#this was supposed to be more of a sketch but I got very carried away with it

[pizzabox-box]

Not a question about anything pizza tower related, I'm just curious about you (in the least creepy way you can take that)! Do you have other blogs/social media accounts (wants to see more art)? What're your pronouns/a name you want to go by? /Most/ importantly, what's the art program(s) you use? It reminds me so much of an old mobile app I used to use, but I think it's pure coincidence!

I go by Rookie Cookie/Rookie/Pizzabox .My pronouns she/her or they/them. My main blog is @rookies-cookies-art so if you see blog named rookies-cookies-art liking your stuff that's me! But there isn't much on there yet. (In fact, there's absolutely nothing yet)

This was actually supposed to be a side blog for the event for when I sometimes make something Pizza Tower related. But I got carried away and well, you know the rest. I became that one full time Pizza Tower artist that mixes fake and real Peppino in various ways and reports the results. (oh well)

In case you want to chat my discord is: rookie_cookie_

You can also find me on instagram under the name: rookie_cookie_

But beware:

I am not active on there anymore

it's Minecraft focused

The art is pretty outdated. I mean I'm not bad, but it's kinda edgy and angsty, especially the older drawings (I say as if whatever is going on with all these au's isn't dark and angsty lol )

I draw my stuff with the help of a regular tablet and a finger. And I have been doing so for the last 6 years. (don't worry I still have all of my fingers👍)

I use sony Sketch. A great ad free app, I have been using that since very begining :) Sometimes when I want to draw on my PC I use Drawpile.

Besides Pizza Tower I'm big fan of all sorts of evolution/creature games (Spore,Thrive,Elysian Eclipse you name it! ) And building/creative focused/chill games. (Slime rancher FTW :D)

Aside from drawing my other hobbies include all kinds of crafts (sculpting) and p l a n t s .

[anicehomicidaltree]

What’s this? New Priest au angst?? In the year 2024???

[milkyberryjsk]

did you like my work?

[starbleye]

sculpted

Megumi has always been good with his hands, just not his emotions. Until now. (cw: smut; wc: 2200)

Megumi knew his hands like the back of, well, his hands. Art had always been a part of him from a very young age. Finger paints turned into oils on canvas, sidewalk chalk became charcoal sketches. Most importantly, mud pies turned into clay sculptures. If there was one form of art that Megumi was drawn to most, it was pottery. 

The minute he came into contact with those dollar store modeling clay kits, he knew he wanted to hold on to it for the rest of his life. He dedicated years of his life, starting with throwing together simple shapes and dishes manipulated by hand. As time went on, his hands became more dexterous in fashioning the clay to match his vision. Delicate yet firm touches to the clay allowed Megumi to craft his imagination into the tangible world. He dedicated himself to his art, he worshiped his talent.

Until you came along.

Unwavering, unshakeable Megumi was rocked when you first entered his life. For the longest time, he believed he was content with his solitude, abhorrent to unnecessary connections that could only bring him pain. He only trusted the porcelain of his heart to be held in his own hands, yet he craved for your soft arms to carry the weight of his fragility. 

You were always the source of light in a room from the way you carried yourself. You were sound with who you were and rooted in where you stood, drawing the energy towards yourself with a subtle hand. You lifted Megumi out of his self-induced confinement, but you never pushed or shoved him more than he could take. He could never understand how a person like you could even stand to be around a person like himself; cold, apathetic, protected. 

Yet you never looked at him in pity. Instead you saw Megumi as a young kid who was thrust into a life he wasn't ready for and commended his attempts to open up, as small as they were.

But Megumi knew he stood no chance at having you. His desire to have you all to himself was one sided, but he would rather wallow in his craving to have you in his arms rather than scare you away with his feelings.

"How long have you been throwing that?" you asked, shaking Megumi from his thoughts. He looked up at your curious eyes before looking back at the clay on his wheel, smooth as can be. Not as smooth as her skin, he thought to himself.

"Long enough, I guess," he replied, solemnly. The only reason Megumi was in the studio today was to get his mind off you and the date that you were supposed to be on. As fate would have it, your date stood you up and Megumi's studio was the first place you turned to in order to let it all out.

He sat in silence at the wheel, twisting and contorting some sort of vase that widened and narrowed to his heart's desire. All the while, you ranted about your latest trials in love, condemning each and every man Megumi knew wasn't good enough for you. "That's the last time I ever go on a blind date," you finally sighed, relaxing your weight against a table.

He continued to sit silently, overflowing with the urge to hold you tenderly and prove himself better than any other person who dared look in your direction. "Do you have anything to say?" you asked, fishing for any advice or consolation from your dear friend.

"I need to wash my hands," was all Megumi said as he slammed a fist into the misshapen vase out of frustration. Wordlessly, he got up and headed to the sink, tryin oh so hard not to focus on the perfect pout you gave him. How he wanted to run his fingers against your soft lips, to let his own lips memorize the feeling and taste of them. Shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts, Megumi did his best to thoroughly scrub the clay out of his hands. All the while, a sudden fire lit inside his core, spreading through the rest of his body despite his attempts to quell it.

He turned back around to find you observing the sculptures on his shelf. One had caught your eye; the bust Megumi had created to resemble his mother. Lithely, he slipped behind your frame, maintaining a friendly distance but close enough for either you or himself to close it.

You sensed his presence behind you and, without turning around, said, "This is beautiful, is that your mother?" He nodded. "Makes sense, you have her eyes..." you trailed off, suddenly feeling Megumi become dangerously close. Risking it, you turned around to come face to face with those blue eyes, clouded with an emotion you had never seen before.

Megumi's throat dried up as he attempted to rasp out your name. "Please..." was the last thing he could muster before he closed the gap, hovering his lips inches from yours. He could feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks as he waited for you to reciprocate.

A second passed as you tried not to reel from the shock, but your body moved before your mind could understand as your hands intertwined into his obsidian hair. 

A noise escaped Megumi's mouth as years of pining escaped his body in that kiss. Tenderly, he felt your soft lips moving against his, tasting faintly of cherries. His own hands moved from his sides to the space between your hip and waist, fitting perfectly. 

Mindful of the delicate pottery behind you, Megumi began to guide your body towards the closest and cleanest table. Not once did he take his lips off yours, only opening his eyes briefly to make sure no one would get hurt. When your body hit the edge of the table, you let out a small gasp as Megumi's strong hands lifted you up effortlessly. 

Still, his eyes remained forcefully closed. "Megumi, look at me," you said, pulling away from the kiss.

"I can't, I'm dreaming," he murmured, tilting his head down to stop anything from breaking this fantasy come true.

A hearty giggle came from your chest as your hand cupped his chin, then his cheeks, before gently coaxing his eyes to open. "You aren't dreaming," you assured him, leaning in again and leaving a trail of kisses across his jaw to his neck. His core was close to yours and you both could tell the other was definitely real. 

Your own throat started to feel dry in a way you had never experienced before and your hands trailed to the hem of your shirt. "Is this okay?" you asked, starting to wrap your legs around Megumi's waist.

A look of desperation crossed Megumi's face as he let out a hastened "yes" and brought his hands under your shirt as you began to lift it up. Never had you heard a man moan as tenderly as he had when his eyes fell on your breasts.

And never had Megumi felt or seen skin as beautiful and real as yours. With a careful hand, his fingers traced the span of your abdomen, taking in the full sight of you. "Oh, god. I'm touching an angel," he breathed out. He continued his hands upward to your bra, unhooking it skillfully and immediately laying his hands on your nipples.

With skillful digits, he rolled the flesh of your breasts as if he were shaping clay. Megumi was already committing the feeling to memory so he could use it when he was alone. "More," you let out quietly, not entirely embarrassed but definitely flustered at being held so well by your best friend.

Abiding by your orders, Megumi tilted his head towards one of your nipples and used his tongue to stimulate them, causing a satisfied groan to release from your chest. You had already started moving yourself against him, so Megumi moved his hands to your hips to start a rhythm. He also began to roll his hips against yours to increase the feeling.

Still, he needed more. Looking at you with an approving gaze, you nodded as Megumi began to undo the button and zipper of your pants and quickly discarded them. "You're so wet," he said in almost a question, amazed that his touch caused you to react in such a way. His hand made a path to your core, pushing aside your panties and stopping at your clit to start rubbing it. 

Megumi seemed to know how these things worked as he applied firm pressure here and there, changing direction and movement depending on your reaction. He watched your chest heave as you breathed deeply to keep your grounding. Your hands were grasping for anything to keep your head tied to your body. Instinctively, your legs started to close from the attention, but Megumi's powerful hand held your thighs apart as he began to slip a finger into your cunt.

"Megumi!" you cried, the pleasure building. He looked up at you, the cloudy emotion from earlier finally being pinpointed as carnal desire. His finger stroked your insides as if he knew it by heart. Almost instantly, he found the place where you were most sensitive.

For every moan and groan and praise you let out, Megumi responded with the same if not more. You could feel yourself starting to approach your orgasm and you leaned up to hold onto his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. Megumi could feel you tighten around his fingers and let out a moan, imagining how it would feel to have you tighten and come all over his cock. 

Without warning, he sped up his leisurely pace to bring you even closer. You started to cry out his name in warning when he suddenly pulled himself away. At first you were confused as to the abrupt distance, but your confusion was answered as Megumi began to strip himself of his own clothing. 

Quickly, you ran to your purse and grabbed the fresh condom you had put there earlier. Megumi hadn't fully taken off his pants or boxers before you pushed him into a nearby chair. He obliged to your taking of control, whimpering when your smooth hands came into contact with his searing cock. You pumped him a couple of times before slipping the condom on, earning a stuttered moan with each pull.

"I need you. So bad, please," Megumi murmured, eyes lilting in your direction. Wasting no time, you slowly began to sink onto his lap, your breath catching in your throat as you stretched around him. 

Megumi was not faring too well, hands flying to your hips the minute your cunt enveloped his tip. Trying to practice his self-restraint, he gripped your hips to stop himself from shoving his whole length into you. If he thought clay was his life, you had officially changed that. 

You continued to sink onto his length, Megumi noting that your pussy was more malleable than the clay that sat rejected. Finally, you had taken him to the hilt, both of you letting out euphoric moans. "You're so big," you sighed, looking down at where you two were connected.

Megumi couldn't take his eyes off the angel that was now seated on his lap. The sheen that had accumulated on your skin had you basking in an ethereal glow and he could've sworn you sprouted wings that fluttered so delicately. The moment you two connected, he knew he would worship you for eternity and more.

You started rolling your hips, coming off his lap slightly before taking all of him again. You held your bottom lip with your teeth as you started to speed up your pace, increasing the intensity of your rocks as well. "I need to hear you," Megumi said, in between moans. A slew of profanities slipped his lips as you released your bottom lip and a chorus of pleasure spilled from your mouth. 

His hands began to wander your body, trailing from your hips to your inner thighs, then up again to your breasts. He moved on to your graceful arms that were wrapped around his shoulders. His hands found their way to your neck and he loosely closed his fingers around your neck, causing you to roll your eyes back. 

Overwhelmed and nearing his own orgasm, Megumi wrapped his arms around your back and held you close, starting to thrust upward to meet your own rolls. A white fog began to seep into the back of Megumi's vision as he felt himself get close.

"I'm about to-" you started.

"Me, too," he finished, holding you impossibly tighter as both of your thrusts started to increase intensity. With an incoherent slur of your names, curses, and moans, you both finished simultaneously.

Megumi released broken whimpers as his own seed spilled into the condom and he felt your warmth trail down as well. He held you on his lap, keeping shallow ruts as you both rode out your highs. Your chest was rising intensely as you tried to catch your breath, not bothering to get off. "How long?" you asked.

"Since I met you."

(this is my first time writing in a LONG TIME, i really hope you enjoy and take care of yourselves !!)

[issamultistan]

fuck the attitude. | park sunghoon

paring: highschool!sunghoon x fem!reader

wc: 2,905 (two thousand, nine hundred, five)

warnings: nsfw content, cursing, mentions of alcohol/drugs and the use of them, not proofread

contents: dom!sunghoon, brat-ish!reader, partygirl!reader, (at first) shy!sunghoon, mean!sunghoon, sunghoon has four fwbs, mentions of hyung line and txt's yeonjun, dirty talk, degradation, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, creampie, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, nipple play, spanking/slapping, fucking in a strangers bed???, use of “sweetheart” , “slut”

notes : INSP BY THIS??? CAPTION??? HELLO D-D SUNGHOON WAS TO HOT PASSING AWAY I NEED HIM OHMYGOD. this was supposed to be a horny thought but i got carried away... LMAOOO

also the way this a year old 😭😭 sorry i disappeared on y’all fr … I ALSO FORGOT TO ADD EVERYONE IS LEGAL 18 OR OVER 18 !!

“what?” sunghoon questions when you abruptly disturbed his concentration.

“c’mon it'll be fun, hoon!” you smile at the male. sunghoon grimaced when he heard the endearment, were the the two of you that close?

well, no.

it all started back in the beginning of senior year, only a few months ago, where you first met sunghoon in your sketching class. he was very quiet at first, too quiet for your tastes. i mean, you were the school renowned party girl. you could be seen at any party that your high school held, no matter if you knew the hosts or not. on the other hand, sunghoon was very different from you. he kept to himself, only having a few close friends, yet still was known as the “pretty prince on ice.” after all, he was amazing at figure skating. your personalities were so different; at least at first.

when you asked sunghoon to attend a party with you, sunghoon nearly wanted to run out of the classroom and never talk to you again. why would you want sunghoon to tag along some stupid party with a bunch of horny and drunk adults?

“okay, no. i am not going to a stranger’s party.” sunghoon drops his sketching pencil to look straight at you. “i don’t wanna go.” he finalizes.

you groan quietly, “why can’t you have some fun? i’m sure heeseung, jay, and jake are gonna be there too.” you smile at sunghoon when you mention his friends. he knew you were going to drag them in soon enough.

“i told you, y/n. no. besides, i have practice.” park sunghoon was lying straight out of his mouth. he only had practices sunday through thursday, but of course, you didn't know that. closing up your notebook you took a good look at the boy across from you.

“no wonder you’re a virgin.” you say, barely above a whisper.

