#leveret

[claypigeonpottery]

I had to use this quote and I had to include a baby hare because they look so daunted by the complexities and unknowns

just like meeeeee

[maureen2musings]

Baby snowshoe hare

@denalinps

[artofmaquenda]

From Stardust to Stardust - Hare

One of my favorite versions, the tiny leverets 🥹💗

Tapestries are available! Number 96 (with many species variations) https://artofmaquenda.etsy.com/listing/1402940378

And posters: https://artofmaquenda.etsy.com/listing/714985107

[marysmirages]

Summer night over the hills (Hare Family) 2023

[wild-at-mind]

Don’t think I ever uploaded this one, from 2020- brown hare and leverets, brush pen. I’ve never seen a leveret myself so this is reference along with a bit of stylistic license.

[dumb-ass-ferret]

Misilanious drawings from a few months ago

[stereotype-orange]

drew a place from a dream and dumped my gremlins in there

[fleroslagomorphcorner]

lagomorphs day 524: even more leverets

[lotitheism]

LOTITHEISM ! ! !

name || chariot other || 18 year old author, artist and bug enthusiast.

AMAZING ICON BY @bettertwin9000 !!!! DM/askbox for specific tw tags. i'm typically pretty mindful about it, but if i miss stuff or you need something tagged PLEASE let me know.

commissions

all follows, likes, etc will be from @charipoda. reblogs are pretty random from me and they usually end up over there.

ASKBOX INFORMATION [OPEN]

[status]: IFFY. COLLEGE IN SESSION. [x] : doodle requests [v] : questions/conversation about my personal works. [v] : talk to me! ask me things! send me cool bugs! [-] : pms are generally very tentative. go ahead and message me if you want to though

STUFF TO KEEP IN MIND

you can use my art as your icon as long as there is VISIBLE CREDIT to me, preferably with a link.

please don't keep messaging me or sending me asks if i don't answer. i'm not obligated to answer everything and i only have so many hours in a day where i'm awake enough to function.

talking to me on @charipoda has a very likely chance of getting you ignored or blocked depending on what you're contacting me for. if we're not already friends, please route all communication here.

i don’t take art requests, stop asking me.

IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE REAL LIFE INSECTS ON YOUR DASH BLOCK THE TAG “bugs” !!! BLOCK “spiders” , "arachnids" AND “arthropods” TOO FOR GOOD MEASURE - i tend to tag them separately for accuracy & filtering reasons!

tags for sorting & filtering reasons

#Leveret - talking. #Pieces - art tag; finished/rendered work. #Fragments - art tag; works in progress & smaller work. #Star-Eater - self explanatory. ↳ Specific characters tagged under their name. ↳ Specific books under their titles. (Also applicable to series.) #Minstrel - writing tag. lesser used.

Other likely worthwhile links: artfight

FAQ BELOW THE CUT

Q: WHAT IS STAR-EATER? A: a long-running project of mine that takes the shape of novels, typically.

Q: WHEN WILL STAR-EATER RELEASE? A: i've no clue. Hopefully sometime about 2025, if i miraculously land a publisher in swift time.

Q: WHERE ARE YOUR CHARACTER REFERENCES?

A: character references are unavailable at the moment, apologies.

Q: HOW FAR ALONG IS THE MANUSCRIPT?

A: heavy revisionary process prior to submitting it to an agent.

Q: CAN I MAKE ART/WRITING/HEADCANONS ETC?

A: go for it. I'd actually like to be tagged or shown anything revolving around my work - so long as it isn't. Weird.

Q: WHY DON’T YOU HAVE MORE NOTES/POSTS ETC?

A: tumblr Really likes to shadowban me + i’m perpetually tired + i don’t really feel like constantly posting my life everywhere.

Q: WHERE DID THE FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS OF STAR-EATER GO?

A: they wound up being deleted primarily to give me a better shot with traditional publishing, as publishers don't tend to like it when stories are already published somewhere - even in part. Some of it changed from those chapters, anyhow.

