, and occasionally our knees if the fabric wasn't grippy enough.

She was a sweet thing, she never bit or scratched us, the most she ever was a warning hiss once in a while.

She would always greet us when we came home at the top of the stairs, and always greeted me when I woke up.

She had the silliest meows too. Think closer to a sheep, and sometimes she'd meow and no words would come out, she'd just mouth it.

And god her purring would shake the house.

The only way I can describe it is she had such a smiley face, it was adorable, and the softest fur. There was a little patch next to her ear that was like kitten fur almost.

She would always join us for meal times, and activities.

She'd sit on you/your book while reading, your keyboard while writing, ect.

She would cuddle the remote control to the TV while you were sitting on the couch, and I used to have to give her a "sacrificial pen" if she was in my room while I was drawing so she could guard one.

If we went away on holiday she would be right next to us for weeks after.

She had her own designated spot on the couch, marked by her heat pad which she was almost always laid on (even if it wasn't turned on), if she wasn't there, or on you, she was probably sleeping on a warm patch of floor caused by the heating pipes or the sun.

She wasn't too adventurous, but she was territorial, I think she definitely protected us from a lot of things, Late at night I usually found her sitting at the top of the stairs (or sleeping).

Whenever I was out in the garden with her in the summer she would often be jumping up, like a good few feet in the air, and catching moths.

She once caught a mouse, and while playing with it accidentally threw it into the chicken coop, and watched on in horror and disgust as she realised she couldn't get it back off them.

She was also scared stiff of our laptop charger wire, she would sneak past it and if you so much as breath she pretty much launched, she got over it but for a while if my dad so much as shimmied you'd see her wizz up into the air.

I miss her so much, she was my world, I knew her all my life. Id give anything to stroke her, hear her little meows, and kiss her forehead.

She was a good girl, she was such a good girl, and I'll miss her forever.

[kiris-wife]

love and loss | neteyam sully

summary: neteyam came into your life for a reason; to teach you a lot of things. one of them is how to let go.

genre (s): angst no comfort lmaoo

warnings: death death death, pure sadness, this kinda sucks

your mother once said every person that was in your life was sent by eywa for a reason; and so you believed. you used to spend your time trying to figure out what play certain people had in your life: tsireya surely was there to teach you how to be kinder, patient. ao´nung was there to teach you how to live life more carelessly, to teach you how to have fun. 

neteyam sully taught you how to love. 

you weren't quite sure what drew you in about him. maybe it was the way he was so firm, and yet, so gentle. maybe it was the way he used to be so responsible. it was the way he was always looking out for his younger siblings, or the way he used to say your name with his voice filled with immeasurable adoration. you loved him so much simply because he was him – neteyam, simply neteyam. 

when you had your first kiss, it was with him. it was sweet, delicate. you felt every inch of your body surrender to him; you wanted to be his forever. you felt like you could do anything with neteyam by your side – you felt powerful, confident. you could take over the whole world if you wanted to. 

he used to say that you were unique – to the way you talked to the way you saw the world, every bit of you was unique. for him there was no one like you; you were his lover, his best friend. you were everything he ever wished for. someone that loved and understood him, like no one else could. maybe just himself. 

everyone around the village knew that you loved each other deeply. so when the sullys arrived at the village with his body, no one wanted to tell you. 

it was inevitable for you to not find out, and yet, no one wanted to tell you. because they knew you would never, ever be the same again. but what was the point in hiding, anyways? sooner or later, you would know. 

tsireya was the one that broke the news to you. 

at first, you didn't cry. you didn't even say anything. you just sat there, not believing your ears. this had to be some sort of sick joke, some sort of lie. your neteyam was there with you a few hours ago, laughing and hugging you like he always did. he was always so loving, so caring to you. 

this wasn't true. you didn’t believe her. 

if it was, you would simply not love again. never. he had to be the only one for you – you were supposed to be together forever. to mate and have a family, a whole life together. neteyam couldn’t die. he would never leave you like that. 

when you saw his body, you felt angry. you didn’t know exactly to what or who. maybe it was at him, or maybe eywa. maybe to the people that were with him at the time. why couldn’t they save him? 

why would the great mother let you suffer like that?

you didn’t really believe he was gone until late at night. when you found yourself thinking about him, like you always did before sleeping. but this time was different, because you wouldn’t see him in the morning this time. you would never feel his warm embrace again. 

your first and only love was gone, just like that. neteyam sully was dead. 

and in the end, you mother was right – everyone in your life had a purpose – neteyam’s purpose was to teach you love, but also to teach you loss. he taught you what pain, grief was. 

a grief, but also a love, you would never forget.

notes; omg hi guys lmfao it's been like... 3 months? sorry i dipped i had no inspiration,,, i don't know if i like this or not but it was so fun to write i really love angst and i hope u enjoy it <3 i'll try to be more consistent with my posting schedule but like no promises hehe

likes + reblogs are appreciated ♡

[papasbaseball]

Secondo x Reader (Mimicry)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Secondo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Knife Play and one cut/blood. Dubcon for aphrodisiacs. Bdsm and degradation.

Summary: Breaking into Papa Secondo's office to steal an artifact proves to be a heart pounding experience as the reader falls victim to a hungry chest with a need to breed. Papa Secondo finds the thieving mouse, trapped for his pleasure.

Word Count: 3,140

Notes: I wrote this a while ago for @astouract but never posted it here. Hope you all enjoy!

AO3 Link

The stolen key turned perfectly in the lock. Slipping quickly inside, you quietly shut the door behind you and shoved the key back into your habit pocket.

The carpet and walls of the second Emeritus brother puffed out the sweet tobacco scent as if they had smoked the cigars he preferred. Footfalls were softened by the smoked carpet as you crept quickly toward the credenza.

“The cabinet in the corner of the room,” you mumbled to yourself, remembering Frate Seth’s words. The midday light seeped through the closed curtains of the corner window, illuminating the side of the black-stained credenza. Wooden snakes wove and tangled themselves across the wood, fine craftsmanship that was undoubtedly from abroad. The knife you were looking for certainly was.

Looking around the office, different tchotchkes caught the eye: a red-lacquered katana resting on a cabinet behind his desk, a tribal mask hanging on the wall, a chair near the door upholstered in fine Turkish weaving. Secondo was rarely in his office and the mementos were evidence of that. The knife you were searching for had come from Bucharest, a cursed antique that supposedly granted a wish to whoever's blood it drew.

A creaking noise caused you to whip your head around. Nothing.

Crouching down, you made quick work of opening the credenza. You raised your eyebrows as the door opened without resistance. There were keyholes on the door handles, but they were not locked, baring their secrets for any who wished to see. You flipped through papers, finding nothing until you got to the lower shelf on the right side.

A golden filigree box was tucked into the corner under some old scrolls. Sliding the cold metal out you flipped it open to a purple velvet. Your heart sank as you found a burnished gold locket inside on top of a brass padlock key. You held your breath, ignoring your hammering pulse as you opened it. Framed in the metal was a picture of a nun, wearing a habit in fashion during the 80s of the church, with a double high peaked bandeau. Though the photo was worn with age, there was no mistaking how pretty she was. A soft smile graced her face and you almost felt bad for closing the locket back up and putting the box back where you found it.

There was nothing left in the cabinet, despite the second flip-through of the papers that you did. You huffed as you closed the serpentine cabinet doors. Where the fuck could it be? Your knees popped as you pushed against your thighs to hoist yourself back up. Eyes darting around the office you found many cabinets, but none were where they were supposed to be.

"That liar said it'd be in the corner of the room by the window. There's only one window, so what the-"

Turning, you took note of the chest on the other wall of the corner window. It was worn smooth and weathered, much older than anything else in the room, and as large as two steamer trunks.

"Not exactly a cabinet," you remarked. Approaching it, you picked up and inspected the padlock keeping it shut. "You'd think he'd at least be consistent." You cursed yourself for leaving your lock-picking set in your room. It would take forever to find the key, time you did not have.

Going back to the serpentine cabinet, you bit your lip fishing out the golden box again. Pushing the locket aside, you grabbed the key and headed back to the enormous chest. Sathanas, please work, I’m begging this works.

Click. The tell-tale mechanical sound and the full twist popped the lock open to your elation. Unthreading the lock from the latch, you set it aside to search for your treasure.

The lid was heavy, probably weighing at least 40 pounds. You sucked in a breath and heaved with all your might to open it. The inside looked like nothing and strangely you couldn’t even tell if there was a bottom to the chest. However, lining the top and bottom rim of it appeared to be animal teeth, maybe horrible souvenirs of big cats that had been fastened to the chest. Their encasements were nothing like you’d ever seen before, a deep purple that almost resembled gums as if it were alive. Putting forth a shaking finger, you touched the glossy flesh.

A deep growl emanated from the void maw. Black smoke rose from the chest causing you to jump back. The smoke moved with surprising speed and wrapped around your body. Much to your confusion, you could not walk through as you tried to go back for the padlock. You tried to move your arms but found them pinned to your sides. The chest hissed at this struggle and snatched you off the soft carpet and into its confines, slamming the lid shut.

The deprivation of light made you incredibly sensitive to how the smoke grabbed you and snaked around your body. Heavily breathing, you felt the tension decrease around your shoulders. It took all your strength, but you flailed your fists, finally landing a blow on the inside of the chest. It was the same fleshy texture as the chest’s gums but was noticeably slimier. You banged a few more times before it growled.

Smoke tendrils tore at the neck of your habit, quickly ripping the garment from your body. Kicking your legs in protest, you noticed that your legs and arms became weaker and weaker the harder you breathed in the sweet smoke. Thoughts slipped off your brain like silk as you relaxed into the embrace of the fog. The rest of your undergarments slid off like butter. The wisps were warm against your skin and ticklish, and you smirked with delight as they danced over your nipples. You gasped softly, a part of your brain urging you to let the box know what you liked and disliked. Something denser came up to flick slimily over the stiffened peaks, rolling back and forth across them in amusement.

“P-Please,” you moaned, “please just a little bit more.” Your cheeks grew hot at how wantonly the words rolled off your tongue like you were trying to seduce it into fucking you.

The chest obliged, the slimy tendrils curling around your nipples before enveloping them in some manner, sucking firmly against them. Not being able to see what was happening meant that every move the cursed object made was a surprise. “Fuck,” you gasped as you felt the sensations and teasing stoking the fire in your core, “so good…”

The chest purred at your words, adding a tendril to prod and lick at your clit. Your fingernails dug into your palm, desperate to grab onto anything to aid in the tension you were feeling building. They pushed in farther, scraping the soft skin, as the lower tendril latched on as well. “Sathanas, fuck that feels good. Just like th-”

The lid of the chest flipped open to reveal Secondo standing above you, lips tight, if not slightly turned up at the corners. “Mi è sembrato di aver sentito una topolina.”

A scream of surprise started in your throat but came out in shameless lust. Your gaze was torn away from him as the lower tendril unlatched to flick hard at your swollen clit. It stung as if the ooze that it secreted had made everything more sensitive, and you realized it was trying to admonish you for the scream.

“Non gli piace quando urli, topolina,” Secondo said, turning one of the chairs for guests by his desk to face the box. He hitched up his chasuble and alb before sitting down, legs spread wide in a commanding way. “I must admit I did not think that I would be getting a show today, or catching a mouse in my office.”

Whimpering in response you tried to find your words. “I- I’m not- I was only…”

“You know, topolina, I could free you, but I have a distaste for excuses… and thieves.”

You sneered at him snarling out, “Thief is such a - ah!” The tendril detached again, this time landing an audible smack across your clit that you were sure caused you to gush as your entire body recoiled in pain. “It’s a strong word, don’t you think?” you moaned, trying to keep your reactions in check so the chest wouldn’t punish you again.

“You are in my office and you have opened an unlocked chest, topolina. What were you planning on finding? My belongings?”

“No,” you said, “I wasn’t looking for anything, I swear.”

The appendages that were latched to your nipples constricted hard like clamps. You cried at this before the tendril between your legs gave you another firm smack for that. Your stomach sank as you felt a stream of slick slowly trickle down to your ass, evidence that you were enjoying its scoldings.

“Non gli piace neanche quando menti,” Secondo said. His hand was resting over his pants, waiting. “I will ask you again: what were you looking for, topolina?”

You held silent except for the moans that passed your lips as the tendrils worked away at your body, your juices slowly leaking out to cover more of your ass. The tension was so good, but you could feel that it wouldn’t be enough, the tendrils always pulling back when you wanted more.

“Da illi quod meruit,” Secondo spoke aloud. The chest responded to the ancient words, producing a fourth appendage. “If you do not want to cooperate, we can always fuck the answer out of you.” The new tendril licked and prodded at your asshole, testing the sensitive skin and tickling to tease.

“Please,” you moaned, “I need more. Please, tell it to fuck me.”

“Tarde,” he smirked, stroking himself through his pants. His mouth dropped open as he watched the tendril wriggle its way past the tight ring of muscle.