“excuse you?”

a slight laugh exits your mouth, “i mean, if you never go to parties, you surely have never dicked a girl down before. if you have, you’re probably terrible at it and you probably haven't even drank or done drugs.” you chew on your bottom lip as you see sunghoon’s face contort from disgust to anger.

park sunghoon was mad. like really mad.

before the boy could say anything, the school bell rang throughout the campus building, cutting off any words that could've left sunghoon’s mouth.

when you packed up your stuff, you lean against your shared table, “i saw how you got mad, if you wanna prove me wrong, pull up to daniel choi’s house. i wanna see you there, hoonie.”

a slight smirk appears on your face to the point sunghoon wanted to smack it off. the fake sweetness that laced your words got him even more annoyed too. oh, he’s going to prove you wrong.

he’s sure of it.

after the small conversation you had with sunghoon, you wondered why he got so mad. like of course he would since you insulted his sex status, but what made him nearly yell at you? it surely couldn't have just been he was a virgin, right? or the fact he didn't drink or do drugs? it was genuinely the first time you saw sunghoon experience another emotion other than just neutral. even if it piqued your interests, you simply swatted it off your mind.

“hey, y/n!” a voice calls out from you down the hall. you look back and you see jake sim, a friend of yours and sunghoon.

“oh hi, jake! what's up?” jake rarely ever talks to you, even if the both of you had the same calculus class last period.

“hoon’s mad at you.” a slight downturned smile hooks his mouth as he says his words.

you rolls your eyes at him, “i wonder why.”

jake sighs, “he won't say what got him so mad, he just kinda said it was your fault.” the boy shrugs his shoulders as the two of you enter into class.

as the two of you sat down to whatever seat you wanted, you purse your lips, “all i said was he was a virgin because he never went to parties.”

the blond boy stares at you weirdly, as if you said something offensive. “you said what?”

“it’s not that big of a deal, he just can’t take a joke. like if i said that to you, you’d take it lightheartedly, right?” you look at jake expectantly.

“y/n, it doesn’t work like that… besides, what do you know about hoon?” jake scoffs at your previous words.

“let’s see, he’s quiet, ice skates really well... and that’s it. he’s really plain.” you laugh at your own words.

“yeah, and if you were closer to him you’d know he has like four girls on his dick right now.”

what.

“sunghoon? park sunghoon. mr. pretty prince on ice? no way.” your mouth twisted a bit at jake’s sentence. was he really being serious?

“you didn't know? he has a lot of friends with benefits type relationships. all of the girls he’s fucked always say he’s like a sex god.” jake whispers as he sees more students enter into the once empty classroom. “if you don’t change your attitude, he's probably gonna fuck it outta you.” jake jokes before the class bell rang, signaling classes were slowly going to go into session.

for the rest of class, you couldn’t think of a single thought about calc. all you could think was sunghoon.

four friends with benefits? fucked many girls? a sex god? he’d fuck your attitude out of you? what other secrets did sunghoon hid from you? well, you didn't have to take long because just in a few hours, you’ll see.

the clock strikes 21:35 (9:35 pm), meaning daniel’s party would start soon. daniel, or previously known as yeonjun, was an alumni of the current high school you were attending. you first met him in year 9 (freshman) year when he was in year 12 (senior). he quickly became the older-brother-type friend that you would become closer to as the years pass. even though daniel was committed to his college courses, he still had that high school wild party side in him. so every once in awhile, he’d host parties at his (insanely large) house.

as you take a look at the time, you start to get ready, texting your friends now and then, deciding what to wear. once you finished getting ready, you take a glance at the clock again. 22:18 (10:18pm). perfect.

you finish yourself up and met your friends outside as all of you drove to daniel’s house. even if you were already having fun with your friends, a particular someone stayed in your head. butterflies were swarming your stomach as you kept on thinking of jake’s words, “if you don't change your attitude, he’s probably gonna fuck it outta you.”

what were you thinking? it’s not like sunghoon was going to fuck you... unless?

the smell was just putrid. sex, alcohol, drugs, sex, alcohol, did you say sex yet? it was only half an hour into the party and yet you can see multiple people passed out on daniel's living room couch, a bunch of horny teenagers trying to suck their faces off, a group trying cocaine for the first time, park sunghoon looking so fucking hot, and— park sunghoon? didn’t he have practice?

too dumbfounded by the way sunghoon looked, daniel spotted you. “y/n!” you nearly knocked daniel down by jumping into his arms and hugging daniel. “you’ve grown so much! how’s been senior year?” he asks, trying to stabilize himself from nearly falling back first.

“it’s been great, danny.” the nickname brings a wave to nostalgia as he gives you a red solo cup of some random alcohol you could care less about.

time passes and you surprisingly haven’t drunken much nor did any lines of coke, smoked a blunt, touched molly— you get it. instead, you kept an eye out on sunghoon. as said he has specifically four girls he has his hands constantly. what a player. you internally roll your eyes at the man only a few feet away from you in the kitchen. sure, he was attractive. it’s not like he could pound you until your brain is fucked out in the best way, making sure his cock is brushing so deep in your pussy— what the fuck.

daniel thankfully interrupts your stupid thoughts by pushing you another cup of alcohol, “drink?”

you smile at his completely drunken state, “thanks, danny.”

“i think that should be enough for tonight, sweetheart.” the deep voice made you flinch, making your back hit the person’s chest. it's none other than park sunghoon, in the flesh, looking obnoxiously hot.

“who are you to decide how much i drink?” you quirk an eyebrow at the taller boy, taking a liking to the nickname.

“i just think that some people shouldn’t drink too much.” sunghoon says nonchalantly.

before you can properly retort back something witty, daniel stands on the kitchen counter. “i’m just gonna say this once because i’m probaby gonna be wasted soon but let’s do a cheers because i say so!” daniel was wacked out of his mind but, it was a funny kind of wacky. you raise your cup along with everyone else in the room and cheers with daniel. you take a glace back at sunghoon and instantly regretted it.

as he rose his cup, he bites his lower lip attractively, making his dimples become prominent to the eye. he then downs his drink in one fast gulp, sighing from the alcoholic drink afterwards. “you’re staring too hard, sweetheart.”

“i’m not.” this time you were the one lying out of your mouth. “why would you care? didn’t you have practice to attend? or your little girlies?”

a scoff comes from sunghoon, “sorry i lied, sweetheart. i don’t need them either, i have better things to do.” he presses a hand against the counter next to you, practically caging you in his body.

“like me?” you joke at first.

“yeah, like you.” a smirk appears on his face as he looks down at you. sunghoon knew too well what he was doing. the eye contact was unbearable, your breathing became ragged, and your drink moving around in your cup due to how shaky your hands have gotten. you bit your lip to silence yourself of saying anything more embarrassing.

“where’s that little y/n that teased me for being a virgin, huh? because all i see is a little slut just begging for my cock in her.” sunghoon playfully moans in your ear as he says the word “begging”.

gluping down the nervousness you try to think of something to say, “i’m not begging unless... you... i don't know... fuck the attitude outta me.” you mock sunghoon by moaning “fuck” and restating the words jake told you earlier.

“oh, i will.”

sunghoon immediately pulls you to a random room upstairs in daniel’s house and pushes you towards the bed, making you bounce lightly on the mattress.

“i’m gonna fucking ruin you.” and that’s what sunghoon did. stripping you from your jeans and panties, he latches his lips over your clit, sucking harshly at the bud. your hands find his black roots, pulling him closer to your cunt.

“so fucking needy, aren’t you? you’re so cock hungry for me, huh? haven’t even done anything but sucking on your stupid clit.” sunghoon mutters against your labia. his voice vibrates against you in the best way possible.

“fuck— yes i am— only for you!” you weakly murmur, unable to create full sentences with the amount of pleasure sunghoon provided. his strong arms wraps around your thighs, pushing you down to the mattress. your legs also find their way around his head, making his tongue fully insert itself into your hot cunt. lapping at your juices, in just a few minutes, sunghoon’s face became all messy. your voice raises in pitch as you sputter out, “coming— sunghoon!”

even if your high came crashing down, sunghoon smirks against your cunt, “yeah that’s right, come for me, say my name when you come.” a smack against your ass rippled through your veins as sunghoon kept on devouring you whole. with that, sunghoon bores his eyes into your as he flattened his tongue right on your cunt. you couldn’t look away. it was too much, you were so close coming undone over sunghoon’s tongue again.

“no— sunghoon— too much— want your cock.” your voice trembled but you tried everything you could to at least sound coherent enough.

“hmm? too much? don’t you mean too good? you’re gonna take everything i give you, got that?”

you felt like you were on cloud nine. even if sunghoon was just eating you out, he looks good doing it. a little too good. a smug smile as he eats you out, his nose and mouth all up in your pussy, and his strong arms hooking under you to make sure you don’t move. everything was so attractive.

with one last flick of his tongue, you came for the second time that night. you weren’t the one who would have multiple orgasms but, you might just have to try it because of sunghoon.

in such a short amount of time, you came twice. all from sunghoon eating you out. jake wasn’t joking around. sunghoon is like a sex god.

your thighs immediately clamp up after sunghoon removes himself from your pussy. he raised up to take off the layers he had on him but he laughs at you once he sees you trying to regain breaths, “awhh, is my tongue too much for you sweetheart? i didn’t even finger you. this stupid little cunt just loves coming, huh?”

one of his hands fiddle with his jeans, taking them off, while the other slides to your slick cunt and slaps it a few times. each time more and more of his saliva and your cum splats on his hands, causing him to get impossibly harder.

“i’m gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you so hard you’re crying for me to fill you up.” sunghoon grunts as he presses his tip on your opening, gaining the wetness on his cock. you simply moan back, you wanted his cock. you wanted to go dumb on his cock. that was all you needed.

once his cock fully slides in you, he takes no chance and starts roughly thrusting into you. it didn’t take that long for you to start moaning his name again. the bed was rocking to his motions, your hands on his chest trying to have some balance while his hands are secure on your thighs; pushing them along to his pace.

“ngh— sunghoon, fuck! more please, please sunghoon i need more—!” you mindlessly babble. you were experiencing so much pleasure, you didn’t even know you wanted more. your brain and your heart were jumbled up together.

“yeah? more? you want more you needy slut? alright, i’ll give you more.” hoon starts peeling off your top and bra, fighting the urge to just rip them off. he then grabs your sensitive nipples and twists them. the shocking pleasure has you nearly screaming for sunghoon. there’s so much happening, you couldn’t care if anyone could hear you outside.

“does it feel good, y/nnn?” slurring his words near the of you name. “look at you shutting your eyes, you love this!” sunghoon laughs as he kept on having a stable pace. his cock is so loose in you and the tip is practically abusing your cervix over and over.

sighing, moaning, groaning, grunting, whimpering was the only thing left in the room. along with sunghoon’s cock in you, of course. you were at the brink of that knot completely snapping in your stomach. it was so close; it was right there. tears even start dripping down to your cheeks, not in sadness or pain. but in delight.

the waves of pleasure were crashing down soon. they were waves crashing slowly. you needed those waves where they’d crash down fast. third orgasm was even better than the first.

“sweetheart, you’re crying? crying on my cock? fuck— you’re desperate to come.” sunghoon grunts as another bead of sweat starts dripping along his hairline. he was on the edge too, he needed it as much as you. a barely heard “mhmm!” escaped your lips as a response.

“god— sunghoon! use me— wanna have your cum in me— please!” you creak out. sunghoon laughs at your poor attempt of talking.

the warm, nearly silky feeling of my white strings of his cum was all in your pussy. snug, full, and filled. sunghoon’s arms gives up and falls right besides you.

“don’t ever say i’m a virgin again.” sunghoon groans as he takes his thrown off t-shirt to clean off yours and his cum off of you and him.

“i was just joking! hoon— fuck. you are a sex god.” you can’t help but laugh a bit.

“sex god??? who told you that.”

“… jake.” you reply.

“whatever, at least i got to prove it to you that i’m not a virgin.” hoon rolls his eyes at you.

“yeah but, i sure don’t think we can still be friends after this.” you sigh, looking at the ceiling above you.

“who said we were?”

“what?”

“who said we were just friends?”

who knew sunghoon wanted to fuck from the start?

kpop masterlist !

© issamultistan | tumblr

[leonenjoyer69]

The sillies :3 and the both colored and not bc I really really like the sketch for this one :3 my old emo playlist has recently creeped back into my life and ofc Migraine by Tøp hits me with this wonderful idea. Also, fun fact, the physical drawing was originally just supposed to be a concept doodle that I was gonna redraw on a different paper but I uh, got carried away..

Anyways!!! Little info dump below the cut on the relationship between the 3 of them bc @dustmint asked about it and I thought I'd share my response here too, teehee

OKAY, SO, HOW JEKYLL AND HYDE ACT TOWARDS HARRY:

I do firmly believe that Hyde fights Harry more Aggressively and outright, on board to do whatever it takes to get rid of him (or at least out of control) , while Jekyll took a bit more convincing (mostly once he was done freaking out over the fact that he's a fraction of a person just like Hyde is). He definitely also hates Harry, but in a more subtle, silent way >:3 instead sorta challenging Harry mentally as opposed to physically, like Hyde wishes to. He's generally more observant and tries to strike when he thinks it best, sometimes his emotions get the best of him tho.

MORE IN DEPTH:

So, once they figure out what/who Harry is from his lil journals in the mind scape, Jekyll may or may not have an identity crisis (he definitely does) but once he kinda gets through that he just feels bad for Harry, being locked away in the mind scape so long and dealing with everything there and such. Plus, Harry is seemingly their whole parts (their previously whole parts, at the least), so Jekyll certainly doesn't want him to die or anything. Hyde doesn't really feel too strongly about him right off the bat, more so just annoyed that Harry took control and now he's stuck in the mind scape with Jekyll.

Though!! Things change once Harry kinda shows his resentment towards the two, saying that he wouldn't be letting them out anytime soon, and revealing how he plans to reverse the potion. This immediately sends Hyde into feral dog mode, trying to use literally everything he can to absolutely break Harry and gain control back. Jekyll is still a bit reluctant for a while, but eventually starts siding more with Hyde, plotting how to gain control back or take care of Harry without killing all of them, bc ofc they don't wanna die.

But yeah, between sending out nightmares, forcing the heart palpitations and such by fighting, or just being a general nuisance (most all of which are usually by Hyde) it's not really surprising that the resentment Harry already had towards them grows lmao.

He does eventually find out that those little phantom strings he can still see around his wrists and such can kinda be used to vaguely control/subdue his other halves. Yeah, he threatens them a lot.