Q: DRAW MORE OF [THING]!

A: no.

Q: ARE YOU EVER GOING TO DRAW FOR RAIN WORLD AGAIN?

A: maybe, maybe not. depends. Bugerator au won’t be continued as i’m too busy to really think about it.

Q: WHAT'S YOUR OPINION ON [THING]?

A: nine times out of ten if i'm not either actively denouncing or praising it i don't really care. This is the internet. Do whatever the hell you want - my opinion should not influence yours.

Q: BUT [THING] IS BAD/GOOD!!!

A: hey so i am a real human being capable of my own thoughts and opinions of things and also with the self-awareness to know what's morally Not Good. i am also a real human being capable of not relying on others to tell me what my opinion should be. i'll make my own opinion of what's good/bad, thanks

FAQ will extend the more times i get asked a question.

[bitter1stuff]

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable

TODAY'S ENTRY: Leveret

[claypigeonpottery]

sold

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

Pureform Ļ̵̢̢̨̧̡̧̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͉̝͍̺̻͓̭̞͚͔̰̗͇̺̤͙̱̤͓̼̬̱̰͔͕̫̯̘͓̳̼͈̝͚͇͙̯̳̥̝͇̝̱̱̫͕̣̼̮̹̦̠͚̭͉̤̝͈̲̰̝͔̬̗̦͙̤̗̖̱̥̪͚͈͚̬͕͈͇̙͙̳͚͎̟̮̝̬̩̹̞̱̱̻̏̎́̄̆͋͂͂͐̔̆̾͌̂͐̏̀̋͌́̊͊͋͊̀̏̎͌͑̍̾̍͑̀̇̂̎̃̈́͊̉̐͂͆͋͑̈́͋̽̋͐̀͊͑̽̀̎́̅̎̅̆́͑͑̉̉̑̃͋̾̒̓͆͗͐͂̉̎͂̆̓̋́̍͑͗̎̔̊̄͊͂̒́̀̇̈͆̎̉͐͋̌̀̇͒̉̅̂̀͗̃̊̄̀͆͑̔̈̌̊͊̂̐̊̀̈́̓̏̒̀̊̔̎̔͐͊̇̎̀̃̏̽̌̋̌̿̇̂͘̕̚͘͘̚̕͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ��̨̡̞̙̜͕̯̦͇̹͓̤̭̬̟̦̙͔̩̮̲̱ę̴̨̡̧̧̡̨̡̡̡̡̧̡̨̨̡̢̡̨̨̨̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̬̗̟̼͙̼̝̭̤̜̞̬̻̤̤̜̙͖͚͉͉̼̖͚̰̱̦͓̩̪͓͎̪͉̰̹̖̼͕̺͚͚͎̹̫͔̥̙͙͈͍̮͔͕̞̟̥̖̣̩̭̪̮̹͍̩̭̘͉̗͎̖̻̗͕͈͍̱͍̼̬̱̩̬̞̫̯̱̦͉̱̼͇͇̱̘̞̜̳̞̦͕̫̰̮͙̫͔͔͎͍̯̭̟͇̱̪̝͖͔͖̠͎̗̟̞̪̪͎͙̰̭͍̙̫̤̣͍̳̩͙̞͍͍͙͉͎͖͔̣̝̯̝͚͕͎̞̦̫̠̜̙͍͍̣̱̰̘̺̖̲̳̹̞̬͎̘̙͉̥̮̣͓̣̻̠̥̭̟̘͈̞͇̟͔̯̜̦͖̩̦̼͍̣̲͚̻̪̯͉͈͉