The appendage oozed more to aid itself as it torturously slid in and out at a slow pace. You groaned, feeling yourself slowly being stretched out more and more. It was delicious the way it plied you apart, but even more so through watching the second oldest Emeritus brother stroke himself to the sight of you being defiled. “I need my pussy fucked, please.”

“Why were you in my office?”

“K-Knife,” you slur out. There was no hope of getting it now, you were caught.

“A knife?” he said, standing up to undo his belt. “What kind of knife?”

“The Ouroboros Knife.”

He set the belt aside, getting up to go to the cabinet behind his desk. He pulled open the drawer and produced a dagger with a highly sculpted handle and pommel fashioned after a serpent eating its tail. The blade faintly glinted a dark green in the hazy afternoon light. “This knife?”

You nodded your head as a smoke tendril curled around your throat. The tendril fucking your ass picked up speed, causing you to barely notice the tendril that had left your clit red and swollen. “Yes, Papa.”

“You are a pretty sight, Sister.” He held up both thumbs and forefingers as if he were lining up a shot for a photograph, walking closer to you. When he reached the box, he bent down pinching your swollen clit between his gloved thumb and index finger. “How badly do you want that dripping cunt of yours filled?”

The pinch stung and caused your walls to twitch, your body begging you to comply. “So bad. I don’t want anything else. Please, tell it to fuck my pussy, Papa.”

He brought the knife to the top of your thigh, cutting deep enough for the blood to trickle down and join the wetness of the tendril and your own juices that covered your ass. The smile on those skull-painted lips was sickening. “It grants any wish. Go on, Sister: you know what to do.”

That asshole had tricked you into using your only wish. Gritting your teeth, you willed it to be so before he could do something else like close the lid on you and leave you to rot for eternity as a dripping pile of want. The box quickly obliged your wish, pushing a fat tentacle up against your entrance.

“Papa, it’s not going to fit!”

“Topolina, I am confident your whore cunt can take it. La frittata è fatta. Now, open your mouth. Da mihi os suum.” The tentacles of the chest obeyed his commands and moved you so your mouth was available to him. “Open, Topolina.”

You vowed to keep your mouth shut but it fell open in shock as the tentacle pushed into you, working with the other to stretch your two holes wide for their pleasure. Secondo in the meantime had freed his pierced cock from its confines and laid the tip of it on your tongue.

“Fai la brava ragazzina e succhia il cazzo del tuo papa.” He snatched the veil off your head, grabbing a fistful of hair.

The stretch of the chest filling you was so delicious that you obediently closed your lips around his thick cock, hollowing your cheeks and curling your tongue for his pleasure. The tentacle continued to push, stretching the muscles of your walls until it bumped up against your cervix. You bristled in surprise, but soon the tentacle was oozing the same substance that had made your clit and asshole feel so good.

Secondo slowly rocked his hips forward, guiding your mouth down his length. "Topolina, I am assuming you do not know what this is, or you would not have opened it. It is a mimic chest. It looks like any other ordinary chest, but it is a monster. I brought it back from a trip to Turkey once. You are the only sibling or ghoul foolish enough to try to open it. It has been 15 years since it was last opened, which is not good for you."

You looked up through your eyelashes, watching as his face creased in the pleasure he was taking from your mouth. A worry flushed your system only momentarily at his words, before the tendril from before resumed its latch on your clit, making you moan anew with a mouthful of cock.

“Mimic chests tend to lay dormant for two years before the need to breed takes over them. This one is 13 years overdue,” he grunted, pushing farther into your mouth. As the tip touched the back of your throat, you gagged. “Relax, topolina. Breathe.” A rough hand reached down and massaged the smooth column of your throat.

You focused your breathing through your nostrils as Secondo pushed down into your throat. Your eyes shut as you savored the feeling of being filled fully in all three holes like a slut. He gave a few short thrusts before pulling back, letting you breathe again. His piercings ran smoothly across your tongue, and you wondered how they would feel in place of the tentacle currently stuffing your pussy.

“I imagine it is getting close. I am not sure when you entered my office, but it usually fills its host quickly. Less time spent is less time to be caught and destroyed. Relax.”

You took a deep breath as he pushed down into your throat once more, groaning at the soft tightness. The appendages in your ass and pussy pumped in at a quicker pace and you knew they would be cumming soon. The tendrils on your clit and nipples rolled the bundles of nerves, encouraging you closer and closer to the edge with everything filling you. When Secondo pulled back again, you breathed out a heavy groan as you felt your climax approaching.

“Once more, topolina,” Secondo hissed as he pushed back down into your throat. A dozen of brutal thrusts later, and you felt his cock kick and spill his seed into your stomach. “È una brava puttana. Prendi tutto lo sborra di papa. Questo è quello che ti meriti, ladro: essere usato come un cassonetto di sborra.”

Satisfied, he pulled out, offering you the tip. “Sii una brava ragazza. Give it a kiss.” The wretched smile on his face made you want to bite it, but you remembered the chest’s dislike for loud harsh noises. You kissed the tip, taking the last drop of cum between your lips, flicking your tongue out to taste the saltiness. “Sei davvero una sgualdrina.” He slapped his cock on your cheek three times, before stuffing it back in his pants.

The appendages fucking your pussy and ass stuttered in their pace and soon you could feel the hot cum filling you inside. The fat tentacle that stretched your cunt pushed all the way against your cervix as the tendril on your clit sent you tumbling over the edge. The contractions were shorter, the muscles being so stretched out as they gripped the tentacle, trying to force it out. Instead, it pushed harder and you felt your womb flood with its seed. A different, thicker substance filled your cunt before it pulled out. Strangely you felt none of the seed spill down your legs when it pulled out. “What did it just do to me?”

“It has plugged you for optimal breeding chances. Usually, it wears off within a few hours, but because this one has laid dormant for so long, who is to say? It might take weeks.” He refastened his pants and threaded his belt back through them. “You do not have to worry about getting pregnant, our species is incompatible, but I suppose you will get to enjoy the feeling of it moving around in you.” He pulled you up from the box, closing and locking the lid once more.

“If you would like something to cover you, I have an alb in that closet over there,” he said, pointing to a pair of bi-folding doors. As you walked over to them, you could feel what he was talking about as the liquid sloshed within you with every step. You took a black alb, much too big, and threw it over your naked form. As you turned to face him, he slipped the knife back into the cabinet drawer.

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll come back and steal it again?” you said, biting your lip.

Shutting the drawer, Secondo made his way back over to you, stopping so he towered over your shoulder. You looked up and saw the knowing look in his eyes as he brought his gloved hand to rest on your lower abdomen. You shifted under his gaze and felt it slosh once more. “Why would I be afraid of that when you already got your wish?” He patted your stomach a few times before heading toward the door. “Have a good rest of your day, topolina. You learned a hard but fulfilling lesson.”

Translations:

Mi è sembrato di aver sentito una topolina. - I thought I heard a little mouse.

Non gli piace quando urli, topolina, - It doesn't like it when you scream, little mouse,

Non gli piace neanche quando menti - It doesn't like it when you lie either

Da illi quod meruit - Give her what she deserves

Tarde - Slowly

La frittata è fatta- You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.

Da mihi os suum- Give me her mouth

Fai la brava ragazzina e succhia il cazzo del tuo papa - Be a good little girl and suck your Papa's dick

È una brava puttana. Prendi tutto lo sborra di Papa. Questo è quello che ti meriti, ladro: essere usato come un cassonetto di sborra - She's a good whore. Take all of Papa's cum. This is what you deserve, thief: to be used as a cum dumpster

Sii una brava ragazza - Be a good girl

Sei davvero una sgualdrina - You really are a slut

[azz4me]

ok long ago in the dark ages few months back, back when I had no one who'll listen to my joongoo rambles, and I was newly in love, I would seek out fanart of him everywhere

I think the first time I saw kitsune joongoo was somewhere on pinterest and I was like "cuteee" But nothing much more but then that adorbs tart acc posted that fucking beautiful kitsune goo and I had DIED

THAT ONE IMAGE GRIPPED MY NECK AND I COULDN'T BREATHE SINCE

I had,,, SOOOOOOOO MANY THOUGHTS. The possiblities. The scenerios. The imagination.KITSUNE GOO!!!!!

So naturally I drew him allot but I also had a very vivid imagination series kinda in my head---

Soooo

~

Not really fic more like idea dumping(Kitsune goo x fem!oc you can say? Except I never decided her name)

~

There's this lady, in traditional attire and she's really nice but unsocial with society and spends most her times studying mythical beings, which makes everyone in town thinks she's a witch.

For that she lives deep somewhere in a forest in her home or what she calls her temple, in the privacy and nature where she studies the supernatural.

Something something happens she stumbles upon something something back to her temple-

She sets up the items she found in her ritual stand and begins reading the things written on the item peace and gasp

Suddenly everything glows and a hot man groans, standing on top of the ritual set up, well not a man… A KITSUNE!!

He's confused, he looks at her like "how am I here?" And she explains she, taken aback but also having done rituals to summon mythical creatures before, explains that she found him through something plot convenience something and he chuckles.

"Wow you talk really formally.. Huh, so I was incased to eternal sleep after…" and before he could reveal more plot he cuts himself off and grins at the lady.

"Your eyes are fixated on my tails, do you want to touch them?" He says and his 9 fluffy tails wag, inching closer to the lady's hand.

The lady being polite first tries decline but she's human she can't resist, TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH- Soft tail pats… Joon goo let's out cute fox noises (BAAAH M DEAD)

he chuckled and held her hand to stop her from totally getting engrossed only in his tail, and she retreats, embarrased, "ah, apologies, it's that I've studied your kind through only tales before, finally having met a kitsune.. I'm just in awe."

The lady explains, goo cuts her off and says "Goo. I have a name, call me goo.." He smiles, perhaps had gotten a bit annoyed by the lady continuously referring to him as a kitsune but he wasn't offended.

more conversation happens, goo acts flirty cause yes, one scene in particular I imagined

"May I study you? I'm very fascinated by your stature..." she asks innocently, but goo being the mischievous fox leans very close and whispers in her ears "You want to know how kitsunes show their love to people that respect them?"

She shivered and pulled back, "ah thatll be too much of an honour!" she exclaims naively,and goo melts cause she's so innocent and sweet

Some more stuff happens (actually its already getting so long so I'm cutting off small small imaginations I had Inbetween, my mind continued with this one story for A MONTH so it has lots of moments-)

Somewhere inbetween goo knows he has to go and take his revenge and get answers for how he was encased, so after staying with the lady in her temple until he regained his normal strength, he decided he'll have to leave.

The lady doesn't want to be left alone again, she has so much to learn about him too, goo feels he doesn't want to part ways either.. He hasn't felt this peace with someone since...forever. He would miss the gentle tail pats and getting his ear scartched too...

"Come with me, lady" He offered softly, smiling. "You have more to learn about the mythical world anyways.. And... I said I'll show you a kitsunes love too right?"

~

Idk why dafuq I felt the need to aesthetify the imagination,, god there's so much I skipped over too but it's so longgggg and so out of character

anyways yeah so basically I love kitsune goo.

~🍞

THAT ART OF TART'S HAD ME SEEING HEAVEN FOR A SECOND. MY JAW DROPPED WHEN I SAW IT!!! IT WAS FUCKING FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!!! I HAVE THAT DOWNLOADED ON MY FOLDERS AND IT'S EHEHEHEH- IT'S SO FUCKING PRETTY LIKE NONE WILL UNDERSTAND ME!!! I WOULD KILL TO SEE THAT IRL. THAT'S LIKE ONE OF MY FAV GOO FANARTS AND THE OTHER BEING OF iwasneverthere true to their name, garden1a and del-png klshaegvbkuo like those arts are so fucking goooodddddd AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH makes me tear up evertime i see their goo art, the true rulers of goo fandom

I am so happy i saw this before I went outside and start chasing someone with a bat. This is so cute and adorable💝💝💝💝💝💝💥💥💥

why is kitsune goo not real. It's fucking sad that the earth will never see the true beauty😞😞😞

THE TAILS. THE TAILLSSSSS!!!gv!KUFVSACFYLIGYIFYF I NEED RTO TOUCH RHEM OII WANT TO QGVABBUscuuiqguhieefschiecfhniqfhqefhi;,jb klugbkuoawgefkUIW2GFIUGwfgugefbkudsgbvukgskdgu kzxb vhzvczhch ugca ug caugc uagc scg asogcacgaus couag df ugcui avgsfoiugfgqwqbkl hi oq 3yt 021yr hfe tc avc v c8agu ogo hchcoys

[kaisooficpodcast]

Author's Session with Haqiyin Part 2

I am Alexio Sospranio, and you’re listening to the kaisoo fic podcast.

For new listeners, the kaisoo fic podcast is a space where we discuss literature found in the kaisoo world.. 

Just a brief rundown of what will happen in this episode. This episode is a two part episode. First part was posted two days ago on the 12th, the second part is today, the 14th. Special kaisoo dates!