Also!!! Jekyll and Hyde start getting along better, but definitely still bicker and shit occasionally (which tends to piss Harry off a bit, since he's been so fed up with their fighting and refusing to be one for so long, it just ticks him off very easily). Jekyll also feels really jealous of Harry bc of how he seems to be able to fix things so easily (and his blooming relationship with Lanyon ofc)

Anyways!! That's all I got for now lmao. Lots of character development for Harry lately. Man, I really need to start doing stuff with Elias again 💀

Oh also here's a colored version where they're not ghostly:

[quibbs126]

So instead of more stylized Cookies, I drew that cacaolily redo yesterday (I just forgot about posting)

Anyways, so this is Night Rider. She’s replacing my old cacaolily kid, Snowdrop, because I thought I could do better (and frankly, Snowdrop didn’t have a personality outside of being a White Lily clone). So Snowdrop doesn’t exist anymore, and Night Rider replaces her

In any case, let’s get on to Night Rider herself

So basically, Night Rider here goes around Earthbread, seeking out and learning secret, ancient or forbidden knowledge/magic. She ultimately has good intentions in her research, she probably started by trying to look for a way to ultimately stop the Licorice Sea, or maybe to revive Pure Vanilla, but she can get carried away with her research and not think about the consequences of it (which I sort of tried to imply with the sketch, she’s trying to bring the Soul Jam to its fullest potential, but in the process awakening the Beasts). She’s been doing this for several decades and she really only visits her home sparingly; she’s gained a really poor sense of time and always thinks it’s been less time than it actually has

Outside of that, she’s a very cranky and antisocial person. Her decades of mostly isolated research have led her to view other Cookies as either not being able to appreciate the knowledge she yearns for, or that they ask dumb questions about her research. She respects and tolerates her father and the other Ancients (her mother disappeared when she was young, so she doesn’t really have a connection to her or opinions about her), even if she thinks they can fall into those categories. She can actually like people, and she can act like a decent person around them (or if she has to), but it’s pretty rare. She probably wasn’t always like this, it’s just something she built up over the years

Her research means she’s probably way ahead of all the other characters on the plot, like she’s known about the Beasts and faeries for years, but due to her general isolation and always looking for new knowledge, she’s woefully unknowing (that’s not the right word) of what’s going on in Earthbread right now. Like she doesn’t know Pure Vanilla’s back, her mother’s connection to Dark Enchantress, or even that her brother was banished in the first place

She likes her father well enough, she was mostly raised by him and she respects him, even if they value different things. She doesn’t see him as much due to her research, but she doesn’t see it as meaning she has any less connection to him. As said prior, since White Lily disappeared when she would have been young, she doesn’t really know her mother and isn’t sure what to think of her (though if she’s been to Faeriewood, she would have chosen to avoid White Lily’s coffin). Due to her nature of spending so much time away from home, she and Dark Choco barely know each other, but she thinks he’s fine enough. She thinks he’s just following in their father’s footsteps and being a good swordsman and prince back home, nothing out of the ordinary to note. She probably would have a reaction to knowing this isn’t the case

I’m also thinking she uses some sort of shadow magic, in part because of her research (and also because of her name)

I do kind of want to draw a younger version of Night Rider as well, before she started on her endless search for knowledge, since back then she was probably more normal

Can you tell I’ve thought way too much about her? Because I have

Anyways, let’s get on to other stuff

The name Night Rider comes from the night rider lily, since it’s a black flower

Night rider:

So if you can tell, she doesn’t look too much like her concept sketch. That’s because originally when I was making that, she was supposed to be a guy who was a knight that lived out in nature, or something like that. The original Night Rider concept was completely different. But then when I was listening to Unleash the Magic yesterday, it got me inspired to make this new version of Night Rider. If I ever bring that concept back, it’d probably be like her twin brother or something

Anyways, so I made her hair have gradients instead of streaks because I thought it worked better with her colors of red and black. Also Dark Choco sort of has that. Speaking of the red, it’s supposed to be because of the flower, even if the red doesn’t necessarily fit in with the rest of the family’s color scheme

Speaking of colors, my roommate told me she might have too many colors, which is honestly fair. She’s got black, red, purple and green in her design. It was originally going to be black red and purple, but then I wanted a pop of another color for her bag, so I added in the green. Maybe I’ll go back and tweak her colors more. If this becomes no longer applicable to her design, know that I changed it

I realize that her outfit may look a bit odd, as like some sort of bodysuit or whatever, but it was kind of just what came to my head. Maybe it’s some sort of special suit she got during her travels

Her design is probably simplistic, but it’s not necessarily bad. But I may want to tweak it a bit later on, we’ll see

But yeah, that’s Night Rider, hope you like her

[starlostseungmin]

— SKZ ON YOUR BIRTHDAY

pairing: boyfriend!skz x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: kissing, mentions of stress from work, food and fireworks, lmk if i missed something, not proofread.

word count: 1.2k

notes: it's not yet my birthday but, i just wanted to post something because it has been a whole month lmao. i hope everyone loves it! please don’t send in requests because i’m not taking any right now and if you wish to see more of this posts please reblog, leave your feedbacks and put tags alright? thank you very much love ♡

𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡 

he definitely took a day off even if your birthday was supposed to be a work day for him. and you’d say he didn’t have to but he insisted so you could celebrate it with him. 

would make you wear a blindfold and take you to the place where he prepared all the set-up and other preparations for your special day. 

it wasn’t a surprise when you knew it was the beach because he loves it so much, but the set-up was cute. a picnic mat and a basket filled with your favorite food. 

basically it was a date, but it was extra special because it is your birthday. he even brought a small cake with a greeting and name on it as he lit the candle. would sing a song for you. 

“i hope you like my idea of celebrating your birthday,” 

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪

will pretend to forget your birthday and tease you that it wasn’t your day. 

would make you upset probably but when you were about to cry, saying it wasn’t a big deal, he will give in and pepper your face with kisses to apologize. but just had to forgive him because you can’t get mad. he will ask what food would you like to eat to make you feel better. 

will watch a tutorial on how to bake the perfect cake for you after he bought all the ingredients the other day. 

but of course, he would never forget the birthday present he hid beneath your bed and give to you once everything is settled. 

will sing a birthday song along with your kids (his cats) while carrying the cake with a party hat on his head. 

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗕𝗜𝗡

you told him you didn’t want something big on your birthday and stay home with him, all relaxed and watch a movie to have peace. but you ended up in his parents’ house anyway after his mom forced him to bring you home. 

his family loves you so much that they ended up preparing for your special day and you didn’t want to refuse their hospitality. 

it was fun having dinner with his family as well as them, singing the happy birthday song. 

changbin had to steal you away after that and cuddled with you on the couch while watching a movie. he would apologize for the set-up but you reassured him it was all good and you loved everything that happened tonight. 

will kiss the top of your head, whispering a happy birthday with all the i love yous he could say. 

𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡𝗝𝗜𝗡

you thought it was just a usual date for your birthday. but your boyfriend didn’t let it be simple and all. he wanted to be different and unique. 

he handed you a small box after finishing your meal in that one fancy restaurant you love so much. 

you told him that he didn’t have to buy you a gift but simple things turned into a big surprise. a key was inside and he was all giddy and excited when he brought you to the door where the key is supposed to unlock it. 

it was a big surprise indeed, a small studio he rented with a display of all of his paintings and sketches of you. a gift he’d always wanted to give. 

you got emotional and at the same time thankful for the time and effort. it is him, your favorite artist, the love of your life, taking you as his muse. “happy birthday my love,”

𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚 

you were having a bad day at work and arrived home, drained from exhaustion. you were upset and frustrated, disappointed and sad, all the emotions came in. 

but seeing jisung cook for the first time and made a mess in your kitchen, made you cry harder. it wasn’t because he is making a mess, but his presence and making an effort to make your day good felt like comfort. 

you saw the set-up and he noticed you were there, crying at the entrance of the kitchen. he suddenly felt bad. 

“i-i was trying to cook for you but i made a mess,” he said as he looked down in embarrassment. “i’m sorry,” but you ended up hugging him instead. he asked if you were alright and you told him you were having a bad day. 

you didn’t get mad at all, you were happy because he was there, comforting you and greeting you a happy birthday. 

𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗫 

he woke up early in the morning to surprise you and went to make the birthday cake first. 

unfortunately you woke up a few minutes after he did and caught him making a mess in the kitchen with all the flour scattered on the counter, even on his face. 

you laughed and kissed him good morning, asking him to let you help but he refused because it is your special day. tried to argue with him but he gave up and let you help him. 

yet you still made a bigger mess and had fun with the icing cream while decorating the top of the cake. 

even placed an excess cream on the tip of his nose so you could kiss it. 

𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗠𝗜𝗡

he knew he had to plan everything and decided to take you to a day6 concert as a gift. surprised when all the members started singing happy birthday, directed toward you. 

it turns out to be your boyfriend who had requested it and is friends with his wonpil hyung. will take candid pictures of you as you enjoy the moment and film your priceless reactions.

and while you were distracted, he showed up with your birthday cake, everyone was hyped and the band members were cheering for you to make a wish and blow out the candle. 

you thanked seungmin for giving you one of the best birthday presents ever. he even kissed you in front of the crowd and hugged each other making everyone go wild.

but he made sure there was something else in private after the concert. “i prepared flowers, plushies, your favorite foods, and the movies you want to watch,” he smiled. “happy birthday, baby,” 

𝗝𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗜𝗡

will definitely have a picnic date with you at the park and made sure no one was there, except the two of you. 

it was nighttime, and you were just talking about random stuff while enjoying the view of the han river, the city lights that reflected on the water, and the stars that illuminates the dark sky. 

he would excuse himself to go to the bathroom but in reality, he just went to give the signal for his surprise and get back to you with a cake, singing happy birthday with fireworks lighting up the sky. 

you cried for how beautiful it was and hugged him out of the blue because of how happy you felt. but clumsy jeongin dropped the cake making the both of you panic. 

yet you thought it was hilarious and had to laugh it out (he have another cake waiting in the car, just in case). 

taglist : @wolfchanchan @inseonqt @soobin-chois @1-800-lixie @luvhyun3 @hanjiesgf @koovvie @lix-ables @starzzns @zoe8stay @gwynsapphire @cherryhanji @hwangsify @lixesque @seungly @sleepyleeji @comet-falls @kim-seung-mo @ppiri-bahng @myjisung @snow-pegasus @milkybonya @l3visbby @wilczachannn @yejis-biggest-simp @tangylemonade @hwan-g @awkwardnesshabitat @chrispychans @therealhyunjingf [ pls lmk if you want to be added or removed ]

[inafieldofdaisies]

Ship Art | John Seed x Sabrina Donovan | sketch by @felrija ❤️ || a scene from my WIP In Hope Of Tomorrow, snippet below the cut

"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

It felt like at least 2 hours had passed before the door opened again. Sabrina kept her eyes casted downward as a pair of boots came into view, crossing over the threshold, their owner humming a familiar tune. I know this melody. It was the song she sang in the cell. He was there, listening. The realization made her look up, her hazel eyes met John's as he neared, stepping into the light that spilled from the chandelier above. He was wearing jeans, a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and way too many buttons undone, on top of it was a vest that belonged more in a courtroom than in a bunker in the Middle of nowhere, Montana. "Kept you waiting, didn't I, Deputy?" A dark smirk marred his handsome face, his posture exuding confidence, like he was about to slip into an opening statement any moment. Only in this room he had full reign, assuming the role of judge, jury and executioner. "Probably should consider serving some tea, maybe redecorating your dungeon. Red's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't rate your goon very highly on any scale either." The comment made him chuckle, and she tried to ignore how familiar it sounded, how it pulled on her soul. "Now, I'm not usually late, but someone decided to attempt to derail my Cleansing.", at that he unconsciously went to smooth out his dark hair, making Sabrina realize it's damp. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?" Don't laugh again. And he didn't, sending a smirk her way instead. "Now, Deputy, enough jokes, there are more pressing matters.", his head tilted slightly, his expression almost... giddy. "What's a joke is you thinking holding a Deputy hostage is a good idea, you of all people should know it's far from it. Aren't you supposed to be a hotshot lawyer?", she couldn't stop her sneer. "Deputy-" Sabrina cut him off, "I have a name." "Yes. Sabrina Blythe Donovan.", he said it matter-of-factly, but Sabrina could tell he took pride in that knowledge. It didn't shock her he knew her full name, with Nancy being on Eden's Gate side no doubt information about the whole Sheriff's Department was leaking like a sieve. A dry laugh escaped her, "Next you're going to tell me the name of my first boyfriend." John crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Knowledge is power after all. And, Sabrina, you wouldn't be here if you didn't try to arrest my brother. You all had choice and it led to this." She pushed down the feeling at how familiar her name sounded on his lips, the twinge of longing it caused in her was nothing. It had to be.

"There was an arrest warrant. I was just doing my job. Your brother is a criminal, and now so are you and all of your people." "I'm doing MY job, Deputy. You're a sinner and so are your friends.", he retorted, his words full of conviction as he headed for his torture table. Sabrina froze, expecting him to notice a knife was missing, when he said nothing, she continued, "Why am I here?" The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the tone she used when interrogating suspects back in Portland, the one that got her straight answers and stripped away all the nonsense. John turned, a look of amusement flashing across his face as he leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankles. "I should be the one asking questions here, Deputy." "Old habits die hard, I was a-" "A detective back in", a dramatic pause, he raised a finger, "Portland. And you left it all behind to work for Whitehorse. Can't wait for you to tell me why." "I'm not telling you shit. I don't know what you think you're doing-" John stalked towards her with swiftness that took her aback as he grabbed the armrests of her chair, the force behind his movement making the wheels skid across the floor. His face had grown serious, piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he loomed over her. "You will talk, confess every sin, no matter how small. I know exactly what I’m doing here."

Their proximity sent a shiver up her spine and she tried to tell herself it was the bad kind. He was so close to a point Sabrina could smell the musky scent of river that clung to his skin. He had indeed taken a dive, her amusement at the confirmation died down quickly. His nearness, the position of his hands as he held onto the chair allowed her to see his tattoos in detail for the first time. In seconds her whole world came crashing down, her blood froze. No. She knew these tattoos, had seen them countless times in her visions, had drawn them over and over to the point they were embedded in her memory. NO. The hand holding hers as the world ended. The man that called her "Butterfly". It was John. John fucking Seed. His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "Hm. A butterfly." He was looking at her tattoo, at one of the butterflies that wasn't hidden by the strap of her top. As if she needed any more reminders of the tragic realization she had just came to, John said the damned word again as he backed away, "Why a butterfly, Deputy?" He was back to being nonchalant, like the outburst hadn't even happened. All she could do was blink, wishing her eyes were lying to her.