͎͖͍͙͎̹̥͚̯̫̭̰̣̻̌̑̔͆̆́̽̒̿̈̈́̋͑̈́̈́̊͗̇̓̈́̏͋̂͆͊͊͒́͋̃̍̑̐̒̋͐̾̇́̿͒̆́̄͋̀̀̏̓͌͒͋̒͌͂͋̋̈͑̎̓̀̆̎̿̓͒̈̓̂̋̓̀̎̑̔͆́͛̀̀͆͋͊͆̈́̾͐͂͐͊̔͗͒̒̆̑́̿̄̇̀̋͋̄͐̌̊̀́̔̓̐̈́̃̂̽̿̐̐̉̊̅̇͑̇̍͒̎͊̅̋̓̓́̓̓̃͆̉̒̓̄̈̾̑̂̈̀̄̒͗̋͐̊́̿͗̀̄̀̾̀͊̀̀̒̇̅͂̄́̇̌́̔́̃͆̄͂͆̑̏̑̀̽̂͂͗̿̐̎̿̍̾͗̽̄̿̓̓́́̉͛͂͊͑̃͘̚͘̚̕͘͘̕̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅv̸̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͈̠͇̣͇̣̗̺̟̞͕͕̼̙̟͙͖̳̹̣͎̥͔͙̰̝̼͊͆̆̍̉̎̀̀͛̈́̆̈́̎̔̓̈́̔̓̿́̍̈́̎̈́́̔̈́̌̀̑̐͒̃̊͊̿͒͋̀̋̓̓̔́̆͊̓̈͂́̊̃͛̔̑̀̎̀͂̋̆̑̑́̆́͋̊̂̽̇̍̏́̉͛̓͆́͒̎̐͋͊̀͋̍͆͗̇̔̈́͗͊̐̈́̀̋̂̏̋͊͐̓͛̏͌̄̉̄͐̿̈́̂̈́̏̂̇͛̀̀̇̈́̂̈́̏̀̓͑̌̂̈́̇́̐̽̈́̉̌͑̂̆̇͂͑͊͒̔̀͆͌̍́͌͛̔̂́͒̒̑͒͒̂̈́̎̂̿͆̈́͒͂̊̎̊̐͌̓́̀͐̉͆̈́̽̀̍͘̚̚̕̕̕̕̕̕͘̚͘̕̚͘͜͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠ę̷̧̡̡̨̡̨̢̧̢̧̡͖̯̺̫̬̗͚̙̫̤̗̞̪͙͔̮̼̥̝͍͖̻̘̹̙̞͉̙͈̖̹̪͈̪̖͈͈͉̟͙͓̞̞͉͇͉̬̻̟͈͕̱̬̠̗͖̳̺̠̙͍͖̱̬̼̲̣̟̤̲͔̺͍̺̪̳̺̻̭͈͍͈̭̗̯͉̘̠͖̻̙̤̞̟̦̝͖̼̲͇͔͔͔̱̼͍͈̪͖͕̹̙͇͖͓̦̳͉̥͇̩̝̠̳͇̩͙̦̮̟̮͕̺̣̮̘̺̯͎̪̗̬̠͖̜̠̻͚̮̏̄̏́͋̽̒͊͊̈́͐̈̋̃̊̈̆͆̿̊̓̂̽͋͊̄̓̈̈́̕̕̚̚̕͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅr̷̢̡̧̢̡̨̡̧̨̨̡̡̡̧̨̧̢̢̧̧̢̡̢̡̨̨̢̛̟̪̣̩͕͍̣̥̱̗̲̖̞̥̠̲͖̤̰̦̘̱̣̱̫͇̫̦̲͕̻͉̗̩̠̝̹̻̘͓͙̝͈͉̣̳͙͖͉̳͕͈̰̮̤̼̰̱̱̖͈͔͓̰̦̮̭̹͖̰̤̳͉̰͕̭̖͎͍̻̼̫̗̗̦̥̗̞̜̹̣̲̮̮͖͇̞̩̲͖̬̫͈̜͍̖͈̠̮̞̜̬̤̤̘̣̤͍̤̤̮̖̳͈̳̟̙̮͉̻͓͉̱̥͍͍̙̱̥̰͎̟̩͉͓̫͈͓̞̬͈͈̠̺̳͎͒̍̈́̑̊̄̔̋̌͒̒̾͊̕͜͝ͅͅͅͅe̸̅͊̑̓̍̚͠��̧̧̧̨̨̛͍͙̙͕̳͙͈̼̮̗̣̠̜̻̰̹̮̻̯͙̻̠̩̞͙̣̮̺̙̪͙̫͔̤̠̲̥̦̲̳͉̺̬̤̳͓͉͎͇̟̥͚̤̮͓̙̼̥̭̲͈̰͕̗̲̹̜͇̱̜̟͇͓̘͇̬͍̻̹͍̳̫͚̣̺͈͉̼̂͑̌̉̓͑̏̅̇͂̃̀̍̆̿̑̏̍͊͌͒̅̐̂̎́̏̈́̋̉̅̎̈̈͊̉́̆̿̿̿̅͂̈̍̎́̏̀͆͐̀̅̈́͗͆̃͆̉͐͋̍́͐̊̑̊͂̓̓̃̆̏͌͐͗̉͋̈̏̋͐́̀̔̓̽̃̒͒̾̈̓̒́̉̈́̃͒̽̒́͊̔̀͛͑̃̅̃̈́̋̒̉̋̅̾̇̎̈́͑͛̓̅́͑͋̅̓͑͒̂͆͐̋̓̇̈́̆̆́̊̕̚̚̚̕͘͘̕̚͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅt̶̛̛̛̛̤̜̻̮̪͚̝̫̑̂͐͛̂̓͛͋̿̓̽͒̓͊̃̇͗́̀̀̓̓̂̈́̽̈́́̏͌̓̄̄̑̉́͋̓̿̓̉̍̀͗̒̀̂̐̀̏̍̒̍̍̏̇̌͆̿̾̈́͆͂͂̅̀̌̀̇̅̄̄͐̔͗̂̀͛̓̌͌͂̀̈́̊̌͑̽̊̔̑̇̏̽́̅̍̐̄́̆̂̂̓̋̇̌̏̅̉̄̿̔̔̽̀́͐͒͌̈́͆̔̑̇͂̓̊̆͗̐̆̾̿̊̀͐̓̊̾̿͛͗͆̈́̈́͋̀̓̓̀͗̿͗͂̑̊́̔̕̕͘̚͘̕͘͘͘̚͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠ Beatrice

[faithful-grigori]

While I have my own theories that lean more towards the metanarrative aspects of the show as to why The West Patch is going odd, this is a very interesting theory that would explain neatly why the two shows are established to exist in the same world.

Wild Theory About the West Patch/Angel Hare Universe

Spoiler warning for Angel Hare and The West Patch.

East Patch Productions, headed by the Mangan sisters, has produced several engaging animated stories on YouTube, marked by high production values and tense storytelling. Two of these, Angel Hare and The West Patch, are set in the same meta-universe. Having watched both series, theories about their shared universe are bubbling in my imagination.

Angel Hare follows a man named Jonah who discovers a VHS tape of his favorite childhood cartoon in a thrift shop. When he compares the VHS tape to his own childhood VCR recordings of the cartoon, he notices glaring differences. During his childhood, the main character of the Angel Hare cartoon (Angel Gabby) spoke directly to him, teaching him about morality and helping him cope with his father's abuse. The series strongly implies that Angel Gabby is the Archangel Gabriel, and reveals that she and the Angel Zagzagel guide children by inhabiting cartoons.

A now defunct company called Wreath of Life previously held the rights to Angel Hare. A company called Kieth Publishing currently owns the rights to the cartoon, but has buried it. Kieth Publishing also owns the rights to another cartoon, The West Patch.

The West Patch depicts a much colder, crueler world than Angel Gabby's comforting forest. Its website and trailer suggest that Kieth Publishing is heavily marketing the newer cartoon, but it isn't marketing Angel Hare like Wreath of Life did. What if this is on purpose? What if Kieth Publishing has a more sinister reason for hyping The West Patch and burying Angel Hare?