Previously, the first part we discussed haqiyin’s defining fics, fics she finds she has a unique attachment to, and we learnt a bit more on who haqiyin is as a writer and artist. Today, on the 14th we will be looking at the three ‘i’s.

Diving into the three ‘i’s are Inspiration, Influence and Impact. Author’s inspiration for ideas, having others as influence for their direction and the author’s impact on the kaisoo fic community.

Inspiration 

Let’s just jump right into it. This segment is the first of the three ‘i’s. The three ‘i’s are Inspiration, Influence and Impact. This segment we are looking at haqiyin’s inspiration for ideas.

It is a long question so i’ll split it into drawing and writing.

From your visual eye, what comes first for inspiration? How do you choose the image you have in your mind?

In all honesty, I draw whenever I feel like it. I already do designing in my day to day job so I don’t feel like drawing all the time. My creativity juice flows only when I feel like it. For inspiration, I pick and choose what kind of pictures or concept I like, for example; the trending ass in the window one, it was a spur of the moment, I whipped out my iPad and drew it in under an hour. Same goes for other fanarts I did. 

I would see a picture or reference and I go “Oh Kaisoo would fit in this” and save it to draw. If I like the reference enough and have the energy, I’ll draw immediately and post it. But there are other fanarts that I took my time with, such as The Eve Kaisoo and NSFW fanarts of course. 

I see, so for drawing, inspiration comes when it comes.

Now from your literary eye for inspiration for your fics. Do you see the kaisoo scene first? Or you hear a dialogue? Or do you see a scene and think oh wow it reminds me of kaisoo, and from there how do the pieces come together? Is it from small ideas first that slowly builds or a big overarching idea first then the task to sieve out the small details?

Inspiration for fics usually comes from dialogues for me. I would think of a dialogue or a line that I’d imagine one of them would say and go from there. For example, the fic ‘My Dear’ comes from the line I imagined Kyungsoo solemnly saying “My peace is you forever, and I hope I am your peace too.” then I construct the plot from that. Sometimes I mix and match from the notes/ideas that I’ve written down, like certain dialogues would fit with another plot I had an idea for, so I would combine and just write it like that. 

I don’t prefer to write a generic idea first because I focus on details too much. So I struggle a little when I am following a prompt like kinktober or ficfest, because I get the idea to write about ‘ABO’ for example, but then what is the ABO even about? What is the detail? I would struggle a bit more if I don’t have details as foundation for the fic. 

I imagined the generic idea is like a house without support. I need the pillars and foundation (details/tidbits of scene) to support the house and build it from the ground up.

Wow, building from the ground up… i never thought of it in that manner. Details, characteristics and quotes are the foundation of a good fic. And again, you have a catalogue of everything, very admirable. You don’t lose sight of things. 

And i love that quote you use to define your ‘my dear’ fic. It’s really…  “My peace is you forever, and I hope I am your peace too.” And I guess for listeners who have yet to read haqiyin’s ‘my dear’ fic, it would really rouse curiosity within them to want to read the fic. Listeners, if you have yet to read the fic… all i can say that you have one month to read it before we get to looking into the fic proper as that is what the next month’s episode will be for hehehe, i’m so excited.

This is it for the inspiration segment.

Influence

Now, the next segment is the second of the three ‘i’s. We have Inspiration, Influence and Impact. This segment we are looking at those who influence haqiyin’s direction.

Haqiyin, who are your three most influential figures? In terms of fic writers who you look up to or fan artists you would like to learn from?

Influential figures in the sense of writings and world-building, I’d say Darren Shan the author of the published saga of Cirque Du Freak. 

As for AO3 writers, I’d say AceBaseFaceSpace and Indigomini in terms of smut, characters chemistry and creativity. 

Woah, you must really enjoy fantasy and supernatural elements… Darren Shan’s saga is vampire au and of course AceBaseFaceSpace also has a lot of that and fantasy aus, one of them being orc Kyungsoo and elf Jongin. And of course, Indigomini is a classic writer! She really has good smut writing, I mean she has smut fics, on top of pwp. 

But okay, pause a second - haqiyin, have you read indigomini’s ‘Hi, Water You Doing?’ 

I just want to give a shoutout to that fic because it is a short and memorable read. This fic literally made me laugh out loud while I was laying down on my bed. I think indigomini has that charm. It is so funny… and interestingly enough, it is actually a pwp. 

If you, dear listener, have about 5 minutes to read this hilarious 2k word fic, please do so. To put it frankly, the build up to the penetration is not very arousing, so it is not really wank worthy, but as i mentioned earlier indigomini has smut fics for us to yknow, have fun with. But do check out ‘Hi, Water You Doing?’, trust me, you’ll also laugh out loud.

And with that we have come to the end of the second ‘i’ segment, Influence.

Impact 

Now, the next segment is the last of the three ‘i’s. We have Inspiration, Influence and Impact. This segment we are looking at is the author’s impact on the kaisoo fic community.

Haqiyin, what has been your favourite AU to write, and why? 

ABO AU is my go-to, and fluff of course! And I notice X-EXO is a great AU to explore too. As for why ABO and X-EXO Au… I’ll just say that the possibilities are endless with those AUs. It’s flexible, it has its own rules of course but overall, you can bend and do whatever plot line you want with it. 

I agree that it has its own rules where you can bend and do almost everything with it. The fic that comes to mind right now is your ‘perfect fit’ where we have half wolf Kyungsoo getting down with wolf Jongin. And with the added second gender, you can really explore a lot of world building elements. Like societal hierarchies and of course relationship dynamics. And it also depends on the author how deep they want to get into the technicalities and the dynamics of it all.

Second question for the author’s impact on the community segment is: What kind of writer do you consider yourself as? For example, what is the one thing you hold dear to when writing? Or what is something you would never write?

I would consider myself as a smut-writer because I tend to focus on sex tropes or aus and kinks. Though I’m slowly writing more and more heavy plots, the smut part would never be abandoned. 

What I hold dear to when I’m writing is the emotion of the character I’m writing for. For example, KaiSoo is derived from Jongin and Kyungsoo, which are real people out there, so depending on the plot I’m writing for, I try to mix in my perception of what they would feel and say and act. I would say that I’m excellent in reading body language and mannerisms but I am just human, I cannot read minds or feelings. So as far as how I’m writing them, it is just from my observation and perception of them, never the real them. 

Something that I would never write is probably cheating or infidelity. Personally speaking, I am very possessive and jealous, and cheating on a partner to me is betrayal that one cannot be forgiven. The trope upsets me so I tend to avoid the tags and plot revolving around it. Even if it’s Kaisoo that cheats on their partner to be with each other, I still don’t like it because it’s unfair to those who were cheated on. 

I definitely agree, cheating is the biggest thing I cannot stomach. And the point you hold dear to when writing… As you write, the emotions are derived from actual people. And it being fanfiction, it is about two people or more where readers are able to see a glimpse of how their favourite people are like in an alternate universe, yet keeping the essence of who they are each time we explore a different side. And as you said, it is never the real them, and we will never know the real them, so it is in this manner that fanfic is fun. We are able to insert our fantasies on who they may be, depending on the different sides of them that authors selectively choose for the different universes.

And upon identifying the things you would like to continue to do, and the things you will never do as a writer,  what’s the biggest thing you learnt while writing fics? Anything surprising or impactful or moving? Be it about the storytelling, the language used or the life lessons?

Biggest thing I had learned was constructing my own style of writing. Since English is not my first language, I had to develop a certain style of writing to help me write smoothly and such. 

And when I’m developing such skills, I can’t help but notice the way I speak and think are incorporated within my writing. It’s difficult to explain but whenever I read my own stuff I can’t help but notice how much it sounds like me. It’s like a signature. 

When I try to compare the style of writing with others, it all blurs in comparison. I cannot distinctly remember others’ style of writing but I know what mine looks like. 

That sounds quite satisfying actually. Where a writer is able to literally leave their mark into the community.

But tapping a bit on the first thing you mentioned for this question, where you talked about constructing your own style. Could you maybe give us a small run through, what does that look like? 

Gaps. I love separating sentences so much. Sometimes I would write one liners as if I’m writing down poems or quotes.

A small run through of my writing style would consist of; a rough idea of the AU/plot, a picture/video of reference, a notable or key dialogue in the plot, rough idea of the ending. 

Then I’ll start the intro with a short introduction of the situation or circumstances. Sometimes starting with a dialogue, whichever fits the situation.

I’ll write in small portions of a paragraph, mainly 3-4 sentences in one paragraph. Because I don’t want it to be cramped when I’m reading via mobile. I’m particular with how long a paragraph should be when I’m reading it on my phone.

I’ll end the story with a one liner or a short ending sentence. 

Wow… actually that is quite evident in your works, I agree. It becomes a very conscious effort to write and that you are very mindful about how you structure your writing… and i think that, as you said earlier, is your signature. 

And with all the things you have learnt, haqiyin, what is your favourite part of being a writer?

Producing plots and lines that I enjoy reading. I write because I wanted it to be specific and catered to my needs. I try not to cringe when rereading my previous works that I don’t feel proud of, but everyone needs to grow and be better in some ways. My bad fics are proof that I sucked a few times and manage to write nice ones later on. 

And of course, my reader’s reactions and support! I kept writing and even returned from my hiatus (when I was absorbed with Hogwarts Legacy) because I missed Kaisoo community and the latest update with them. 

I have to mention that I am friends and mutuals with a few writers, which is very pleasant and fun because I didn’t create any friends when I was a writer for OnTae fics. 

Aw, that’s so sweet. So two reasons why you love being a writer. One, because you are able to make your ideas, imaginations, your preferences come to life. And two, because you have a good community. Supportive readers and passionate writers. The best combination.

With your experience, all 8 years of it, from highschool to your mid 20s, what do you think makes a great story?

Personal outlook on a trope or plot. I’ve read the most extravagant style of writing with a boring plot and the most precious plot and world-building but unorganised writing, be it grammar, spellings, way of speaking and even the format of dialogues. 

A great story is not a measurement of how many words you wrote in a single chapter, because I’ve read fantastic smut and plot in a small 3k oneshot, or even less than 1k. 

A great story is when an author successfully delivers a beautiful or interesting plot with significance. A great story to me is when I, as a reader, can walk into the author’s head when I’m reading their story. 

That’s quite magical. A great story is when an author successfully delivers a beautiful or interesting plot with significance.

As you have identified what makes a great story, is there a must read fic you wanna recommend to listeners? Could be your own fic, or it could be your comfort fic by another author or could be a fic you’re reading now. Anything fic related on your mind!

Snake - Cosmo_WakeUp

It’s a fantastic hybrid fic and I love the creativity of the smut in this

Wrapped in Plastic (It’s Fantastic)  - indigomini 

Same as before but this one plays with clones, which inspired my fic Wrong Button

Notable authors are Melings, Maokun, K_Borealis (Kaus), AceBaseFaceSpace,  Kainnuendo and SooSooDyo 

Each author brings something different to the kaisoo literature scene, and we are very grateful for that.

Indigomini’s fic, I can definitely see similarities between Wrapped in Plastic and your Wrong Button. Both happen in a sort of… hotel ish? A hotel, brothel ish kinda vibe where you provide your sexual preference onto a sort of AI bot? 

I saw the tags for Cosmo_WakeUp’s fic, Snake… I understand why you say the smut is creative. But looking at the tags again… to me it is a bit… weird, but the premise is definitely interesting. You have the owl hybrid Kyungsoo and snake hybrid Jongin… I’ll read it one day.

Closing Ment

Before we end things, dear haqiyin, do you have any other comments you want to share with us listeners? Any teasers for ongoing AUs or a hint of upcoming AUs you have in your work in progress stage?

As of now, I’m drafting another one shot fic similar to My Dear, angst and tragedy-driven, but I’ll not say when that will finish. And I can say for sure that I’ll be joining this year’s Kinktober fest! If there is any other fest, I’ll check em’ out and maybe I’ll join them! We’ll see!

Oh myyy another ‘my dear’ mdm i am so sedated and ready to cry. And with that we will always wait patiently. And we are definitely eager to read your postings for this year’s kinktober fest too.

Haqiyin, i just wanted to thank you, so much for being part of this kaisoo fic podcast. I am just so very grateful that we got to meet like this. You’ve been very enthusiastic, supportive and very accommodating. It has been an honour to share this episode with you. 

Dear listener, the link to the author’s ao3 and twitter profile will be given below in the notes section. And with that we have come to the end of today’s episode. Do keep a lookout for the next episode because we will be going through one of the three significant fics written by haqiyin, titled ‘my dear’. If you have yet to read haqiyin’s classic text, it would be very encouraging of you to do so before we get to next month’s episode. New episodes every 13th of the month, in commemoration of kaisoo day in january.

Thank you for listening, have a good day, dear kaisooist, and we look forward to next month’s episode. Stay tuned.