"You still with me, Sabrina?", it had finally hit him she wasn't replying, that she wasn't talking back. Breathe. Focus. Snap out of it. "Wish I wasn't, won't lie.", she tried to hold onto her composure. Silence took over as John went back to his table, picking up a tool, looking it over then placing it down with care and grabbing another one, repeating the process. It felt mechanical, like a show. Her own knife felt heavy in her hands, the tip prickling her skin, a wake-up call. She knew what she had to do in order to get back to Savannah, imagined it in the hours he made her wait on him. Plunging the blade deep, ending a life. But doubt was creeping in... Her plan, the dark path she planned to take, there was a chance she would fail, she had seen him alive too many times. And her most recent vision... from the sounds of that one he was breathing and pissed off. John spoke up again, his attention still on the table in front of him, "My brother's church. Let's start there. You saw something." It wasn't a question, he sounded sure of it. She hadn't been able to hide her distress, even tried to stop the arrest. A new path became visible. A plan with a giant leap of faith. Probably the most dumb and risky decision she has ever made in her life. He wanted answers, and she was going to play along. For now. "I will tell you what I saw, but I doubt you'd believe it, they never do." Another smirk, making her feel nauseous. "Try me, Deputy." "I saw the crash. Before it happened, I mean." "A vision.", he nodded mostly to himself, "Joseph has them." "You believe then?" "They're from God. Of course I believe him." John believed Joseph, not her. She was used to people's scepticism, but she had a way to prove it this time. "There's more, John." Something flashed across his face at her saying his name outloud for the very first time, but the mask was back in place too quickly for her to figure out what. Focus. Her mother was good at selling any con, always knew how to approach a person, what they'd want to hear, which buttons to push.

"Say his name. Look him in the eyes and sell the idea, make him think it's his own, darling. There's always an offer a man won't be able to refuse, one he'd throw himself in the deep end for, willingly. And when he's about to sink, you offer a hand, pledge your loyalty. He'd be a goner before you know it."

A part of Candice lived in Sabrina, and for once she let it take over.

"I will tell you what's coming, but I will need something in return.", her voice sounded unshakeable, certain, the exact opposite of how she felt inside. John didn't break her eye contact, nor interrupted her. Sabrina got up from the chair, discarding the ropes as her hands dropped to her sides. "You've been untied this whole time, Deputy?", his eyes shone with amusement again. She took a few steps until she stood almost in front of him, her hand holding out her knife. Surrendering her weapon. "And you had a knife?" When he made no move to take it, Sabrina placed the blade on his "work" bench and walked back, sitting down in the chair and rubbing her wrists. "I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

[argentior]

Headshots of the apathy adoring guys.

Sketch ver

apathy adoring is a self-indulgent rewrite of redo of healer that is probably at leasta little influenced by the way too many manhwa/manga with dubious relationships I've read. Which is to say for some reason I looked at Redo of Healer and thought "I can make a messed-up Josei story out of this" and ended up doing it. Still has dark themes though so like. Careful before you click.

Anyway. Notes on the guys as of Ch 11 and general apathy adoring notes/spoilerish recap if anyone cares to read that I suppose. Random summary stuff and fun facts.

The Boy | Keyaru

Protagonist of Redo of Healer. The premise of that thing is that this guy at 14 years old was abused physically and sexually for 2 years because his semen can raise the level cap of others. It be one of those magic with numbers and a limited slot of skills fantasy worlds. He goes back in time and carries out a long rape revenge seinen fantasy thing. I did not like that. I don't know why the fic got into my brain so much.

Still out for revenge in the fanfic. He ran away from Alban and managed to eat a couple more poisonous plants and fungi relative to canon before he was caught this time, so his immunity to drugs and poison kicked in sooner.

Was still caught, healed Kureha, allows himself to be abused for the revenge plan, that whole deal.

Interested in the maid because of previous timeline memories. Infatuated by the Maid/reader in this current timeline due to the chain of events that occurred that resulted in more interactions. (Came in later, she was assigned to clean him up, and it just went on and on)

A notable differences from the source material includes him playing along and "getting better" at healing publicly so he gets to stay out of the dungeon some days. I was getting tired of writing scenes in the dungeon.

Has introduced himself to the Maid/reader character. So she knows his name. She just refuses to acknowledge it.

The weirdest thing he's done in the story so far: used healing magic to kind of transform his hand into being like the Maid's wounded one and kissed it.

Main aim when writing him: Pitiful enough to make you help but there's something wrong with him that makes you regret it. Or maybe you're just being paranoid.

The Knight | Bako

Appears in the light novel/manga and is killed shortly after. Was used by Keyaru and his group because Bako was the "most sane of the knights" whatever that means. In the novel it was murder after his aid because he was involved in the attack on Keyaru's village and could have spread knowledge if Keyaru's party, in the manga it was because he attacked Keyaru's group in revenge for killing Renard. Renard had taken him in. He's vice captain of Princess Flare (first/main abuser of Keyaru)'s knights.

In the fic he's a coward who is aware of Renard's atrocities but is too attached to his father figure to really do anything about it.

Infatuated with the maid due to projecting. He is very aware of what the kingdom does to the boy in the dungeon but you know. Coward.

Savior Complex.

I hate his hair why are you so spiky.

Has no colored version in the manga. Was that insignificant. Chose blond hair for the "knight in shining armor pretty gold good and righteous" imagery and steel blue eyes and something dull and different from the red eyes of the other guys. Also. Similar to Renard.

Main aim when writing him: physically strong/imposing but kind of pathetic if you're not in a fight-or-flight headspace.

Yukito | Harris | The Rabbit

An oc I made to balance out the cast. What's a josei without 3 guys amirite haha

No but like sincerely. A character to balance out whatever freak stuff is happening with the other two. Also probably delves into the idea of free will and consent somewhat.

Is a rabbit demi-human (basically a rabbit boy). Escaped slave, gave his "true name" to the Maid/Reader after they met by chance, which by source material lore means that he is bound to her mind and heart, body and soul. She is Not Happy about this.

Has chopped his ears and tail off and is blending in as the "human" Harris surprisingly well. Being albino tends to answer the question of why he hides his face for most people.

Main aim when writing him: a decent, sweet person in unfortunate circumstances. Kind of the physical manifestation of the idea of running away, which even if possible the maid thinks of too much of a dream than actual choice.

Bonus

The Maid | The Reader

Low level low magic horrible stats. Instead of being a competent warrior like the other staff in the palace, she is just good at cleaning.

Very tired, very paranoid. Violent intrusive thoughts.

Wary of all the boys. No attraction to any of them lol.

But if pressed. And had to stick to any of them. It would be Yukito.

[ssnakey-b]

Outer Wilds Loren

A few streams ago, we got to talking about Outer Wilds again and I suddenly had a flash of inspiration: Loren as a Hearthian! Are Hearthsonas a thing? They are now.

Anyway, that was originally supposed to be a quick, simple sketch but I kind of got carried away and ended up spending way more time on this than I initally intended.

Drawing a hurdy gurdy has also taught me an important lesson: don't draw hurdy gurdies. It's a nightmare and you won't find two consistent reference pictures.

But I tell you what, this has been really fun. And I got to make something pretty cool, so I’ve got no complaints.

By the way, your approval of Outer Wilds is one of the major reasons why I even decided to play it in the first place and I am so very glad I did. What a beautiful game, in every sense of the word.

Oh and, while I'm at it, when can we expect a rendition of "Travelers" on the hurdy gurdy?

Sorry about the reupload but for some reason, the first one did show up on the tag and I also noticed there was some weird visual error on the original upload, so hopefully it works properly this time.

[inquisimer]

happy Friday! sending you “his actions speak for themselves” for Neria 👀

happy dadwc friday and ty for the prompt! Some surana & anders circa da2 for this one :3

for @dadrunkwriting

-

“He’s here, you know.”

Neria didn’t even look up from where she was braiding elfroot, tongue poked out in concentration. “Who is?”

“Your pretty boy Templar, of course.”

That gave her pause and her finger froze on the twisted herb stems as she stared over at Anders. His feigned nonchalance confused her; she puzzled over it as she waited for him to look at her, but he kept his head bent over whatever new draft or plan he was sketching out.

In the meantime, Neria’s heart and mind caught up to what he’d said. Cullen was here, in Kirkwall, probably no more than an hour’s walk from the clinic. Did he remember her? Did he want to see her? Did he miss her, miss their chats and company? Perhaps she could—

“He’s at the Gallows.”

Reality slammed into Neria like a cold wave off the Waking Sea. It washed over her idealistic hopes and carried away the pleasant, comfortable memories she liked to reminisce. If Cullen was here, of course he was in the Gallows. Because he was a Templar, and Templars guarded the mages. And if he was here, that meant he was complicit in all that Anders was fighting against. He was complicit in Karl’s death, and so many others. All of the small, frightened faces that she and Anders ushered out through the Underground, Cullen would see imprisoned, slaughtered, Tranquil.

But—there was hope. Slowly, she resumed her braiding and, in a carefully measured voice, she asked, “Do you know if he’s with Thrask?”

Her heart sank at Anders’ answering scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the Knight Commanders little lapdog, from everything I’ve heard and seen. You should have heard what he said to Hawke, when she barely defended her sister to him—harsher than Greagoir ever was with us, to say the least.”

Neria frowned. It didn’t seem right. She’d known Cullen, as well as a mage could know any Templar that guarded them, enough to know his name, at least. To know of his family and his fears and his wishes for the future. She could not imagine his soft face and gentle curls twisted in such cruelty, lashing out with such animosity.

“‘Mages aren’t people like you and me, Hawke’,” Anders quoted, sourly dunking his quill back into the inkpot. “‘They cannot be trusted.’”

“Maker that’s…something’s not right, then.” Neria shook her head, somewhat unable to reconcile what Anders was telling her with what she remembered. Not that she thought Anders would lie to her, but her own memory was hardly so fallible either.

Anders cocked his head. “Didn’t Solona write you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He swore under his breath, pushing greasy hair out of his eyes as he shook his head. “She was supposed to write you. To tell you,” he muttered. “Of all the things to chicken out on.”

“Tell me what?”

“Well—it’s—I can’t explain as well as she could. Which is why she was supposed to tell you.”

“But you know.” Neria fastened a piece of twine around her elfroot braid and set it on the stack. She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

Anders bit his lip. “Well. You know how Uldred was when we escaped?”

“Batshit and loony?”

“Yeah. So apparently someone ticked him off at Ostagar and he made a deal with Loghain—that idiot believed the Teryn would free them if the Circle helped him take over Ferelden.”

“As if.”

“Exactly. But, so, he decided the thing to do was, once he got back from Ostagar, summon a fuck load of demons and take over the tower with blood magic.”

On instinct, Neria went very still. The scars on her forearms, long healed, blazed as though they were fresh wounds. Anders’ gaze didn’t even flick toward them, but she felt the inexplicable, undeserved guilt just the same.

But—she’d heard no news about Kinloch Hold being destroyed. No annulment, no major catastrophe. And surely the Chantry would have blared any major success far and wide as propaganda.

“So what happened?”

“Solona, of course. What else?” Anders snorted. “She showed up with her Warden treaties, as angelic as if she’d never been gone in the first place. Greagoir was already wrapped around her finger and he fell right back into that. She did right by as many as she could. Of course—“ he swallowed hard, voice and face falling, “—she didn’t get there right away. Things were already…chaotic and out of control. Not everyone made it. Either Uldred or the demons got…far too many of them.”

It was like the world had fallen out from under Neria. She couldn’t stop herself imagining her home—not quite beloved, but comfortable, familiar, all she’d known for almost two decades—strewn with the blood of those she’d loved, her comrades and companions.

How easily it could have been her, if Anders hadn’t dragged her up out of complacency.

A shudder wracked through her and she reached for more elfroot to busy her hands.

“Hey, she saved a lot of them,” Anders said softly. “More than Greagoir would have, at any rate.”

“Of course she did. That’s what Sol does. She saves people.” Neria flicked her wrist against the once-enchanted bracelet, wished she had enough talent to will it back to life. She missed her friend. “So what does this all have to do with Cullen? He was there, I assume?”

“He was unlucky, to hear Solona tell it.” Anders scowled. “I don’t wonder if he was more than unlucky, if this maliciousness was just waiting to be unlocked. It’s not as if the handful of other survivors were nearly as vicious as he was—“

“Get to the point,” Neria cut him off tersely. If this shit-talking was deserved, well, she would let him ramble on and tune him out. But she’d rather know for sure, to sate the growing anxiety in her chest.

“They found him tortured, bloody and beaten, teased by a demon for days, maybe weeks.” Anders tapped his quill on the edge of the pot, dripping the excess away. “He asked them to kill every mage there, just in case. And even after the tower was cleared and Uldred dead, he asked them the same, again. Irving was whole and well, everyone else battered but sound of mind, and he would have killed them all, just in case.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Neria whispered. These feelings coursing through her, she didn’t know them. What was she supposed to feel? Horror? Sorrow? Anger? She felt all of them at once, just in case she chose wrong. Clearly, Anders wanted her to disavow Cullen, to throw herself headlong into their work and forget whatever connection they had before. But—how could she?

“Because if I just told you that he was a twat, you wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t change about him. His actions speak for themselves, Ria—he’s everything we’re fighting against.”

Neria shook her head, even as Anders’ gaze hardened with anger, frustration. “No. It’s just—it’s a defense, or something. He went through trauma as well! He was so kind and open, and not just with me. It can’t all have gone away. It’s there, somewhere.”

“Does it matter?” Anders challenged. “If he’s putting mages to the brand and the blade left and write, does it matter if there’s something good underneath?”

Neria tossed another elfroot braid onto the stack. “Careful, wisp. People have said the same about mages, before.”

“Without anything to back it up! I have proof, with him.”

“And the Chantry has blood mages!” Neria cried. “You’re looking for proof, because you don’t want to think there’s anything good left in him. But what if there is? What then?”

“If the proof wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have found anything while I was looking.”

“People change,” Neria said stubbornly. “And I’m not having this debate with you, wisp. What were you trying to achieve? I’m not going near the Gallows, anyway. I’m helping with the underground, anyway. Were you just trying to make me as angry as you are?”

Anders’ eyes flashed blue and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she bit out, tying the elfroot a bit too tight; the bundle snapped in half and the shreds of it fluttered to the floor around her shaking hands. “I don’t get angry. I just leave.”

She threw the remnants of the ruined braid in his direction, shoved her muddled thoughts aside, and did just that.

She left.

[sezja]

Housewarming

"It could be a good deal worse," Esmena says cheerily, opening the shutters, letting out almost ten years' worth of stale air. Thaffe looks around the small house, with a good deal more trepidation than excitement - his parents' house, almost untouched since the fever had claimed them years ago.

His house, now.

This had always been the plan, he reminds himself, feeling strange in his own skin as he helps Jeryk's mother clean: he had always intended to move out as soon as he'd seen sixteen summers, was working a steady job (as steady as any in Twine these days, at any rate), and could stand on his own two feet. His parents had left him the house on their deathbeds - the only thing halfway safe left to leave him. Most of their belongings had been burned, in case they still carried whatever illness had swept through Twine.