Something clicked into place when I rewatched Case 5 of Angel Hare when Francis refers to a room full of television screens as "demon hare boxes". What if demons have been using television shows to corrupt viewers?

My theory is that in this metauniverse, angels are trying to help humanity by teaching children virtue through cartoon shows. Demon are trying to counter their efforts by teaching people immorality through shows. Angel Hare and Wylde Hare are examples of the former, while The West Patch is an example of the latter. Giles Kieth, acting on behalf of demonic masters, bought the rights to Angel Hare and refused to air it, thereby preventing the Angel Gabriel from doing her holy work (until Jonah comes along). Giles Kieth also secured the rights a popular property guaranteed to attract a large viewership, The West Patch, and warped it into a medium for evil values. The characters in The West Patch cartoon are actually demons, intent on corrupting the children who watch the show.

An Introduction to The West Patch

The West Patch was a series of children's books written by the late Julia Padilly. After her passing, her daughter Maurgerite Padilly sold the rights to The West Patch to Kieth Publishing. With those rights, Kieth Publishing produced a children's cartoon based on unpublished books by Julia that Maurgerite found, not Julia's published works. Maurgerite later had reservations about the cartoon, which deviated considerably from the published books.

And she wasn't the only one. Episode 2 is interrupted by an interview between Giles Kieth, the head of Kieth Publishing, and Dr. Euleila B. Whitman, a child psychologist and the mother of Jonah from the Angel Hare story. Tape 5 of the Angel Hare series reveals that Dr. Whitman's area of research was aggression in children, and that she went to great lengths to uncover the truth about Angel Hare and Kieth Publishing.

Did Dr. Whitman see aggression in young Jonah, thanks to his late father's abuse, and incorrectly attribute his anger to watching his favorite cartoon? Through this misdirection, did she stumble on a actual conspiracy involving Kieth Publishing, The West Patch, and their plan to impart evil and aggressive values to children?

Giles Kieth does not take kindly to any criticism of The West Patch. When Dr. Whitman points out that "some of the aesthetics have gone in a different direction", Kieth can barely contain his rage. In episode 3, in another clip from the interview with Dr. Whitman, Kieth's composure cracks. "All we did was give it a new coat of paint!" he shouts, angry that the cartoon is receiving so much criticism.

Is Kieth Giles angry that people are looking too closely? Does their scrutiny risk revealing the show's true purpose?

Evil Values in The West Patch

In sharp contrast to the Angel Hare cartoon, which teaches children lessons about good morals and piety, The West Patch cartoon normalizes immoral behavior. I suspect that the demonic troupe inhabiting The West Patch seeks to teach children wickedness by acting out evil values. The children are casually cruel and callous to each other, especially to Pogey, who is physically handicapped. A grievous example is when Pumpkin Kid falls into the beach tower. None of the other children ask him if he's all right or seem concerned that he might be injured, as they're more focused on the tower's hidden relics. Afterwards, Pumpkin Kid drops to the bottom of the children's social hierarchy.

The cartoon's immoral messages don't stop with the children's antics. Mommy Zelle's parents were thieves and kidnappers. The family hordes stolen treasure, some of it cursed with occult properties. Pogey and the Tamber hide Cupper Dup's corpse after Pogey finds it in the woodshed, mysteriously encased in ice or blue crystal. Afterwards, the two keep Cupper Dup's fate a secret. None of the other children seem alarmed at Cupper Dup's absence. In short, the cartoon promotes theft, deceit, greed, pride, callousness, and contempt for the weak.

Are They Demons?

I suspect that The West Patch gang serve as demonic counterparts to the heavenly hosts of Angel Hare. First, just as the physical features of Angel Gabby and Angel Zag in Angel Hare are angelic, the physical features of the characters in The West Patch are subtly demonic. Gale Ponytail has a pointy red tail. Your Dad, Pogey and Leveret have horns. The Tamber has a grim, unsettling demeanor. Like the angels in Angel Hare, Mommy Zelle and Leveret are anthropomorphic rabbits, hinting that they might be fallen angels.