[feralgremlinchild]

Tw death, medical, child custody

(also I can’t remember how to do a read more so heads up it’s a long post)

I’ve been gone a while, I kept meaning to return but everything in life just kept getting worse. Taking care of my mother became more of a challenge, and the past 6 months she was in hospitals and skilled nursing homes. We had some good times together, I took her to see the eras tour in theater because she absolutely loved Taylor swift.

My mother died a week and a half ago, thankfully she was aware of what was happening and she was ready for it. She had unfortunately already been legally dead and revived and intubated before she had a chance to sign a dnr. She hated being intubated, but I tried to help as best I could to make communication possible for her the seven days she was intubated. I made her a talking board.

I tried my best to treat her with dignity and make sure she had the little comforts the past few months. I drew signs for her hospital wall, I brought her her favorite stuffed animal, I clipped and filed her nails, I brought my (retired) service dog to see her because she adored him and he always made her feel better. Helped order her food. Found solutions to little problems like an elastic band for her watch instead of a buckle. Assistive devices and technology. It never felt like a chore, it wasn’t a decision I had to make, I just did things.

She had finally decided a couple months ago that she was not going to take more of her dilaudid than prescribed. And she was actually sticking to that. I had been waiting for that my entire life and I was so so proud of her. She was trying very hard. She wanted to see my niece again, she wanted to be around a while longer. Up until the beginning of March, the doctors told us they weren’t sure how much time she had left, but it could be months or even a year, it depended on her recovery. Her body’s ability to recover. In the end though it was just too tired, she’d been sick her entire life and she couldn’t recover from this last infection.

My niece’s dad allowed her to visit the hospital a couple days before my mother passed. I didn’t get to see the kid because I wasn’t at the hospital, I had already gone home. The kid had been given a phone for her birthday a few days earlier, and has been allowed to contact us so far. I haven’t seen her in person since December, but I’ll see her on Friday at the service. We’ve been texting though, mostly about games we both play and inside jokes.

I had to buy a black dress because my old one ripped. I have lost a lot of weight recently anyways, it probably wouldn’t have fit. It turns out stress and grieving can take the pounds off you even when an eating disorder couldn’t. It’s not exactly happy weight loss. I haven’t been celebrating it. But the weight did need to come off, so maybe at least my joints will be a little happier.

Now I have to find a job at some point in the next couple of months. The insurance money won’t last forever, and I had always planned on getting a job after my mother passed. She had been my full time job for years. I’m going to get a job, help my dad sell the house, and then move out of Texas. If all goes well I will be in New England this time next year. It’s a big move but I need to get as far away as possible, I’ve been dreaming of this for years and years and it’s finally time to start making steps towards it.

Also both of my big dogs have large tumors and I have no money for removal or treatment.

Also also my cousin’s wedding is in less than two weeks and it’s a 5 hour drive minimum and I did get a dress and it’s good but I do not feel like celebrating anything right now. The guy is nice tho, very kind and has what the church people call a heart of service. They’re cute together. And my cousin is great and I love her and I grew up with her almost like a sister, even going to the same schools. But I’m just not in a happy wedding mood. I’m going anyway of course.

[listentotheshityousay]

battle mode

(gav // @richardgoranski; aj // @drawblin; gale // @insinirate; anna // @citrusbees)

[dokoni-mo]

Mortal Shenanigans || Khonshu x GN! Reader

summary: you have a night out.

SFW // fluff

word count: 5008

warnings: fluff, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, post-canon, mentions of marc, steven and jake (they do not make an appearance), khonshu struggles with human emotion sometimes and gets frustrated a bit easily but we love him for it, established relationship, khonshu also has a really big ego but thats just common knowledge, non-violent usage of knives

disclaimer: i do not have DID myself, so if i wrote anything incorrectly as it pertains to the mentions of marc, steven and jake I apologize, i just tried to stay as close to canon as possible

a/n: wow its been FOREVER since ive written for a different fandom,,, look look ik what yall are thinking: really? the bird man?? well YES the bird man if i can simp for the worst evil dilf in the galaxy i can simp for the bird man too (he's also my comfort character and ive been struggling with some anxiety/more insomnia recently so ffkadfjkdlf i just need this one okay??),, anyways taglist open!! enjoy!!

~~~

Every time you looked at Khonshu, you could only wonder one thing. Why didn't he give himself any hair?

You had been with the god for years now. Long before either Marc, Steven, or Jake was his avatar. You knew him. You knew that he was full of pride. The god took great pride in the "vengeance" he sought on those who have done wrong. He took pride in his Moon Knight; even if he had to jump through some hoops to get one. Khonshu almost never admitted he was wrong. And even more rarely, he would apologize for being wrong. You had to give him the silent treatment for days for him to do that.

Which is why his lack of hair puzzled you greatly.

Although he wasn't very forward about it, you knew Khonshu also took great pride in his appearance. Hell, it ate him up for weeks when Ammit had said that time had not been kind to him. He had tailored his physical form to perfectly fit the description of God of the Moon. He liked to be handsome, in his own weird, oddly specific way. You loved him for it, along with a great deal of many other reasons, but why. Why didn't he include hair?

All the other Gods you had met had hair. Ammit did. Taweret did. So why not him? If he did it right, it might suit him. Something long, with lots of braids and charms. But also kept tidy, to suit how particular he was about things.

You knew he could do it. Have hair, that is. With one wave of a linen-wrapped hand, he could have all the hair in the world if he wanted to. It would look nice. So why not?

These questions were asked over and over inside of your mind that night. It was Sunday, which meant Khonshu relieved Jake of any moon-knighting so that he could spend time with you. While the god was passionate about protecting the travelers of the night, and carrying out his own form of justice, he was moreso passionate about you. He missed you deeply during the leading days to Sunday. He knew of your longing for him as well. So, he took Sundays very seriously.

You were lain on the couch of your flat, your legs resting in the lap of the hawk-headed deity. Khonshu's staff was leaned against the wall next to him, one hand on the side of your thigh whilst the other idly drew patterns into your shin. His skull was pointed at your television, which was displaying some over-the-top reality series you had found on Netflix not long ago. Khonshu grumbled over and over again how such "trash entertainment" was beneath both you and him, but you saw how interested he was in it. You knew it was just more than curiosity when he asked if a new episode had dropped. How he seemed disappointed when you scrolled past it when looking for better things.

Typical Khonshu.

But because his attention was somewhere else, the deity didn't notice how you had been staring at him for the past twenty minutes. You had been taking in every single one of his features, trying your best to picture in your minds eye just what kind of hairstyle would suit him. Even after days of scrolling on Pinterest, you had failed time and time again to find the perfect look for him. It was up to you now to create it. Yet still, you wondered...

"Khon?" you squeaked out, having to clear your throat after not talking for so long.

Not looking away from the TV screen, your bird-headed lover answered you, "Yes, my moonstone?"

"Why don't you have any hair?"

Your question certainly got the god's attention now. Out of all the things he had expected you to say, you could tell that certainly wasn't one of them. It surprised the bird-man enough to rip his gaze away from the TV, and make him stop rubbing those small, loving circles into your leg as he looked down at your inquisitive face.

"Hair?" he asked.

"Yeah, hair." you responded, "All the other gods seemed to have it. Why don't you? And those little string things back there don't count."

It took him a second to answer you, thinking of what to say, "I... have never seen a purpose to have it, I suppose."

You laughed, "You don't need a reason to have hair. You can have it just to look nice."

"Look nice?"

"Yeah, like how some people use it to express themselves. Remember the other day? When we saw that person with the yellow mohawk? That was them expressing themselves."

"Are you suggesting I get a yellow mohawk?"

You laughed again, "No, no! I'm just saying it might look good on you."

The god thought to himself for a moment again, letting out a hmm as you saw the gears beginning to turn inside of his skull.

"I don't think I agree with you, little one." He said.

"Whaaaat?" you groaned, sitting yourself up to get a better look at your lover next to you, your legs still in his lap, "Why not?"

Khonshu leaned the end his beak down to tap against your cheek at your protests, his own way of kissing you to wash away your exasperation, "I am the God of the Night Sky, my little mortal. I have put great effort in to how I look now. Hair would not suit me in the slightest, nor would serve any purpose. Your suggestion is adorable, however, my star."

You half-smiled and rolled your eyes at his comments, not in the mood to give up so quickly.

"Okay but have you even tried having hair before?" you asked, "You can't say it won't suit you until you've tried it."

"I don't need to try it. I just know it wouldn't."

"Well can I see? To make sure? Just like, just something you think would look good."

"It doesn't work like that, little one."

Feeling defeated, you let out a groan as you leaned back against the chair, lying down again as you stretched your hands out behind you. Reaching down to your face, Khonshu used his thin, linen-wrapped fingers to brush the hair away from your eyes, trailing them down to cup your face; his palm taking up nearly the entire expanse of the side of your head. Feeling his comforting touch, you leaned your cheek against it as you looked into the sockets of his skull.

"Your suggestions are always welcome with me, my sweet, but this is one that I cannot accept. I do hope you understand." The deity said to you, rubbing his long thumb lovingly against your smaller cheek.

"I just don't understand why you won't even try." you said, "It sounds like you're just being stubborn again, bird-brain."

"I am not stubborn. I just know what is best."

This warranted another laugh out of you, along with a swift kiss pressed against the hawk-headed god's palm. This was definitely typical Khonshu. You half-expected your schemed conversation to go in such a way, so you found it hard to be angry at the god's lack of adventure. He was never really one to try new things much anyway. Not unless he was given a push. You knew this. After years of being by Khonshu's side, you knew everything about how he operated. Which is why you felt comfortable shifting your scheme from plan A to plan B.

Pressing one more kiss into your lover's palm, you sat up and pivoted on your butt so that your legs were out of the hawk-headed god's lap. Your feet now firmly on the floor, you paused the show on the TV as you pushed yourself up from off of the couch. You could feel Khonshu's gaze on you as you bustled your way over to the doorway of your flat. Taking it off of the hooks, you shrugged on the old coat that Marc had left behind from his last visit onto your shoulders. Bending down, you begun to slip into your shoes as the god on the couch decided to chime in.

"What are you doing, little one?" He asked you, skull tilted slightly to the side.

"Going out." you said, a small smirk on your features.

"Out?" he interrogated, "For what purpose?"

After slipping on both shoes, you stood up straight again as you grabbed your keys off of the hook.

"Well," you said, "I'm not giving up on my suggestion yet. And if you're not willing to show me some hair up on that thick skull of yours, then i'm going out to get the next best thing."

Khonshu was standing now, his staff placed firmly in his hand as he looked to you.

"(Y/N), this is absurd."

You giggled, "No Khon, what's absurd is that I'm about to make myself a traveler of the night, and you're not gonna be there to protect me."

~~~

In order to avoid weird stares from the other people that walked the streets of London, Khonshu and you had agreed long ago to not hold hands in public. No one out there other than you could see him, but they could see you clear as day. It would draw a lot of unnecessary attention to you if you were constantly seen holding hands with nothing. So, for subtlety, and to allow at least some PDA between the two of you, you and Khonshu agreed to hold pinkies instead. Something subtle, but still loving and intimate all the same. It was one of the few things you didn't have to pester the deity so much about until he finally agreed. Silly old bird.

The streets of London at night were almost -- if not just as -- lively as they were in the daytime. In the light of the full moon above, along with accompanying streetlights, you saw how all the people around you seemed to be enjoying themselves as you walked along the sidewalk, pinky held firmly in Khonshu's. There were many younger people out that hour of the night, walking along and laughing with one another like they were the only people in the world. When a group would pass by you, you would see how they payed no mind the tall bird god next to you, phasing through him like it was nothing. Granted, you were the only one that could see him, but it was still amusing nonetheless. Sometimes, the person would turn around briefly to see where the sudden change of temperature in the air came from. Them being unable to see Khonshu, they would just stare by your side with a furrowed brow, making you giggle softly to yourself every time it happened.

Usually, Khonshu would chuckle along with you. However, that evening, he didn't do so. Not even once. Staff held firmly in the hand that wasn't busy with yours, he stared straight ahead without a word as he trudged alongside you. He was grumpy about your little plan. He was throwing another one of his tantrums. You would never call it a tantrum to his face, though. You weren't that mean.

At least he wasn't teleporting around this time, and still wanted to hold your pinky. A change from the other tantrums he threw.

When the fifth drunk person of the night phased through him, he had let out a grumble of disapproval. You saw how he gripped onto his long, tall staff even firmer, and shot a warm smile up at the deity.

"Don't be so grumpy." you said to him, not bothering to keep your voice low so you don't get stares (since most people seemed to be minding their own business, at least for now), "A night out is a nice change of pace anyway. As much as I love and appreciate you setting aside a day for us, you can't keep me cooped up in my flat forever, Khon. We should get out and do more. And that doesn't include riding around with Jake."

The tall bird next to you let out another disapproving rumble, "I prefer to spend Sundays inside with you, (Y/N). I know you are aware of this."

"I am aware of that. But come on, it'll be fun! Just give it a shot. One night out isn't gonna kill you."

"We seem to have differing tastes in fun, little bug."