Maybe that's what's got him feeling strange. The house doesn't look the way it does in all his memories of the place: the furniture's gone, repurposed elsewhere in town; the little decorative touches - framed sketches, little knickknacks - his mother had favored are long since gone. Weathered away by the passage of time or sold for enough coin to keep food on the table, Thaffe supposes; there's little room for sentimentality with all the life bleeding out of the dying mining town.

Which is part, of course, of why he has to move out of Esmena and Ardin's home. He's got a year's worth of work in the mines under his belt now; he can put food on his own table.

...Though it's thanks to them he even has a table to put any food on.

"Thanks again for the furniture, Ma," he says, for what must be the third time.

Esmena steps back from the last of the windows, dusting off her hands - a bit prematurely, Thaffe thinks; there's still ten years' worth of dust built up everywhere - and smiling. "Oh no, love, thank you; Ardin wants a new workshop, and with how few visitors we're seeing..."

The furniture, of course, comes from one of the unused rooms at their family's inn; since the Stoneworks' departure, Twine no longer plays host to visiting engineers and officials from far-away Kholusia. The occasional stray traveler or historian interested in the nearby ruins isn't enough to require every room in the inn to be kept well-furnished.

And it'll make less waste for them when the time comes to leave it all behind, Thaffe thinks, with the familiar twist in his gut.

He shoves it aside, listening instead for Jeryk - he and Ardin, his father, are doing some repair work around the exterior of the house, patching up the scars of a decade of neglect. Sure enough, with the windows open, Thaffe can hear his best friend chattering away, with the occasional half-interested hum from his father in response.

"That's enough smiling, you," Esmena teasingly scolds, holding out her much-used broom. "The dust has dust in here; let's see to it before we start trying to haul in linens."

He accepts it with a grin. "That's life in a desert for you."

"Where I'm from," she says, setting to the task of cleaning off the countertops, windowpanes, and walls, "there would be mold, and we'd be tearing up the floorboards to be rid of it. The air's altogether too dry here, but I suppose it's good for something, hm?"

Thaffe bends himself to the task of sweeping, gathering up dust and cobwebs, trying to listen with half an ear for just what in the world Jeryk's going on about. From the sound of things, he's explaining the history of trolleys in Nabaath - with some creative liberties most charitably described as speculation - to his long-suffering father, who knows the history at least as well as any man born and raised in Twine.

Esmena sings quietly to herself as she works, just as she always does when she's doing chores - be it her own or the locals' laundry - and Thaffe listens with half an ear to her, as well.

It's going to be very quiet, living on his own.

You may as well get used to it.

He grits his teeth, shoves the thought aside, and focuses on sweeping. There's a lot of work to be done, after all.

They work through the morning, cleaning away a decade's worth of abandonment; once Esmena is satisfied that the inside of the house is clean, she summons Ardin - and Jeryk - inside to perform a few small repairs. A creaky shutter here, a broken cupboard there. They begin hauling in the furniture: not much, but the stuff of a small life. Table, chair, dresser. A new bed. Little by little, the little two-room house begins to resemble a livable home.

"Linens," Esmena sighs, exhausted, wiping an arm across her brow and brushing her sweat-drenched blonde hair out of her face. "After lunch. Wash up, boys!"

Back home, then - back to their home, anyhow. Thaffe's few meager possessions are already packed for the trip next door: the room he's shared with Jeryk for years already looks emptier.

"I don't suppose I'll know what to do with all the extra space," Jeryk says, joining him in the doorway. There's something strained beneath his friend's usual cheer, like something caught in his throat - and he won't quite meet Thaffe's gaze, even more than usual.

"Make it a workshop," Thaffe suggests, with more levity than he feels. "Like your dad's doing with the free inn room. You're taking on more of his jobs, after all; like as not you'll need somewhere to work."

Jeryk makes an noncommittal sound, brushing past him into the room and sitting heavily on the bed - their beds, long since pushed together, yielding to his younger friend's tendency to climb into his bed with him to spend the night chatting. Jeryk's bed now, Thaffe supposes, now that he's getting one of the - substantially larger - beds from the inn. Thaffe tries not to think about what it'll be like to sleep alone for the first time since he was a child, choosing instead to sit next to Jeryk on the bed.

Like they have a thousand times. Like they might never again.

They've not talked about it, not really, not exactly. It's always been the plan. Thaffe's talked about it since they were small - moving into his parents' old place, once he was old enough.

It's just that the actual day of it came up a lot faster than he thought.

"This is ridiculous," he hears himself say, rubbing his stinging eyes; no tears have fallen yet, thank the gods. "I'm moving next door. We'll see each other every day. Ma insists I visit for dinner at least once a week or she'll hound me-"

"Like she'll hound us if we don't hurry to lunch," Jeryk cuts in, with a wobbly smile. His eyes look too bright. "You know how she gets!"

So they wash up and hasten their way back for lunch; Thaffe thinks he's made a decent recovery of it, but Esmena's green eyes linger on him a touch too long - a little too worried, a little too knowing. And Jeryk's quiet. Jeryk's never quiet.

But she doesn't pry.

After lunch, linens. Esmena sets Ardin and Jeryk to the task of hanging curtains - curtains she'd stitched herself, no less - while she helps Thaffe put the sheets on his new bed. They're old, but not quite threadbare... and they smell like home, the scent of the soaps Esmena uses in the laundry waft from the fabric as they work. It smells like a thousand hot afternoons spent helping Esmena and Jeryk scrub laundry and hang it up to dry.

His throat feels tight.

They'll be right next door, he scolds himself.

But a quieter voice wonders, For how much longer?

Jeryk's still quiet as he helps hang the curtains; quiet and pensive. Thaffe wonders what's going through his mind - if he recognizes that his parents will have to move away soon. The inn's not making enough money; they both know Esmena and Ardin have been skipping meals so their boys might eat. Even with Thaffe scraping in his own meager income, things are tight. Soon, they'll have to do as so many other families have done, and...

Well. Just as well he's going to be getting used to living alone, right?

"This is what you want, isn't it, love?"

Esmena's voice startles him out of his woolgathering. "Yes," he replies, too quickly. "Yes, of course."

She glances up from putting his clothes in the new dresser, gauging his expression with maternal skepticism. "If you're sure. You're always welcome back home - you know that, of course? Jeryk's going to be lost without you."

I'm going to be lost without him. "He'll do alright," he says, glancing toward the other room, where Jeryk balances carefully on a chair, hanging the last of the curtains. He's learned a great deal from his father all these years - no matter where Jeryk and Ardin wind up, they'll find work. There's always a need for steady hands and a knack for fixing what's broken.

It's not the work Jeryk wants to be doing, but the days of Twine's trolleys are long over.

"He'll be fine," he says, a bit more firmly. "Like I told him: I'll still see him every day."

She nods, closing a drawer. "I worry you're only doing this for us, Thaffe - that you're leaving the nest a bit too early."

He feels his face heat. "I'm old enough to support myself, Ma. I don't want-"

"You were born in this very room, did you know? I was one of the first people who got to hold you." There are tears glittering in Esmena's eyes, and she turns away to conceal them, smoothing out the bedsheets - but not so quickly that Thaffe didn't see them. "And then your poor mother... we swore, she and I, that if anything happened to one of us, the other would always, always look after our children."

"I'm not a child-"

She turns again, composed, and reaches up a hand to touch his cheek. It occurs to him, again, how strange it is to look down on her - just as it has every day since his growth spurt, years ago. "You'll always be a little bit my child," she says, quietly. "And it's always going to be a little bit my responsibility to look after you. You're not a burden, Thaffe."

He feels six years old again, sobbing into her skirts as his parents are buried. She'd rested a hand on the back of his head, offering soft, quiet words of comfort, telling him how much his parents had loved him; how much they were going to love him now: that he was family, that he was wanted, that he was safe.

And if it were all as simple as that-

He takes a deep breath. Swallows. "It's really just time I had my own place, Ma. My parents wanted that, too; that's why they left me this place."

She lowers her hand, smiling wistfully. "I suppose they did, didn't they? You'd make your mother proud, shadows rest her soul. Gods know you make me proud."

"That's the last of the curtains!" Jeryk bounces into the room, his mood evidently thoroughly recovered; if he notices the sentimental tension he's interrupting, he gives no sign of it. "What's next?"

Esmena sighs. "Next, we leave, and let Thaffe get settled in," she says, winding an arm around Jeryk's shoulders and steering him back out of the bedroom. "Say good night, love; you'll see Thaffe after he gets home from the mines tomorrow, as always."

Jeryk squirms. "But-"

Thaffe, too, feels a stab of alarm at the idea of being left alone... but that's childish; isn't this what he wanted? This very thing? He can't get used to living alone if he's never properly alone.

So he makes himself smile as he walks Jeryk and Esmena to the door, where Ardin is already waiting.

Esmena tugs him down to kiss his cheek as she bids him goodnight; Ardin shakes his hand and quietly congratulates him on the new house (with an assurance that if any repair work still needs doing, Thaffe's to ask for it without a moment's hesitation), and the two of them slip away, leaving the boys alone. Thaffe doesn't doubt that if Jeryk lingers too long, Esmena will return to usher him out of Thaffe's hair.

Even if it's the last thing Thaffe wants.

"So," he says, awkward.

Jeryk takes a deep breath. Then, "What if..."

Thaffe waits.

Nothing.

"What if?" he prompts... but Jeryk shakes his head.

"Nothing," Jeryk says, smiling. "Nothing, never mind."

Obeying a sudden impulse, Thaffe simply pulls his friend into his arms, giving him the tightest hug he can manage, until Jeryk squeaks in not-quite-protest, getting his own arms around Thaffe in the process. They haven't held onto each other like this since... since a year or more ago, when for a heart-wrenching few minutes, Thaffe had been certain Jeryk had been killed by sin eaters - or worse.

Then, as now, Thaffe had wondered just how in the world he was meant to carry on without Jeryk.

"I'll be right here," he says, reminding himself for what seems like the thousandth time that Jeryk's going to be right next door, at least for the immediate future - he can worry about the eventuality of his family leaving town later. It's going to be hard enough to make it through the night alone.

Jeryk pulls away, blinking hard; teardrops cling to his long eyelashes. "Right," he says, with none of his usual enthusiasm. "Right, of course. Thaffe..."

He puts his hands on Jeryk's shoulders and leans down, resting their foreheads together. "You can visit any time," he says, around the lump in his throat. "Any time, any reason. Alright?" He waits until Jeryk nods, then gives the boy a little shake. "Right. Best you go on home, then, before Ma starts wondering if I mean to keep you."

And with one last see you tomorrow, off Jeryk goes, closing the door reluctantly behind him.

Alone.

Thaffe stands alone for the first time beneath his own roof, in his own home. The old floor creaks under his feet as he drifts from one window to the next, closing the shutters for the night against the blinding Light outside. He lingers for a moment, watching as Esmena, Ardin, and Jeryk walk home; Jeryk's dragging his feet, fiddling with the old scarf he always wears - something he always does when he's anxious, as well he might be now, facing his first night alone in years...

Thaffe closes the shutter, closing out the sight. He sighs, resting his head against the window, wishing his chest didn't ache; wishing... what? That he'd find some miracle ore down in the mines, or something; anything that might sell for enough to keep Jeryk and his family here? That the trolleys might run again, that the Stoneworks might come back?

That somehow, somehow, the inevitable future won't catch up to them?

Jeryk...

He takes a deep breath and hauls himself away from the window, making his way through the darkened house to the bedroom. The bedroom, where the bedsheets still smell like home. Thaffe strips off his clothes for bed, leaving them on the floor - Esmena would scorch his ears for it, but she won't see it - and heaves himself into bed.

There, with no one around to see it, he buries his face in his pillow and lets the first of the tears flow. Homesickness, heartsickness. Loneliness.

The pillow smells like Jeryk; it's from the bed they'd shared for years.

There's comfort in that. Some, anyway.

He tries to sleep. The hours creep by - after a year in the mines, he's already got a decent sense for the passage of time, but it seems to him these hours must be a lifetime each. Bouts of fitful melancholy set in: he sheds more miserable tears, rises to pace around the room. Tries talking to himself. A thin ray of Light slices through the room from a crack in one shutter - need to get that fixed; maybe that's what's keeping him-

A knock at the door.

"Who'd be visiting in the middle of the night," he wonders aloud, grumbling as he manages to tug his trousers back on... though a part of him knows.

Specifically, his heart, which had leapt at the sound of the knock, and it's pounding now.

It's Jeryk, of course.

His friend stands grinning on his doorstep, still dressed for bed - looking, in fact, as though he'd rolled directly out of bed: from his frizzy, tousled blond hair all the way down to his bare feet. If he's slept at all, it doesn't show; his bright green eyes are red-rimmed and weary, though his smile is cheerful as ever.

"Jeryk," Thaffe says, fighting the urge to smile.

"Hello, neighbor!" Jeryk offers a little wave. "I was wondering: are you all settled in yet?"

He feels his lips twitching. "Settled enough to have company over for the night, maybe?"

Jeryk's smile fades, ever-so-slightly. "I'll go right back home if you want, I swear it," he promises. "I just... couldn't-"

"Couldn't sleep."

"-Couldn't sleep," Jeryk finishes, only a little sheepish.

He's never going to get used to living without Jeryk at this rate, Thaffe thinks, but he steps aside anyway, letting Jeryk in. He tells himself it'll be easier if he... weans himself off; lets himself get used to it little by little - that's why he lets Jeryk lead the way through the dark house to Thaffe's new room, as though he lives there. Jeryk doesn't even wait for a further invitation; he just hops right into Thaffe's bed, settling in.

"I think this might be bigger than our bed back home," Jeryk says, already drowsy, as Thaffe strips back down and climbs back into bed.

"By a sliver, maybe." The inn's beds had to be big enough to hold Ronso, after all; they're a more than fair fit for two humes. The bed doesn't seem half so large with Jeryk in it - and the night doesn't feel half so long with Jeryk's voice chattering to him in the quiet.

The ray of Light still slices through the room, enough to illuminate Jeryk's hopeful smile. "Can I come over every night?"

"Do I have any hope of stopping you?" Thaffe teases, rolling over to face his friend. "Who else is going to talk me to sleep about trolleys?"

It makes Jeryk laugh, ending in quiet giggles. "Well, now that you mention it-"

"I suppose I asked for this, didn't I."

"-I've been looking at some of the old manuals from the Stoneworks, and I reckon I can work out how to start mending some of the old tracks, if we can get some decent steel..."

Thaffe closes his eyes, and lets sleep claim him, still smiling.

It's good to be home.