Second, The West Patch gang has an aversion to some very interesting items. Recall that Angel Hare devotes an episode to the armor of God. Ephesians 6:10-17 likens the virtues that believers must practice to weapons and armor, which will assist believers "so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes." Ephesians 6:12 explains that "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."

The cursed items in the beach tower and the house's treasure room -- a broken helmet, a belt, swords -- evoke the armor of God. Tellingly, the children are either afraid to wear/use the items, lest they be cursed, or in Pumpkin Kid's case, they equip the item only to find that they can't speak and can't remove the item. Perhaps the West Patch children can't equip the armor of God without negative consequences because they're demons?

Third, supplemental material suggests that the character's personalities are rooted in vices. The character descriptions on The West Patch website describe the cast as unsavory people, driven by pride, envy, greed, and sloth. Their personalities don't line up perfectly with the Seven Deadly Sins, but they come close!

Is There More to Come?

If my theory is true, and the characters of The West Patch are demons vis-à-vis Angel Hare's angels, will we learn more about them? Are there other angels and demons trying to reach children through entertainment? How long has this cosmic competition for human souls raged on? What will happen if Kieth Publishing learns about Jonah's livestreams? Were Julia's unpublished stories really hers, or forgeries created by Giles Kieth? What does Marguerite know? If my theory is true, the stakes of the story are high, with both angels and demons vying for human souls across screen-based battlefields.

[marysmirages]

Summer day on the meadow. Hare family (2024)

[sharkieshark]

Gay people real holy shit

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Fabricated Reality AU part 1 (Yanderes x reader)

This is a series where I put all my era 3 OCs in Situations™, so all 5 of them would kind of battle over you

Introduction

You woke up in a cold sweat. You panted as your eyes darted around the room, struggling to lift the fog clouding your mind, where are you? It appears to be in a bedroom with clinically bright and cold lights, white walls, and very little furniture. You realize you're sitting on ivory sheets, and the mattress beneath you is neither soft nor firm. It's adequate.

You spent a few more moments looking around, trying to make sense of it all. There is no personality in this room, no paintings or shades other than white. The clothes on your back also match the surroundings, it resembles a hospital gown, down to its scratchiness and stiffness.

Cradling your head, you cautiously shifted yourself to the edge of the bed and set your feet down. The tiles are cold and you frowned at the unpleasantness of it. However, you're more upset that you couldn't remember what brought you into this predicament in the first place. Hell, you don't even remember anything at all. Who were you? What were you?

You rubbed your face and sighed, but upon lifting your head up, you were surprised to see a door that wasn't there before. You looked around once more for any context, but you found none.

You inched towards it, carefully reaching out for its doorknob and twisting it. Your ears perk up when you hear a click, as you're familiar with the concept of an unlocked door.

You pulled it open and exited your room, emerging into a grand, beautiful marble hallway adorned with chandeliers and side tables shouldering vases of exotic flowers. The air is crisp and fresh despite the absence of open windows.

At the end of it, lies the mouth of a set of grandiose stairs. You made your way towards them, hearing the muffled chatters growing more and more distinct with every step.

"...no luck, I still don't get what the fuck is up with them. Montgomery almost split his nails trying to pry the windows open, the crowbar you found snapped too. I kept finding myself back here whenever I stepped out through those huge doors." You heard a deep, masculine voice, exasperated.

"Items in the pantry and kitchen replenish themselves at dawn in seemingly impossible ways." Another voice, this time softer and more honeyed, added to the conversation.

You poked your head out from the corner. From above, you saw four men sitting on their sofas and loveseats. They seem to be discussing something.

"It's so hard to find a room, the doors lead me into a different place each time. It's frustrating whenever I open my wardrobe, I'll find myself in the garden." You listened to them complain. One of them stood out; they hadn't said a word yet. The other three were vocal.