"Ohhh, I don't think so. Remember all that time we spent together? In Cairo? Before you found Marc in the desert?" you asked teasingly, bumping up against his arm to emphasize your point.

Khonshu let out another hum at this as he recalled all of those old, fond memories, though more pleased-sounding than the last as he leaned down to press the tip of his beak against the side of your cheek, "How could I ever forget?"

You giggled, "Exactly. And that was pretty fun, huh? So trust me when I say this will be fun too."

The god next to you looked down at you without a word. You could practically feel the gears turning in his skull, trying over and over again to come up with some sort of snobbish remark to emphasize his distaste for your little scheme. Try as he might, however, Khonshu could come up with nothing. For months now, you and him had spend Sundays indoors. As much as he did love just having you near him, holding you on the couch as some dumb form of entertainment played out before him, he did have to admit. He was getting a little bored with it. He could tell that you were bored of it too. Even if you had never complained about it before, he could see it in those eyes of yours. It made him feel a little bad. And a walk under his moon did always liven his spirits. He loved seeing the moonlight on your skin, anyhow.

So perhaps you were right about this. Even though going to such lengths to see him with hair was still absurd to him (although he realized that this was probably just some sort of excuse for you to get him and yourself out of the flat), Khonshu found himself not being able to hate the idea of a night out with you. His sweet little mortal. His one true love.

Returning his gaze to the road ahead of the pair of you, Khonshu straightened his posture as he held your pinky tighter, angling his beak to point more upright and poised.

"Very well. But only for tonight, little one." he said.

You let out a laugh as you returned your gaze to the sidewalk, "Fair enough."

Typical Khonshu.

~~~

The shop you had stopped at was one of the ones you used to frequent in your youth. It was a typical children's store; full of games, toys, and sweets to make any child drag their guardian by the wrist in through the doors, whining and begging all the while. It was a quaint little thing, even just from the view from the windows outside. Perfect for any child.

Which is why Khonshu was terribly confused when you had dragged him all the way there. He wasn't a child. He was a god. Had you forgotten?

Because the deity was too big to fit inside without being prone to accidentally knocking something over (but mostly because he claimed he didn't want to deal with such "foolishness"), he resided himself to staying outside. He watched you through the windows of the store, holding on to his staff firmly with hunched, irritated shoulders. You were sure taking your sweet time in there. He knew that you knew exactly what you were doing; making the god of the night sky wait out in the cold, damp streets of London as you perused through the aisles of the small store.

"Just wait out here," you had said to him, "I'll be back in a second."

That was twenty minutes ago now. Khonshu liked to consider himself a patient god. Unlike some of his brothers and sisters, as well as other members of the ennead, he had much more to give when it came to mortal behavior. It was a trait acquired over time, through countless years of worship and praise directed towards him and his moon and stars, as well as all the knights he had taken as his own. Hell, he figured that his patience had to have grown ten-fold over the years, since he had put up with that worm Steven Grant so long without killing him. And when it came to you, he had even more of a fuse to give.

However, Khonshu had never been one to simply sit around in the face of such shenanigans. This whole idea was ludicrous to him. He didn't even want hair.

The god grumbled to himself as the travelers of the night passed by him, laughing and shooting-the-shit amongst themselves without a care in the world.

You were lucky he loved you. Otherwise you would've been put on the short-list to feel his wrath.

After twenty-five minutes had passed, Khonshu had begun to consider going inside the store to fetch you. He knew you hated to be rushed, but right then, he probably hated waiting even more. A reprimand from you would be bliss compared to agonizingly waiting for your return. Khonshu was seriously considering it, weighing his options on an imaginary scale.

As if it was on cue, you had finally exited the shop. The god first noticed the comically large amount of bags that you had hugged close to your chest, held snug inside of the confine your arms. You had situated them all in such a way that they were nestled more-or-less in the crooks of your elbows, so that your hands were free. In your left hand, however, you held a sheer, small white paper bag. The bag was full of what appeared to be some sort of small pastry, and you used your right had to break off pieces of it to fit into your mouth. With a small smile on your face as you chewed, you crossed the street over to the disgruntled bird-man, noticing how his linen-wrapped shoulders were hunched as you found your place in front of him.

"What on earth took you so long, little bug?" The bird-man questioned, softly gesturing to your person with his staff, "And what are all those?"

You breathed out a giggle in response, finishing the bite you had took before you spoke.

"I saw a few cute things that I wanted." You said.

"A few?" Khonshu questioned.

"Yeah a few, things there are cheap! I know the owner so I get a good discount. Don't worry, I got your present too, Khon."

You reached in the small white bag and broke off another piece of the pastry, tilting its opening up at the god of the moon.

"Croissant?" you asked.

Even though Khonshu didn't have eyes, you could tell in his unamused silence that he had looked to you, then the pastry, then back to you again.

"No, thank you." he said.

Letting out another amused giggle, you briefly stood on your tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of the god's beak, seeing how he relaxed just a tad at your display of affection.

"Come on, let's find a place for you to open your gift." you said to him, hugging the bags closer to your chest as you took another bite of your snack. Resuming your trudge down the sidewalk, Khonshu lingered behind for a brief moment, staring at the back of your head in silence. Khonshu was never one to be speechless. Everyone that had ever come across him knew this. The god of the night sky was a being of many, seemingly endless words.

But you never failed to leave him scrambling for what to say.

Sighing to himself, Khonshu repositioned his grip on his staff as he followed behind you, his long strides making him quick to meet his place by your side again. He glanced down to your height, watching as you absent-mindedly rummaged through your bag for any remaining bits of the pastry. As if you didn't have a care in the world. Nor as if you were phased in the slightest to have a literal god by your side.

Khonshu reached his hand down to you, giving you a gentle, loving caress to the small of your back.

You were lucky he loved you. But he felt equally as lucky to be loved by you.

~~~

The place you had picked out to settle down and open Khonshu's present was a spot you and Marc liked to visit when he first came to London. When Khonshu wasn't busy making him moon-knight, and he would spare himself a brief moment of relaxation, Marc liked to spend it someplace calm. Somewhere out in nature, where he could just get lost in the scenery around him and forget about his troubles, and ignore the constant squawking of the god over his shoulder. You remembered how many petty arguments you had to break up between the two of them. How many times you had to act as the middle-man when they refused to speak to one another.

They were fond memories of yours, and dumb as they were. Marc, Steven and Jake were your favorite moon knights so far, after all. They were your friends.

The dock was a place that was hard to find and hard to get to, making it the perfect spot for if you wanted to be alone. Having memorized everything about the path down there, it wasn't hard for you to make the journey with so many bags in your grasp. And, with the added help of your bird-ish lover balancing you whenever you needed, the trudge down was a piece of cake. Sure enough, the old, worn-down dock was empty, and the gentle sound of the waves of the harbor lapping against the wood was the only sound hung in the hair. The water was a dark, rich black, with the reflection of the large, shining full moon overhead glistening across its surface. This gave you just enough light to see what you were doing as you made your way to the edge of the dock, sitting down with your legs dangling a few feet above the water's surface.

Your lover sat next to you, setting is staff down behind him so that he could have his full attention on you and your present. Your bags were scattered all around your personal space now, but just far enough away so that they wouldn't interfere. All except one, of course, which held the present you had in store for the god.

"Trust me, Khon," you said, sliding the bag off of your lap and into his, "once you see this, you're gonna wish you had thought of having hair sooner."

The bird gave you a look before lowering his hands down to the bag, gentle and unsure with his movements. You could feel the skepticism pouring off of him, but you just simply looked at him with a smile as he opened the gift.

After some fiddling with the paper of the bag, Khonshu was able to free his gift from its confines. The plastic crinkling around his fingers, the god lifted up a small, square plastic bag. Inside of the bag there seemed to be some sort of dead animal. It was some kind of strange looking brown, stringy, somewhat curly pile of hair, totally synthetic in the way it shone in the light of Khonshu's moon. Upon further inspection, however, Khonshu realized that it wasn't a dead animal.

It was a wig.

The package held in his grasp, Khonshu turned his beak to look down at you again, only to be greeted with your giddy smile back up at him.

"Soooo?" you questioned, "What do you think?"

It took the deity a moment to respond to you.

"My stardust," he said, "it's... I am amused at the lengths you will take to get your way, darling."

You rolled your eyes with a playful scoff, "Khonshu, please! I can tell you don't like it!"

"I am most grateful for any offerings you wish to give me, moonstone. However, this one just seems quite... synthetic."

"Yeah, well duhhh," you said in response, gently taking the package out of the god's hands, "I can't really afford a real wig. Those things can be, like, hundreds of dollars."

Khonshu seemed a bit taken aback by that, "Hundreds?"

"Yeah, hundreds." you said in response, opening up the plastic as it crinkled and crunched in your hands, "I love you, Khon, but I'm not made of money."

The god let out a low hum, "If it is wealth you desire, my sweet, then I shall have Jake obtain it for you. You need only ask, and anything you desire shall be yours."

You giggled at your lover's sentiments, taking the cheap, synthetic wig out of the package and brushing it through with your fingers, "Come on, you know I'm not in to all that. I like just being normal. With my dingy flat and stubborn, bird-brained, god of the moon partner."

Once you felt like you had sufficiently combed through the wig, you lifted it up in front of you, using one of your hands as a make-shift stand so that you could see what it fully looked like. The thing was obviously fake material, with many frayed, jarring locks of hair jutting out in every which way. The item just barely resembled that of a medium-length, layered wolf cut, along with what seemed to be a few locks that were trying to be bangs. Even in the dim light of the moon above, you could tell that even though the wig was fresh out of the package, it had seen better days.

"Look, Khon!" you said, using your other hand in vain attempt to try and smooth some of the hair down, "These hairstyles are super trendy right now. You'll be, like, with the times and all that. Jake is gonna be floored when he sees you."

The god let out another hum, "I agree with you, little one. But I think we disagree on just why he will be floored."

You rolled your eyes playfully at Khonshu's remark, "I don't think it's gonna fit your head, though. Your skull is too fat. Hold on."

Before Khonshu could could protest at the characterization of his skull, he watched as you set the wig down on your lap, keeping it steady as your hands groped around the pockets of the jacket you wore. After checking almost all of the pockets, you let out a quiet aha as you found what you were looking for. Fumbling with the fabric, you pulled out a small, metallic sort of thing. Pushing the button on the side, it was revealed to be one of Marc's emergency knives he had tucked away in his coat for safe keeping. Keeping your hands steady, you angled the knife down at the wig in your lap. Carefully, such that you wouldn't lose your grip and accidentally cut yourself, you begun to cut away at some of the inside bits of the wig. Your jaw was clenched in concentration as Khonshu watched.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, the smallest hint of loving exhaustion in his low, rumbling voice.

"I'm trynna make this bigger," you said, "So that it'll fit your fat head."

The moon god's back stiffened at your words, long, proud beak dipping ever so slightly to one side.

"I do not have a fat head!" he exclaimed, his temper poking through making you giggle again.

"Well, maybe not to you," you said, "But compared to the size of a normal human's head, it's quite fat. Now be quiet so I can focus."

Without another word, Khonshu scoffed and looked away from you out to the moon's reflection on the water's surface, grumbling to himself some nonsense you couldn't understand. Likely in Egyptian. He often did that when he knew you were right, but didn't want to admit it out loud. The bird was just lucky none of his brothers and sisters were around to hear him be reprimanded by a mere mortal. Khonshu loved you greatly, he really did. You were one of the few he had ever been willing to put up with for such a long time.

But he was still a god. He often wondered if you forgot that part.

But he loved you enough to overlook it.

After a little longer of you cutting up the wig to make it fit, you had put down Marc's knife to admire your work. You had done a fairly good job; the wig was now wide enough to where it seemed like it would fit on Khonshu's fat head. The god would never say it out loud in order to preserve his pride, but he thought you did a good job as well. He guessed that you were more serious about this whole ordeal than he had originally thought you had been.

"Okay!" you said, "It's done! Are you ready to try it on?"

The moon deity let another disapproving rumble out from inside his chest, "Do I have to?"

"Yes." you responded matter-of-factly, pushing yourself up onto your feet.

Even whilst sitting down, Khonshu was still a fair amount taller than you were. You had to stand on your tip-toes in order to securely reach the top of his skull. Draping the synthetic mess of hair upon his head, he tried to keep very still so that it wouldn't fall off, and you would have to repeat the process all over (as tempting as discarding the infernal garment into the water below was to him). Once it was properly balanced up there, you used for fingers to try and style it as best you could. You knew he would like it more if it were at least passably good-looking.

Combing the plastic strands with your fingers one last time, you lowered yourself back flat on your feet and took a few steps away, trying to get a good look at your lover with his new head of hair. As you backed away, the god lifted up his beak again to stare ahead at you without a word.

Admittedly, you thought the color you chose did suit him. But, in every other way, it was ridiculous.

You could only go a few seconds without busting out in an amused, hearty laugh.

"Oh my god!" you said in between your giggles, "You look like you ripped the hair right off of some pop-star's head!"