[newtafterdark]

Please release the black mold theory

I'll do my very best to keep this as short and as coheerend as possible - which will be a feat because Dan & I came up with the details of it throughout hours of going through the "Welcome Home" site.

The "Black Mold Theory" focuses on the black-ish growth that is both visible and referenced in one way or the other on several main- and hidden pages... and how it is a harmful entity towards everyone in the Restoration Project, the puppets & everyone who is interacting with "Welcome Home" in-universe, even just the smallest amount.

Now, why do I call it "black mold" specifically? Well, it looks, behaves and causes harm similarly to black mold in real life.

But with a conscious entity behind it.

The current events start with the WHRP crew receiving items that were part of the production of "Welcome Home" - with the first person to handle them remarking that everything "feels wet".

This continues as more people get brought in to help restore or simply file away art, photos, writing, merch, vinyl records... with now even a proper rule being put in place to "not touch any item with bare hands".

While that is a common rule for handling any old and damaged thing you're trying to restore... it is worrysome that the WHRP are very instant on that rule, as it is something the restoration folks would do so anyway.

Then... look at how the exibition looks like on the "Staff Only" page.

(Please go look through it yourself, it is so well-made! https://www.clownillustration.com/staff-only)

The walls are overgrown with a dark substance, looking either red or blue but mostly black, with clear hand prints on the walls and splatters of it on items & WHRP folks' notes-

It's on so many things, even seemingly pouring out of the safe from the inside. A safe that is seemingly holding old production items that were supposed to be given out as random prizes to the exhibition visiors.

And then there's the entity on the ceiling. You know, the blue-ish black mass clinging to the pipes and more notes by the crew, its fuzzy tendrils reaching out to hold itself in place on said pipes.

To observe? To watch as visitors touch the items that looked so prestine in the daylight, only to be shown to be contaminated with something when the lights are off? To now know that people are carrying parts of it our into the real world and into their own homes through having had hands-on contact with all the items present?

That is horrible enough for the people who touched it in real life - but... what if I told you that we have seen this thing in Home as well? Or more like... under Home?

When the "Welcome Home" site first went online, the mass on the Characters Page below Home looked like this. Something in the depths barely aware of the attention on it as we look into the dark abyss it's in.

Now, after the most recent update? Oh, the abyss is looking right back at us. And the black mass around it is growing as well.

The mold is actively spreading from under Wally's house, leaving him to deal with the brunt of its influence on the world he lives in.

Just how it is in the Real World, it is in the World of Welcome Home. As above... so below. Like the spiral imagery both Wally and the WHRP crew keep sketching on little notes.

Now... here is the part where I explain in detail why I call this thing "black mold" -

I've had to deal with the influence of black mold on the human body personally... and too much of this haunting entity reminds me of it.

The way black mold grows out in webs and clusters... how it thrives in wet and dark places - something that 100% happened to the items that the WHRP crew got their hands on, because old things rarely get stored in a way that keeps them from receiving lasting damage, especially water damage-

-and what it does to the human brain. Auditory halucinations (the phone ringing to one of the WHRP folks), visual halucinations & nightmares (perhaps the same member recalling a nightmare (?) of them seeing Wally sit at the end of their bed with a phone that kept ringing), sneezing (it's what the moldy bolders of the "Staff Only" page are named too), coughing, nausea, migraines, troubles with breathing, flat-out fainting... and heavy memory issues.

Everything we have seen the WHRP crew deal with... or, at least the person who is writing the newsletter, who also seems to be the person who opened the parcel that started all this - is not just happening in the Real World either. It is happening in Home too.

Memory issues are something Wally himself is dealing with as well, as we can see from the Guest Book sketches he left us so far. He can't seem to remember his past with everyone else in Home, but at least he still remembers that he loves all of his friends dearly & thinks about them a lot, even if he can't reach them right now.

We can hear the difference in Wally's voice recordings as well. To me, there is such a noticable difference to how he sounds in the actual show recordings (when things were still okay™) compared to the soundbits we have gotten through the bugs.

In those, he sounds like breathing is hard for him and like his focus isn't entirely there. Which is something that can happen if you're spending too much time in an area with high humidity, even without mold. It's exhausting to deal with and I feel so sorry for Wally, because he can't physically leave Home right now.

... now, we could leave the horror at that. This is already a dire situation for everyone in-universe.

But... what if this has happened before? What if the mold has spread so far throughout the country (or even other parts of the world) by speading itself through merchandise? And, remember - handling just a bit of something infected with it makes you forget so much already... would forgetting the entire show existed be so out of place now?

It got so much attention and so much of itself out there in the few years so much merch was produced by the Marlow company...

And look at what we're doing now. The WHRP is powered by people with their hands stained with the mold... and we keep spreading it further and further.

With every sticker we get told on the homepage to put on our own homepages, with every fanart, with every type of creative project related that we share online in so many places...

Meanwhile, Wally and his friend have no control over any of it. What can a being made of fabric, locked away in a dark moldy place do? There is no sunshine to dry the mold out. All they can do is yearn to be let out into the light as they try living and surving as the mold is trying to fully taking hold of them.

(It also is interesting how the Sally's house in Home is the only one with lights still on inside too, while everyone else's is dark. Is symbolism of light enough to keep the mold away at least in the world of Welcome Home?)

In my & Dan's opinion, the black mold is using Wally and the others like the puppets they are, Wally especially, because he is the face of the whole project after all.

Perhaps it is even taking advantage of now unfortunately ongoing thing with "mascot horror" on the internet, by focusing so much on him, but that is admittedly a reach on my part.

A last fun thing (genuinely, I'm having so much fun with these horror theories) to think about in combination with this theory that it is mold that wants to spread through merchendise-

Well, the new Makeship plush would be quite the addition to the storytelling of this, wouldn't you think? :)

This is the best way I can explain Dan's and my theory, though I am sure I might've forgotten smaller bits that lead to us crafting this theory. I don't think I will talk more about it because I rather observe than make up things for "Welcome Home", but theorizing with friends is always fun!

Again, this theory is based only on a few things we have gotten shown through the site so far, there is still so much Clown and their team want to show us, so please do not take this theory too seriously!

I for one will be genuinely excited if I have to throw this theory out the window after the next update! I am simply here to enjoy a beautiful and haunting story made by so many skilled folks! :>

[auxiliarydetective]

Sanji/Cora/Zoro Fic Snippets, Part 2

More of the prompts that @starcrossedjedis sent me!

These are both a bit more on the shorter side, hope you don't mind! Also, I originally promised myself I was gonna do fluff only, but a little bit of hurt/comfort snuck into the second one ^^"

Enjoy!

💛 Reunion Kiss/Relief

Cora was leaning over the railing, waiting for Usopp to come back up with Sanji. Whatever had happened to Sanji over the last two years, it was concerning, to say the least.

“That idiot,” Zoro grumbled, coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

That was… new. Well, one of those things.

Cora chuckled. “You’re always so nice to him… Glad to know at least that hasn’t changed.”

Zoro spun her around in his arms, then placed a rough hand beneath her chin and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was oddly gentle, yet desperate at the same time, and all the while just as rough as Zoro’s kisses always were. It was the comfort that Cora had been yearning for for the last two years, mixed with the thrill of something new. When Zoro finally pulled away from her, she immediately missed the taste of his lips.

“Eager, are we?” she breathed.

“Can you blame me?” Zoro chuckled. “It’s been too fucking long.”

“It has.”

As if she were just a doll, Zoro easily scooped her up into his arms, letting her wrap her legs around his waist.

“There we go. Did you get smaller?”

“No, you idiot,” Cora laughed. “You got taller!”

“Did I?”

“Yeah! I’m wearing taller heels than usual and you’re still bigger than I remembered.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“You’ll get tired of looking up, so I get to carry you around more.”

Once again, Cora laughed, clinging on to Zoro so she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall. Not that he would ever let that happen. She let herself lean against him, running her fingers through his hair, trying to familiarize herself with every single detail about him again as quickly as possible. New freckles, new scars, the same shapes and colors she knew so well. The same but different. And she couldn’t wait to get to know him all over again.

True Love’s Kiss/Magic Kiss/Healed

Cora stood in front of her closet, going through her clothes. She was looking for some old clothes to improve on, an embroidery project for those long days at sea, for those nights spent out on night watch, whether voluntary or not. Clad in only her underwear, she flicked through the various clothes hangers, looking at one garment, trying on another… Finally, she picked out an old skirt, plain black and uneventful. One of the few items she had actually bought and not sewn herself. Perhaps… Swiftly, she put it on, spinning around once or twice, then walking over to her vanity table to grab a piece of chalk. Carefully, she started sketching patterns and lines onto the fabric.

That was until she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze got caught on those characteristic lines on her back, senseless and discolored, as if someone had dropped their sewing kit and the needles had gone everywhere. Some were bigger, some were smaller. Some still hurt sometimes.

Suddenly, she heard someone call her name, and there were steps in the room. In a hectic motion, she yanked one of her jackets out of the closet and swung it over her shoulders, covering her back. Then, she noticed who it was: Zoro and Sanji, probably there to have her settle an argument or a bet. Or both. Or being clingy. Maybe all three.

“God,” Cora gasped, “don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, princess,” Sanji apologized.

“The door was open,” Zoro just shrugged.

“Was it?” Cora sighed, sounding both annoyed and tired.

“Aren’t you supposed to cover your tits when people come in?” Zoro asked, causing Sanji to give him an annoyed stare.

“And since when do I care about covering my chest, huh?” Cora replied. “I’ve got some very pretty bras, why not show them off? Such a shame to be hiding them under shirts all the time.”

“But you’re still hiding your back?”

“… Touché.”

Typical Zoro. He always knew how to hit a nerve, but he had no idea how to do it gently. “Gentle” was more Sanji’s style. True to this, the blonde cook came up to hug Cora within seconds, gently running his fingers through her hair.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he whispered.

“Wounds on the back are a swordsman’s greatest shame,” Cora just mumbled.

“Don’t use my words against me, you got it?” Zoro growled, pulling the jacket off of Cora’s back. “You’re not a swordsman, you’ve told me that over and over. And that rule only applies in a situation where you’re in control. Where it’s fair. You didn’t even have a chance to fight.”

“Look, Cora,” Sanji mumbled, cupping her face with his hands as Zoro ran his fingers along the scars across her back. “How you got those scars doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. They healed. And we’re not going back there anymore. Never ever, you hear me? They’re never gonna find us, and if they do, we’ll be far away before they can even try to catch us. Alright?”

Cora nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Sanji smiled, giving her a gentle kiss.

“If any of those guys even try to get close to you, I’ll chop off their heads,” Zoro declared.

“I just wish I could’ve gotten out of there sooner,” Cora mumbled.

“You did what you could, and what’s done is done. Let them be assholes all they want, everyone’s gotta die one day.”

Cora hummed quietly, then a smile spread on her face. “Why did you come here anyway? Did you need anything?”

“That waiter claimed he was a better kisser than me,” Zoro grumbled.

“Really?”

“Because I am,” Sanji beamed. “Right, Cora? – It’s about the technique, not just shoving your tongue down someone’s throat.”

“You never seem to mind it when I do it to you,” Zoro chuckled. “And neither does Cora, by the way. Right, babygirl?”

“I, uh… I dunno,” Cora stammered. But then she smirked. “I’d need a direct comparison to know for sure.”

Immediately, there was a mischievous grin on both Zoro and Sanji’s faces.

“As you wish, madam,” Sanji purred.

Just then, Zoro picked Cora up from behind, causing her to let out a surprised shriek. Within few steps, he placed her down on her mattress. Both of the men crawled over her and started covering her in kisses, all the while trying to push each other away, throwing Cora into a giggling fit.

[middleearthpixie]

Better Days ~ Chapter Four (was Human Touch)

A/N - I changed the title because I think this fits better. Sorry for any confusion. 😁

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, new to the history department at the high school, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x ofc Elena Madison

Characters: Frerin, Flynn, Maura, Jake, Elena, Alyssa

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.9k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Frerin yanked off the black mock turtleneck he’d just pulled over his head and hurled it toward the hamper. Christ, it’d been two decades since he’d had to worry about making a good impression on a first date and he’d forgotten what a pain in the ass it could be. And while this wasn't his first date since he and Toni split up, it was the first one where he was this concerned about making a good impression. The last time he’d had to worry about it, he was a cocky nineteen year old more concerned with figuring out how to get into Toni Francetti’s jeans than he was with making a good impression. 

Of course, he found his way into those Guess jeans and ten months later, he then found himself newly married, staring down at his newborn son, wondering just how the hell he was going to finish college and support a family at the same time. Toni wasn't supposed to get pregnant. They’d only been out a couple of times and he was seeing a couple of other girls on campus as well, and neither one of them had said anything about being exclusive. Never mind being young and stupid. Young and stupid and drunk at a frat party when they got carried away. But, her family had money and her father made it clear to him that walking away was not an option. So, thanks to Toni’s family, he was able to finish college, and medical school, while she stayed home first with Flynn, and then with Maura, and then finally with Jake. 

He was far from a perfect husband. School, residency, working his way to an attending position meant time away from home, away from the family. He’d come very close to having an affair with a charge nurse, but stopped it before it went beyond a steamy kiss in the parking deck. He’d come clean to Toni and they tried to salvage their relationship, deciding to try for their third and final child, but in the end, it was Toni’s affair with a boy only slightly older than Flynn that delivered the final blow. 

He had to admit, it was for the best for all of them. The kids were adapting to their new lives and with far less tension in the house, they were all better for it. If he was absolutely honest with himself, he and Toni never should have gotten married in the first place. They were too young. Too selfish. Too immature. 

Of course, at the same time, he wouldn’t trade those kids for anything. 

He sighed as he tugged open the door to the walk-in closet and flipped the light switch. The closet ran the length of the bedroom, and was almost a room in itself. When Toni still lived there, they divided it half but since she’d moved out, he’d taken it over and had more space than he really knew what to do with. Suits and trousers and shoes were on one side, more casual clothes on the other. He peered out the window overlooking the front yard to see it was snowing lightly. Maybe they’d have a white Christmas. It’d be the first one in years. He and Flynn spent the previous weekend putting out the Christmas lights, while Maura and Jake took care of decorating inside the house. They did their Christmas baking last weekend and they would spend Christmas Eve with him, but Christmas Day with their mother and he didn't want to think about that. It wasn't the first Christmas he wouldn’t see them, after all when he was an intern and then a resident, his schedule included nights, weekends, holidays. Now that he ran the department, he had a bit more say in his schedule, but he also made sure he pulled his fair share of crappy shifts along with the other docs on his service.