The quiet one flicked their gaze up, landing on you. It definitely spooked you, enough to retreat back behind a wall. You felt your heart pounding in fear as you brought your head out again to see what the situation was.

The person, with luscious, inky locks and emerald eyes was on their way to the stairs. They moved so elegantly and fluidly, that it appears the rest of the group didn't notice that they had left the conversation entirely.

You panicked and instinctively bolted in the direction of your room. You reached for the doorknob and swung the door open, retreating into the white space.

Shutting the door behind you, your shoulders heaved up and down as you tried to recover from your anxiousness. It was distracting enough to blind you to the fact that this isn't the room that you work up in.

"...Sweetheart?"

You whipped your head back to see a man with unkempt, brown shaggy hair and messy stubble. His dark eyes were wide open as he watched you through the strands with his mouth open agape. Your eyes shifted to the surroundings, it appears to be a rustic, farmhouse bedroom with vintage decor and furniture. Anything white, yellowed with age, which includes the floral-print comforter that he's sitting on.

You tried to get out of the room, but you found that the door disappeared behind you. Dread set in when he suddenly rushed over to you, a panicked yell escaped your lips when he engulfed you in his arms.

"It's you, it really is you..." Your nerves calmed when you realized that he meant no harm, you found that he appeared impossibly tall, needing to reach your eye levels by kneeling. The man spent a few more seconds sobbing on your shoulder, his arms tightly constricting you as if you were going to disappear at a moment's notice.

He sniffled, pulling away and revealing his teary, bloodshot eyes to you. The tip of his nose is red from crying, you assume that he's been doing this for a while now.

"H-how did y'get here? Are you okay? Did anyone hurt ya'?" He lets go of you to examine your body. He checked your arms, your face, and even the temperature of your forehead, using the back of his hand. You noted the heavy, southern accent in his voice.

You simply stared at him as he stroked your cheeks, pushing any stray hairs behind your ears. It felt... pleasant. You don't think that he's posing any danger to you, but you're still wary of him. Is he mistaking you for someone else? You have never met him before. Though, you couldn't remember much of anything before this. Perhaps he was someone important to you.

"Please say somethin', darlin'." His eyebrows knitted in confusion and worry. "Anythin', please... I need to know if you're okay." The man held your head in his large hands, keeping it in place and slightly mashing your cheeks together until your lips puckered.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Please?" He begged, becoming desperate as each second passed.

You pried his hands away and opened your mouth to say something, but unfortunately, you couldn't say anything coherent. Not even gibberish, you could only make short, forceful shouts and groans that sounded like you were in agony. And in a way, you were, because you're becoming increasingly distressed over your inability to speak. You could comprehend language, but you couldn't express it.

The man, seemingly sensing your terror, quickly hushed you by allowing you to retreat into his strong arms. "Shh... Shh.... It's okay, It's okay honey. W-we're gonna figure it out." He pecked you on the crown numerous times to try and calm you down. Luckily it did, or he would have lost his mind too.

"Oh, you poor thing. What happened to ya'...?" He mumbled in your hair.

You stayed like this for a while, enjoying the warmth his body provides. You shivered a bit at some point, finding his heat wasn't enough to stave you from the frigidness of the room.

"I reckon yer' pretty cold, only havin' that on yer back." The stranger pulled away to take his ratty, chore jacket off. "Here, let me help ya." He wraps it around you, and you instantly feel much better than before.

You tried to thank him, but all that escaped was a loud yell. It looks like you couldn't speak more than one syllable, nor could you necessarily control the volume of your voice.

He ushered you to the bed, where you sat on the edge, while he was still on his knees in front of you. He looked away momentarily, thinking of what to ask you. He must have thought you were acting strange, outside of his own version of you, as he proceeded to ask:

"Do ya'... remember me?" He enveloped your hands in his, and he brought it to his lips. His eyes were hopeful, but you knew he was bracing for the worst.