Khonshu grumbled to himself again, "I knew this was a mistake."

Wiping away a few laughing-induced tears from the corners of your eyes, you shook your head, "No, no! It's not... terrible looking! It's just really jarring. I'm used to you being bald."

"There is no need to lie, moonstone."

"I'm not lying! I think it would look good if we got you a real wig!"

Reaching in your back pocket, you pulled out your phone and held it up to the god, using its black reflection as a make-shift mirror for him.

"See?" You asked, "It's not the worst thing in the world. Wish I could take a picture of you, though. To show Jake."

Peering down at his reflection in the tiny screen of your phone, Khonshu remained silent as he studied his reflection. You were right in the sense that him having any sort of hair was, in fact, jarring. His appearance hadn't changed in many hundreds of years, so it was odd to see him with a full head of scraggly, unkempt hair. Looking at himself longer, he decided that he still did not agree with you. Trying to picture himself with a better wig, he found that he didn't like the improvement much more either. He was fine with how he looked. As long as you and him thought he was handsome, he didn't feel any need to change. Hair was more of his sibling's thing, anyway.

"It is not totally dreadful, little one," he said to you, looking back to your face, "but I still do not care for it."

You let out a half-defeated sigh as you slipped your phone back into your pocket, a smile still lingering on your features, "Well, it was still worth a shot. I thought it wasn't that bad. Here, come on. I'll help you take it off."

Eager to rid himself of the itchy synthetic thing on his head, Khonshu leaned himself downwards. Still having to stand on your tip-toes, you slid the wig off of the god's skull, moving to discard of it after it had come loose. Khonshu shook himself off just a tad to get rid of any lingering scratchy-ness left behind by the wig as you set it inside of one of your bags, stretching out his shoulders after having to remain still for so long.

Once you were finished, you took a few steps back over to the god, leaning up to press a quick, warm kiss just underneath his eye socket onto his bony cheek.

"Hey," you said as you took a seat next to him, slipping your smaller hand into his, "Thank you. For at least giving it a shot."

The moon deity peered down at your smaller form, letting out another, but more content, rumble escape his chest.

"As I recall, it was you who so adamantly wanted to go out on this little venture." He said, "And it is my duty to watch over the travelers of the night."

You let out a soft laugh, "I know, but still. You couldn't said no. Been mean about it."

Khonshu unfurled his hand from yours, lifting it up to gently wrap around your plush, warm cheek with his linen-wrapped fingers.

"Never, my stardust. Never to you."

Your cheeks heating up at his touch, you smiled up at the god, nuzzling your cheek into his large palm.

"Does this mean we get to go out more often?" you asked.

Khonshu let out a hum as he leaned his beak down to you, pressing the tip against your cheek as his hand fell away from it, "Don't be overzealous, little scarab."

"Oh come on! You had fun too!"

The moon god tapped his beak against your cheek once more in response, reaching behind him to wield is staff once again. Once it was secure in his grasp, he rose up from his seated position to a stand. Bending over slightly, he offered you his hand for you to mimic his movements.

"Come, little one." He said, "The night grows old, and my moon shall soon disappear. Let us get you home. You need your rest after such an eventful excursion."

Groaning out a long fiiiineeee, you gathered up your bags in your arms again, hugging them tight to your chest. Once you felt like they were secure in your grasp, you folded your hand inside of Khonshu's, having him help you to your feet. When you were steady, the god laced his long, skinny pinky finger alongside yours, pulling your smaller body closer to his as you begun the trudge back to your flat.

"Well I had fun," you said, "And I know you did too. You can't hide it from me."

The moon god softly chuckled, "I love you, foolish mortal."