Frerin frowned as he flipped through the rack of button down shirts, then moved to the stack of cubes where he kept tee shirts and long-sleeved shirts neatly folded. He chose a black henley and tugged it over his head, then moved to the mirror in the middle of the closet. Better than the mock turtleneck by far. Why did he even still have those stupid mock turtlenecks? He never wore them. Toni’s mother bought them every Christmas for him and they remained folded and unworn all year long. 

He flipped off the light as he left the closet and closed the door behind him, then moved to the chair under the dormer window in the far corner to pull on his favorite pair of shoes—brown Doc Martens Crazy Horse boots. 

The kids were in the family room, and he paused in the doorway and just watched them—Flynn and Maura were watching The Mandalorian, Jake was doing his homework. “Okay, guys, behave. I’m heading out. Jake, Maur, Flynn’s in charge and don't give him any trouble.”

As Flynn offered up a smug smile, Frerin was quick to add, “And no abusing your power, or else I put Jake in charge next time.”

“Nice,” Jake said, offering up his best impression of an evil smile.

Maura looked over her shoulder at him. “Have fun on your date, Dad. Be careful.”

“It’s just dinner, I doubt I’m in any danger.”

“Still, be careful.”

“I will, Mom.”

That earned him a smile and she turned back to the television. “Have fun.”

“I will. I won’t be too late and I’ve got my cell on.” He lifted his jacket up from where it lay across the back of the sofa. “Jake, bed by nine.”

“Dad, can’t I stay up a little later?”

“No. Bed by nine.”

“Man…”

“I’ll see you guys later. Like I said, I won’t be too late.”

“Don't hurry on account of us,” Flynn told him with utter seriousness, “especially if she’s cute.”

“That’s enough.”

“He’s right, Dad. You have our permission to have fun.”

“What kind of fun can they have over dinner?” Jake asked.

“You��d be amazed,” Maura told him.

“Enough.” Frerin dug his keys from the jacket pocket, and moved to the front door. As he pulled the door shut behind him, it was as Jake was asking one of them to explain what kind of fun they meant.

A sigh touched his lips as he walked down to his car. In the year since he and Toni separated, Maura and Flynn seemed okay with the few dates he went on, but this was the first Jake really paid any attention to it. And while he’d been out a few times over the course of the last year, he hadn’t slept with any of the women he’d dated, and he had no intentions of bringing any women home to spend the night unless there was actually a possible future, and since that was something he was not looking for right now…

He sank into the leather seat and turned over the engine, then got the heat going. As he backed down the wide drive, he tried not think about how quiet the house would be in the coming days. He didn't like it when the kids were at their mother’s, when the house was too quiet for his liking. He and Toni had worked out visitation with only a little fighting, and while they’d been doing this since the summer, Frerin still wasn’t used to the silence that came with an empty house.

The only good thing was he’d be able to get his Christmas shopping done before his shift began Saturday. Of course, that meant he’d have to wrap everything, which he did not look forward to doing. He sucked at it and as a result, Toni usually wrapped everything but her own gifts. 

“I’ll worry about that Saturday,” he muttered as he eased to a stop at the end of their street and peered into the mirror. He scowled, raked his fingers through the dark hair that would be curly if only he’d let it. That was how he knew when he needed a hair cut, when it refused to lay in any way that wasn't bushy. “I should do like Thorin and just let it grow out.”

He was just pulling into traffic when his cell rang. Leda. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bug you, Frerin,” she said. “And I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, but Andrea’s temp has gone up.”

He shifted into Drive. “What’s it gone up to?”

“One-oh-one and she’s really cranky.”

“She’s most likely uncomfortable from the fever. Have you given her anything?”

“Some Tylenol about half an hour ago.”

“Give it some time to work. Do you want me to come by and take a look at her?”

Leda hesitated. “Are you home?”

“On my way out, but it’s no problem to swing by.”

“Are you on call tonight?”

“No. Believe it or not, I’ve got a date.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Yeah. But, she’ll probably understand if I call and tell her I’ll be a little late.”

“No, God, don't do that. I’ll give it another half hour or so and try her temp again.”

“Leda, it’s not a problem if—”

“No, Frerin, please don't change your plans. I know I’m just being a nervous mom, but—”

“Leda, it really won’t be a big deal. If it’ll give you some peace of mind, I’ll call Elena and tell her I’ll be a little late. She’s a mom herself. She’ll understand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

“Leda.”

“Bye, Frerin.”

He grinned as the call disconnected and he pulled up Elena’s number, smiling as she said, “Hello?”

“Hi, Elena, it’s Frerin. Durin.”

“I know it’s you,” a smile came through in her voice, “your name comes up with your number, remember. What’s up?”

“Uh, I’m going to be a little late. My sister-in-law, the one with the twins, just called. Her daughter’s temperature’s gone up again so I told her I’d stop by. I know you were planing dinner for six, so if you want to do this another night, I’d understand.”

“I’ll keep a plate warmed for you.” She hesitated, then added, “Unless you’d rather do this another night.”

“Whichever is easiest for you. I don't usually do house calls, but it’s my brother’s kids, so—”

“No, you don't have to explain. Family comes first.” She cleared her throat. “So, if you still want to come by—”

“I do, Elena. It shouldn’t take me long.”

“Okay. Then swing by when you’re done. Unless it’s really late, that is.”

“It shouldn’t be. But, what do you consider really late?”

“Eleven?”

He grinned. “I won’t be that late. I promise you that. I’ll let you know if anything changes, but I think my niece just has a cold.”

“Take your time. Chicken isn’t going anywhere.”

“I’ll call you when I’m leaving Thorin’s, okay?”

“Sounds good. See you later, then.”

“You will.”

 She clicked off and he drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel as he made a left onto Willoughby and headed out toward Route Seven. Thorin and Leda lived on the northwestern side of Sidleburg, in a dark gray Victorian with Pacific blue trim on three acres of land. A silver Honda Accord and a white Jeep Grand Cherokee sat in the driveway, with Thorin’s antique Mustang most likely in the detached garage, and he eased to a stop behind the Jeep. Snow began falling as he climbed out and made his way up to the wide, wraparound porch. 

Leda must have been watching for him, for the door opened before he could even reach for the doorbell. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, with dark circles smudging beneath them. She wore no makeup and her long blonde hair looked like she had a permanent case of bedhead. “Hey, Frerin, thank you so much.”

“No problem, Leda.” He stomped the snow from his boots before stepping over the threshold. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh… what day is it?”

“Leda.”

“I know,” she rubbed her face with both hands, then lowered them to add, “but Thorin’s got his hands full with the Dunraven and neither James nor Andrea is sleeping much, so…”

“I told her I can handle it,” Thorin thumped into the room, his screaming son in his arms, “but she’s fucking stubborn.”

“Thorin,” Leda spun around to glare at him, “that doesn’t help anything.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, gently bouncing James against his shoulder. “Neither does you being a zombie, Leda.”

“I am fine!”

“Okay, guys, don’t start fighting just yet. Let me take a look, okay?” Frerin cleared his throat as he reached for James. “Hey, little man, shhh… giving Mom and Dad a hard time?”

The baby let out a cry as Frerin laid his hand across James’ forehead. “He’s warm. What was his temp last time you took it?”

Thorin rubbed his forehead. “Uh… just below a hundred, I think.”

“Have you given him anything?”

Another shrill cry rang out, this one from the living room to his right and Leda tripped over her own two feet as she went to fetch Andrea. 

“Thorin?”

“No. Not yet.” Like his wife, Thorin’s eyes were ringed with bruise like smudged and his forehead furrowed as if thinking was hard to do. “I’m sorry, Frer. I’m so fucking tired, I can’t even see straight right now.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling well.” Frerin sighed. “Get the Tylenol and let’s give him some and see if that helps.”

“I thought fevers were good?”

“They are. It means their immune systems are working, but they’re miserable, Thorin. There’s no reason for any of you to suffer if none of you has to. Give them the Tylenol and hopefully they’ll sleep. And you and Leda both need to get some sleep as well.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don't already know,” Thorin growled as he thumped toward the kitchen. “How did you do this and get through med school and residency? How do you work those shifts still?”

“Toni took care of the kids when I was a resident and now? I’m used to it, more or less. And trust me, it will get easier. Sooner than you think and faster than you can imagine.” Frerin smoothed a hand over James’ hair, which was thicker and even blacker than his sister’s. The baby quieted against him, while his sister’s screams made up for it, and Leda looked ready to cry as she came back into the family room. 

Two pack’n plays were set up by the sofa, and Frerin carefully set James into the first one, then turned to Leda. “Let me see her, Leda.”

“She feels even hotter now,” Leda told him, rubbing one eye after he took Andrea from her. “Maybe we should just take her back to the ER.”

“Let me see first, okay?” He moved to the sofa to set Andrea on one of the cushions and unbuttoned her fleece sleeper. Andrea began fussing again, shoving a fist in her mouth to chew on. “Shhh, mimûna,” he whispered, laying his hand against her forehead, “You need to let Mommy and Daddy get some rest, too, honey.”

She let out another cry and Leda sank onto the cushion above Andrea’s head. “Shhh… baby… please stop crying…”

Andrea quieted for a moment as Frerin looked her over. “Get me the thermometer, please?” he said without looking up.

“Sure.”

“I got it.” Thorin came back into the room with a tympanic thermometer. He handed it to Frerin. “It’s got the little ear condom on it already."

“Thanks.” Frerin took the thermometer and gently slid it into Andrea’s right ear. She squirmed slightly, but then the thermometer beeped, so he eased it back out. “She’s at ninety-nine, Leda.”

Relief swept across her face as she sank against the arm of the sofa. “So, why won’t she stop crying?”

“When did she eat last?”

“About half an hour ago.” 

“She might have reflux. It’s fairly common in babies her age. Are you still nursing?”

She shook her head. “No. It was killing me, Frerin. We put them on formula a few weeks ago.”

“You might have to switch it up, try a few different ones and see if that helps.” He refastened Andrea’s sleeper and scooped her up to rest against his shoulder. She snuggled up against him, with a soft, tired sigh, and continued chewing on her fist. “In the meantime, I can give you a prescription for something, but honestly? I’d try an over the counter gas reliever like Mylicon first.”

“I can just get this at the store?” Leda asked.

“Yeah. It should be with the children’s cold medicine and cough syrup and the like.”

Thorin sighed. “I’ll go pick some up.”

“It should help. If not, let me know and I’ll write you the scrip.”

Leda let out a long sigh as Thorin clumped into the kitchen and grabbed his car keys. The kitchen door opened, then closed and a few minutes later, the Accord purred to life. 

“I’m so sorry I pulled you away from your date,” Leda told him, rubbing her eyes once more. 

“It’s okay. She understood.” He carefully got to his feet to rock Andrea gently as she cooed and gnawed away on her fist. “She’s got a kid herself, so she knows.”

“Tell me about her.”

He grinned. “There isn’t much to tell, Leda. I met her the other night in the ER and—”

“You dirty dog,” Leda let out a laugh, “you hit on a patient?”

“No. I’m not a grown-up doctor, remember? My patients are all under eighteen and I don't hit on any of them.”

“So, a sick kid’s mother? I’m not sure that’s better, Frer.”

“I didn’t hit on her in the ER. I just met her there. Remember the woman who came in to ask me about the discharge papers? The one you told me to hit on.”

“Oh, so you did take my advice. Then it’s all good.”

“I sort of took it. I didn't hit on her in the ER, though. I actually hit on her in the gym, instead. Her daughter is down with the flu, and she invited me over for dinner.” He smoothed his hand along Andrea’s back as she drifted to sleep. “And when I told her what was going on with these little ones, she understood.”

“Still… she’s the first one since you and Toni split up, isn’t she?”

“No,” he moved to the other pack n’ play and bent to carefully set Andrea in it, offering up a silent prayer that she remained asleep, “I’ve been out a few times, but they never amounted to anything.”

“Why?”

“I just… I’m not really looking for anything serious and most of the women I’ve met so far are hearing wedding bells instead of the restaurant’s daily specials.” He moved back to the sofa and sank onto the cushion on the far end opposite her. 

“At least tell me you’re getting hot sex out of it.”

He couldn't hold back his laugh. “I wish.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not?”

“I’m not. And that’s okay, because I haven’t really been looking for that, either.”

“What?”

“I know, Thorin thinks I’m nuts, too. But to be honest, I don't have the time, Leda. Between work and the kids and boring-ass dates with women who don't really do it for me? Sex has fallen pretty low on the list of priorities.”

“It’ll happen again. Maybe with this new woman.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He raked his hand through his hair. “But if not, I don't even think I’d care a whole lot right now. I’ve got enough going on and this is only dinner. I’m not thinking much past it right now.”

Leda glanced over at the fireplace. “What time were you meeting her?”

“She’s cooking for me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s not cooking for me. She was making dinner and just invited me to join her and her daughter.”

“Wait, she is cooking for you and you stood her up? Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “She isn’t cooking forme, Leed. And she understood.”

“Oh, Christ, Frerin, get out of my house and go have dinner. Thorin will be back in a few minutes and they’re both asleep, so get out while you can.”

“You sure, Leda? I can wait until he comes home.”

“Yes!” She laughed as she nodded. “I’m very sure. Go.”

He smiled as he rose from the sofa. “Call me if either one of them spikes another fever, okay, Leda? Don't worry about what time it is or where I am. If you need me, call me.”

“I will. Now, go.”

“What time is Dr. Hottie supposed to be here?”

Elena shot Alyssa a look. “I thought you weren’t going to call him that?”

“I said I wouldn’t to his face. And I won’t.” Alyssa didn't look the least bit contrite as she pushed her chicken around on her plate. “But, what time?

“He was supposed to be here for six, but his niece is sick and he was making a house call.”

“Mom, how cool would it be if you and Dr. Hottie got married? I’d never have to go to a doctor’s office again.”

Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay, first off, Dr. Hottie and I are not getting married. We haven’t even gone out yet and I’m not looking for a husband, besides. I had one of those, remember?”

“Dad is an ass. It doesn’t count.”

“Watch your mouth, Alyssa, and whether or not he is an ass is immaterial. I’m still not looking to get back into any serious relationship right now. I’m fine with this—” She gestured between them. “And even if, by some crazy twist, I did end up with Dr. Hot—Durin, you would still have to go to the doctor’s office because you’re almost old enough to no longer see a pediatrician if you really didn't want to, not to mention, it would probably be weirdly uncomfortable for both of you and I can’t imagine he would be willing to treat you as a patient anyway.”

“Yeah,” Alyssa’s nose wrinkled, “it wouldn’t be cool to have to get undressed in front of my stepdad. Or,” she amended as Elena shot her a look, “my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly. Even if your father was a doctor, he wouldn’t treat you, most likely.”