You hesitantly shook your head. You saw his shoulders sag in devastation.

"No, you- you must have heard me wrong. Do you remember me- do you remember us? The times we spent together, the nights we had..." He looked deeply into your eyes, to find anything, a glimmer of recognition no matter how vague. But he found nothing aside from a growing fear. "...Nothing...?"

You shook your head again, feeling guilty and pity towards him as he released a choked sob.

"Really...? You, you don't remember me?" He whispered tears rolling down his face again. Some landed on your hands.

You gave him a sympathetic look as you nodded.

"Oh. Um..." He sniffled, wiping his tears away. You gave him a moment to regain his composure.

You tried asking what his name was, but it came out as a single shout; making him jolt. Seeing that there is no way to reliably communicate verbally, you resorted to using hand gestures. It took you a few attempts and a lot of pointing, but eventually, he understood what you wanted from him.

"Montgomery. My name is Montgomery, ya' used to call me Monty." His face told you everything, you knew it crushed him to reintroduce himself.

You nodded, but before you could even 'ask' him more questions, you heard a door opening.

Turning your head to the source, you saw the same man who you were initially running away from. Seemingly surprised at the sight before him.

The door that he entered disappeared behind him, trapping the three of you in this room, but the green-eyed man didn't seem too concerned about that. You couldn't predict any discernible pattern in this reality.

It appears as if he's frozen in place, his pupils blowing wide as it landed on you. It's unnerving, so you got up and hid behind Montgomery. When the other stranger tilted his head to look at the other man, his pupils constricted considerably.

The atmosphere felt much colder, much more menacing than before. Montgomery tried to lighten it up by joking: "Lookin' for the shitter? Well, it ain't here sadly."

You surmise that the doors would lead to random places, even if it was physically impossible.

Montgomery wrapped an arm around you. "This is my spouse, they just burst in from one of those magic doors. Somethin's wrong, though. They can't speak, they couldn't remember me either."

You were unnerved at how the other man never blinked, just staring at the two of you owlishly.

"Maybe yours would show up later today or tomorrow. But just... Just be ready to have them break your heart like this." Montgomery laughed bitterly as he stroked your hair.

"What is your name?" His smooth, commanding yet gentle baritone voice asked you. It appears that he's expecting a certain answer.

You dug deeper into Montgomery's side, knowing that you can't say it.

"It's (name). They understand English and they can make noises... really loud ones too, but they can't say words." Montgomery answered for you. "Oh! And, Sweetie, this is Yves. He's also tryin' to figure out how this place works."

You nodded and brought your attention back to Yves.

There were a few beats of silence until it was broken by your frantic yelling; you saw the door materialize itself behind the lithe man and it disturbed you to no end. Montgomery struggled to hush you, as Yves stood there unmoving.

"...I see." He finally replied, holding a hauntingly blank look on his gorgeous face. Yves stared at you for a duration that made you and Montgomery much more uncomfortable. You felt like the stranger was etching every groove, every trace of your identity into his brain. You felt naked.

He closed his eyes and took a deep but silent breath. "Please excuse me, I have somewhere to be." Yves finally dismissed himself and left the room, softly closing the door behind him. It then, phased out of existence, leaving a smooth yet somewhat peeling, aging wall. It blended in with the area.

Yves appeared in the middle of the living room again. Where he found himself facing an audience, perplexed and disturbed at the fact that Yves suddenly manifested out of thin air. But it wasn't as bad as their first encounter with such anomalies, these had happened enough for them to accept it as somewhat mundane.

Yves stood there, averting his gaze as a stray tear rolled down his cheek. He appears to be preoccupied with something, as he didn't wipe the droplet off, instead allowing it to drip down his chin.

"What happened?" Asked the man who bore a familial resemblance to Yves, except he had copper eyebrows and hazel irises. He lounges leisurely on the sofa, holding a flute of champagne between his manicured fingers.

Yves spared each of them an unreadable glance, before wordlessly walking away.