You shot him up a smile, "I love you too, bird-brain. Even though you're bald."

~~~

[mimisempai]

Faith

Summary

1989: His stranger did not come and the inn will close forever. Is this the moment when Hob will lose all hope? Thrilled to share my 100th Dreamling fic !

On Ao3

Rating G - 708 words

“Maybe in another 100 years”

“Ah.”

“You'll have to have found a new pub by then.”

“This place has been sold to make room for new flats.”

Hob had just come out of the White Horse Inn even more distraught than a hundred years ago.

He didn't care about the rain that was falling.

His stranger had not come.

The inn was about to close forever.

For the first time, Hob felt hope leave him.

For the first time in a long time, Hob let himself go.

He got into his car and let his forehead fall on the steering wheel, not fighting the sadness that overcame him.

He had built so much hope on this meeting.

This meeting that hadn't happened.

After long minutes of letting the grief wash over him, he let out a long sigh and looked up.

When his eyes fell on the front of the inn, he gritted his teeth and whispered, "No, I can't give up. I have to keep going. I'm sure he'll come around someday. We are friends and he will realize that. Have faith Hob. Have faith."

From that day on these words became his mantra every time he came to the White Horse Inn. 

Have faith.

Every time he asked the bartender if he had seen anyone who looked like his stranger and the answer was no.

Have faith.

Every time he was there and looked up at the sound of the door opening and it wasn't his stranger.

Have faith.

When he drew the red arrow to The New Inn, he muttered the same words to himself.

These were the words he repeated as he sat down at his usual table that day, just before he began to correct his papers.

When he felt that someone was watching him and looked up, he told himself that he had been right to have faith.

He couldn't hold back his smile for long as he uttered, "You're late."

His stranger looked at him and was smiling.

He was smiling.

His voice had an intonation Hob had never heard in his voice as he said softly, "It seems I owe you an apology. I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting."

Then Hob did just one thing.

He smiled.

He smiled at his friend who smiled back.

Again.

He had been right to have faith.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Main post here

Dreamling Masterlist here

[teebarnes]

✨ | I'm Fallin' For You, Darling.

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader

Summary: Both you and Chris have quite the relationship, it all started the day you gave him a marker.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): Fluffffff, Angst for sure, talk of anxiety (not a lot but also a lot).

A/N: Thank you guys so much for 100 followers! It means the world, I hope you like this one as much as I do. (Sorry that's a lotta words).

⤑ Click here for my taglist so you can be notified when my new fics are posted.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

When Chris Evans is nervous, there is only one thing that calms him down. And that one thing is you and the fact that you allow him to doodle on your hands all the time.

The premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier was the first time you saw Chris so nervous. Him constantly rubbing his hands together or bouncing his leg underneath the press table and the times when he'd fiddle with the hem of his shirts. These were things you noticed Chris did when he got nervous, and it seemed that you were the only one who witnessed them.

The third day into the film's press tour, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew what it felt like to be anxious, the feeling settling within the depths of your stomach or the constant avoidance of looking out to an audience. Sometimes you'd excuse yourself a few times throughout interviews just to catch your own breath.

~

The whole TCA: TWS cast sat along the stage of the comic-con panel. The hosts introduced you all, crowds cheering loudly when they saw everyone.

You took your seat next to Chris, who was already fiddling with his plastic water bottle that he'd been gripping so tightly on, you could already see the indents on the bottle. You smiled, looking out to the audience waving back to some of your fans that you could see holding signs up for you in the crowd. It was, in fact, times like these that your anxiety shot right out the window, replacing that anxiety with happiness and admiration of your fan base.

Five minutes into the panel talk and questions were directed to Scarlett and RDJ. You knew you wouldn't be talking anytime soon as, of course, like all other press tours, the interviews were heavily coordinated. So before you'd have the chance to speak, Sebastian, Anthony, and the Russo brother would go first. Sitting back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, your eyes following down to where Chris was bouncing his leg. Then, setting your water back onto the table, you pulled yourself and your chair closer to the table, reaching over across Joe Russo, who observed what you were doing.

"Could you pass me the marker, please, Joe?" you whispered to him; he smiled, nodding handing you the marker. "Thanks", you whispered again.

You returned to the comfort of your seat, Scarlett and RDJ still bantering. You look forward to the audience and give a tiny little smile to the fans who were waving at you. Your eyes looked down to your arm; you wrote a little message on your forearm, so he knew what the pen was for.

You scooted a bit closer to Chris just enough so you could hand him the pen. You lightly looked over to him; your hand went underneath the table and across to rest on Chris' lap. It was right there when his leg stopped bouncing. You held the pen in your hand, waiting for him to take it from you. Chris looked up turning his gaze to you; you gave him a smile nodding.

His eyes directed back down to where your arm was. He read the note you had written for him, 'Use my arm to doodle. It helps with anxiety :)'. He let out a smile, all the while letting out the breath he'd been holding in.

You looked back up and over to Sebastian, who was now talking; you felt the pen slip out from your grip, the marker clicked and the coldish ink embracing the surface of your skin.

One of Chris' hand rested firmly on your forearm to keep it from moving, and the other used to doodle. That was the first time in the history of you knowing Chris to be calm and content. No bouncing his leg or fidgeting. He was completely aware of everything instead of his growing anxiety.

~

It was after that moment Chris slowly began to fall in love. He never expected someone to notice his worries and do something about them. But, the way you sat there while he doodled on your arm didn't phase you at all, you wanted to support him, and you showed him that you did.

Years later, It became a force of habit, the tiny hugs you'd give Chris just to slide a marker into his pocket before going on stage. The small slight movements he'd make before he took your hand into his so he could draw.

You'd become someone who knew him better than he knew himself. The many dates he took you on lead to you moving in with him. The small moments you both had messing around on set and loving him in the silliest of moments meant eternity to the pair of you. You knew that you had fallen in love with Chris Evans, and so was he. You both just didn't realise that the moment would be a forever moment. If you hadn't offered him a marker that day, where would you be?

It was now the premiere of Avengers: End Game and the last press tour you'd have for a while. Today's interview consisted of a comic-con panel, the same panel you happily let Chris doodle on your arm five years ago.

You both sat together, his hand protectively on your thigh. You were speaking into the mic as a fan had just asked you a question about possibly seeing your character in the future of the MCU. Chris sat there attentive to your voice while he drew on the top of your hand. It was a little duck with a Boston Red Sox hat holding a heart.

Once you had finished answering the question and someone else began to speak, you looked back down to see what Chris was drawing. You squinted in wonder; looking back at Chris, you wondered why he was drawing this. Coincidentally, you had drawn a duck on him one day in between an interview—a duck holding a heart wearing a NASA cap. Chris looked at you with his cheesy smile. Oh! he was up to something, you thought. Chuckling, you watched him colour in the small heart with a red marker. He was, in truth, quite a good artist; you managed to take a photo of all his doodles over the years. But this one, this doodle was a bit different; it meant something more to you.

After you had both finished the panel, you were set on getting a new tattoo. Kissing Chris' lips, you told him that you'd see him at home. Chris had asked you where you were going, so you said you were going out to dinner with your mum in town, which was true you just left out the part of you going to get another tattoo. Your parents were in for the weekend for reasons unknown and wanted to see you before they left, so you had already planned to see them. He nodded, kissing you once more before departing ways.

You both were always so sentimental, and you knew as soon as you saw that duck in a red sox cap holding a heart on your hand that you wanted it to be a forever doodle. That day, when you had drawn a duck on him, he went and got it tatted on his hand the same day. The first tattoo visible on Chris' body, the only tattoo that wasn't hidden under his shirts. In contrast, most of your tattoos were on your arms and wrists; this was another tattoo among the few others you had on your hand, others being the original six symbol and some writing of your favourite quotes.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on the chair in your private tattoo artist's studio, getting the duck tattooed on you forever. The tattoo was a reminder of memories both you and him had experienced together.

~

The red sox hat, being where he took you on your first date five years ago. To a Red Sox game, of course. You didn't have anything to wear to represent the team, so Chris kindly offered you his Red Sox cap to wear; five years later, Chris had to purchase a new hat because you kept his one. Of course, he didn't mind; he loved to see you dressed in things that were his; the hat was one of them.

"I don't have anything to wear", you sadly pouted at Chris, looking at him in his Red Sox jersey and cap.

He looked down to you as you stood next to him, holding his hand softly, looking out to the stadium. He smiled, taking his cap off and placing it over your head.

"Now you do", he smiled, leading you down the stairs to your seats. You weren't really a fan of baseball. Still, once you had experienced your first game, oh man... it became a routine for both you and Chris to attend every game the Red Sox were playing at.

~

The duck, the furry little animal you had brought home a few months after you had first moved in with Chris two years ago. In all honesty, you wanted to get a turtle, but as soon as you saw that slight yellow fluff waddling around at the pet store, you wanted nothing more than to take it home with you. Chris couldn't say no to you, so the duck became your baby.

"y/n?" Chris came around the corner where you'd sat yourself talking to the little duck... Chris had been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes when he found you sitting there with the pet shop worker.

The excitement in your eyes told him that you had forgotten all about the turtle. You looked up at him smiling, patting the empty seat next to him. He sat watching you pet the small baby duck with your thumb lightly. "I'm naming him Alfie" you smiled brightly, looking back at Chris.

He took the duck out of your hands and chuckled, "Alfie, it is".

~

The red heart...

A reminder of how much you both loved each other. Something that had never gone away, the love both you and Chris had continued, it grew stronger over time, of course with a few hiccups here and there but never enough to break that love. But this, the tiny little heart being tattooed onto you, was one similar to the heart that homed your middle finger on a ring. The rose gold ring he gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend four years ago.

You rested your head on Chris' shoulder as both of you watched the office. A new series you'd been watching together, it was a few months after your first date with Chris, and you both were head over heels with each other.

"Hey y/n", he whispered.

"Mh?"

"I'm fallin' for you darling."

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking up at him, "You're what", you whispered softly, you heard what he said, but you just needed to hear it again.

He brought the small box out, opening it to reveal a rose gold band hearts making up the band. "I said I'm falling in love with you", he smiled before continuing ", Be my girlfriend?" he sweetly asked.

You chuckled, letting him slide the ring onto your middle finger. "Of course", you whispered back to him before cupping his face. You both looked at each other, you saw it, you saw the life you'd been wanting. It was with him.

"I love you".

~

Sitting at the dinner table with your parents, you briefly looked down at the now wrapped tattoo on your hand. You had thanked your tattoo artist for another fantastic job; the new ink was precisely how Chris drew it on you earlier today. Your parents were eating away and so were you.

"It's great to see you again, Hunny", your dad spoke.

You smiled, nodding. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What's on your agenda for this weekend?" you spoke again, taking a bite of your food. Your mum and dad took one look at each other before your mum stopped to talk.

"Your dad and I are going to old friends party", she smiled at you. "party", you chuckled. "Since when do you guys party".

"it's an engagement party, I mean... do you have some parties we could go to" your dad joked.

"First of all... no." you laughed, cringing at the image in your head of your parents dancing and drinking. "But that's nice. I hope you both have fun, wish whoever a congratulations for me" you smiled.

"Oh, we will", your mum outwardly said. You took a second to squint your eyes in curiosity to your mum's tone. "Mhkay".

~

It was the end of dinner, and you had parted ways with your parents, taking a Cab to the home you shared with Chris. "thank you, driver," you smiled, hopping out of the cab walking up to your driveway. You giggled, seeing Dodger patiently waiting for you at the front door. "Hey buddy", you smiled, opening up the door for him to jump all over you.

Closing the door behind you, kneeling down to cuddle your pup. Dodger wagged his tail giving you kisses. "Shhhhh", you chuckled lightly, "were you waiting for me, huh?" you watched Dodger roll around on the floor. You stood up, taking your shoes off, leaving your keys on the hook. "C'mon, baby", you whispered, gesturing for Dodger to follow. You both walked down the hall, Dodger by your side.

You could hear the snores coming from your room and knew Chris was already sleeping. You opened the door, looking down at Dodger "go keep my spot warm for me, please", you sweetly asked your pup, who did just that. You watched him gently jump up onto the bed and curl up on your side of the bed.

Walking further down the hall, you went to take a shower. Changing into the PJs you left on the warming rack in the bathroom, you followed back out to check on Alfie, who would be sleeping in your office. Once that was done, you head into your and Chris' room. You took off your slippers and ushered Dodger to sleep in his bed. You kissed his head before he left. "night, bubba".

You slide in next to Chris, who had his back to you. Covering yourself with the blanket, you slide one arm around his bare torso pulling yourself closer to him. He was so warm, and you loved it. Chris groaned, turning over. He smiled sleepily. "Hey hon, how was dinner?" "It was good", you kissed his lips, "That's good," he said, pulling you into his arms to cuddle.

"Hey babe"

"mhhh", he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"I love you."

"I love you too".

~

The next day you were doing a panel with the marvel cast. Like any other day, you answered questions, so why did you feel this one would be different. You were a bit nervous today, like you had woken up wrong, or you were waiting for something to happen. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

You were talking to your audience. It was a large panel today consisting of the MCU cast, if not all of them. Maybe that's why you were so nervous; the bigger the cast panel, the bigger audience to speak to. "Make eye contact and hand gestures y/n," you thought to yourself right before you begun to answer the fan's questions. You start to use your hands gesturing when a fan had asked you about your character's personality.

Chris smiled, watching you intently; fans noticed. But as you were gesturing, he noticed the tattoo. He had to double-take when he saw your hand, leaving a small on his face. After you finished your question, he leaned in. "I love your tattoo, babe", he whispered; his comment calmed your nerves a bit as you chuckled ", just following your lead."

You both lean back into your seats as Joe and Anthony Russo began the next half of the panel. You were already forty minutes through... only another forty to go.

Anthony spoke, "As you may know, this will be the last you'll see of your favourite actors and actresses for a while..." Joe turned to the entire panel. "So we put together a little something of your time over the last decade" Joe turns back to the audience. "So sit back and relax."

The panel turned their chairs to watch the big screen, the lights dimmed, and the video rolled. It was a decade gag-reel of everyone in the MCU; Chris had pulled your chair closer to his; he knew you were nervous, for what reason? He didn't know, and neither did you. He should've been the nervous one; he was about to do something in front of the entire audience he had been planning for months.

Your head rested on Chris' shoulder, laughing with everyone else as the embarrassing footage rolled through. There was more footage of you and Chris than anyone else, but again, you were too clouded in worry. You didn't overthink about it.

Then there it was, a clip you didn't know existed—a video of you dancing with Scarlett and Jeremy on the infinity war set. You were being videoed from afar, but Chris comes into the frame making funny faces before pointing at you. You blushed a bit, laughing lightly.

"You see her", Past Chris spoke to the camera. "One day, I am going to marry her" he wiggles his finger over to your past self, who was still dancing around like an idiot. You swear your heart stopped, so ultimately, you started bouncing your leg. The video stopped, and the lights came back on. There were hushed voices; you knew they were looking your way, but you couldn't tell why.

You turned your chair, trying to avoid whoever was looking at you. Not noticing anything, nobody was talking. You had turned your head to look down to the end of the panel where The Russo brothers were. They were all looking in your direction, including the whole cast panel. You jumped slightly when Chris caught your leg mid-bounce; you turned to look at him, his eyes dazzling before you. Oh, that smile, you knew that smile all too well. Chris was smiling like a little kid.

Chris tapped you on your thigh, which caught your attention, so you looked down. This is it; this is the same feeling you felt when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. You burst into tears after reading the message on his arm; Chris' forearm rested in your lap while holding a black marker in his hand. You sniffed, looking softly at him. He was now in tears too. Taking the black marker from his grip, you clicked it; resting your hand on his forearm to steady yourself, you answered his question.

'Will you marry me, y/n?' the question written in his bold writing stared right back at you.

You always had your answer 'of course.'

You closed the lid on the pen, and Chris opened his hand; your engagement ring sat in the nook of his palm. He slides it onto your ring finger right next to your rose-gold one. You smile blinking through the tears, you turn to him, and Chris had already stood with his arms in the air.

"SHE SAID YES"

The whole audience got up cheering; he leaned in, cupping your cheeks, both of you laughing through your kisses. He had lifted you into his arms, spinning you around. He set you back down; you wiped the tears from your face laughing while wearing your t-shirt. At that point, you knew everyone was in on your proposal; you turned to your cast members, who were all clapping.

"Give a round of applause for the future Mr and Mrs Evans!" Joe spoke.

You went around hugging everyone who had gotten up just to congratulate the pair of you. One by one, your friends embraced you in their arms.

"Congratulations", two-voice spoke from behind you, "oh my god, you idiots", you chuckled, pulling your parents into a big hug. Chris stood next to you as your dad pulled him into a hug. "Your fiancé sends her congratulations", he laughed, referencing the conversation you had with them last night.

Chris looked down at you, "They had texted me last night what you had said. I'm surprised you didn't catch on", he laughed. "I- I didn't know... I was curious after mum said it so suspiciously but didn't think," you mentally face-palmed yourself.

And like that, the panel was concluded. Everyone congratulating you and Chris before leaving. Chris had set up a little engagement party back at your house; everyone was enjoying their time having fun. You sat on Chris' lap still in shock, his arms wrapped around your waist "you didn't see that coming, did you?" he smirked, looking up at you.

"No... no, I didn't" you laughed sweetly. Your hand ran over Chris' forearm where it still had both his and your writing on it. "That was the best proposal ever" you looked at him, smiling, "I'm glad, darling" you both leaned into each other, lips connecting softly.