Alyssa set down her fork. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just not that hungry. I kind of want to just to back to bed.”

Elena bit back a smile. Alyssa did look utterly exhausted, her face still pale and her eyes still on the heavy-lidded and sunken side, with faint purplish smudges ringed beneath them. “Okay. Go get into bed. Do you want some tea or hot cocoa?”

“Maybe some tea?”

“Okay. Go get settled and I’ll bring you some.”

“Okay.” 

Alyssa pushed her chair away from the table and made her way down the hallway to her room. Elena remained where she was for a minute, just staring at the empty chair in the tiny dining room that was really more alcove than room. It was a far cry from the five-bedroom beach house where Alyssa had spent her first thirteen years. The two-bedroom, first floor apartment was a fraction of the size of that house, and yet they’d both adjusted with relative ease. It was amazing, how the absence of constant friction, of constant tension, and of frequent fighting rendered the size of the living space perfect. Elena found she didn't jump at creaking floorboards the way she used to, she didn't hear a car drive by and have her stomach twist into knots. She didn't have to worry about strange voice mails or why Dan was suddenly so protective of his phone. 

From where she sat, she could see the microwave on the counter beneath the cabinet that held their plates and bowls. It was nearly eight o’clock. Hopefully, Frerin’s niece was all right. Unless, of course, the niece was a ruse to get out of seeing her. That made her wince. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy lied to get out of seeing her, but she usually made it past a first date before being stood up.

Then the doorbell rang and a hint of shame swept through her. Not all men were Dan. She had to unlearn all of the self-preservation tactics being with him had left her with. 

She stood and made her way to the front door, smiling as she peered through the peephole to see Frerin on the other side. She’d forgotten how cute he was, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, her belly felt alive with butterflies as she unlatched the chain, flipped the deadbolt and tugged open the door. 

He jumped, but then smiled. “I know I’m really late,” he said by way of greeting, holding up a narrow paper bag, “but I brought wine so I hope that scores me a few points.”

“You’re late, but a sick baby is a perfectly good reason,” she pulled the door open wider, “and wine helps.”

“Good. I hope chardonnay works for you. Or did I just lose those points?”

“Chardonnay is fine, but the chicken might be a little cold.”

“Cold chicken is good.”

“Come on in.”

He stepped into the apartment as she said, “How is your niece?”

“She has a cold and probably reflux. She’ll be fine in time.” Frerin shrugged out of his black leather bomber jacket and draped it over his forearm. “Her parents might not survive it, though. Neither one of them is sleeping much and I’ve never been so thankful I didn't have twins.”

“That’s got to be rough on them, especially if they’re both sick. Here,” she reached for his jacket, “let me take that.”

She moved to the closet, pulling the door open as he said, “Yeah, their kids are not quite six months old, teething, and sick. The first year is always the roughest when it’s one baby. But two? No, thanks.”

“Right?” The jacket was heavier than it looked, and as she slid it onto a hanger, a softly spicy scent wafted from it. Frerin’s cologne, most likely. She couldn’t place the scent, but it was a nice one, whatever it was. 

“How’s Alyssa feeling?”

Elena closed the closet door and gestured for him to come into the dining room. “She’s feeling better, but tired.”

“Yeah, the flu knocks you for a loop, even kids.” 

“Sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.”

“Elena, just point me in the right direction and I’ll fix it myself. Sit down, have a glass of wine. You don’t need to wait on me.”

She smiled. “It’s only a plate.”

“I know.” He winked. “I can manage.”

“Okay. Then manage.”

“I will.” 

“Would you like a glass?” She held up the bottle of chardonnay.

“I’d love one.”

She retrieved the corkscrew and two glasses, then came back to pop open the wine and poured it into both glasses. Then, she sank back into her chair and watched him fix a plate from the dishes on the table, then went into the kitchen. “Where do you keep your waxed paper?”

“Top drawer underneath the microwave.” 

“Got it.”

A few minutes later, he settled in Alyssa’s chair. “See? I managed.”

Elena stiffened at the steam curling away from the potatoes and chicken on his plate. “Oh, damn… I told Alyssa I’d bring her a cup of tea. Excuse me a minute.”

“No problem.” He speared a bite of chicken. “I’ll be right here.”

She hurried back into the kitchen to set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner, then came back to her chair. He smiled, lowering his fork. “This is delicious, Elena.”

“It’s just a roast chicken.”

“Yeah, but I do most of the cooking now and I am not a good cook by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Are your kids starving?”

“Jake might be.”

“How many do you have?”

“Three. Two boys, with a girl sandwiched between them. My daughter and Alyssa are in math class together. My oldest is a senior and my youngest is in the fifth grade over at the intermediate school.”

“Are you a weekend dad or full time?”

“Full time.” He lifted his wineglass for a sip. “My soon-to-be ex-wife gets them every other weekend for now.”

“For now?”

He lowered the glass, and sighed softly. “Our divorce is dragging out. She’s fighting me for custody. She should only know how I have to insist they go with her on her weekends.”

“How long have you been fighting over them?”

“Since day one.” He traced his finger along the glass’ stem. “They don't want to live with her. They’re in the house where they grew up and they’re old enough where I think a judge will ask them as well. But, Toni is stubborn, so…”

Elena didn't miss the way his jaw tightened with his words, the darkness that seemed to come to his eyes with them. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing earth-shattering. Married too young. Kids too soon. We kidded ourselves we could work out all of the problems, but that was a lie, and then she had an affair. With a kid only a few years older than our son.”

Elena didn't know how to respond to that. What could she say? He said it bluntly, with almost no emotion in his voice, but at the same time, it hit her far harder. “What?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his bearded chin with one hand, then lowered it to reach of his wineglass. “She was a stay at home mom until about two years ago. Then she decided she wanted to go back to school and finish her degree. Like I said, we got married way too young, and Flynn came only a few months after our wedding, so she didn't get the chance to finish college. The kids were old enough and I thought it was a great idea, so she went back. Then she gets paired up with this kid as her lab partner and the next thing I know…”

“An affair.”

“Yeah.” He met her gaze then, and offered up a humorless smile. “The kid’s younger brother was in school with Flynn. On the baseball team with him.”

Elena pressed her lips together at the soft words, at the pain that flashed in Frerin’s blue-gray eyes. “I can guess what happened,” she said softly.

“You’d probably be right. Flynn defended his mother and nearly found himself off the team as well.”

“Nearly?”

“Yeah. He got a two-day suspension, but the coach knows him, and knew what happened and let him stay on the team. It was a mess, but it’s all behind us now, thank Mahal. He’s doing a lot better than he was last spring.” He lifted the wineglass, took a sip, and lowered it to add, “And that’s a lot to drop on you and I’m sorry. You can just kick me under the table to shut me up.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said with a smile, shaking her head. “I appreciate the honestly. Too many guys would be all she’s crazy and fucked up and any other excuse they can offer to make themselves look good.”

He paused his chewing and just stared and for a moment, Elena wondered if she’d said too much. Then, he swallowed and with a shake of his head, said, “So, I shouldn’t tell you how you’re not like other women, then?”

“Only if you want me to toss out of my apartment.”

He smiled then. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The kettle began whistling, so she said, “Excuse me,” and went to switch off the burner under the kettle and moved to grab the box of tea bags from the overhead cabinet. She set one in the cup she’d taken out for Alyssa and poured boiling water into it.

As she waited for it to steep, Frerin came into the kitchen, plate in hand. “I didn't freak you out, did I? I mean, I know my sad life story is really fascinating and all, but you didn't need me unloading like that.”

“It was fine,” she told him, leaning back against the counter. “And it’s not unloading. I asked because I wanted to know.”

“Yeah, but still…”

“No, no but still.” She smiled up at him as she took the tea bag from the cup with one hand and reached for the bear-shaped bottle of honey with the other. “I did want to know. And I’d like to know more about you.”

“More? Like what else?”

“Well, how long have you been a doctor? How long have you been at the hospital? What do you do when you’re not putting worried moms’ minds at ease with your incredible bedside manner?”

He chuckled. “I graduated med school ten years ago. Finished up my residency and boarded five years ago and I’ve been at the hospital for the entire time. I matched there out of med school, and they offered me my current position two years ago.”

“And what is your current position?”

“I run the pediatric department. So, when I’m not covering the ER or putting worried moms’ minds at ease, I’m stuck in budget meetings and buried under paperwork.”

“Poor Dr. Durin.”

“Hey, you should see what my in box looks like. I’m lucky I get out of my office alive some times.”

As he spoke he stepped closer, looming over her, all broad shoulders and wide chest. He was almost a foot taller than her, and seemed to block out the light from that single overhead fixture. 

“It’s a good thing you’re surrounded by doctors then, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded, bending toward her. “It is. At times.”

He hesitated, but then leaned closer still. Her heart sped up, a thousand butterflies going wild in her stomach at the thought of his kissing her.��

His lips were soft, his kiss gentle, and as he eased an arm about her waist, she did the same about his neck, and let her fingers creep up into his soft, wavy hair. His hand splayed across the small of her back, heat from his palm seeping into her as his lips parted, as his tongue eased between her lips to slick slowly along hers. 

His beard scratched lightly against her skin. The arm about her waist tightened, the edge of the counter bit into her hip as he pressed her up against it. For the first time in well over a year, Elena’s body hummed with desire, her fingers twisted of their own into his hair, her back bowed and as her breasts pressed firmly into his broad chest, she didn't miss the way his breath hitched. His kiss deepened further, his tongue tangling with hers now, slow and thick and teasing, and the hand on her back slid down over her left butt cheek to cup it and gently kneaded it. 

“Mom?”

Frerin pulled away, somewhat breathless as he nuzzled her and whispered, “The tea…”

Her head spun from the fire in that one kiss, the one that left her breathless as well, with a delicious heat swirling through her. Her face was warm as she cleared her throat and whispered, “I should probably take that to Alyssa.”

He drew back, his eyes heavy-lidded, his grin on the boyish side. “Probably.”

“I’ll—I’ll be right back.” She slowly pulled away from him, reaching for the mug with one hand, drawing her index finger along her bottom lip with the other. It had been a lifetime since anyone kissed her with that much fire, that much passion, and a hint of shyness swirled through her as she moved to the doorway. There, she paused, and smiled as he turned toward the sink and with a light whistle on his lips, ran hot water into the sink, then tackled the dishes in the basin. 

“Where do you keep your dishtowels?” he asked, smiling at her over his left shoulder.

“The bottom drawer on your right. But, you really don't have—”

He winked. “Alyssa’s tea is going to be cold.”

She smiled back at him. “Well, far be it from me to stop you washing dishes.”

“They’re in good hands. Trust me.”

She ducked her head and made her way down to Alyssa’s room, which was dark except for the glow of the television on her tall dresser. “Did you get lost, Mom?”

“Funny. No, I didn’t. I had to let it steep, remember.”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. “Why do I not believe that?”

“Lyss.”

“Okay, okay. You were letting it steep.” She sat up and flipped on the lamp on her bedside table. “Did Dr. Durin make it or are you still waiting for him?”

“No, he’s here. He’s doing the dishes.”

“What? What guy does dishes willingly?” Alyssa took the mug and sipped, then added, “Aside from one who’d probably hoping for a good night kiss.”

“Lyssa.”

“What? You should totally kiss him, Mom. I bet it feels weird because he’s got a beard.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone with a beard before.”

“Well, maybe tonight you’ll find out.”

Elena smiled as she smoothed the comforter across Alyssa’s lap. “Don’t you be worrying about that. You try to get some sleep.”

“I will, Mom.” 

She took another sip of tea, then her expression grew serious—serious enough that Elena said, “What is it, Lyssa?”

“Well, I think you should let him kiss you. Then you can tell me if it’s scratchy and weird or not.”

“Why do you need to know this?”

“A few of the boys at school have beards, like Grayson Markham, and I don't think I’d mind it if he kissed me, but I think it would feel weird.”

Elena bit back a sigh. Her mother always described Alyssa as an old soul and more often than not, Elena agreed. However… “You’re not even fourteen years, honey. You should be thinking about school and homework, not kissing boys with beards. And how old is this boy, anyway?”

“He’s a junior. He just got his license on Monday.” Alyssa sighed softly. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s got a girlfriend and even if he didn’t, he doesn’t know I’m alive.”

Thank God for small favors. But, of course, she could say that out loud, so Elena patted her through the covers. “Your time will come, honey. I promise you. Don’t be in such a hurry.”

“I know, but still…”

Elena smiled as she bent over to kiss the top of Alyssa’s head. “I know. Thirteen is a tough age. But, you’ll be grown up before you know it and I’m not at all ready for that, so let’s not hurry it along, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. You should get back to Dr. Hottie. He’s probably wondering if you’re ditching him.”

“In my own home?”

“You never know.”

Elena ruffled her hair. “I’ll come check on you in a little while. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I will.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Elena flipped off the light and after a last look in over her shoulder, left the room, pulling the door by as she did. As she rounded the corner of the kitchen doorway, she smiled at the sight of Frerin stacking the clean plates in the cabinet. 

Dr. Hottie, indeed. 

“Tell me I’m not putting things in the wrong place,” he said without turning around. 

“No, you’re fine.”

“Good. My former mother-in-law used to move things in my kitchen—would put them where she thought they should be instead of where we actually kept them, and it drove me insane.” He closed the cabinet and turned toward her, leaning back against the counter. “So, if I did that, please yell at me.”

“I’m still deciding where things should go, so I don't think there really is a wrong spot just yet.” 

“Even so. Tell me, okay?” 

“I will.”

“So,” he draped the towel over his shoulder as he towered over her, “I was thinking we should go out sometime, Elena. You free Sunday night? I know it’s a weird date night and ordinarily, I’d suggest something on Friday, but I’ve to work Friday.”

“I’m free most nights, so Sunday would be fine. It just can’t be too late, since I have to work on Monday.”

He smiled as he dried his hands on the towel. “Sunday it is. Dinner? Movie?”

“What’s playing?”

“I have no idea. I don't even remember the last time I was in a movie theatre.”

“Me, neither, so why don’t we skip the movie and just do dinner then?”

“Dinner sounds good to me.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Dinner it is.”

“Good.” His eyes glittered in the soft glow of the single overhead light. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“No, I’m sure.” 

“Okay, so do you need to get home or do you want to maybe see what’s on television?”

“If you’re not throwing me out, I’ve got no where else to be.” He folded the dishtowel and laid it on the counter. “Do you watch The Walking Dead?”

“I thought that was on Sunday nights?”

“It is, and that’s why God invented On-Demand.”

“Oh, is that why?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. So, do you watch it?”

“No, but if you don’t mind my asking questions, I’m game.”

“I don't mind.”

“Then I’m game.”