"I've fallen deeply in love with you, Mr Evans".

"I'm still falling for you".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris Evans Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

[sparring-spirals]

I can't believe I forgot about Fy'ra Rai!!!!! The guest battle royal with her was a week ago!!!! Anyways, would it by any chance be possible to see the in depth analysis you mentioned in the response to my previous ask? As well as the angstier ones? I want to hear everything. I love cr meta, and you're one of better cr meta writers I've found on this wonderful hellsite.

Oh Fy'ra Rai was exquisite in the battle royale. :'D Anjali's delivery with her is top notch.

Oh! Well first of all- thank you, so much, that's really fucking cool to hear!! :'D Fantastic meta was what actually first drew me into the fandom + made me start following more people, and start posting more. So: You're in luck, there are a Ton of fantastic meta writers for CR, and also I'm really, really honored I'm doing the same for others now. hell yeah.

(At some point I might scribble out a recommendation list of some of my faves, but if you traipse through the #character meta tag here you're bound to find a few you'll like, I'm sure. Seriously talented people abound.)

And uh- listen. If you're sure! Sure! :D Fair warning that since its basically three different half finished posts mashed into one:

1- its long.

2- its even less edited than normal, so flowery as hell, long winded, rambly, potentially misspellings here and there.

There are bits that I've pulled out potentially to write a separate meta on (aka dorian feelz), but this is the gist of it. I labelled it to help break it up a bit!

this gem

wait this concept is funny so im moving it to the top: the exu trio dynamic is just two people affectionately looking at the third with a mix of love and concern and then looking at each other like "can u get a load of this". except in all combinations. thats it.

exu vibes, aka party of few braincell many love

I keep thinking about the EXU party, and the way they really, really, just liked each other. Everyone in the party was- lonely, or newly alone, or missing people. No session 0 pairs, just people missing a sister or feeling isolated or grieving, or running, terrified. And they came together and got blackout drunk and like- their intro is a domestic morning and a pissing contest. The EXU party liked each other so much. Right off the bat. They were terrified and panicking and they were also having a fucking blast, with each other. Doing orange-peel slice smiles. Performing for crowds. Sticking hands into ash-holes. And then I think about them split in two, Opal and Dariax somewhere together (if they were going to leave it to one person to keep her company, best to leave it to Dariax, armed with a sense of optimism like a mallet, as stubborn as it is hopeful). And thinking about the EXU trio, losing any more of themselves? A tripod without one of its legs? They like each other so much. They lean so close on each other. Please, dont rip them apart any further :(

exu vibes but angsty

(Even if they all come back together, their worlds have been so different, their experiences. Even if they all make it out. Even if they're all okay. Which is the way of things, sometimes, but Im also thinking about that first meeting, Opal yelling "FOOOOOOD" and everyone failing to interrogate a "gardener". Itll never be exactly the same, I know, so all we can hope for is everyone being okay enough to fondly remnisce on those times as well.)

(and I keep thinking about Dorian, running and running and unfurling from his shell, learning to lean on his friends, learning to express himself, learning, growing, happy. Having to rip that down. For a little while, he was happy. Safe. Overjoyed. Just a little while. Of course he couldn't have it forever, right?)

(Im really sad about dorian actually but that might need to be its own meta)

dorian and orym, tired dads

Dorian and Orym very much had the "tired team dads" vibe during EXU (they were the only ones who seemed to consistently hold the brain cells), which was already delightful. But there was still a formality there, I think, and they didn't fully trust each other, which is how you end up with them nearly getting into a fight over the crown in early EXU days. But fast forward to C3, with Fearne between them gleefully causing mayhem wherever they go, and its just. There's a sort of settled comfort, that wasn't there before. They've already weathered some Shit with each other, they don't know everything about each other but they get each other, they trust each other, they love each other- all still undercut with a sort of shared, tired amusement. For two characters who are (Relatively) reserved, and guarded, sharing a knowing look over the head of Fearne is- its good! :)

fearne is third leg of tripod and also steals tripod

Not to say that Fearne is just an addendum to the two of them, because oh god no. Fearne would never. Fearne is a fae, and Fearne is Fearne, which means she loves Mayhem and Chaos and Problems, but she loves Dorian and Dariax too. She enjoys teasing them, yes, and giving them mild conniptions, but you also see her giving them healing, getting sad at the prospect of being separated. Fearne collects trinkets, and that means them, too. They're hers, and she's theirs (as much as anyone can Have Fearne), and she loves them.

dorian and dariax, liar and a fool

Oh, and Dorian and Dariax. The more we learn about Dorian the more I love their interactions in EXU. Dorian, running from expectations and shackles, meeting Dariax who would never ask for anything more of you than what you are. Dorian, made of 20 lies stitched together and chock full of anxiety, meeting Dariax, whose worldview is so, so, simple, and honest, who thinks Dorian is cool as hell, who likes Dorian for him. And Dariax, who is used to being underestimated and mocked, being treated kindly and sincerely and with respect from this fancy blue boy. The Double D's (YES they coined this themselves) were just. Agh. Fucking pure. Okay. They both called out for each other by instinct at different points in the campaign and like. Goddammit.

fearne you wanted to bring opal to the ocean

also Fearne liked Opal A Lot. Like. Goddamn. Theres something about that, the way Fearne is untouchable until she very suddenly isn't.

pretty pretty rich kids with the world on their shoulders

Dorian and Opal were like. I feel like its well summed up by the two of them banding together early on and doing a "we'RE NEW IN TOWN AND LOOKING FOR DAGGERS" bit sums it up. I think there's a level of- not wealth, per se, but a little bit of Extreme Younger Sibling vibes coming off both of them. Of things to live up to and endless debts and expectations that they never had control over. I kind of wish Opal were here, now. Ready to get excied about a ball with Dorian. Ready to rip off anyones head that makes him uncomfortable. Silent and understanding about going home, with all the ubwanted eyes and expectations you thought you'd outgrown. God, I really do wish Opal was there- I think she'd get it, maybe better than those present can. I really think she would.

[emotions-ew]

A Collection of Queer Country Artists and Songs for anyone who doesn’t feel like there’s country music they can relate to...

There is this idea that country music is like just Republican men singing about beer, and trucks and also Jesus,  and that is kind of fair because loads of it is but there are some cool as hell queer/lgbtq+ country artists. Finding those and finding that representation in a genre of music I was literally raised on kind of changed my life in a tiny way and I wanted to share that.

(This is by no means a comprehensive list and also I’m basing the “Country” part of this sometimes on my subjective opinion/limited music knowledge so yuh please don’t hate me if I get some wrong)

Also link below for a Spotify playlist of my favourite gay/gayish country music, some mentioned in this post some not, (with a title that isn’t obviously gay for anyone who can’t openly listen to gay stuff on their public accounts for whatever reason) so feel free to skip the massive essay and just jump straight to that. And pretty please repost if I missed anyone/ any songs you love.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KB6PmUxnpkU7lih8Bysvw

Artists To Follow:

Chely Wright

- Right off the bat, Chely Wright is a legend and I’m in love with her. So, in the 90′s Chely Wright was kind of a huge deal. She started her career as a singer/songwriter and released her first album in ‘94, which was critically acclaimed although never reached the commercial success of her later works. By ‘97 she was really hitting her stride, dropping her breakout hit “Shut up and Drive” (a personal favourite of mine) followed two years later by the biggest hit of her career “Single White Female”. Throughout all that Chely Wright was, to the world, a good old fashioned, heterosexual southern gal. Privately it was a bit of a different story. She had public relationships with male country artists, all while pursuing a secret decade long relationship with a woman. 

I hadn’t ever really heard a Chely Wright song until a few years ago so I never knew about her music or career pre-coming out but I do know that even though by the time she came out in 2010 she was by no means at the height of her fame Chely Wright is kind of one of the biggest names in country music to be out and proud (in my opinion) and I love her like an insane amount. I literally play her music in my car when I have passengers just so I can be like “fun fact this singer is actually gay-” and then subject them to a lengthy explanation of her entire career. She came out with an album and a memoir and the album is my favourite of her work because it’s so fucking raw and because I relate to most of it immensely. Anyways Chely Wright went fucking through it in her journey to being her authentic self and now she’s out and proud and married to a woman and they have a family together and I’m a fucking sucker for a happy ending and y’all should add her to every playlist you have. And on top of that her music is genuinely good. Coming out undoubtedly damaged her career but I think that

Brandi Carlile 

- As far as I can tell Brandi Carlile has been out her whole career. I feel like this list is just going to be me saying “I’m in love with her” about a bunch of women old enough to be my mother but in my defence, I am honestly in love with her. She’s been making music since she was like, seventeen, and has had a bunch of massive hits, as a singer, songwriter, and producer. If you want to cry kind of happy tears listen to her performance of “Bring my Flowers Now” with Tanya Tucker. She’s won Grammy’s and CMT awards and she’s done it all as an out Queer woman. She’s also a founding member of The Highwomen, an all-female country music group who released their first album in 2019, comprised of Carlile, Marren Morris, Natalie Hemby and Amanda Shires. I really love this band because they’re four artists who are immensely successfully in their own right collabing, much like the Highwaymen, and their music is phenomenal while also being a fuck you to mainstream country music and their inability to properly represent women in country music spaces. 

She’s been married to a woman (smoking hot and also brilliant) since 2012 and they have two kids together and if you want to cry (again) then you have to listen to her song “Mother” about her eldest daughter. A queer country artist absolutely worth adding to all your playlists. 

Brooke Eden

- As I understand it Eden came out publicly in January of this year. She’s engaged to Hilary Hoover, who she’s been dating since 2015 apparently. I can’t even imagine the pressure that must be on a person and how stressful it would be to keep a relationship secret from the whole world for years and personally I think they’re a cute as hell couple and I wish them literally all the happiness in the world. 

Brooke Eden has a few older songs that I think are really good, my favourite being “Act Like You Don’t”, and while her new stuff isn’t my usual country vibe I am a sucker for literally anything gay and it is legally my gay duty to stream any song that she releases to support my fellow queer. It’s quite different to anything Wright or Carlile sing but I actually kind of love that because it shows that country music of all different shapes and sizes and styles can be sung by queer artists. 

Amythyst Kiah

- Okay so I am a very new listener to Amythyst Kiah, but her music is literally so beautiful it would be a straight up sin to not include her on this list. Her music is country-blues-roots esq (more roots than country, I think?) and her voice is so unique. She grew up in Chattanooga and has been playing music since childhood. She recently made her Opry debut which is fucking awesome. She also belongs to a band called Our Native Daughters, described as “A supergroup of Black women in traditional music”. Their debut album “Songs of Our Native Daughters” did numbers and I haven’t listened to the whole thing but my favourite so far are “Black Myself” and “I Knew I Could Fly” so y’all add that to your playlists along with “Wild Turkey” by Amythyst Kiah because holy hell her voice on that will blow your mind.

Steve Grand

-        The first man to make this list, he should frankly be honoured. Grand has been an out and proud gay man making country music since like 2013, and I have so much respect for an artist who chose to simply never be in, choosing instead to simply write gay ass songs about being in love with men and letting the chips fall where they man. His music is always going to have a special place in my heart and, he’s cute so if you’re into men and music by men give him a google. add him to your playlists, his All-American Boy album is literally just a dozen songs that are perfect to yell-sing along to.

Katie Pruitt

-        Not hugely knowledgeable on Katie Pruitt but her music makes me feel crazy intense emotions and is absolutely gay

 Honorable Mention Artists I haven’t Really Listened to But Who I Know to be gay thanks to google and might be your thing so totally check them out:

Brandy Clark

Ty Herndon

Shelly Fairchild

Lavendar Country

Trixie Mattel

Cameron Hawthorn

Drop any other names of artists or songs you know of 

 Specific Songs That Make Me Fucking Cry or (in good and bad ways (but always in a gay way)) or basically are just gay as hell:

If She Ever Leaves Me; The Highwomen

- So, this album came out about a week before my first (and only) girlfriend broke up with me. The general gist of the song is a woman singing about how her loved isn’t ever going to leave her but if she does it sure as hell won’t be for a creepy man in a bar. A little ironic that I felt I related to it so intensely, considering she did in fact leave me. There’s this one lyric that goes “I’ve loved her in secret/I’ve lover here out loud/the sky hasn’t always been blue” and my girlfriend and I were crazy deep in the closet so I drew her a cute little picture of a grey cloud and on the back I wrote that lyric and I gave it to her and to me it was kind of a promise that one day I’d get a chance to love her out loud and even though I never actually did this song is forever going to make me cry because of the little bit of hope that lyric gave me and the way it’s inclusion on this overwhelmingly mainstream country album made me feel like acceptance was just that little bit closer. 

 All American Boy; Steve Grand

- Definitely one of the first gay country songs I ever heard, and Steve Grand didn’t once sacrifice a scrap of country for the gay. It’s beautiful, it’s a little sad, it’s hopeful. It’s forever going to hold a special place in my heart and the music videos is kind of one of my favourites ever. I found this song before I found myself and the way it made my heart warm should have been a stronger sign than I took it to be. 

Like Me; Chely Wright

- When you love someone you kind of make it your mission to know them in a way that no one else can. This song by Chely Wright is sort of an ode to that, and how even once you lost someone, you’re still going to know every little thing about them. On top of that it sort of speaks to the idea that all these things Wright learned about this woman, she learned in secret and she knew her and loved her in secret and now that they’re gone from each other she’s left with all of this knowledge and all of these questions and no one to answer them. I love the way it’s so slow and the melody and her voice, the way it’s low and a little raspy, make this one of my favourite Chely Wright songs.

The Mother; Brandi Carlile

-        Sorry but a song about being a mother by a queer woman is going to make me cry every time and actually I’m not that sorry. It’s quite a simple song, if any song written by Brandi Carlile can ever be described as ‘simple’, it’s an ode to her daughter. My favourite line is “you are not an accident/where no one thought it through” because it speaks to the fact that in order for queer women to have a kid together they have to want it so damn bad and also I just like the way her voice sounds on that line. This song is also the perfect thing to listen to if you ever for a second feel like being gay/queer is going to stand in the way of you having a family because it absolutely doesn’t have to and if that’s something you want, you can have it. Don’t let people try and convince you otherwise.

Loving Her; Katie Pruitt

-        Unapologetic gay love. Opening a song with “If loving hers a sin, I don’t wanna go to heaven” is a fucking baller move and she went there. The lyrics are beautiful, and her voice is phenomenal. It could be a sad song, about confronting religious repression and grappling with what that means for your love, but instead its triumphant. Katie Pruitt doesn’t give a fuck if you have a problem because she’s going to write songs for her lover.

Jesus From Texas; Semler

-        Not actually totally sure this is a country song, but it has the words ‘Jesus’ and ‘Texas’ in the title so I feel safe including it in this list. Honestly, I don’t really know why I relate so hard to this song. Like, I wasn’t really raised with religion, so I don’t know what it is about this funky little tune that makes me want to sob but there’s something about this tune that makes me want to do whatever the opposite of get up and dance is, but like, in a good way.

Lovin’ Again; Steve Grand

-        Breakup song that ends kind of positively? So good to sing along to at high, high volumes. The idea that losing someone doesn’t have to mean losing yourself and just because you can’t love them doesn’t mean you’re not ever going to love again. But also kind of about how it’s hard to get over someone, I don’t know it’s just good.

Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears; Lavender Country

-        Jesus christ if this isn’t the coolest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. Sorry but a gay country group formed in 1972 who dropped possibly the first gay themed country album, and this was the title of one of the songs. God I am in love.

 Songs that (to me) are a little fruity or that I just relate to in a gay way:

Picket Fences; Chely Wright

-          Chely Wright is gay but this song came out long before she did and when she wrote it, it wasn’t supposed to be gay which is why it’s in this section and not the previous. The reason it’s included at all is because frankly ma’am, Mrs Wright, it’s a little fruity. And I feel a little bad for joking because honestly to me, the way I hear this song and knowing the context (that Wright was deeply closeted at the time she wrote and released it), it’s kind of just sad. The general gist of the song is Wright asking what’s so great about a traditional lifestyle anyways. It could be read as a woman genuinely questioning why we push that expectation that she’ll have two kids and a husband and a picket fence lifestyle, or even could be read as a woman who’s trying to deflect how much she does in fact want that, you have to listen and form your own opinion. But to me, it feels like a woman who’s desperately trying to justify why she doesn’t want that life not because she can’t have it, but she knows it will never be right for her. I don’t know it’s hard to explain I just feel like this song is a little bit gay even though I’m sure she didn’t intend that.

Sinning with You; Sam Hunt

-          Sorry but this song is gay. Sorry but you can’t write the lines “I never felt like I was sinning with you/Always felt like I could talk to God in the morning” and “if it’s so wrong why did it feel so right” and “But I never felt shame, never felt sorry/Never felt guilty touching your body” and not to mention the opening line of “raised in the first pew/praises for yeshua/case of a small town repression”, and expect to not sit in my car sobbing as I realised that while I never felt like what we did was a sin she absolutely did, and wishing I could have told her that I was sorry for making her carry the weight of both our souls but also that it wasn’t a sin and nothing in the world could feel that good and be that bad and it isn’t right that she had to be so ashamed of something that was just so good. Sam Hunt actually said after he wrote the song that while it was reflection on his own relationship with faith he genuinely hopes that people in the lgbtq community can like find comfort or whatever in his words and like go off king, we stan an ally.

  How do I Get There; Deana Carter

-          This ones easy, it’s about falling in love with your best friend and suddenly realising you want more than just friendship with them. Sorry Deana, that’s gay. In my Deana Carter of like Year 10 I played this song on repeat and screamed along to the lyrics as though singing it hard enough would make her like me back.

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

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